The Sign in the Stone

tattoo'
v.t. mark the skin in patterns, etc., by pricking and filling the skin with coloring matter. -n.
mark so made. [Polynesian]
www.avalontattoo.com

How happy am I that tattoos have gone from symbols of rebellion to mere decorations? I am no rebel and once tattoos went mainstream (and way over that hump) I wanted one badly. Of course, the question facing all potential tattooees is "What do I get?" I didn't figure it out until way later and even when I was 99% ready to be tattooed, it took a cosmic congruence of events to settle on a design. I'm the type of guy that has to research the hell out of something before I do it; unless I've decided that there's just too much to know and that I should just jump. With tattoos, I just jumped. And got lucky.

It's certainly an addiction. After my first one, I had dreams that it would rub off during the night. I'd wake up thinking it had melted off. After getting used to the idea of having permanent on my body -- and hiding it from my mom for a year or so -- I needed more. Thank goodness I'm perpetually broke; otherwise I would probably have any number of god awful tattoos on my body. My mind is always like "Oh, this is cool/memorable, maybe this should be a tattoo." We need a Brady Law for tattoos.

It turns out, after a few tattoos that have gone all sorts of wrong on me (pussing, itchy, infected) that I'm allergic to Neosporin. Guess what is recommended to put on fresh tattoos to protect them? Neosporin. Whoops. I put a temporary hold on tattoo getting since three of my last four gave me disgusting post-tattoo issues. With my latest set, I was fortunate enough to figure out that Neosporin was the problem. Now I think the best way for me to heal is just to let my body do it. No lotion, no anti-bacterial crap. Just air, water, and moisturizer. The body heals itself; even when you decorate it.

Watching (and loving) Miami Ink, you start to realize how trite the reasons people get tattoos are. But then again, who cares? Of course a permanent thing like a tattoo would have spiritual, memory, or personal resonance. What else is there? Nobody gets a tattoo on a stupid whim. Well actually, lots of people do; but they end up with horrific tattoos. The thing is, once you have a tattoo, you love it and you'll look for any reason in the world to justify having it.

The only thing I caution against is going to a bad tattoist. Not knowing about tattoos can make the selection process intimidating but price really isn't an object. The difference between a top tier tattooist and a bad one is huge. You can save $20 now but have a shitty looking tattoo for life. Don't do it. Get a good designer, someone who can make clean lines and will leave your tattoo with room to degrade and close up a little. I can't stress this enough. I've been lucky with my tattoos (even my "bad" ones aren't bad) but I've seen some horrible work. Pay for quality, it's worth it.

Or better yet, befriend a tattooist and let them work on you for free. That's what I need, a tattoo friend. I can do little favors for them and they can tattoo me. Perfect.

"We live in a disposable society and tattoos are decidedly permanent. That's what makes them scary, and that's what makes them powerful. Making an irrevocable choice is good for the soul."

Ghost World Whisperer

Last night, after Cuban food and during worlds colliding at the Little Temple in (North) Hollywood, I saw a major celebrity. Thing is, I'm not sure if anyone else knew. Slam poets I'd love to meet: Saul Williams, Beau Sia, Staceyann Chin, maybe Taylor Mali, definitely Dennis Kim, Ishle Park, a few handful of others. High up on that list? Mayda Del Valle. I met her yesterday -- sort of.

The poets I've interacted with on a personal level? PeaceBeFree and Shammy Dee. That's about it. I've stood next to Beau Sia (like right next to him) as he prepared to go on-stage. I didn't even realize it was him and when I did, I internally freaked out with excitement. I've had the chance to meet Beau through some friends of friends but I'm scared so I always refuse. Some people stalk Hollywood celebrities; I stalk slam poets. What of it? I don't judge you; we judge slam.

I freeze up in the prescence of wordsmiths. I mean,these people have been on tour, on TV (I saw Mayda on Def Poetry Slam just a few weeks ago wearing the exact dress in the picture), won slam championships, come up with amazingly resonant pieces of art. What could I possibly say to them?

Try this on for size (based on a true story):
Loud blaring music blares loudly in the background
"Hi, are you Maya?"
"Mayda."
"Maya?"
"No, Mayda."
"Oh, hi, you're a poet right? Def Poetry Jam and all that?"
"Yes I am (and I'm just trying to enjoy the music and dance)."
"I love your work! It's amazing!...insert some platitudes."
*Cut scene*

Jon walks away. Not sure why he did that but really glad he did. I mean, I'm the new fearless me. I can talk to my celebrity heroes now right? On a human level right? And um, mispronounce their name. Crap. I hate myself. But then again, why not say hi? People like that right? To be recognized for their gifts?

What I hate more than being a weirdo in front of celebrities is how many people don't even recognize who they're interacting with -- who they're blessed to stand next to. I have no idea if Mayda came to Little Temple to chill out, promote, party, meet friends, whatever. I saw her come in alone, sit around at the bar for a sec, and then eventually wind up at the front of the stage for the performance -- sadly, for me, not her performance.

In my mind I'm like "Wow, does nobody know who she is? She's an amazing poet/person! She's the youngest National Poetry Slam individual champion ever. She's breaking ground for Latinas. Someone (please) break out the red carpet!" I have no idea if Mayda or anyone wants that type of acclaim but it kills me that those who deserve it don't get it.

Check it out, if LC or Heidi walked in last night, the place would have been buzzing. The damn Hills girls! They don't do shit. If Asia, Chelsea, and Melissa R. walk in, people might have gone bananas (or at least, me and Jmz would have; mainly due to the injustice of the judging). So what happens? Mayda, someone amazing and phenomenonally talented walks in and nobody notices -- or knows. Isn't that wrong?

In a related story (I already posted this once but it seems fitting here): Joshua Bell, violin virtuoso brings his 1713 Stradivarius -- worth $3.5 million -- to the subways, playing for the early morning commuters. Do people stop to admire this priceless gift? Or do they toss a few nickels his way out of pity?

Number 8 - 11

Four Elements
[ April 19 & 20, 2007 ] - Back

It seems like every year or so, around the New Year, I itch to get a new tattoo. My last one was in February 2006 and since then I've been plotting to get sleeves. Of course, if you're going to get (half-)sleeves, you better be able to pay for it, you better have a good design, and you better make sure your future jobs won't require you to hide anything. Well, due to the events and realizations of last week, all those barriers are gone. I'm ready to get tatted up; stylishly, of course.

I had seven tattoos, now I have eleven (sort of). Pretty much, all my tattoos are tiny and maybe combined they make one "real" tattoo. But I like it that way. I mean, I'm pretty skinny, I only have so much real estate. Right?

It's an addiction, tattooing. I wish I could actually tattoo but until then, I've decided that I need to just keep returning to tried and true artists. Marty from Avalon Tattoo did my first two tattoos and those were done so cleanly that I wanted him, and only him, to do these latest four. I've had a bad experience with two tattoos once (three if you count George's) and I decided that you get what you pay for. Even then, you should overpay just to make sure that you're getting exactly what you want. Most of my designs are super generic and simple; so it's about clean lines and perfect execution.

Anyway, enough of that. This time around, I jumped down to San Diego and was ready to get tattooed right away. My mind was moving super fast and I decided on what I wanted within mere moments of seeing it. It just fit. The design? Ambigrams of "Air, Earth, Fire, Water" from Dan Brown's Angels & Demons. Reading Da Vinci Code partly inspired me to get my first tattoo (the explanations of the power of symbols, not the actual book) and I thought this would be fitting. Jmz was working on turning those four words into customized ambigrams -- and his designs looked pretty awesome -- but in the end, I always go with the most generic iteration of symbol so I figured why mess with success?


What do these four elements represent? A whole bunch of things. The playing card suits we're all so familiar with are based on the Tarot's Minor Arcana. Swords(Spades) and Cups(Hearts) are associated with the Air and Water elements respectively. Wands(Clubs) and Pentacles(Diamonds) are Fire and Earth. I love Tarot, I've studied it and played around with it as a fun little diversion. The art and story behind the cards are fantastic. I just bought a (Chinese themed) Tarot deck; let's divine.

The four elements could represent The Fantastic Four, the First Family of superheroes. Mr Fantastic, Invisible Woman, Human Torch, and The Thing have their powers based around the four elements. Water, Air, Fire, Earth. You see?

It could mean I like Earth, Wind & Fire's "September," which I do. Or it could be states of matter: solid, liquid, gas, and plasma.

Traditionally in Chinese ideology, there are five elements. Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water. I thought about putting those somewhere, but I already have the pentagram on my back, and nothing says "5" like a star. Plus I don't want Chinese characters on my body, just Chinese art and landscapes if I can afford it.

In Western philosophy, the four elements arrayed on my back also have a fifth, aether or quintessence, of which the cosmos itself is made. In Brown's book, the four ambigrams Vultron together to form the Illuminati Diamond, which is the object of everyone's fear and lust. Throw your diamonds in the sky if you feel the vibe.

Sidenote: Dan Brown's ambigram designer, John Langdon has a book and website, it's amazing. I guess he's also the designer of my tattoos too.

Another answer? The Four Elements of Hip Hop: Graffiti, DJ-ing, MC-ing, and B-Boying. I have no idea if they correlate to the actual element words, but who cares? We see the correlation of numbers every day. If you wanted to look for instances of "213" you would see them everywhere. The brain is designed to collect, associate, and process patterns. And numbers like 2, 3, 5, 7, have powerful meanings in any culture, field of study, or three-dimensional world.


Those are all things I associate with the new tattoos I got. But here's the thing, the elements for me, are a cross. A Christian cross. Almost all of my tattoos are some sort of religious symbol and I swore that I would never put Christ's cross on my body until I was ready to be at peace with Abrahamic religions -- Christianity especially. I won't delve into my reasoning behind that but suffice to say, I have a hate/love relationship with the Holy Christ. But last week, I squashed that. I'm not a Christian, nor do I wish to be one; but I no longer fight it. Thus, I was ready to put the cross on my back. Because nobody can bear it alone, much less me.

"One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.

In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there was one only.

This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints, so I said to the Lord,

'You promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?'

The Lord replied, 'The years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you.'"

"Everybody's free, everybody's free, everybody's free
Everybody's free, everybody's free, to feel good, to feel good

Brother and sister together will make it through
Someday a spirit will take you and guide you there
I know you've been hurting ,but I've been waiting to be there for you
And I'll be there, just helping you out whenever I can"
-Everybody's Free-

Word(play) Freak

While digging around in my archives for my tattoo chronology, I found my first children's writing story -- "On A Mat Of Pita." So pretty much, my first story ever. Sure, it's a derivative knock-off but hey, had to start somewhere right?

"Dictionary Brown was finding it very difficult to concentrate. It was hard enough being the spelling bee champion of the entire fourth grade, without a gigantic cow head slipping over your eyes every two minutes. Dictionary tried to push his cow head upwards over his brow, hoping it would stay put this time.

'Razzmatazz. r-a-z-z-m-a-t-a-z-z. Razzmatazz.'

Sally O'Neal, dressed as a bumble bee, gave a winning smile and sat down. Dictionary Brown was looking sorrowful indeed as he realized that his turn was coming up, right after Donald the Mouse and Leonard Alligator. As he looked out into the audience, Dictionary squinted hard against the lights and tried to find his family. They had promised to sit as close to the stage as possible but now they were nowhere to be found.

Dictionary turned his attention back towards the spelling bee and tried to remember all the 'S' words he had studied. 'Satellite. Studious. Saturate. Soliloquy. Syncopate.' The cow head fell again. Mr. Lee's great idea this year was to dress up all the kids in animal costumes for the spelling bee. Mr. Lee had insisted that it would be a change of pace for the children. The twenty three kids of Idaville Middle School, Room B, had loved the idea. However, Dictionary was beginning to think maybe this wasn't the brightest idea Mr. Lee had ever had." continued...
-January 20, 2003-

In Waking Life, We Sleep

When you're a young boy into comic books and world of fantasy, all you dream about is having a super power. Which one? Well, any one will do -- barring being a math or music prodigy. Once you get past the initial fascination with Superman (the prototypical superhero most young boys come into contact with first), you start to find yourself identifying with more obscure superheroes. For me, it was X-Men. I wasn't into the Justice League after awhile because the X-Men were just, well, cooler. The idea that you didn't need to be an alien, rich, empowered, or imbued with any special gifts aside from having the latent mutant gene was a powerful one.

Traditionally, the mutant gene kicks in when a person hits puberty. Hormones and stress equal mutant powers and crazy angst. Genius. It's been said that Stan Lee's best move with the X-Men was to make them teenagers and outcasts. From there, the mutant population could be tied into racism and many of the underlying themes of the X-Men comics deals with their ostracization by the world of humans. Homo sapiens superior are coming to get'cha. Charles Xavier fights for one side; Magneto the other -- their goals are the same but their (initial) methods differed.

The first super power anybody wants is probably invisibility. It's not even a super power. It's just something people want. A giant "What If." Ralph Ellison tackled the social ramifications of being "invisible," and everyone else probably took the idea more literally -- at least I did. If I was invisible I could ______. But keep it real, invisibility kinda sucks though as a "super" power.

What's next? Flight. Who doesn't want to fly? Would you rather be invulnerable like Superman, have x-ray and heat vision, super senses, or be able to fly to the sun and back? To be honest, nowadays I'd probably settle for Clark Kent's journalism skills but as a kid I wanted flight. Shit, even Hawkman was cool back then and he only carried around a flimsy mace and had bird wings. Flight of any kind (even gliding) fascinates us because we can't do it naturally. Daedalus, the Wright Brothers, the Hindenburg, Lindbergh, Chuck Yeager, the Blue Angels, Top Gun, Calvin (& Hobbes), His Airness; I used to read about anything flight related. Who knew that all it took to get wings is some Red Bull?

After reading a bunch of comics, you start to realize that some characters have much better powers than other characters. Angel (pre-Arch-) was kind of weak. Cyclops without the tactical training? Weak. Anybody with physical powers? Weak. Hell, even Wolverine was kinda wack without his healing factor, his fighting prowess, and his mysterious Canadian upbringing. Despite that, in eighth grade I hoped for cold shiny claws to pop out of my paws every day. Usually in class when I hoped to slice my way out of my seat. Or slice my way out of my braces. Either or. Middle school might have been the peak of my geek/dork-dom. Oh wait, there was high school followed by college. I peaked early and just kept on setting new records. Anyway.

Once you figure out how all the super powers work and what could possibly be realistically achievable (scientifically speaking), you kind of give up on flight, healing factors, claws, being super strong/fast. You start to figure out that mental powers are the best. Psychics are crazy powerful. There's a reason Jean Gray is the best mutant around. Class 5 as it were. She's got telekinesis and telepathy. Pretty crazy. A notch below her? Professor X, who happens to be the most powerful telepath in the Marvel or DC Universe. So really, telepathy is the power to lust after. The Phoenix Force is nice, but really, who the hell wants to be able to consume planets and annihilate reality? Not me. I have problems microwaving shit correctly. I can barely fix a flat tire; much less muddle in people's (sub)consciouses. "With great power comes great responsibility," and I'm just fine with minimal responsibility and medium to adequate superpowers.

But oh sweet telepathy. How useful that could be. I could see anyone's mental underwear, I could predict the future (sort of), I could be the life of the party. I am Jedi. I am Ken Jennings exponential. I'm a gazillionaire. I'm smarter than a fifth grader. So, the superpower I'd most want? Telepathy.

Here's the problem: I never identified with Professor X. He's bald, he's in a wheelchair, he has weird motivations, he is Jean Luc-Picard. I can't supplant that. So what did I figure out last week? I'm Nightcrawler. Which is fine by me. I've always liked him best, for some strange reason. Now I (think) I know why.

He gets to teleport away; leaving a brimstone stink behind whenever he exits; he goes into an alternate dimension and then pops out on the other side with no Earth-time lost. He mini-time travels, sort of. In addition, the movie version of Nightcrawler is covered with religious tattoos (a change I didn't particularly care for at the time). He speaks German, I say "danke." When he teleports he can take people with him; I can't be alone, I need friends around me constantly. He only teleports to places he has seen, or can see; I only go places I know I'll like. The connections go on but I won't bore you. About that prehensile tail... Anyway. Nightcrawler isn't the most powerful X-Man ever (ranking only thirteenth in my Top 20 Most Powerful X-Men list) but he's pretty damn perfect for me.

[Nightcrawler's] greatest power is his ability to teleport himself and some additional mass from one location to another. He does this by means of entering an alternate dimension briefly and reappearing in a desired location.

Because teleporting into other solid matter would cause severe injury or death, he will only teleport to an area he is familiar with or that he can clearly see. His power automatically displaces liquids and gases when he "arrives".

After Nightcrawler teleports, he leaves behind a faint scent of brimstone said to be transported from the alternate dimension through which he travels. A loud *bamf* noise is always present whenever he teleports (it being the sound of air rushing to fill the space he was just occupying).

"I'll see you in limbo
because heaven won't take us
and hell's afraid we'll take over."

That's what I used to write in people's yearbooks in middle school. Both of my close friends did it. I really had no idea what it meant but it made more sense to me than "Have a good summer" or "Keep in touch!" In hindsight, I'm just amazed I had any friends -- much less two.

If you have spare time, this same train of reverse reasoning led me to figure out why I like Guenhwyvar so much. Not being able to derail that train of thought got me to why I like Janet Jackson's "Black Cat" song so much. And yeah, I'll be stopping right here. Let's be friends?

"Black cat nine lives short days long nights
Livin' on the edge not afraid to die
Heart beat real strong but not for long
Better watch your step or you're gonna die"

How To (Make Friends & Alienate People)

This blog is going to be a work in process -- blogging exclusively from a (slow) laptop sucks so I can't quite set it up right yet.

The first thing I'm trying to do with it is to put down everything I've been thinking about for the past week or so and expand on it. Things could be long, short, boring, exciting, meandering, you read what you want to read. If there's something you want me to take down, just ask. If you hate the name/nickname/codename I gave you well, let me explain it first, then I'll take it down if you still want. I'm just as concerned about preserving your identity as you are. But I'm going to start documenting a hell of a lot. If you want out, just say the word.

This is my effort to be as (securely) open as possible with as many people as possible -- friends or strangers and everything in-between. And it's a way to just blog; and write. Plus I was using too many damn Blogger accounts anyway. I've always blogged a lot, and pretty consistently, but I never tried to consolidate all my blogs in one. Or gave more than minimal effort to connecting them to one another. I think it's about time. I'm about to release as many albums as possible in as short a time as possible. Venni, Vetti, Vecci; ubiquitous like Ja Rule in 1999-2000. If I flame out, I flame out.

First, I gotta clarify what's been going on for the past week and a half. I'll do that as soon as I can and then just branch out from there. The other thing is, during that week of craziness, everything made sense (to me). All the things I like, the people I enjoy, my stance on religion, my opinions about certain art forms, family history, girl-friends, why I have tattoos, why I love jewelry (and um, the Little Mermaid), my role in life, everything. It all clicked and made sense. Keep It Simple Stupid (K.I.S.S.) So I wanna get it out on electronic paper.

There's also a bunch of projects I've always wanted to do. Now, I'm just gonna do them. Empowered by craziness is still empowered right? First thing I want to do is my own version of The 1000 Journals Project. I'll start with a dozen or so. We'll see. That's just project one. There's a shit load more that I've been afraid, waiting for the right partner(s), or just plain lazy on. Fuck that. I'm ready. Do as you will; not as you're told.

I'm also hiplogging the shit out of everything. If you want to follow along pictorially, just activate the hip(log) and push your ass out -- it's just my photo repository for the actual blog entries. I realized I have the tools to be a techno-nomad already, so why wait? Sidekick, laptop, iPod shuffle, Google Apps, Gmail, flash drives, lanyards, wireless access... I can be Lorenzo Lamas 2.10.

If you're unfamiliar with blogs, well, click around. Archives, categories, you can get around pretty easy. Or use the Search bar located in the upper left hand corner. If you're still super confused; well, sorry. I'll explain later. If you're confused about blogging in general; well, ahem, maybe you should go buy a certain book. Thanks.

I followed the Yellow Brick Road, I found the Wizard (I think), and I'm ready to go home; but apparently I've been capable of that the entire time. I just didn't know it. Now I know, and knowing is half the battle. Yo Joe.

"Tiger got to hunt, bird got to fly; Man got to sit and wonder, 'Why, why, why?' Tiger got to sleep, bird got to land; Man got to tell himself he understand."
-Kurt Vonnegut-

The People's Night Court

All rise... A brief recounting of the week when I went B-A-N-A-N-A-S. Or at least the supposed cause of it all; or the beginning of the end? Oooh, foreshadowing.

Monday, April 9
Typically, I come in every three weeks to work, mainly as a training person, sort of to hang out. I'm not consultant by any means, I'm just here to lend a hand to a few friends. I'd done it twice already, starting six weeks ago. It's a fun, growing, company and it's the only "job" I've had where I wanted to wake up early and be on time. Can't say that about a lot of things right? There's a lot of things to be done so anything I think I can help out with, I just do. Easy right?

This time down, same thing. Except now I think I'm planning to be here more than just a few weeks; it could be a summer thing, or longer. I meet a few new people, I get the idea that if I'm going to be here this summer, now's the time to make some changes. So I start thinking: How do I make things better/faster/efficient?

Tuesday
Training is going well but it needs to be revamped from the ground up. Quantity over quality is slowing us down and the actual process of training a new class is too physically and vocally draining. So we decide to rework the manual, rework the time frames, and rework training as a whole. We have some class work though, so we take some time to just go into cruise control and see what needs improving asap and what can wait. We've been pulling late hours already (albeit for silly reasons on Monday night), people are tired -- especially the regulars because they grind it out every day, I'm just here every few weeks so I feel fresh as a daisy. I'm bursting with fruit flavor.

Wednesday
Normal work day. Keep on working on training materials but mainly work with groups of new hires. Get them some personal attention, figure out how to incorporate some strategies; figure out what works and what doesn't. See things that should be immediately implemented to really help things out.

We hold a team meeting Wednesday night and manage to cover a lot of ground [IA] and celebrate birthdays to boot. Most of the items revolve around how to get us on the same page, etc. The meeting goes well, it ends around midnight. I'm ready to start rewriting manuals, action sheets, meeting notes, everything.

I'm so geeked I stay up practically all night in order to do this. It's fantasy company for me; and I love fantasy anything. The manual gets semi-done, some other things too, but not everything. Which is okay because we're planning for testing and implementation two weeks away. But we're moving pretty fast and I've got my brain on "Seek (Problems), Search (for Solutions), Destroy (Inefficiencies)."

I'm testing myself to make the manual and everything training related as quick as possible. Not quick for the trainees, but quick for the training manager. The most effort was going towards the least promising new hires, we were trying to flip that around.

Sleep? Two hours?

Thursday
New training class. Running new manuals but old tests. Printing, copying, stapling, and using fresh unfilled binders to cut down on use of old materials. Training is pretty easy, but confusing for the trainees because the tests don't match up. But that's okay. Things are easy and gravy. We decide that maybe we can find some people to help us out with training. Talk to them, get them on board, they're in; we're ready to go. The other training manager is gone now though, so I'm soloing until next week. He's got work in another location.

Catnap at various points in the day. Mainly in a car. Tired but still mentally functioning and despite the pretense of not eating; I'm eating as much as I normally do anyway -- close enough. But people who don't know me don't realize how little food I can actually consume and be perfectly fine. Gummy vitamins man, it's the truth.

Two friends from NYC and SD come up to the house and hang out. Great timing and the perfect people to see; totally random appearance. I stay up all night talking to them. Drive myself to work early because I need the computer.

Friday
Roll out to lunch to figure out if we can expand the team. Things are shuffling around super fast, we're ready to implement the new training as soon as possible. Problem is, I can't reach the fellow training manager. But that's cool, we're ready to go anyway. At least to Beta test. Jobs are defined, roles are found, we're shifting in a new direction -- super fast and a bit chaotic but it's exciting and headed the right way. All aboard (at least I thought it was).

I elect to stay up all night on Friday night, sleepover at the office in order to write a proposed master manual for the managers about what kinds of things I think we should do from now on (how to run meetings, implement changes, interior decorate, security, roles, etc). The solutions that I come up with are simple and not hard to implement; and at the worst, temporary until a better more group orientated solution can be found. But I'm running out of time.

I need to be out of LA by a certain date (April 16th) and personal issues up North require that I be home quickly. I want to present the "plan" and get everyone thinking together. Then they can evaluate and implement and change as they please. I won't be back for awhile anyway.

I sleep maybe two hours before the morning class shows up promptly at 6am (their idea, not mine). I'm groggy, but not really that tired once things get moving. I mean, it's like playing Warcraft, surfing the Internet, writing on deadline, or building a webpage. I can stay up as long as I need to. I know I'll crash eventually; when I crash I'm not sure but I've done it before a lot. If I feel fine, I'm okay. Everyone knows I can/need to sleep a hell of a lot. My entire personality is defined by sleeping in weird times/locations/positions. Plus, this is cake; nobody stays up longer than video game testers during release week(s). And that's staying up admist intense boredom; this job is actually super fun for me; ironic no?

Saturday
Super fun work day. Blasting music, finish lots of training materials. Get time to catch up on Internet time, interact with a lot of people. Did I mention the rejuvenating powers of music? Only downside is that now I'm thinking there's no way I can leave without presenting my plan. So I figure out that I can't go up North yet. Even if I had prior obligations the upcoming Monday. Cancel and disappointment people. The work thing feels more important. Sorry.

At this point I'm talking super fast, spitting out ideas like crazy, and I've already freaking people out. Especially when they're just trying to get me to sleep. I already was talking "crazy" on Thursday night when we were Wii-ing and hanging out. Getting frustrated because there seem to be roadblocks to how soon we can meet/implement. Need to chill the fuck out; I know, but I can't get anyone to listen to me for more than fifteen minutes. But they're tired and I'm sure, impatient at this point.

Go eat with the girls, chill the fuck out when we get to their house. Sleep plenty. Sleep great actually.

Sunday
More work, more music, more fun times. Figuring that a Sunday meeting might be ideal, but scheduling won't work out (and neither did last night). Monday (16th) might be possible; but unsure of scheduling yet. Mentally the meeting has to be Monday or Tuesday night, but the longer we wait, the longer and faster my mind is going.

By now, I'm past business refinement, I'm onto life, religion, everything issues. I've never thought this fast or this clearly. I'm psyched but have no outlet for it. I'm texting/emailing certain friends and they're a bit weirded out but not more than normal. I'm quick-contacting them because I'm realizing their role(s) in my life and want to tell them. I keep saying "tbd."

Kitchen sink back in Fremont blows up (literally, not metaphorically). Great. I should probably try to get home to help out as soon as I can. Need to wrap shit up down in LA and get home; ideally earlier than I had said before. But I still want to meet and present.

Monday
Morning at work: Roll out to Target to get some sundries like hair gel, laundry detergent, office supplies, etc. Feeling right as rain and not tired at all despite the "long" week. Of course, I've been telling people that I haven't slept in "x-number of days" (true, but as everyone says it and understands it, it's not literally not sleeping for that long) and that I didn't want to die (reasons to be explained later, but I was pretty serious about this one actually). People are tripping; my bad.

By the afternoon, I'm still buzzing around and shit is going super fast. Well, my mind/body is still going super fast. The office is in mini-chaos because the things I usually organize aren't organized. I got in late at 10am-ish and had to put out a few brush fires. All of which I knew were coming because (a) the weekend provided no personnelle/time for HR moves and (b) I already had the notes that I made that weekend to catch things up and get it right. So I was expecting some chaos Monday until I could take care of the retroactive moves. People's modified schedules, permission slips, where things are, etc. I've never been this organized (literally and in my head) in my entire life. I've got like super stellar photographic memory for some reason. So I've got it all in my pockets, my murse, or in my head.

Hit a huge epiphany early evening Monday. Need to move on it hella quick. Don't quite get the movement I'm looking for. Start blasting out and chaining emails. Cryptic ones, designed Da Vinci Code-like, with a radius and blast center. Everyone got a piece but nobody saw it all. It was confusing, I know. But that's how I do things (to be discussed later). Some people are like "Dude, wtf." Some were like "Sounds good, I have no idea what you're talking about but sounds good." Some people were like "You're so weird." Anyway, four alarm panic is raised in some quarters and word's out that I'm going loco -- or something.

People have been hearing that I'm not eating or sleeping and now these strange, admittedly very brief and not lucid sounding, emails get out there. Emails were sent to maybe two dozen people -- two dozen of my closest friends and sent in little subsets of friends. The subsets went from people I rarely talk to (but I knew they would understand asap) all the way up to my very best friends and eventually, my sister. Freak out city.

I didn't go top down because really, the idea I had only makes sense if we're on the same page. Same page meaning you either worked with me, played fantasy sports with me, knew about computers; or had all three of the above. So I tried to go to the people I thought would understand first. Problem is, I did it too fast. Like ten emails whipped out in ten minutes. No time for anyone to read, much less react. But I was desperate to get my idea(s) out. Even if sloppily.

By the way, I think I can Sidekick type at about 60 wpm; I'm just afraid to try for fear of long lasting cramps. Unrelated note.

Anyway, from there it gets crazier. Needless to say, Monday night wasn't pretty. By Tuesday night I was on the way out of LA and headed toward SD to handle (my) shit. Work meeting I stuck around for and had planned (I thought) at 8pm Tuesday? Cancelled, or at least I wasn't going to be attending.

By the time my friends congregated on Tuesday night, I was just concerned with getting to safe places -- in my mind, that was church. I stopped wanting to go to church long ago; I'm not even religious, not by a long shot. But I wouldn't even leave LA until I had the assurance that I could get to church on Wednesday. I thought I was in The Game, Fight Club, Memento, the Bible, Ender's Game, you name it, I was thinking it. I was making too many connections and coincidences to NOT believe something was going on. Again, different story.

If I was in any way delusional or nutty, it was me thinking my life was exactly like Ender's Game. Exactly. I'm re-reading the books right now to see if there's anything going on there. I STILL think I'm in Ender's Game...

My caretakers (and many of my best friends) showed up and they tried to get me rest/food/sane. I followed along as best I could, but I had an agenda. Anyway, from Monday night and on, I'll explain later.

The gist of it is: I think I was fine. Not even that tired or hungry or any of that. I know my limits; I shut down when I need sleep. But nobody's seen me like that because it's usually when I'm super excited about finishing/doing something. Websites, blogs, video games, books, etc. All solitary pursuits. To those around me, three almost all nighters would be insane. For me, it's not de rigeur, but neither was it life threatening by any means.

Then again, throw in the talk about spirituality, my father's death, my sudden hyperness, moodiness, and alertness, and people were pretty much sure I was on something. I've never done drugs by the way. My drug of choice is the Internet and nicotine. However, I was angry, cursing, and going Bruce Lee by the end of Monday. I was getting angry because at that point, I was either too pissed off at the not listening around me; and then getting paranoid and/or convinced that anger was the only option. But I was dialing the anger up and down, even if it didn't seem like it. So I felt in control, except when I needed to use it. You know? Very few people have seen me really yell (aside from sports or video games), enjoy it while it lasted. Anyway. That's for Part II of the story; what happened Monday night. I don't even want to write it down to be honest. I'm not going to forget that part of it. It was scary/hilarious/unexpected. An old dog can learn new tricks apparently.

I hope this timeline helps to clarify things. At the very least, I need to clarify it. I'm using phone logs, time dated Gmails, receipts, and memory to piece it together. But to be honest, the timeline is all I've been thinking about all week so I'm 99% sure it's right. I was building a case for my sanity last week; since really, I can't afford Johnnie Cochran and I doubt I'd be lucky enough to get J.Ito.

Anyway, I'll stop here for now. Real shame I can't get paid 10-cents a word to blog; real shame.

I think I'm fit as a fiddle, and I feel like a Stradivarius, but who knows. I've been known to be wrong.

"I don't do catfights, I do choreography."
-Mikey Minden-