Choo-choo.

So I am writing this entry from the comfort of the Metropolitan Water District's patio. These words are not being transcribed via laptop, but through the means of my MotoQ. Rather slowly might I add.

I did intend on publishing over the weekend, but I got busy and not in a Burger King bathroom. My car needed a new battery, so I DIY'd it - it was a challenge given a BMW's intricate design and the fact it was 95 degrees in the shade on Saturday.

Sunday was spent blowing things up with my buddy in Ohio and running errands. I am trying hard not to be a boring adult.

Today was my second return to the gym. My conditioning and jump shot are horrible. More to add to the list of things that keep me challenged. Perhaps I need to encounter more homeless ladies who need help. At any rate, the weight loss mission begins...

I have been getting lots of smiles on the train. Calvin Klein suits are magically delicious or sexy or something.

Something I'm Proud Of...

...not so much the act, but the fact that I didn't hesitate to do it.

So it's warm outside and humid; the typical summer day in Los Angeles. I'm usually sweating at around 7AM, right out of the shower, and that's average. There are days that eclipse that experience, where I'm very grateful for central air. Today was a more of an average uncomfortable day, weather wise. I was sweating on my walk home. Imagine all that weather, while being in a charcoal Jones NY wool suit... yep.

My walk home is about a mile or so and it's tolerable with my super comfortable Rockport dress shoes - hey, they ain't your grandad's Rockports - these are good looking and awesome for the feel. With my iPod going, the hot weather melts itself away. Today was a little different.

A quarter of the trip in, I encountered my new commute buddy - Suzie. I met her yesterday at the local bus stop. Based on her business wear, I of course asked if she worked downtown. She did. I asked where. She mentioned a Japanese subsidiary bank. I asked "Is it Manufacturer's Bank?"

"Yeeeeeees?"

"Do you know, Ed James?"

She began to laugh hysterically.

Ed James is a buddy of mine that I met at the gym about three years ago. We've played countless games of basketball and socialized outside the gym. I had lunch with Mr. James last Friday. He's Suzie's boss' boss. Small world. She's also my neighbor.

Anyway, I encountered her on the way home today - she's a fast walker. We spoke about our days - she has a challenging position at the bank. I can appreciate that. A few moments later, we came across an elderly woman... clearly homeless... in a wheel chair. She was beckoning for our help.

"Can you push me across the street?"

"Sure."

Suzie offers to take my brief case/bag and we're off.

"I just got out of the hospital. Someone pushed me out and I landed on my head."

"Wow, that's terrible. Why would someone do that?"

"I don't know," the woman lamented. "I was hit by a bus."

That's a rather profound statement considering. Of course Suzie and I were shocked.

"What?" I asked.

"Yes, on Avenue 26 and Figueroa. I went out to cross the street and the bus hit me. They thought I did it on purpose."

"Who gets hit by buses on purpose?"

"Not me! They gave me five thousand dollars for it?"

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"Getting hit by a bus is not as profitable as it once was. The times have changed."

She laughed and continued, "Arnold took ten thousand of what they gave me."

"That's a Republican for you." Even in such a discussion, Republicans are unsafe. I take no prisoners.

We've traveled three blocks at that point and I'm drenched in sweat. It's not that she's obese or anything, it's just that her entire life was on that wheelchair. She must have been in the lead weight business, the poor thing.

"The bus hit me and the driver didn't know. It dragged me for half a block."

"Did the driver charge you bus fare?"

"No," she laughed.

"Free ride."

She laughed again. She then continued to explain how life has treated her harshly. It's amazing what happens to people and what people let happen to them. It's very sad, actually, that that kind of thing is allowed to happen. I have a theory - if everyone helped one person, every day, there would be less human tragedy.

Near the end of our journey, the sidewalk narrows to where a wheelchair cannot pass, so we took to the streets. We even had to face down a bus, which I thought was poetic. A mile and half later, it was time to part ways with Terry. She was grateful for the help, thanked me, smiled, and Suzie and I walked back home.

My dress shirt is drenched; my undershirt is a wet rag; my feet hurt. But none of that matters.

The First All-Political Paradox Ink Blog Entry

The war in Iraq continues to present our nation with a myriad of questions, concerns, and looming problems. Beyond those very simple and general issues, the war very expensive and the war is killing people. What’s graver than all that is, this particular war as no particular end. And what is graver than that is, this particular presidential administration has no particular (one that is obvious) interest in ending the war. That’s scary.

What I believe we’re seeing now, is an attempt to save face on the part of the Bush administration. Let’s review – these folks pushed this war under pretenses we now know were false. Iraq was believed to be a threat to the U.S., as the nation was a playground for terrorists and weapons of mass destruction appeared to be growing on palm trees there. The world was presented with “undeniable evidence” that this was the case. And, through the propaganda machine in the U.S., the citizenry was led down a foot path, with a trail head sign that read: “Al-Qaeda and Iraq… they are connected!”

As time went on and as the world watched the war with eyes rolling, we all discovered that Iraq was a weak country, shaken to its foundations by the previous war and by sanctions. There was no “yellow cake” or mobile biological weapons trucks. A great portion of the country didn’t have toilets that worked, let alone the ability to manufacture nuclear weapons. Iraq had a defense program brain drain years before… and there were no Al-Qaeda ties. Nothing. Canada posed a greater threat to national security than Iraq.

Saddam was found hiding in a hole. Hitler shot himself in the head. There’s a clear difference between an ex-CIA lapdog and a true threat to the world. Big difference.

History lesson behind us, the current leadership is pushing for patience regarding the war. “It’s done when it’s done,” is the overall message and I find that ultimately arrogant. It’s screams elitism – the administration does not do the fighting and they don’t suffer by existing in a war torn land. They get to go home every night and wear suits during the day. The scene is just like Vietnam… rich law makers sending poor Americans off to die for a purpose that had lost definition years ago.

What this administration does not want to be, and is why we’re waiting to see an end to the war, is the leadership that put the U.S. in a pointless war AND left a third world nation to rot in civil war hell. No one wants a double…

This is a "Whammy."

No one who has authority wants to be a two time loser. That’s why I think this president sings overtures of “Wait… give it a chance!” at every turn. He’s trying to avoid the “Worst President In History” title at every turn, no matter what the cost. That’s my opinion.

The other angle in this whole never ending conflict is also political – this administration is setting up the GOP for the Presidential showdown. The Democrats, despite their buffoonery, should be able to capitalize on the Republicans ineptitude the past several years. Never in my life, have I seen a group of people have so much control and do absolutely nothing with it – the Republicans are a collection of thumbwiddling, money-spending, mongoloids not soon to be forgotten by history books.

Morons, which is why they need a set-up man in George W. Bush. Let’s look 500 days into the future, as the presidential election hangs heavy in the air like the stench that surrounds a meat rending facility. Both sides are defecating on the floor and picking up their creations to throw at the other side. Republicans will be smelling their work, perhaps eating it (just a little sample), then remembering to throw it. It’s a mess from a chimpanzee enclosure at the local zoo – it’s our political process.

So the GOP, with the war in Iraq still churning about and announcements of how many Al-Qaeda were killed this week, exclaims: “Look America, we’ve been aggressive in fighting Al-Qaeda, and they are still around! They’re in Iraq! We scored 20 points on them this week! We’re tough against them. You need us or else… you’ll get a soft Democrat in office who won’t keep fighting them.” I think this is already afoot:

“WASHINGTON (AP) - U.S. intelligence analysts have concluded al-Qaida has rebuilt its operating capability to a level not seen since just before the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, The Associated Press has learned. The conclusion suggests that the group that launched the most devastating terror attack on the United States has been able to regroup along the Afghan-Pakistani border despite nearly six years of bombings, war and other tactics aimed at crippling it..” - AP Story via AOL.

Don’t be fooled by Bush’s recent denial of this story’s truth. It’s going to be used against you in an all out propaganda assault in a few months. Republicans are the fighters and Democrats are the hippies. You’re safer with fighters. That’s always been their claim and they have yet to be right.

Iraq is my generation’s Vietnam? I’m not completely sold on that statement, but Iraq is a mess. It’s an expensive, deadly, and unfair mess. A mess our government made many years ago, back when Transformers were cool the first time. It may very well be more than a mess now… it may be a crime.

You Gotta Spend Money to...

...get stuff, like more money. Recently, I've been buying items that are directly related to work, most of which could be classified as attempts to update the old wardrobe. I was spoiled by working in a place where the dress code didn't represent a major priority across the organization. Jeans and a button up shirt was my typical garb back then, but these days require a little more formality. Which means... spend!

Good clothes tend to be very expensive, which is fine, I suppose. What isn't fine is the euphoria that comes after buying nice clothes - you want to buy more. "Hey, look... that Calvin Klein shirt is on sale! Look at those pants too... damn... it's for work... oh okay, let's get 'em." My consolation is that they are truly for work, which is a small consolation.

On top of the clothes, there's the toiletries that come with it. I stopped using hair gel and went with a more cultured series of hair care products (I'm not gay... I know what you're thinking. I've checked this with real gay men and I'm still straight.) in American Crew. I've got their Fiber molding stuff, as well as their shampoo and conditioner. That stuff ain't cheap, my friends, but the results are worth the cost. My hair looks a little more natural, as opposed to the action figure hair I had before.

From my understanding, American Crew isn't even made in "America." It's an English product. I suppose they felt it would be hard to market a product in the often stupidly patriotic country that is the United States, if it said "English Crew." "Afghani Crew" wouldn't work either. And I'd think "Shi'ite Crew" wouldn't inspire anyone to put what you sold, in their hair... or even bother smelling your product.

I kid. I have nothing against the Afghans or the Shi'ia... they are good people.

Beyond the American Crew stuff, there's the exclusive men's line of shaving and face care products that Nutrogena makes. Very good stuff, for you guys who care about how you look. Each product is about $5 a pop, so you can spend quite a bit pretty quickly, depending on your need. I bought two of everything - one set for home and the other for the gym.

That metrosexualness aside, I did buy something pretty cool and fun for work recently. It's a product from a line that has interested me for some time now. My interest will drive me to purchase at least a lithograph or maybe a desktopper for work as well. Without further text, here's my new mug:

www.despair.com

Weak Too

The end of my second week at First5LA has wrapped up to positive effects. I'm very tired, but for a good reason - I really worked hard this week. But let's get to the good news. I am feeling more a part of the organization now, than I did last week. My sense of humor and personality is now allowed to shine a little bit more, so people are starting to like me. Prior to this, I felt like the new kid in school... the one that runs up to the other kids who are playing, only to see them run away.

The scope of my job has increased to the point where I couldn't tell you, with absolute confidence, what I do. If you asked me what I do, now, I'd say:

"A lot."

The team has given me a nickname, a title that I apparently had the day I interviewed - "The Kid." Michael, the ultimate Administrative Assistant, provided me the moniker. The other nickname I have is...

"Bueller"

...as given to me by Amanda, a Contracts and Legal teammate. What's funny about that nickname, is that my father compares me to Ferris Bueller as well. There's something to that, it seems, if two people have come to the same conclusion. Thankfully I'm being compared to a wisecracking, intelligent, charming character as opposed to...

Peter Lorre

This particular entry to my blog is going to be without any real organization - I'm tired.

Today was my first pay day and I ran to the nearest BofA to deposit it. I was happy with it.

Good night.

Footloose

In 1984, I was a seven year old with eyes and a mind ripe for learning. At that age, experience has a deeper meaning for any child, and for me, I was begging for it. It was during that year that music became an interest. Many would argue that the 80’s was when music decided to take some sick leave having barely survived the disco era. That’s a discussion we can have at a later time, but for the sake of this tale we need to remind ourselves of what was going on during that period of time.

A certain album was still selling, steam rolling to the world record of 104 million copies. Don’t rub your eyes, that’s a 1, proceeded by a 0 and a 4. That album was produced by Quincy Jones (pre-bottom of the bottle Quincy) with a certain shy yet incredibly talented Michael Jackson (before he became Anglo-Saxon and odd). The aptly titled, “Thriller” was dominating other great albums like Duran Duran’s “Rio” and Marvin Gaye’s last album “Midnight Love.” Both Jones and Jackson created seven Billboard Top 100 hits, making the album the third ever to accomplish such a feat in record history.

He was black.

Also worth noting is that “Thriller” followed on the heels of “Off The Wall,” which was a breakthrough LP for Michael Jackson.

In a small home in a weird Los Angeles suburb known as Tujunga, I lived with my parents, who exposed me to music on a daily basis. If it wasn’t Jethro Tull or Pink Floyd from my father, it was Michael Jackson from my mom. Of course, I could be wrong about who listened to that Thriller album more between my mom and dad. My dad was an assassin on the dance floor during the disco days, so it could have been him. I heard that “Saturday Night Fever” LP more than I heard a sermon at church.

At any rate, it was all about “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’,” “Billy Jean,” “P.Y.T.,” and the title track from that monster of an album, “Thriller.”

The story goes that whenever that album would come on, I would start to dance and apparently kept incredible rhythm. I’d move around as if inspired by what I was hearing. My feet would move, hips would follow, and I somehow was a chip off the old block. There were some B-Boy/Breakdancing influence in my repertoire of moves, as memory serves.

Not really...

I now imagine how my dad would watch with infinite pride, thinking: “That’s my boy. Look at him. The ladies are going to be beating down the doors. There will be cat fights. He will rule the dance floor. Yeah… move it, son. Move! My son will crush Danny Terrio! This is fate! He was born the same year Saturday Night Fever was released! He’s so much better than John Travolta! Look!”

My mom was probably thinking: “Wow… talent. I’ve tapped into his talent and he’s so young. He’s smart and he can dance. This is incredible. We’ve got to take this to the next level!”

I could have been him.

Let me be clear that my dancing was judged by the two biggest fans I had at the time, my parents. Parents wear rose-colored blindfolds when it comes to their kids, as everyone is probably very aware. If they build something, it’s the best something ever. This is not a critique – in fact, I support that style of parenting, because life is so hard, one needs someone who will root for them even if accomplishments are mediocre.

My mother, in her keen parenting, found an activity I enjoyed (outside of recreating Star Wars battles in my room with my action figures and using the walls in my room as tapestries for my marker art) so she acted quickly and scheduled me an audition at a local dance studio. I wasn’t quite sure what a “dance studio” was or what the implications were, so there was no pressure on me. I didn’t “get it.” From what I remember, my mom told me I was going to dance somewhere and I’d be having fun.

Off we went to the dance studio – with dancing shoes that my mom bought (my memory is fuzzy, but this seems like what occurred). The idea is that I’d just show off some basic moves and earn the respect of the instructor. I’m sure it wasn’t a difficult accomplish in the eyes on my mom.

Proving grounds!

I remember pulling up to the dance studio and being prepped by my mom. It seemed early in the day and the studio was empty, except for the instructor. The instructor, who was female, conversed with my mother for a short time, which I didn’t pay much attention to. I was caught up with the fact that I had never seen an entire room made of mirrors. I took advantage of it and made faces at myself.

The instructor took me by my shoulders and told me she’d be putting on some music and that I’d be allowed to just dance… freestyle. That meant nothing to me as I had no official training, so I said “Okay,” and she walked away. Being the consummate performer, I felt no nervousness, I just laughed at the faces I was making at myself. There’s discussions about Frank Sinatra making faces to loosen up his muscles prior to a performance, so I was in good company.

Face maker.

The music was seconds away from beginning and my moment of glory was nearing. It was similar to those moments of a sunrise where the amber light turns to yellow. Time to shine… the music began… here it is…

I felt the beat. It was pulsing through my veins like the very blood that was delivering life to all 60lbs of me. I went for it.

By “went for it,” I mean I sat down on the ground, flat on my butt, and span around in a circle for about 30 seconds. That’s right folks, my moment in the spotlight was sitting… and spinning… like a dog without its rear paws chasing its own tail.

“I’m breakdancing! Look! Look!”

This is not dancing.

And look they did, as bystanders would a train wreck as it happens. The instructor quickly surmised that I had the dancing talent of a tire iron and I can still hear the deafening click of the stop button on the tape player. As Danny Terrio and John Travolta felt a mysterious weight be removed from their shoulders, we were excused from the studio by a two second smirk and an empty “Thank you.”

My mom walked me to the car and we drove to buy an ice cream cone.

.....

It's well past my bedtime and I'm unable to sleep. I worked 46 hours this week at the new job and I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep. Why? Sinus headache. I need a sinusectomy as soon as possible. Doctor Fine... Doctor Howard... Doctor Fine... I wonder how many people will understand that reference.

Today, at First5LA, I maneuvered through the organization training - ethics, sexual harassment, and diversity. What was cool was all the training was on-line, so I didn't have to sit in a meeting room and be told I shouldn't grope my office neighbor or tell that one funny joke I wrote about the Colombian, the German, the Irishman, and alter boy. Instead, I got to click on arrows and read through the obvious.

Let's face it, that kind of training is like a common sense remedial class. Sadly, it is necessary as there are some people who think it is just fine to hit on the secretary and stare at her chest on a daily basis (yes, you Krystal). It serves as an example of the model: one rotten such-and-such ruining the what-not.

I'd pay some good money to get to sleep right now. Anyone see that some poll suggested nearly half the nation wants to start impeachment proceedings against the President? That whole movement is so two years ago... three years ago?

With that comment, I'll be laying down now. Good night.

The Fifth of July is Co-Dependence Day!

Meanwhile, Happy 4th of July for my fellow Americans (and anyone else who wants to drink and eat and drink and eat and pass out today)! Today is the day we celebrate the use of guerrilla tactics to defeat an invading imperialistic force and the victory those tactics earned! I'm not talking about the war in Iraq, I'm talking out our independence! It's a day the nation observes by not working, but goofing off and blowing stuff up - which is the way it should be!

To everyone celebrating, please be careful to throw lit fireworks at your neighbors BEFORE they explode, not after. You're bound to hurt yourself otherwise. Also consider using less than half a bottle of lighter fluid to start of the grill. Everyone thinks you're more attractive with eyebrows. And don't drink then attempt to drive the ride-able lawnmower. Grandma loves her toes.

Beyond those warnings, enjoy your day off! If you're not an American and you're reading this - GET TO WORK!

Happy 4th of July!

D-Day at First5LA

Unfortunately due to a challenging day, I'm not able to fully describe my first work day for First5LA in great detail, however, here's the Cliff's Notes version:

• My new supervisor is a great person with a firm understanding of what it is to be a leader. She doesn't harp on people about their time keeping, she doesn't micromanage, and she allows her employees to be professionals. She could be the best boss I've had so far.... so far.
• My office area has a great view of the Union Station Plaza and I can see Dodger Stadium from my desk.
• It doesn't take a week to get office supplies and it doesn't take a week to get your order for office supplies approved by your Admin. It takes a day.
• It appears my medical will be paid for by the organization...
• I'm being challenged out of the gate - I already have two deliverables and have been named the lead on a project. Who needs time to get acclimated?
• Everyone was very kind and gracious to me... it seems everyone is personable.
• The organization is much smaller than expected.... 74-80 people.
• I'm sitting in on the USC fans side of the floor, which means I'm sitting on the wrong side of the floor.
• The organization utilizes current computing tools like OUTLOOK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11111... instead of Eudora like JPL. I never understood how a laboratory that produces cutting edge technology uses software circa 1999.
• I still miss people at the lab.
• I'm tired.

I really feel good about the career move I made... how was your day?

I Should Shave

On the eve of the dawn of a new career, I'm a little on the anxious side. There's been a lot of natural and artificial build-up and I'm of the mind to just get it going already. I'm ready to roll. The shirts have been pressed, the ties chosen, and the briefcase packed. Turn the page, already!

In picking up my suits today, we were given VIP treatment by accident. The store was quasi-opened, meaning the door was ajar and the security cage kind of opened. Apparently someone had arranged a pick-up with a salesman an hour before official opening and not knowing any better, we joined in on the fun. The salesman was plenty accommodating so if you're looking for a suit, go here: 1403 N Victory Pl., Burbank, CA 91502 or call (818) 842-2568 - Ask for Art.

Tomorrow, it appears I'll be completely benefits and new employee paperwork and the remainder of the week: on-line training. I'm sure I'll be somewhat entertained by the mundane "Common Sense" instruction I'll see this week. Clearly an organization needs to have sexual harassment and safety training because there's plenty of dopey people out there that don't know you shouldn't grope a co-worker or use a blow torch next to the diesel fuel barrels. But for the smart people, this kind of legal protection process is an exercise in the "obvious."

So it goes.

What I'm hoping is that I'm given some time, right from the start, to move into my new work space. I've got Playboy posters to hang up.