Strange Trip

Well, I can't even begin to catch up today. I arrived in Raleigh two days ago and have been trying to catch up with myself ever since. It's as if my body is in Raleigh but my head is still somewhere back along the way.

I don't know if I should continue posting about my trip— which had some interesting highlights— or if I should dive into my 'new' blog. Most likely it's going to take me a few days at the very least to figure out what to do next.

In the meantime, I have discovered a new Starbucks. It's a couple miles from my new home and seems to be frequented by a lot of business types. There are a lot of professional buildings around.

Please keep watching this page, and I promise to be back soon with an idea of direction.

"The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step."— Lao Tzu

First Stop: Flagstaff, AZ

So much has happened in the few days since I last posted here. I'm certain to inadequately describe the majority of it.

Friday was another day of packing, and I was able to finish the living room and start on the kitchen. In fact, I was all but done with the kitchen by the end of the day. For the curious, took some pictures of my filled storage unit. In the first picture you can see the open door on the right-hand side of the picture. My unit actually extends leftwards from there to the corner in the hallway. It is 6' deep and about 9' tall. I believe it to be 12'-15' in length. The second picture is a view from the doorway, and the third is looking down the length of the unit— which conveys little information because the length is completely filled.

And now I'm going to apologize. I started writing this post and I'm still so sick and tired that I can't go on. Look for more soon!

"I'm moving to Mars next week, so if you have any boxes..."— Steven Wright.

Wiped Out (Part 3 of the Beat Series)

My apologies upfront if I make less sense than usual. In addition to continuing my mad pace of packing and moving stuff into storage, on Tuesday night I got sick. It hit me very swiftly about an hour before I went to bed. I didn't even notice until I crawled into bed, at which time I realized that my throat had been hurting for about an hour and my sinuses had been drippy. I hardly slept a wink that night. I went to bed shortly before 3 AM and gave up on sleep about 7 AM, at which time I went to the store and stocked up on medications. I swear by Zicam and have been taking those tablets ever since. Now, almost 48 hours after the onset of this cold (or whatever) my throat is still a bit sore, but my sinuses are mostly clear. My fingers are crossed that my recovery will continue swiftly.

In the meantime, I have continued work on the house. I finished the back rooms on Wednesday after one trip to the storage unit. After that I jumped to the living room, which I then finished today. Tomorrow I will finish the kitchen and be done... barring anything unforeseen. Keeping up with this pace of work in the returning heat— with this cold— has really taken a lot out of me, though. There are times when I feel like I can't move a muscle.

It was decided a day or two ago that my DVDs would have to go into storage. That made me temporarily sad... until I realized that I rarely watch them. With Hulu and a new TV season starting up, I won't miss them that much. If I need to, I can restart my Netflix subscription. The DVD decision was not as ugly as the CD decision however. Yesterday I put all the CDs into boxes— and quickly realized that I wasn't going to be able to transport them to NC. There are just too many. So I worked out a deal with my friend Dale. I took them all to his place. He's going to start ripping them to MP3 format for me. In a month or two, I'm going to send him an external hard drive for storage. When he's done, he'll send the hard drive back to me and then he can keep the CDs to do with as he pleases. I believe it's an equitable deal.

This deal also gave me an excuse to go see Dale a final time. I was trying to figure out how to do so as my last few days fill out. We shook hands a few times as his oldest daughter, Katie, now in 8th grade, kept telling us that it would be OK to hug. It was amusing. There are many friends— male friends— that I feel comfortable hugging, but the handshake felt right with Dale. As he pointed out to his daughter at one point, we've known each other a long time and have never hugged.

So, of my circle of closest friends— Pat, Dale, Ken, and Clayton— I'm halfway finished. Tomorrow I hope to have dinner with Ken and say 'Goodbye' to him. I will see Pat on Saturday... and knowing me, I expect to see him on Sunday as well. Leaving Pat and Lisa is going to be very, very hard.

Speaking of dinner, after I left Dale's I decided to say 'Goodbye' to Alfredo's. Alfredo's is a traditional Italian restaurant in a seedy part of San Bernardino. (Maybe I don't need to say 'seedy'!) I've been eating there since 1982, shortly after I moved to the city. At the time it was a small restaurant, sharing a wall with a flower shop. A few years later the restaurant acquired the flower shop and knocked down the wall. The food has never been spectacular. Rather, it has been exactly what you think of in an Italian restaurant. Tonight I ordered ravioli with meatballs and received ravioli in marinara. The server was frightfully out of sync with her tables or I would have asked for the meatballs. At least I can say I went there one last time.

Well, I'm here at Starbucks much later than normal, and they're starting to clean up for the night. I believe I'll go back to my empty-ish apartment. I'm just counting hours now until Monday morning. I'm looking forward to spending Saturday out with friends— but Monday morning is my real goal. I hope to get up about 7 AM and hit the road by 9 AM, stopping for breakfast somewhere.

Back soon!

"It's no longer a question of staying healthy. It's a question of finding a sickness you like."— Jackie Mason

Exhausted (Another in the 'Beat' Series)

I am again quite exhausted. I was able to sleep in today and catch up on a little sleep. I rolled out of bed a bit after 10 AM and discovered that the temperature was still very reasonable. So, after showering, I set to work on my house again.

My place is roughly divisible into quarters. There is a living room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom connected to the bedroom via a small hallway. I hesitate to use the word 'hallway' to describe the space between the bedroom and the bathroom. There 's only one step between the doors of each room. Along one side of the hallway is a long closet, and there is a second closet space at the end. So, it's not so much a hallway as it is a walk-in closet with an attached bathroom. I think of the bedroom and bathroom area as the 'back half' of the house and the living room and kitchen as the 'front half.' My goal today was to finish moving stuff out of the back half of the house.

When I moved into the place about 12 years ago (more on that later), I moved from a very large place. At the time, Clayton and I were sharing a 4-bedroom house. It was very roomy, and I had the back two bedrooms to myself. (The furthest back bedroom could only be accessed through another bedroom, making them a package deal.) Moving into a much smaller space, I put most of my books and such into boxes and stacked those boxes in my new bedroom. Comics and related items filled most of the long closet, with the exception that there was room to hang clothes. So, for the last 12 years, the back half of the house has been mostly a large storage area with just enough room for a twin-sized bed. I've never even gone into all the stored boxes. Literally, in 12 years I've never opened the shades in my bedroom because there has been a wall of boxes preventing me from getting close to them.

This morning I looked around the back half of the house optimistically, believing I could empty it out today. I made three trips to the storage unit, moving 32 boxes and few assorted unboxed items— and only got half way to my goal. There was/is a lot of stuffed stored in my bedroom and closet area! While much of the stuff is already in a box, I went through every pre-packed box that i touched, making sure that it was packed full and of a weight I could manage. All of this packing and re-packing took quite a lot of time between car trips. Fortunately, if I put in as much effort again tomorrow, I should be able to finish the back half of the house. My goal after that is to use Tuesday and Wednesday to clear out the living room, followed by Thursday and Friday in the kitchen. There is not as much stuff stored away in these two rooms, and I should be able to sweep through them pretty quickly. If I can adhere to this schedule, then I can 'finish' on Friday and take things easier on the weekend. (Saturday will be spent completely away from the house, in San Pedro.)

I have been maintaining a high level of excitement about moving... but there has been a level of unreality mixed in there. Part of me hasn't really believed it would happen. Now that the actual drive across country is getting closer, the unreality is turning into a bit of a scared feeling. It's been a long time since I've made a move like this, and I've never done it alone before. This is definitely one time when being single really blows. I would love to have someone with me while I'm cleaning the house and then later for the drive. Sadly, my place is such a cesspit that every time I think about having someone else around, I realize that I'd be too profoundly embarrassed to let anyone see my place. I promise to never let things get this bad again!

Yesterday I spent the day relaxing. I went over in the early afternoon to Pat and Lisa's so I could watch the girls play in their first soccer games of the season. Along the way I picked up some new boot laces at Workboot Warehouse. That is one place I'm going to miss. I'm hoping to find someplace like it in Raleigh. Honestly, I don't have a shoe fetish, but I really love boots— not cowboy boots or other tall boots, but a nice 8- or 10-inch boot. The boots that I got earlier this year are the best I've ever had, and I wear them nearly every day now. If I could, however, I'd have lots of different boots to wear. (Sadly, they're so expensive!) Whenever I walk into Workboot Warehouse— which I really only do once or twice a year— I am overwhelmed by all the boots I'd love to have. It always takes me a long time to find just the pair I want on that visit. And most of the time I can't afford a pair so I leave empty-handed. I probably only get a new pair every other year or so.

Anyway, I eventually made it to Pat and Lisa's and spent the rest of the day there. It was great fun to watch Katie and Jessica in their games. As the games were at the same time, I moved between the games while Pat and Lisa were each stuck watching only one daughter. We Uncles have the best privileges at times! Afterwards, we watched "Rat Race" on TV and later in the day Pat and I watched the first half of "Hellboy 2". (We had planned to watch it all, but things changed...)

So that pretty much brings you current on my life. Clayton called me this afternoon while I was working and asked me if i wanted to catch dinner with him. He is leaving town this week so I won't see him immediately before leaving. We said our goodbyes and shook hands. He is such a really good friend and one of the people I will miss most.

Back soon!

"The man with the boots does not mind where he places his foot."— Irish proverb

Beat

The title says it all: I'm beat.

My back is so sore. It's hard to get in and out of my new car! (Because it's much lower to the ground than I'm used to.) I woke up today after filling my car last night with boxes of clothes to send back east. When I went to the UPS store, however, they weighed the first box and told it would be $30 to ship— at the cheap rate. So, I just threw all the boxes in my storage unit. I'll need to pick up a few shirts when I get to Raleigh, but otherwise I'll be fine. This was a good reminder that I want to keep myself from being weighed down by too many items. Besides, if I pack my car on the last day and have a little extra room, I'll rescue one or two boxes from the storage unit.

Today was the first of my official good-byes. I drove over to Rancho Cucamonga, to the First American production center there, to have a lunch with Mike, Lesley, and David. I had hoped my old boss— also named David— would join us, but he was busy. The four of us had an enjoyable lunch, and I hope Lesley and David will pop up on Facebook soon. (Mike is already one of my friends on FB.) The funny thing is, on the way home I realized that I never cried or even teared up while I was with them. I was going to email them and tell them that, adding that I guess they're just not that important to me anymore as a joke, but I thought better of it. I think it's a funny joke, but I worry that one or more of them will take it wrong.

The rest of the day was a wash. I was so tired when I got home that I napped in the afternoon. On rising I spent some time taking old magazines out to the dumpster. It took me about 10 trips. I found magazines dating back to 1999 in the stacks. Apparently, I am given to saving magazines... Actually, I'm trying to be good about throwing them away in a timely fashion these days. I used to save magazines for all sorts of reasons. Old game magazines I would save just in case there were some tips for a certain game. Of course, I never cracked a single issue afterwards. Old programming magazines got saved because of their articles as well— and went equally unread afterwards. Literary and reporting magazines, like The New Yorker and The Atlantic Monthly, were often saved because I never finished them in the first place. Fortunately, those were cleaned out some time ago.

One of the downsides of all this picking up in my place is that dust is flying everywhere. The AC unit is constantly running, as is a box fan in the door to my bedroom. The dust gets airborne and is then pushed around the house. I had to take a Claritin a few nights ago.

Well, it's late here at Starbucks tonight. I'm going to close this off early. If you're a friend of mine of Facebook, check out the "How well do you know John?" quiz I created. i had fun writing it, and I think you'll have fun trying to answer it.

Back soon!

"No person who can read is ever successful at cleaning out an attic."— Ann Landers

Today's ramble will be brief. I promise.

I got up early-ish this morning and headed out to the storage facility. Last night I packed six small (but heavy!) boxes in the trunk of the car so I'd be ready to go. Naturally, when I got there the manager, Mick, wasn't around to set me up with the new unit. So, I drove down the street and filled up the tank. When I got back, there was another employee there who took care of the paperwork for me.

I was surprised at the rickety-ness of the ascent to the second floor. The stairs were built of wood. I could see gaps in the wood, and every step creaked... loudly. I understand why Mick lets these units out reluctantly— his apartment abuts this area, and it would be annoying to hear people clomping up and down the stairs. That's exactly what I did for an hour— clomp up and down in my heavy boots. I made a racket. In all, it took me 30 trips up and down the stairs to get everything transferred and get the new boxes in place. 16 steps up, 16 steps down, for a total of 960 steps. I was worn out when I finished!

Going on momentum only, I went home and loaded the car with old clothes again, which then went to the landfill. I hope to only have two or three trips back there.

I also bought some shipping boxes, which I plan on packing tonight and shipping tomorrow.

I'm sitting at Starbucks now. I can barely move. It's not that I'm in pain. Rather, I just have no energy left. I plan on going home soon and playing some WoW while by body recuperates. This evening I'll work for a few more hours when it's cooler.

Back soon!

"If I'd known how much packing I'd have to do, I'd have run again."— Harry S. Truman

One Thing Done

The car matter is settled as of today. That's one check point among many.

I got up early again this morning and met Charlotte at the DMV in town. It's a shame I didn't have my camera with me because I wanted to take a picture when I got there. The line out the front door stretched the entire length of the building. As I was there early, I took a place in line and waited for Charlotte to show up, which she did about 10 minutes later. The line moved fast outside the building, and I was half way to the door by the time Charlotte joined me. When we got inside, we explained our transaction to one of the two pre-processing agents. She then gave us a couple forms to fill out. Secretly, I think we surprised and pleased her by having all the expected documents on us.

It took us about 15 minutes to fill out the forms and return them, at which time we were issued a number. We found seats and began our wait, which was about 20 minutes. When they called us we worked with a woman who was an absolute delight. She had a sense of humor and was in a good mood. It really made the DMV experience pleasant. (The pre-processing agent was nice as well.) Our final line was a short one: Charlotte had to show the changed registration documents to pick up the registration tags. All in all, we were out about an hour after we met. Once we filled out the initial forms, I didn't have to be there any longer, but I felt better about staying through the whole process. I hated the thought of leaving Charlotte there to finish the process alone.

So, I started the day by closing the books on my old car, which felt great to accomplish. I'm glad that's done.

Back home, I ate a quick lunch and then started filling big trash bags with old clothes. I'm not sure if I've explained here before, but I hate going to the laundromat. So, for years and years, I accumulated far more clothes than I needed as a way of staving off the laundromat. Today I went through stacks and stacks of clothes, designating some of the clothes to go back east with me and the majority to get thrown out. In all, I filled 6 large trash bags to the point where I could hardly lift them. These I piled into my car and then headed out to the county landfill again.

My second trip to the dump left me even more hesitant to drive my new car out there. I got there late in the day and they were well at work on top of the active landfill. I pulled up to find two huge bull-dozer-like vehicles which were squashing and spreading the day's take. Another tanker truck was driving around spraying water on the dirt and trash. The place reeked and there was a slight wind blowing which instantly coated my car in dust. On the way out, my tires picked up the wet dirt and then proceeded to spray it all over the underside and lower panels of my car as if I were slowly building a daub-and-wattle coating. I had to spray this off when I got home. So much for the wash I gave the car two days ago.

Not sure what to do next, I drove out to the storage unit and bought boxes. They happened to be on sale, which was great. Even better, the manager was there. His name is Mick, and he has always remembered me personally. I think I must have been one of his first customers when he took over the site. We started talking and I explained my situation. Once I told him that I was going to be leaving my items here for another year or so, he offered to move me into a same-sized unit on the second floor. It's only going to cost me $26 a month, versus the $68 I'm paying now. That's a sweet deal... except that I have to haul everything up to the second floor. Fortunately, I'm all about packing lift-able boxes so the change shouldn't be that tough.

Now I'm at Starbucks, having an iced tea to cool myself down. There are two guys at the table next to me, and one of them is a kid who's been yammering non-stop for 30 minutes about all the times he's been arrested. Every other phrase out of his mouth is "my homie" or "cops are dicks". He's one of these 19- or 20-year old kids who thinks he's smarter than the whole system. I wish I was going to be around later in his life to laugh at him.

Well, I guess that's enough of my prattle for today. Back soon!

"If I'd had some set idea of a finish line, don't you think I would have crossed it years ago?"— Bill Gates

Yak, Yak, Yak

I appreciate my friends (and family) who put up with my talking. On the one hand, I am a private person, enjoying my alone time to read or play video games, etc. But, just as much, I enjoy hanging out with friends and talking with them.

This wouldn't be such a problem except that a lot of times I just yak on and on about things that don't matter. Much like this blog, I tend to speak what's on my mind, regardless of how trivial it may be. Pat is the one who puts up with the majority of this. There are times when I leave his house at night and wonder how he put up with me all day. On the other hand, maybe Pat and I are such good friends because we can listen to each other for hours at a time.

I started to think about this over the last few days after spending a few hours with my friends Clayton and Ken. Clayton is notorious in our circle for not talking much, and over the years Ken has also become quieter. I don't know if Ken feels like there's nothing left to say, or what. Sometimes it's impossible to draw him into a conversation regardless of the topics I bring up. Clayton, on the other hand, will readily talk if you find a subject that interests him. Otherwise he clams up.

I don't bring up my friends and their talking habits to embarrass them, but to show how I am different than they are. I hadn't seen Ken or Clayton for some time each so I wanted to talk with them both and catch up. I kept bringing up subject after subject with them, more often with little to no response. I'm sure that I started to annoy them both at some point, with me hopping from topic to topic in seeming desperation. While I acknowledge that good friends can hang out together without having to talk incessantly, I appreciate verbal communication more than I do its absence. To me, not talking is some sort of tacit acknowledgment that there's nothing left to be said.

One of the reasons I do so enjoy being around my friend Laura is that she also enjoys a good conversation. When she and I are together, the conversation flies all day long and ranges over all manner of topics. It's a way of exploring each other, finding out more about each other. To me, that's what friends do. My friend Lee Ann is similar— when we're together we are constantly talking.

How about that for a random topic to lead with?

Nothing much has happened this weekend to report on. I was working in my storage unit yesterday, re-arranging the boxes therein. I'm quite please with the amount of stuff I'll be able to store. While I would rather throw more stuff out, throwing things away is problematic and/or expensive. I'm sure I will make a few more trips to the county landfill with old clothes and other items, but I would like to minimize the number of trips I do so. I will be happy if I can make one trip each morning this week and then call and end to that routine. Since it costs me nothing more to keep my storage unit full versus half full, I plan to store more than I'd originally planned. That will probably cost me another $60 or so in boxes, but that's it. Since it will all be boxed, it should be easy to move it all when the time comes for that.

I'm thinking I will take my current computer with me as well as my most recent two or three previous ones. Because of the lack of space I currently have, I've never cleaned them out or gotten all the data off them that I want. I should be able to clean them up and dispose of them properly in NC. So, my trunk is going to be full of computer equipment as I cross the country. That will leave me the back seat for a suitcase of clothing and a few boxes of books or other items. I don't want to make my car too obvious by over packing it.

My new 'official' departure date is 21 SEP 09. If everything goes as planned, two weeks from this very moment, i should be several hundred miles away, maybe just having gotten a room for the night. By leaving a week early, I can take a few more days for the trip— one or two— and keep a margin for schedule disruptions. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Back soon!

"I don't mind you thinking I'm stupid, but don't talk to me like I'm stupid."— Harlan Ellison

Short

I feel like my recent blog posts have been short and not as interesting as others have been. Here's another one.

Yesterday evening I got home from Starbucks with my stomach somewhat settled but not completely. I was in a bit of a funk as well. Since most of my call-able friends were not available, I called my folks and spoke with them for awhile. That picked me up, and when I hung up with them, I got the idea to go see a movie. Ponyo had been playing at the Redlands theatre so I checked their website only to discover that it was no longer playing there. I had thought to try and find the movie elsewhere, but instead, I saw the trailer for Extract and thought that looked reasonably funny. When I saw that the ticket price was $11 to go right then, I decided to wait until this morning's matinees, which gave me an excuse to call Clayton and see if he wanted to go. It turned out he had already spoken with Ken about seeing this (or Halloween 2) so the three of us went today.

Extract was OK. I found it entertaining all the way through, but it's one of those movies you leave and immediately begin to forget. I tittered through the movie but didn't really laugh loudly except at one line late in the movie. It's one of those movies where your enjoyment comes from the characters, most of which are delightfully drawn here. I am a big fan of Jason Bateman after seeing him in Arrested Development and Hancock. He plays 'exasperated' well. Mila Kunis also shows that she is the real talent to emerge from That 70's Show. But, don't go to the movie expecting too much. It is engaging but offers no long-term rewards.

Home from the movie, I worked on my computer for a few minutes. Then, finding myself nodding off, I decided to take a nap. I had just undressed when there was a knock at the door. Charlotte and Selu were there, wanting to take my Sportage and drive it over to their repair guy. I wasn't wild about this idea at all. I went over a list of car issues that I had yet to inform them of— the rear passenger window not wanting to roll up, the spare rim being mounted, etc— and we added fluid to the radiator. They also wanted to pay for the car, which mollified me a bit. I wrote out a little document, signing and dating it— Charlotte did the same— explaining that the car was sold "as is" and so forth. By the time they left, I felt better about the whole thing. We agreed to meet again this coming Tuesday morning to finish everything at the DMV.

No longer sleepy, I hopped in my car a few minutes behind them and hoped to see where they had parked along the way to their mechanic. I knew most of their route, but I didn't see them anywhere.

And that is how I ended up at Starbucks.

My recent packing activity has got me more excited than ever to leave as soon as possible. I'm scheduled to take off three weeks from today, but if I can get out three or four days before then— or even a week before then— I'll be happier.

Back soon!

"15 times? Was it even 15 days?"— Jason Bateman in Extract

State Garbage, County Garbage

I feel completely off balance right now. As I blogged about last night, I had to set the alarm for 7:30 AM this morning. Everything was fine— I even got down to the DMV area early enough to stop at Starbucks and get a cup of real coffee. The unbalancing started when I then drove over to the DMV and discovered it to be closed today. Turns out it's closed every first, third, and fifth Friday of the month. Lucky me.

Just after arriving and parking to wait for Selu (not 'Celo', as reported previously), my friend Dale called to tell me that he'd read my blog and knew that the DMV was closed today. That was a pleasant surprise, and we spoke for a few minutes. Selu showed up pretty quickly, and we agreed to arrange a meet-up on Tuesday morning. (Monday is Labor Day.)

I went back home, but as I was wide awake, I decided to check out the County landfill. I threw some old clothes and magazines into some bags and loaded up my car. The landfill I went to is in Redlands, way out in San Timoteo Canyon. I followed the winding main road until I got to the smaller and twistier road to the landfill. After a few minutes I got to the gate and discovered a very pleasant County employee. He answered all my questions and charged me $13 to take my small load of trash in.

From the gate, you have to follow the road farther in. It twists its way up and down through the canyon and eventually becomes a hard-packed dirt road. I was still OK with this as I was only driving 15 miles an hour. But then, towards the end, the hard dirt road become a soft one as I climbed up onto the flat surface of the current dumping site. I felt certain that there were already layers of tamped trash below me. Once I was parked, it was very informal. I backed up close to some previously dumped trash, and a yellow-vested man told me to go ahead and dump my bags right there by my car. I did so and a few minutes later I was headed out again.

It was an easy enough process, but I'm not sure I want to take my car back there again. I may rent a U-Haul truck and clear my whole apartment out in one trip. The nice County employee informed me that most people bringing in U-Haul trucks full of trash are usually charged about $40 for dumping.

I ate when I got home and immediately fell asleep afterwards. I napped for a couple hours and awoke to the sensation of roasting in my bed. I had to get up. So here I am at my normal Starbucks now, groggy from poor sleep, with stomach knotted in discomfort. I was hoping a cold iced tea would focus me a bit, but nothing has happened yet.

Back soon.

"My wife is always trying to get rid of me. The other day she told me to put the garbage out. I said to her I already did. She told me to go and keep an eye on it."— Rodney Dangerfield

I Should Be Asleep Already!

It's a few minutes after 3 AM as I begin this. I am tired and sticky with dried sweat from the day. If this heat doesn't go away soon...

The good news is that the lien release document arrived today. It was sent by certified mail and rather than knock on my door, the carrier simply left the peach-colored pick-me-up card in my mailbox. I know this to be true because I saw the carrier just minutes before he hit our mailboxes, and I waited inside for him to pass before running out to do some errands. Despite his example of why people don't say nice things about the postal system, I was able to pick up the letter at the end of the day, after he'd returned it to the local station.

With that document in hand, I phoned Charlotte and Celo. We have made plans for me to meet Celo at the DMV tomorrow morning at 10 AM. With luck, by Noon I will have sold my car

And now for the lame part: Tonight I went out and looked at my old car and I cried a little. That car was such an identifiable extension of me for so long. It really does hurt to part with it.

My stress level has been really high still. I'm not getting as much done as fast as I'd like to because of the heat. Tonight I had a bit of a breakthrough, however, and got a lot moved down to my storage unit. (It looks like my storage unit, if packed well, will hold much more than I originally thought.) To relieve the stress, I've been going out late at night and driving. Mostly I just drive up and down the north end of town here with the AC on. The cool air and the movement calm me down. Once I get the plates and the updated proof of insurance— soon, I hope!— I'll probably drive around the city more. For now, I'm minimizing my risk of getting pulled over and getting hassled.

I have always been one to drive at night for relaxation. I remember when I had my old Escort I used to head up Waterman and drive up into the mountains. I would usually pull off the road at some point and just look out over the city and the valley. I'm sure if I tried to do that these days, I'd get arrested for some reason.

Even as recent as a few years ago, when my car still ran reasonably well, I would drive at night to relax myself. Frequently, if I came home somewhat early from a performance, I would pick an offramp and then drive around the area.

This enjoyment of night driving has been tempting me to make my cross-country trip at night. I'll probably stick to the day, however. Although the traffic is much better at night, I hope to be able to see things to keep me interested and alert during the day.

I continue to be delighted with my Kindle. I've certainly read enough on it! A few days ago, in my quest to find books by authors not available via Amazon, I discovered some torrent-able resources. Yesterday I downloaded an archive of 1000+ science fiction books. It's a real hodgepodge of books, and I'm probably only interested in 20% of them... but that's still 200+ 'free' books. (I say 'free' because no one is being kidded here.) I'm also currently downloading another archive that is 10 times as large as that science fiction archive. It has much, much more than science fiction in it. I'm not ready to swear that it has 10 times as many books, however. I suspect the books in this archive are primarily PDF files, which take up more room each than the text files I'd previously downloaded. Still, I expect it to be an impressive collection of books when it's finished arriving.

3:30 AM now. Guess I'd better get a few hours of sleep. Keep your fingers crossed for me that everything works out at the DMV.

"Men are superior to women. For one thing, they can urinate from a speeding car."— Will Durst

The First Laugh

Yesterday I drove out to Orange County to perform stand up comedy for the first time in two years. (It's actually been two years and four months.) It was a fun night.

I actually drove out in the afternoon. My ritual has always been to get to the vicinity of the show fairly early. This used to be because I would perform somewhere in OC after having worked during the day. It didn't make sense to go home first so I would drive over to the city where the show was and find some place to hang out. I've spent many hours strolling about the Barnes and Noble in the Huntington Beach mall before shows at Martini Blues!

Yesterday's show was in Aliso Viejo, an area about which I know nothing. I called my friend Pooka to see if she was home. She didn't answer her cell phone so I was rude and drove to her and Gary's house regardless. She wasn't home so I then dawdled a bit at a Starbucks down the street. When I returned, Pooka was in. I spent an hour or so catching up with her.

The show started at 8 PM, and I got there about 7:40. It was in a hotel/health resort called Renaissance ClubSport. There's a second facility up north in Walnut Creek and they're hotels for the fitness-minded. I told Bill, the show's booker and host, that, as a fat man, I'd never performed anywhere less comforting. There were skinny fit people everywhere.

I was familiar with one of the other comics in the line, a really funny guy named Mark Schumacher. If you're local to SoCal and get a chance to see him, he is a very comfortable and funny guy. I've worked with him before, and it's always a delight to see him perform. I knew no one else.

My own performance was less than desirable. By my estimate, I had about two minutes of decent material in an eight-minute set. I'd spent most of the late nights before the show writing and rehearsing for the show while pacing outside my apartment. That's probably a less than perfect rehearsal method! I hope to develop a better method when I get to NC.

The other comics were all over the map. A few were genuinely talented, some not so much. I'm grateful to my friend Tom and his girlfriend, Julie, for coming out to the show and then going out for a bite to eat with me afterwards. It was great sitting with them for a good while and chewing the fat. Again, if you're reading this and you know Tom, ask him about the Diamond Twins. Professionally, I don't feel that I can adequately describe them here...

While driving out there last night, an idea for a project hit me. I think I'll spend a few posts in the near future writing down some memories of San Bernardino as I prepare to leave. I've lived here since 1982. 27 years is a long time, and I have an odd assortment of memories. Before I begin, however, I want to start collecting some pictures of various places about town.

Back soon!

"Comedy is the art of making people laugh without making them puke."— Steve Martin

The Heat Goes— Oh, You Get It Already

Sunday evening in Starbucks. I spent a few dollars this afternoon to buy car washing supplies and then I gave my new baby a bath. That would be the first time in 20+ years I've hand washed a car. It would have been easier to drive through an automated car wash, but my car is so small that I couldn't pass up the temptation to do it myself. It's nice to be able to wash the entire roof of the car without needing a stool— and without having to press myself against the wet car door.

Yesterday I spent the day with Pat and Lisa. The girls were at separate sleep-overs— all day even! It was a nice relaxing day in the comfort of their AC. (Today is the fourth day straight of temperatures about 105°.) We watched an old movie in the afternoon— Murder By Death— which still has the power to make one laugh. In the evening I drove us over to Victoria Gardens and we had a modest dinner at The Hat. I had a delicious pastrami burger and gravy fries. That's right, gravy fries— french fries with a brown gravy poured over them. The burger was great, the fries were so-so.

I started reading John D. McDonald's "Nightmare in Pink". This is the second of the Travis McGee novels. McGee is a self-described beach bum, living on a boat in Florida in the 1960's. If you've never read a McGee novel and you enjoy a good detective story, what are you waiting for? McDonald's prose is a joy to read and his grasp on McGee's voice is perfect. Hard-boiled, but not cliche, McGee solves his cases with persistence and bluntness. Like any good sympathetic yet shady character, he can call on violence when needed. What rounds these books out for me is the vision of old Florida. Widows in beach-front condos, dark bars, watered inlets under Spanish-moss draped trees— it's all there. And, like good books used to be, the books are long enough to enjoy for a few hours and short enough to leave you wanting more. Seriously, go read one now.

I'm hoping the temperature goes down this week so I can get more packing done during the days. It was just so hot this last week. I have approximately four weeks to go— 27 days if I meet my scheduled Saturday departure.

Back soon.

"The early bird who catches the worm works for someone who comes in late and owns the worm farm."— Travis McGee (John D. McDonald)

The Heat Goes On and On

I'm capping out too early with my heat-related titles because this heatwave we're in is expected to go on for several days— and I heard a weatherman today say that we haven't yet gotten to the worst of it. Ugh.

Today was laundry day. With a hundred things to take care of before moving, I still have to stay on top of things like laundry. One of the things I'm most looking forward to in Raleigh is not having to hit the laundromat. My brother has assured me that the townhouse has a washer and dryer. Laundry wouldn't be so bad now except that I have so many clothes and am able to defer hitting the laundromat for quite a long time. Then, when I do go, I have piles and piles of clothes to take care of.

I sorted clothes today with an eye towards the future. I intend to go back with east with about two weeks worth of clothes. That may not sound like much, but it's more than enough. The clothes I have are not all that special and can— and will!— be easily replaced as needed. So, for now, I just need to get myself psyched to start throwing out piles of un-needed clothes. It would be pointless to store them, and most are too cheap or worn to be donated.

I have been making small progress everywhere in my apartment. I'm cutting up small and/or useless boxes and compacting them so I can leave them by the dumpster next Wednesday. I took a few bags of items out to the dumpster yesterday. If you walked in and looked around, you wouldn't be able to tell that I've done much, but I can see the difference. I will do some more work tonight when it gets a bit cooler. I've a little over four weeks to go, and I'm satisfied with progress so far. I'd like to finish as quickly as possible and enjoy some downtime before leaving, but that probably won't happen.

At the laundromat the news was on the TV. I saw that Governor Schwarzenegger signed a bill raising state taxes across the board for everyone. What a joke. Just one more good reason to flee this state.

Well, I'm exhausted and there isn't much to report on today. Back soon!

"I see TV ads about detergents that can get blood stains out of your clothes. I say if you have blood stains on your clothes you should be thinking about something other than laundry."— Jerry Seinfeld

The Heat Goes On

I'm enjoying the AC at Starbucks on this hot, hot day. The weatherman has promised that we are at the beginning of a heat wave spanning several days. Lovely. I would complain more except that the Summer hasn't really been that bad. We had some hot days back in July, but August has been very mild... by southern California standards.

I awoke early this morning to the sounds of work going on behind my house. Yesterday Clint the plumber promised me he would be back this morning or tomorrow morning to install the trap and finish the job started previously. It didn't occur to me that I should be up and ready for him. So, hearing him and his assistant dig out the pipe they intended to work on was not all that surprising. After a few minutes I was able to go back to sleep— until they started knocking on the doors, one at each door. It seems they needed electricity for the mini chainsaw to cut out the offending tree. (It was a large bush really.) That required me to get up and pretend to be functional. I spent the first half hour of the day commando, if you catch my meaning. ;-)

When they took a break, I took a quick shower and slipped into some clean clothes. The day has been fairly routine since. They finished early and the local gardener cleaned their mess off my patio. I worked inside, breaking down some smaller boxes and getting some trash and unwanted items out into the dumpster.

Every day I grow more and more excited to leave San Bernardino and get to Raleigh. I am not— I repeat NOT— excited to leave everyone behind, but I am excited about the rest of the package. I'm sure you'll get tired of hearing me say that over the next four weeks. It's the predominant emotional state I'm in right now, mixed with stress from things that are going on.

I faxed off my registration today, and since I haven't heard anything back, I'm assuming I'll get the paperwork I need in a few days. Getting my old car out of the driveway will be a welcome relief.

The other big news is that I believe I may be performing next Monday night. Did I mention here previously that I emailed my friend and mentor, Bill Word, about sitting in a few of his classes before leaving town? I forget. Regardless, he offered me an 8-minute spot in his show next Monday night. At first I wrote back and said that I couldn't possibly be ready yet... but then I realized that I just can't turn down 8 minutes so I wrote him back and accepted his offer. I'm so excited! I have no idea what I'm going to do for 8 minutes, but I hope to write some material between now and then— probably about being unemployed and moving. More on that as the situation progresses.

My apologies if you see a lot of un-capitalized words in this post and others. For some reason my fingers just don't have the sequence down right. They go through the motions on the keyboard, but there is some malfunction as not all the capitals come through. However, on top of that, I noticed that the situation is particularly bad when I'm on this laptop. For some reason, caps just don't happen like they should. I had to re-capitalize several sentence beginnings and 'I's in yesterday's post and have been hard at work on them today as well.

Last night I patched my MP3 player into my new car stereo's auxiliary input. Wow! It sounded awesome. I am set for the long drive across country.

You know, speaking of which, every time I get in the car I fight the desire to start across country now. I really wish I could just abandon my place like it is. Unfortunately, I can't do that. (Please, don't read all that as if I'm serious!) Like I said at the top of the post, I'm really looking forward to getting to Raleigh, and part of that is the trip across country. It's a unique opportunity that I hope to enjoy. I have always been one to drive with my eyes open. I'm hoping to see lots of beautiful sights, and I promise to take pictures and post them (somewhere) when practical.

Well, that's enough for today. I'll keep this short after yesterday's novelette.

"The activity of happiness must occupy an entire lifetime; for one swallow does not a summer make."— Aristotle

It's Not Easy Being Me

I'll be perfectly frank here, and if you know me at all, none of this will be a surprise. I'm not good with money. I'm a smart guy. Give me math or chemistry or physics or a computer program or something, and I'm your guy. But give me a limited money situation or a budget and I'm a mess. I keep trying to bend the situation to my benefit and I always end up making the whole thing a financial abyss. I'm also not good with paper work and bureaucracy. I absolutely abhor filling out forms, faxing, and so forth. I try to do what I have to, but sometimes things slip. These facts will come into play later, but let me start back at the beginning of my latest adventures.

I told you yesterday that I'd bought some copper sulfate granules to dump into the sewer main leaving my bathroom in order to kill the tree roots. The last few days, with the water draining slow out of both the tub and the toilet, I've been able to keep the toilet functioning by only using a couple times a day. By waiting a long time between flushes, enough water seems to seep out of the system, allowing for a full flush without incident. As for myself, accustomed to flushing a few times a day more than that, I have been making sure to hit the bathrooms at Starbucks or any other place I visit.

So, last night, I figured that the time was right to dump the granules into the toilet and give it a good flush. The water immediately turned vibrant blue with the copper sulfate. I expected that, having performed an experiment with a copper sulfate solution with my dad when I was a lad. (The experiment was in electroplating. By hooking a copper penny to the positive pole of one of those big squarish batteries and an iron nail to the negative pole and then dunking both into the copper sulfate solution, you complete a circuit. The charged copper ions stream to the oppositely charged nail, completing the circuit and electroplating the nail with copper. I could be wrong about which gets attached to which battery pole, but you get the idea.) I stared at the intensely blue water and steeled myself for a flush with fingers crossed. There is a water control tube and shut-off valve just behind the toilet so I figured that was my back up in case something went wrong.

I flushed, no funnel formed, and water immediately began growing higher in the bowl. Alarmed, I reached for the shut-off knob and twisted— only to find that I couldn't twist it. It was frozen solid with disuse. Now panicking, I watched the water grow higher. I tried the knob again to no avail. I grabbed the plunger and plunged quickly, hoping I could manage to keep the water in the bowl. When things back up like this, however, I know that plunging the bowl pushes the backed up water into the tub. This it did without assisting in the bowl at all. At this point water began to run out the top of the bowl. Fortunately, just as happened a few years ago, I had a stack of clothes nearby that were destined for the trash. I started throwing old shirts and such around the bowl to both stem the water's advance and to begin soaking it up. I managed to prevent the water getting too far by the time the bowl completed the flush cycle. Fortunately, although toxic with copper sulfate, the water was only water, if you catch my meaning. ;-)

At this time it was growing close to 1 in the AM. A few minutes of thinking about the problem revealed to me that there was no place for me to take care of my bodily needs before getting a plumber to take care of the problem. Even though the bathroom was unsightly, the water was at least under control. I decided to check into a cheap motel for the night. Fortunately, there is a Motel 6 just a few miles away so I grabbed my deodorant, a clean set of clothes and jumped in the car. I've stayed in some cheap Motel 6's over the years, but somehow the one in San Bernardino rates almost $50 a night. Unfortunately, I was stuck between the proverbial rock and the proverbial hard place. A few minutes later I threw my stuff down in the room and tried to relax.

FYI" Did you know that TBS shows a lot of 'Married With Children' episodes in the middle of the night? 20 years has not made that show better or worse...

I tried to get a good night's sleep, having cranked the AC in the room as low as it would go. The mattress on the bed was a nightmare though. Apparently most people sleep on the side of the bed closest to the door because the entire mattress sloped in that direction. I felt like I was in gyroscope mode all night, counter-spinning to prevent myself from snowballing off the mattress. It was the worst night's sleep I've had for months. Thankfully the AC eventually caught up with my chilly demands.

Checkout was at Noon, and I had my alarm set for 11 AM. I woke up at 10:30 though, which is to say I finally decided to stop trying to get some decent sleep about 10:30. Thankfully, there was hot water in the shower. I got back home about Noon.

I walked across the street and talked to Steve, our local liaison for apartment services. I don't know what his official position is with our landlady, but he is a go-to when we need things. I told him about the plumbing, and he promised to contact the plumber.

Here is a good place to point out that last night, before submerging my bathroom, I also placed some 'For Sale' signs in the windows of my old car. I was told the plumber would show up about 2 PM so I jumped on my computer to kill the time. I also ate a little something that passed for breakfast. I figured the plumber would be early so I wasn't surprised when there was a knock on the door shortly after 1 PM. I was surprised, however, when it turned out to be a middle-aged couple who were stopping to ask about the car. They got a few details from me and then, interested in the car, promised to return shortly.

After they left, the plumber did show up. The plumber's name is Clint, and he is the same plumber that has been servicing all of my landlady's apartments for years... if not decades. When he serviced this exact same problem nearly two years ago, we spent an entire afternoon pursuing false leads before finally fixing the problem. We dug out the septic tank, only to discover that it was in perfect working order. We also dug out another section of the plumbing behind my neighbor's half of the house to no avail. Finally, he hauled his snaking equipment on to the roof, no easy feat considering it weighs a few hundred pounds and there were only the two of us and our elderly handyman about at the time to do the job. When he snaked the line that time, he pulled out a mass of tree roots the size of a kitten. It was dirty and matted. It was at that time that he told me about using granularized copper sulfate in the lines.

I wanted the job done quickly this time, explaining first to Steve and then to Clint that the problem was exactly the same as before. I just wanted a quick snake job from the roof. Clint was having none of that, however. I'm pessimistic enough to believe that most plumbers are great bullshit artists, finding ways to make sure they get to charge $185 an hour for as many hours as possible. Clint immediately went for the back of the house, on my side, determining where the main should run out from under the house. Unfortunately, this was under some concrete. Nothing I said could persuade him to snake from the roof first. So, to make things easier, I drove my new car out of the driveway, allowing Clint to back his truck up as close to the problem area. Then, once he and his assistant began scraping away ivy and using their shovels to break up the concrete, I settled down at the computer again, hoping to make the time pass, but staying close so I could run things from inside when needed.

After a few short minutes, there was a knock at the door again. I figured it was Clint, needing something, but it was once again the couple interested in my car. She wanted to drive the car up and down the block to see how bad it was, which presented a problem as it was now mostly blocked into my driveway by Clint's truck. We used a few bricks and concrete blocks, though, and I roughed it up and over one small obstacle and then down the driveway. She drove the car down the street and back, even more impressed with the car now. they definitely wanted to buy it.

Here's where I need to explain that the car is out of registration currently. I paid up the registration last year (in 2008), but I didn't pursue getting the tags because the car was not mobile at the time. The car was fixed and mobile again for a few months in Autumn of '08, and shortly after I was laid off, I had it smogged so I could complete the registration process. (It's been legally insured the entire time.) However, as soon as I completed the smog test, the radiator started up with its problems. Disgusted with the car at this time, and refusing to sink more money into it, I let the registration process slide again. This is where me being bad with paperwork and such comes in because I let the intervening time go by without doing anything about the registration. i figured it was going to cost too much money to get everything squared, and in the back of my head I thought I would eventually let the car go to a junk yard, not needing everything to be 100% legit.

Here was this couple, however, who really wanted to buy the car. They said they would pay any registration fees and they volunteered to call the DMV to see what else needed to be done. They drove off a second time, promising to call me back with and info they found out.

You know, if this was a movie, we would due for an intermission at this point, a proper entr'acte. Feel free to get up, stretch, get yourself some popcorn, and hit the bathroom. I'll be here when you get back. :-)

Meanwhile, Clint and his assistant met with some success behind the house. I checked in on them only find that they had found the main they were looking for. My earlier distrust was a bit mollified by this. Clint had said all along that he wanted to find this main and then install a cleanout so that future visits would be much, much easier. It looked as if we was right all along. I went back inside again as they commenced with the actual snaking operation. (This was the heavy duty snake they were using, not the 'light' one Clint had previously used on the roof.)

I had to unplug my router in order for Clint to have a plug for his snake. That meant I was restless because I couldn't do anything over the internet. I didn't trust myself to read because I was so tired from the poor night's sleep. So, after a few minutes I went back outside to observe the snaking process. I arrived in time to see Clint wrangling a mass of roots out of the main. And by 'mass of roots' I mean a veritable anaconda of roots. I could hardly believe the length or mass of the entanglement. I shook my head. It was no wonder things were backing up. In fact, it was hard to believe that anything was flowing through at all. I am still in awe when I see the mass in my mind's eye.

Clint had me flush the toilet a few times to make sure there were no problems going the other way, back into the house. It was my pleasure to see a deep, strong funnel form in the bowl with each flush. I went back outside to report my success. At this time, Clint asked me if I had ever seen a sewer rat before. I laughed because he had pulled this joke on me two years previous. At the time, he shook the mass of extracted roots as his 'sewer rat'. I told him that he'd pulled that joke on me previously. We both laughed and he let it pass. A few minutes later, however, he started asking me if I was scared of tarantulas. He then started talking about catching one at a house down the street recently. He said this as he walked back to his truck. I knew another practical joke was in the offing, but I followed him to the truck. he reached into the cab and pulled out a small crinkled paper bag. Thinking he might have a real dead tarantula, I backed away from him and the bag, telling him I didn't need to see it. This did not dissuade him, however, and he lobbed a rubber spider at me. We both laughed. Though I am still a bit distrustful of his plumberly ways, he is a fun guy to be around.

While Clint and his assistant were cleaning up, I received a call from Charlotte and Celo, the couple interested in my car. The DMV told them that registration of my car would be $153, which they agreed to pay. Unfortunately, the DMV also told them that there was a lien against my car. This was definitely a surprise until they told me the lien holder First American. Apparently, when I paid off the car I was supposed to do something after they sent me the pink slip. This falls into the category of me being bad with paperwork. Fortunately, the DMV said that the lien holder in these cases can usually be contacted to re-complete the issue. So, all I have to do now is fax a copy of my registration to the First American credit union. This kind of rigmarole is why I hate paperwork to begin with, even though I'm aware that the problem grew out of hand because of my own irresponsibility.

And, as for the plumbing, there is a big hole behind my house and an exposed main. Clint said that he is going to have to return tomorrow or Thursday in order to install the clean out that he promised.

After he left, I fled, packing up everything and coming here to Starbucks. I have to go back tonight and clean up the mess in the bathroom, but I had to get away for now.

As Kurt Vonnegut once used in a book, "And so it goes."

Back soon!

"No problem is so formidable that you can't walk away from it."— Charles M. Schulz

PS: While I was writing this at Starbucks, Blogger bombed out so I am copying and pasting and posting this later, from home. On the way home, I passed the following church sign. I just had to take a picture. I didn't even know He gave massages...

The Boring Details

I'm trying to get out of my apartment as easily and as painlessly as possible. My apartment seems to have other ideas about that. On Saturday my tub seemed to drain slow. Then, on Sunday, the was a thin pool of water at my feet as I finished my shower. Ugh. I've been through this several times over the years I've lived there. Tree roots have clogged the pipes again. The easiest thing to do would be to call someone and have the plumber out to snake the line, but the plumber always wants to spend an hour or two checking out everything else first. The problem is that access to the line is from a vent pipe on the roof so the plumber has to haul the very heavy snaking equipment up a ladder on to the roof. In addition to his inclination to waste $185 an hour looking for the wrong things, the roof situation makes the plumber's visit an annoyance. I am thinking I will have to plan a day away from home and leave a note with the local handyman, hoping they will get the line snaked without me having to be around.

In the meantime, I bought some granularized copper sulfate at Home Depot this afternoon to see if I can take care of the root problems myself. I doubt it will happen, as the back of the container says it takes about 3 to 4 weeks to take effect. Still it's worth a try on the slim hope that I can avoid having the plumber come inside my place.

I also bought some other supplies for cleaning out my place, the most expensive of which was a box of large trash bags for hauling stuff out. I took out two bags of trash last night and that cleaned me out of bags. I still need to get a box cutter for cutting up old, un-reusable boxes.

While shopping for cleaning out supplies, I also bought a pair of 'For Sale' signs to stick in the windows of my Sportage. It saddens me to get rid of the Sportage. That is the only car I bought and paid for all on my own. I got the loan myself with no co-signers— at only 18% interest!— and I made all the car payments (eventually). I am rather proud of having done that, and I really do love that car. I know other people routinely buy and pay off cars by themselves, but when it comes to money matters, I'm not like other people...

Yesterday I contacted my friend and comedy mentor, Bill Word. Late last year, high on the feeling of having some free time, I bought a new round of classes from him with the intent of getting back on stage. Of course, my car then immediately stopped working right. I hope to get a few of those classes in before I leave town. In fact, had I been better prepared, I would have driven into Orange County tonight for the first, but I was just too unorganized. maybe next Monday night. That gives me time to write a few jokes and work them out a bit.

Last Friday I finished the third and final volume of Peter Hamilton's "The Night's Dawn" trilogy. This was a big set of books, running to about 2000 pages in print. I read the entire thing on my Kindle. I probably explained some several posts ago that I'd read the first volume twice before over the last 10 years. This time I pushed myself all the way through and very much enjoyed it. It's a space opera with a large cast of characters— often a confusingly large cast, as even some of the spaceships are characters. It's set about 700 years in our future, after conditions on Earth forced centuries of planetary colonization. At the time the story begins, mankind is bound together by the Confederation, which includes 800+ planets and representatives of two alien species, one far more advanced and one to which the Confederation is actively selling technology. On a backwater colony planet an energistic alien accidentally gets involved in a violent dispute between settlers, a rebelling criminal class, and a long-hidden galactic criminal. The alien's strange energy opens a rift into an energy continuum where the souls of humankind past are wandering adrift in agony. The opening allows them to stream through and take over weakened human bodies, occupying them as hijackers with the original personality locked away. The returned souls discover they have wildly strong energies that stem from their lost continuum, and they begin spreading like a virus. The newly returned, in order to ease the agonies of the other souls they can still hear, use their powers to attack the non-possessed, weakening them to the point where a possessing soul can take over. It's a space opera of high technology and zombies. I am glad I finally took the time to finish it.

Talk to you again soon!

"Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition: the clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day."— Simone de Beauvoir

King of the World!

I'm so excited right now, I can barely make myself sit down and write. But let me start earlier in the day:

I got up early— that's right, before 8 AM! My father spent a few days this week negotiating to buy a car for me from a local dealer. Everything was set, and he overnighted the bank draft to me to be here by 10:30 AM. So, I needed to be up and about early so that the UPS man didn't catch me off guard. The plan worked perfectly. I showered, ate a little something, figured out how to get to the dealer via the county buses, and was just about to tackle my insurance agent when there was a knock at the door.

Money in hand, I contacted my insurance agent and started the process of getting my old car off the policy and a new car on. Then I waited a bit for some documents to arrive by email. I emerged from my apartment about 11 AM with a bag full of documents slung over my shoulder (as well as my Kindle and my DSi— it was, after all, going to be three buses to the dealership).

I've known since I announced that I would be leaving this neighborhood shortly that the neighborhood now has it in for me. Let me set this up right: I live immediately on an intersection, with one street running north-south and the other east-west.. My driveway empties on to the E-W street about 10 feet from the intersection. My route was to take me 10 feet east and then turn to the south and cross the road at the same time. As soon as I got onto the street, I saw a woman in a car being yelled at by a man on the sidewalk. She was idling there, about 75 feet ahead of me to the east. I kept my eyes down, not wanting to make eye contact with the yelling man as he was likely to divert his anger to me. I turned right and crossed the street in half a minute and didn't see what followed.

With my back to the scene, I heard her car suddenly rev up. She had floored the accelerator. My guess is that she had decided the argument was over. I kept hearing the car rev higher and higher. She was serious about getting away. So serious, in fact, that she didn't stop at the stop sign immediately in front of her. She shot into the intersection behind me and t-boned a car travelling south. That's when I turned around. I was in time to see metal scrunching and glass flying. The t-boned car was pushed up onto the corner of my lot. Still in motion, he angled 45 degrees to point straight at me. Fortunately, the impact had absorbed most of his momentum and he was able to straighten out his car and park 30 feet down the street without seriously threatening me. His driving on, whipped the woman's car around so that it was facing back in the direction it had come from.

At this time I noticed the man with whom she had been arguing running about her car. His forehead was bleeding, but he was trying doors on the car. He pulled out a baby in baby carrier and then assisted the woman in getting out. Trying to piece together everything that had happened behind me, I believe he had tried to get in the car with her. That's when she gunned the accelerator, probably causing the door to fly back and hit him in the head.

Meanwhile, I turned my attention to the t-boned driver. He was ahead of me, and I walked up to his car to see him sliding over to the passenger side and then exiting out that door. He was a bit rattled but otherwise fine. I saw no nicks or cuts on him at all— which was remarkable, really, given how caved in the driver side door was. He flipped out his phone, and I asked him if he was going to call the police. (After ascertaining that he was OK!) By this time, quite a crowd had gathered in the intersection. I saw several phones out but still thought this driver should call.

The fire truck arrived first, immediately attending to the guy with the bleeding forehead. I saw them put a brace around his neck and bandage his head. The ambulance arrived shortly afterwards and eventually took this guy away. We waited a long time for the police to arrive, and when they did it was in the form of three CHP officers, the first arriving by motorcycle. I hung around through all this because I was the only person other than the drivers and the bleeding guy who was out there at the time. I wanted to be useful if I could be. No one ever asked me anything, however, and 45 minutes later, after the cops left, I walked off as well. I wished the t-boned driver a better day on my way.

Standing out in the sun for nearly an hour made me hot and sweaty and uncomfortable. I was also very tired from having had little sleep. The three buses I was required to take to get in Ontario were hot and crowded as well. It was a miserable trip, and when I flopped into a chair in the sales person's office, I was beat.

My Dad had worked with Tracy Benjamin had Romero Motors, and I mention her specifically because she was such a delight. I had the best experience ever. I was probably there about an hour and never ran into any snags or difficulties. At 4 PM I was sitting in my new car, figuring out where everything was. You know that feeling that settles over you when you first sit in the driver's seat of your new car. I'm coining the new sniglet 'drivergasm' to cover that feeling of joy.

So now you know why I don't want to sit here. Just before sitting down, I went out to the car and programmed a bunch of radio stations. I get 3 free months of XM service so I had a blast programming 18 buttons worth of satellite radio. :-D

Tomorrow I'm off to spend the day with Pat and then enjoy a movie night with the guys. I can't wait to show off my new car!

Back soon!

"I once had a car / That was more like a home

I lived in it, loved in it / Polished its chrome

If some of my homes / Had been more like my car

I probably wouldn't have / Travelled this far" — Paul Simon, "Cars Are Cars"

The Beginning of the End

I haven't posted for a few days because my stress level has been really high. I can't concentrate on anything at all. I'm only here tonight because I don't want to let anymore days pass without a post. More on why I am stressed after a few anecdotes.

I forgot to relate this story of about a week ago. File this as another update about my neighborhood. I was reading in the car at night, probably about 11 PM, when two guys (early 20s?) stopped at the end of my driveway after noticing me in my car. They had been walking along the street. After several seconds one of them walked a few feet towards me in my car, then stopped. He spent about half a minute then making motions like he was going to come closer but then holding himself back. As the window was down, I finally asked him what he wanted. This was the 'permission' he needed to come up to my window. Right away I could tell he was a bit toasted. He said that he and his friend needed a ride to Redlands, at which point I stopped him and said that my car didn't work. He offered me money then, and I explained again that my car wouldn't make the trip and that I was reading in it because it wasn't good for much else. At this point he called to his friend and asked him if he had any more money. I said that it didn't matter how much money they came up with, the car wouldn't make the trip. He still didn't believe me, but he figured I wasn't going to give him a ride regardless so he walked off. As the two of them continued up the street I heard him go on about the car not working and me reading. The 'F' word was dropped in there a few times as well. That's the only time I've been approached at night while reading in the car.

Yesterday I spent the day with Pat, getting home late. For some reason I had been secure in the knowledge for several days that I'd recently purchased a multipack of toilet paper for the bathroom. That night, well after the local market closed, I discovered that I had none in the house. So, I had to make a trip to 7-Eleven about 1:30 AM, hoping that toilet paper was something they stocked. (They did. *phew*!) Upon entering the store a few young white men were arguing with a few young black men. The argument was loud and almost immediately in front of the store doors. I spent a couple minutes inside making my purchase, and even inside I could hear the argument growing in volume. When I emerged, the voices were on the cusp of shouting. I stared at the ground and walked quickly to my car. My next goal was to get out of the parking lot as quickly as possible before the cops arrived. When I was making my purchase, one of the store attendants was closely watching the argument. I had little doubt that he was going to be on the phone soon. Fortunately, I made it home without incident.

This is one of the things that bothers me. I am a night person by biology. I recognize that, in a world biased towards daylight, it is easier to live one's life during daylight hours, but as I have been without a schedule for so long, I am hopelessly nocturnal now. Yet night is still a time of less control, and in my neighborhood— my extended neighborhood if you measure all the way out to the 7-Eleven— it is decidedly less safe to be about at night. I really resent this. I want completely freedom at night to do as I like. It's bad enough being limited by not living in a 24-hour society. being further limited by a less than ideal neighborhood is just adding insult as well.

Now, as to the tease at the beginning of this post (and, in fact, a tease I dropped last week as well), certain events have been placed in motion with the ultimate outcome being that I will soon discontinue writing in this blog. If you'll recall, on the day that I went to the Getty museum with my friend Laura, I had about 40 minutes to kill between the train leaving me in Orange and Laura picking me up. During that time I called back to Raleigh, NC, and spoke with my cousin, Ted, at Greenwich Bay. My brother had previously asked Ted if he would be at all open to the idea of me filling the graphic designer opening at the plant, and Ted was more than just open to the idea. When I spoke on the phone with him, he detailed a lot of what he thought the job was about, and he basically asked me when I wanted to start. At the time a lot of details were up in the air so I promised to call him back soon. I did so last Wednesday, accepting his offer. We pencilled a starting date of October 5th in our calendars.

So, I say that I'll be dropping this blog because soon I will no longer be Jobless John. Have no fear, however, I fully intend to continue on in a new blog. I anticipate that blog to be about me adapting to life in Raleigh.

There is so much to do now. I haven't the vaguest notion where to begin. No doubt the upcoming six weeks will be full of stress and sadness, conditions which will be reflected here.

Back soon!

"The great thing in the world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving."— Oliver Wendell Holmes

Movies

I'm enjoying the afternoon at Starbucks. I awoke fairly early today— early for me!— but I've been fighting a headache since rising. So far it hasn't gotten too bad, but it hasn't left yet either.

I promised a couple movie reviews. I hope you haven't been holding your breath!

The first movie up for review is G. I. Joe, which just scored a big opening weekend. I believe the best thing I can say about this movie is sit back, turn off your brain, and let the movie take you for a ride. There's no slow-down on this ride, except for the few minutes back at Joe headquarters (The Pit), when the movie stops to introduce all the dolls... er, action figures... er, characters. The action starts within minutes of the first reel spinning, and it doesn't stop until everything has been blown up or otherwise destroyed. If this is your cup of tea, then you won't be disappointed. I enjoyed it as a visceral thrill, and I would be willing to see a sequel as well. That said, I have a minor quibble with the movie: the horrendous Channing Tatum in the lead role. The movie is studded with fun actors having a good time, but Tatum is visibly struggling to keep up with his co-stars. Having fun is entirely out of his reach. It's easy to see why he was cast in the movie: he looks like an action figure. But, risking the audience's tenuous suspension of disbelief every time Tatum is called upon to speak a line or emote throws the casting decision into a bad light. He is one of the few actors out there these days that makes one ask, "Was John Cena busy?"

The second movie up for review is a renter so be sure to update your Netflix queues: Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus. If you haven't heard of this one, then in all likelihood, you're not plugged into viral marketing. I first caught wind of this movie a few months ago in an internet-based ad. (Not sure if it was on Facebook or not.) I clicked the ad and watched the trailer and my first thought was Someone has to make this movie! That's right, I thought it was a fake movie trailer, but the trailer was so camped up that i thought it would be the best worst movie ever. Soon afterwards i found out that it was a real trailer for a real movie, and last weekend my friend Pat and I discovered that it is far from being the best worst movie ever. In fact, it is pretty much just one of the worst movies ever. In the trailer, there is a brief shot of passengers in an airplane, flying over the ocean. One of the passengers looks out the window and then shouts "Did you see that?!" The next shot is then of the giant shark— excuse me, mega shark— leaping from the ocean and biting the airplane in half in mid-air. A second shot in the trailer shows the mega shark biting out the middle portion of the Golden Gate Bridge. With a trailer like that and starring Deborah Gibson (yes, formerly Debbie Gibson of 80's pop charts) and Lorenzo Lamas, how could it be a bad movie? Sadly, the trailer shows the only two moments of excitement in the movie. The giant octopus gets no big scenes other than one brief shot of giant tentacles flinging themselves over and around a sea platform. All of the severely limited budget must have gone into these FX shots as most of the indoor sets are bare rooms with dark lighting. (Dark lighting makes it hard to see that there is no set decoration whatsoever.) What change could be spared was then doled out to the few actors for a few days of their time. Regular visitors to— or natives of— Long Beach, CA, will recognize most of the exterior shots, saving more money by reducing the need for expensive locations. Sadly, Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus is a mega flop or a giant flop, take your pick. It fails to even provide even a good camp thrill.

Back soon!

"The words 'Kiss Kiss Bang Bang' which I saw on an Italian movie poster, are perhaps the briefest statement imaginable of the basic appeal of movies."— Pauline Kael

The Getty with Cruz

Before I dive in, don't let me forget that I have a couple movie reviews to write as soon as possible!

This last Friday I headed in to Orange County to meet my dear friend Laura, and we then spent the day at the Getty museum in Los Angeles. (As opposed to the Getty museum in Malibu.) I didn't tell Laura this, but I had risen very late in the afternoon the day before. Since I had to leave the house at 4 AM to catch the train, I decided it would be easier on me to forgo sleep that night, maybe dozing on the train. In fact, sleep-wise, I did quite well that day, only dozing off in the car after we left the museum and then spent an hour or more in traffic. Truth to tell, I would have dozed off under those circumstances anyway. I find it very hard to stay awake in any car at nearly any time of the day.

At the train station I ran into an old casual friend named Patricia who used to give me rides home from the train station a couple nights a week when I was a regular rider. She lives just up the street from me, and I always appreciated her help. It was fun to catch up with her for a few minutes. I took a seat on the train next to the doors in the car most of my friends used to ride in. However, I didn't see anyone else to chat with. I'd told Laura I would be on the third train out of San Bernardino in the morning, but, in fact, I caught the second train. This was intentional on my part because I would rather spend the excess time in Orange than in San Bernardino. Because I had to catch two city buses to get to the train, it wasn't possible for me to delay my trip to the train station so I got to Orange 40 minutes early and waited. That time was probably the best spent time of the day... but I will cover the events of that 40 minutes in a future blog post. This post will be long enough without adding more.

Laura picked me up shortly after 7 AM, and we headed over to a new restaurant she had seen so we could get some breakfast. It's called the Pasta Connection, and it's located at 2145 W Chapman, in Orange, just off the 57 freeway. I had steak and eggs, and the steak was probably the best breakfast steak I've ever eaten. (I've eaten a lot, if you must know. I love steak and eggs for breakfast!) The steak was generous in size, tender, and very flavorful. The menu advertises that the beef is from Argentina, and I have to say that Argentina grows some mighty tasty cows.

We made a brief stop at a local mechanic so Laura could ask about their service since she is looking for a new mechanic. Then we made another brief stop at her place so she could grab her camera. After that, we were off. We took the 22 out to the 405. The Getty is just off the 405 in Los Angeles. However, while crossing Long Beach, Laura decided we should stop to visit her sister and niece at the coffee shop in which they work. I was all for that as I desperately needed more caffeine! The two women turned out not to be there, though, so we enjoyed a few minutes of relaxation and then drove over to Laura's sister's house. Her sister was in the shower so we played with the dog (Winston, a Staffordshire terrier) and then hit the road again.

No more stops along the way this time. About 30 minutes later and we were parking deep in the underground beneath the Getty. The good news is that the Getty does not charge admission to the museum, and you do not need reservations to go. But, it costs $15 to park, which is steep, but paying for parking is just one of the pleasure of visiting Los Angeles.

Upon surfacing from the parking structure, one then queues up to catch the tram that ferries visitors up and down the hill. The Getty sits on one of the tallest hills in Los Angeles and commands a spectacular view of the ocean to the south and the greater mass of Los Angeles to the east. On a clear day— no jokes, please!— the views are spectacular in most directions. (The westerly and northerly views are mostly of the local neighborhoods, like Bel Air.)

I'll apologize at this point for not updating the slideshow that formerly sat to the left of this column. I posted a few dozen pictures on Flickr with the intent of reconfiguring the slideshow to point to them; however, the widget that controls the slideshow no longer matches the current Flickr API and only searches Flickr for the appropriate pictures by using a keyword field that Flickr no longer supports. I searched the Blogger widgets for a new slideshow app, but the only one I saw didn't seem to work. On top of that, I discovered that hundreds of Blogger widgets have been removed, including the slideshow app that I was using. So, instead, I will direct you to look at the pics on Flickr manually: http://www.flickr.com/photos/9017488@N07/tags/gettygrounds2009/. Flickr posts the pictures in your photostream in the reverse order you upload them and I am too lazy to reorder them. So, if you start at the first picture on the page and go forward from there, you will be seeing the pictures opposite to the timeline in which Laura and I encountered them.

Before getting on the tram, Laura and I grabbed an elevator from the parking structure. We were the first ones in the elevator, and Laura very patiently waited for many other visitors to enter before pushing the button to go up. One elderly man seemed amazed that she had done so. After our tram ride, he hiked a set of steps next to us and thanked us profusely for holding the doors. He even went on to say that no one had ever done that for him before, which seemed ridiculous to us. (Even native Californians occasionally remember their manners.) After thanking us, he then asked us our names, and when we parted a minute later, he wished both myself and 'Beth' a nice day. I suspect his hearing may not have been up to snuff.

If you've never been to the Getty and you are living in southern California, then shame on you. This museum, the 'new' one, is an architectural delight. (The original Getty, in Malibu, is architecturally delightful as well, as it is modeled on a Roman villa.) The new museum, unlike the original, is very modern. It is cement and glass and water, inviting visitors to stroll about, taking their time to enjoy the showcased art as well as the grounds themselves.

We first went into a temporary exhibit displaying the marvels of ancient Algiers. There were several books on display as well as photographs, maps, and other artifacts from the city's history. It was an intriguing display if not all that deep. We wandered around for 20 minutes or so, looking at the various items. I would have been entertained more by a deeper treatment. All the same, it was interesting.

Next, at my insistence, we went into one of the painting exhibits. Paintings are definitely the big attraction for me, and I could spend all day just gazing at them for considerable lengths of time. As there were more and more people in attendance as the day progressed, it became more and more uncomfortable to linger for very long in front of any particular painting. The particular wing we chose had maybe 10 or 12 connected exhibit halls, each of which gathered paintings of a different period, style, or medium. I enjoyed paintings in each and every hall, looking forward the entire time to seeing the impressionists and to seeing the much earlier works of Pieter Breugel the Elder, a 16th century artist, and one of my favorites. Unfortunately, we didn't see any Breugels anywhere, but they may have been hiding in the other wing, which we did not get a chance to tour. We did so the impressionist collection, though, at it was amazing. For me personally, the highlight is Van Gogh's "Irises". That was the only Van Gogh we saw, but there

were many Cezannes, Monets, and others.

If I have any complaint about the modern Getty, it is that the paintings are displayed with several feet of blank wall between each of them. They are all displayed individually. In the the original Getty the paintings were displayed on crowded walls. This display choice may seem chaotic and confusing, but I enjoyed the sensation of being swaddled in great art. You could miss a particular painting among the crowd, but there was nowhere you could look without being impressed... unless you gave up and stared down at your shoes!

From the paintings we went down one level so that Laura could see the collection that attracted her: the decorative arts. This exhibit was hall after hall of furniture and porcelains and tapestries and such. While I found many of the individual items to be beautiful, the exhibit on the whole soon cloys me with its excess. On top of that, the entire time you walk through the exhibit you are surrounded by chairs and settees and beds and divans— none of which are you allowed to sit on! Just seeing them all produced a strong need in me to sit down. :-P

From the decorative arts, we went outside again and enjoyed a few minutes sitting under a large umbrella. We sat by several succulent gardens, and you'll see many pictures of them in my photostream. Personally, I love succulents. As I explained to Laura later, I think of them as Nature's fat and misshapen plants, the ones that force you to take them as they are, with no apologies.

With time running short at this point— we had to leave at 2 PM in order to ensure that we had time to get through traffic and get me back to the train on time— we then toured the outside gardens. This is where the bulk of my pictures come from. You'll see a beautiful hedge maze in a fountain in a few pictures. It's quite impressive.

As I said earlier, I nodded off in the car during our return trip. Traffic was heavy and our progress was slow. We had just enough time to stop at one of Laura's favorite Mexican restaurants for a late lunch before heading to the train station. The train home was much more crowded than it was on the ride in and consequently much less comfortable. I saw no one I knew and spent the time reading. Naturally, when it arrived I hustled over to the closest bus stop, arriving 30 seconds after the bus drove past. So, I had to spend at least 20 minutes waiting for the next bus. I then had to transfer buses downtown, and my connector was running late. I spent that 20 minutes listening to a very generic band playing to a crowd of a few hundred at the downtown San Bernardino bandstand. Finally, however, I caught the second bus and a few minutes later was walking the last leg home, shortly after 8 PM.

I was tired and hot from the day and ready to kick off my boots and relax. The day, however, was not done with me. Just as I turned onto my street and was crossing the channel that leads to the local reservoir, an unmarked sheriff's car pulled up alongside me and rolled down its window. The driving deputy asked me where I was headed, and I responded that I was heading home. He then asked me if my name was Cruz. I said 'No' and he asked me what my name was and if I had any identification on me. By this time, the deputy on the passenger side had opened up his door and gotten out. I crossed the street and handed him my drivers license. While the driving deputy ran my ID in the computer, this other deputy asked me a series of questions, including ones about whether or not I'd ever been arrested, etc. It was all very embarrassing, having to explain my stupidity of 4½ years ago. I could see that there deputies were from the anti-gang unit, a particular irony if you consider my ramblings in recent posts. It turns out I 'matched' someone they were looking for, but after looking at my record quickly, they let me go. The whole time I was confounded by the notion that I matched the description of someone named 'Cruz'. I am the whitest guy in my neighborhood. This lack of racial identifying training seems to be consistent with the sheriff's department, however. As many readers will recall, I was previously accused of being Chinese by them.

That was my day. I hope you enjoy the copy of Breugel's "The Tower of Babel" that I've included. Please feel free to stare at for a long time. I do. I find it to be entrancing.

Talk to you soon!

"The world today doesn't make sense, so why should I paint pictures that do?"— Pablo Picasso