Time Machine

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday of August 18, 19 and 20.

I recently found a time machine.

When I moved to Austin, my roommates and I decided against getting television. We have a television, but have chosen against actually having cable. We live in a house that is exactly one and a half miles from the center of Downtown. We have bikes that can easily transport us around all of the areas. We decided against the cable because of the price and the crutch that it provides. It is an American tradition to watch television. It has been a Pastime that has been used for many things from entertaining parties to being the babysitter. We wanted to change this and chose the rebellion that we would take it out against cable.

This time machine is an ordinary thing. It is not something from a magical land of whimsical people. I did not buy it from a wizard nor did I plant anything. I did not do any drugs nor was I under the influence of any alien substances.

I am horribly dependent on media and technology. Every day I wake up to the alarm from my cell phone. I log into my computer to electronically check to see who has contacted me. I do not have the addresses of anyone outside of my parents, yet I send letters to people on an hourly basis. I listen to music while doing just about everything that comes from a box that is about the size of a business card. I research everything in my life while sitting in a living room on the East side of Austin with shoes dangling from the power lines above. I avoid any human contact or verbal communication with everyone that I speak with. No, not by choice, but because of availability.

This time machine has been the catalyst for me to think about, why? It only has this function after it has worked it’s magic. It is like Taco Bell in the fact that it sounds amazing all the way up to the last bit, then you have days wondering what inside of you caused you to throw your entire diet off balance for that one Volcano Crunch? It has caused me to psychoanalyze my every moment and micromanage my every second. It has caused me strain and mental fatigue. It has brought joy and accomplishment only to myself. These accolades happened only after much anguish and cursing to an innate object that has no soul.

I am writing this on a computer. I had this talk with my girlfriend. Ok, faithful readers of the blog I am no longer going to use the tag “my girlfriend.” Until further notice, she will be referred to by her name Bonnie. I hope she does not hurt me for dropping her name in, but it is faster to type than “my girlfriend.” The moment that her and I shared was about who the heck invented the Internet. I know your conscious just said Al Gore and you should be slapped or run up to a wall really fast and slap yourself. Try the ladder, it does work if you hit the wall right. The Internet has been around for maybe 10 years in it’s current form. That form is called slowly ruling the Earth and sucking everything into a black hole of entertainment.

This time machine causes excess drinking and eating. It is the aid for depression and loneliness. It can replace any other relationship within your life and can cause many of those relationships to end. This time machine lives on the souls that it has taken into its levels. It eats the encounters that it ravages from the fingertips of its user. This time machine was my best friend from birth until last week. It was a friend that never left me and always left me consistently unsatisfied.

The Internet is a monster. The Internet is a savior. It is funny what the media can do to create a certain ideology for an object. Follow me as I create two scenarios.

“The Internet. Use it, you’ll be closer to God!” That could be an ad campaign for the Internet if it had a board of tourism. If you think about it, it is true. The Internet is this black hole of existence that is different for everyone. You can make the Internet anything you want it to be. You can work on the Internet. You can socialize on the Internet. You can have sex on the Internet. You can research anything in the world on the Internet. You can talk to anyone on the phone through the Internet. God is the Internet as God is whatever you want it to be.

“The Internet. Use it, or we’ll kill you!” That is the negative campaign by the leading competition on the marketplace of the world, Wal-Mart. You can find any shred of information about anyone on the Internet. People used to have blocked numbers in the phone book because that was too personal. Shit, you can go online and find out blood types of dead people. You can go online and find out what happened to the car you drove in 1967. You can watch people online. You can look at intimate photos of just about anyone. You can get up to the minute updates on your ex-boyfriend that you have been stalking. You can steal the work of other people so you can get a college degree without ever opening a book. You can gamble and watch strippers at the same time without ever going to Vegas and having to pay those ridiculous fees and keep your pants on. You can end the world with one keystroke on the Internet. The Internet is the Devil, if you believe in the Devil, and if you do, go use the Internet.

This time machine has caused memories of my youth to filter back to me. It has caused me to remember my fat days. It has caused me to remember my socially awkward days. It has caused me to remember when I had a societal disorder that went untreated because this is when mental illness was saved for the true geniuses in the padded rooms. It has allowed me to remember the Dark Ages of high school when I hated people. This time machine has caused me to remember every moment of my life as it never left my bedroom throughout the years and saw me go from fat kid to blogger. It is funny what happens to memories that happened decades ago when your mindset has changed in the present tense.

I am not a Hater. I love the Internet. It has allowed me to be here and write to you there. It has allowed me to never have to read through archives at a library. It has allowed me to listen to sports that are happening time zones away.

Internet is progression and I am a fan of progression. I recently found my writing voice when I decided to write for myself. Sorry readers, I love you guys but this is for me. Life is this constant progression. You can never get to a place that you were at before nor can you question past actions. You look forward and accept the person you are becoming. I always wrote for the approval of someone else and once I stopped caring, people started listening.

The time machine in which I am speaking is a Super Nintendo Entertainment System. Video Games!  I never even owned a SNES and it has brought me back to clearer days. It has brought me back to Wiffle Ball and Flashlight Tag. It has brought me back to Saturdays filled with cartoons, Little League and swimming with a white t-shirt on. This little system with this little mustached Italian man wearing overalls has brought me back to when time moved glacially and everything was new. The biggest worries would be getting to watch “Dinosaurs” only once a week and when was Christmas or my birthday. I dreamed of being older and making my own decisions. Eating ice cream for every meal. I swore to never drink coffee or alcohol and I find myself drinking both everyday. I grew up and now I want back. This machine has allowed me to relive my youth with the mind of an adult. Well, the body of an adult and let’s leave it at that. 

This whole adventure began when Bonnie and I found a used video game shop in Austin. It is decked from front to back with old games. The workers within the store are decked from head to toe in old gear. The vibe of the store is decked in head to toe in either really cool to oh my God, why are we here. A heated debate began and lasted our visit concerning what video game system was better Super Nintendo or Sega Genesis. It is obviously Sega, therefore no need for an explanation. This store is a portal into our youths. It is a gateway to remember the simpler times.

Every generation has time machines. These are machines that have become outdated by current technologies. Easy bake ovens for some. Pet Rock’s. Television shows. Snow globes. Comic Books. Music. Movies. Sports. Books. Everything is a time machine into a time of such simpler existence. Progression may have killed the heart and soul inside any of the things you may have loved because they lost their efficiency. But, they will forever hold a place in your heart.

Love the person you are now so you can repair the person you were then. Go back to one of these time machines and let the memories cascade. I hated myself for far too long and am finally now looking at how funny everything in my life was. How ridiculous some of the most intense moments I ever had.

Remember, just because we are in bigger bodies does not mean we are grown up. We are all little kids running around trying to start a pick up game of Wiffle ball or hid a carton of ice cream under our beds. Everything is created to be replaced. What is going to replace the Internet? Only time will tell.

Moral: Game Over Video Games in Austin has the craziest selection for anything concerning any video game system ever created. Progression is a natural cycle; embrace everything that you are and were as that is all you have.

Favorite Song I Re-Discovered

Reality.

Sunday, August 16, 2009.

Reality.

Sixth St. is a oneway street. This is very easy to recognize as it is clearly marked at each intersection. While riding a bicycle, you are required to ride on the street as well as with the flow of traffic. Therefore, if you are going to ride your bicycle on sixth street you can only head West. This is what happens when you try to not only ride your bicycle on the sidewalk, but in the wrong direction while on one of the busiest streets in Austin.

I was looking at my movie collection and wondered to myself what exactly I was thinking when I purchased all of the films that I own. I am not upset with the movies I do own, but why do I own so many. I began to go through some of these films with the hope of identifying one thing from each film that I just had to own it for. “Coachella” remind me of my past. “Field of Dreams” makes me cry every time I see it. “Requiem for a Dream” is a film that every pretentious film student must own. This list can go on and on. I stopped when I found “Any Given Sunday.” The reason I stopped is not because the film is horrible or magnificent; I think that it is right in the middle of mediocre. But, there is one scene in the film that still sits in my top five of scenes ever. It is the “Inches Speech.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=myyWXKeBsNk

The day started with breakfast tacos. A bike ride to the HEB then off to downtown. My girlfriend and I rode down Sixth St. to Congress and around the Capital. We went to a self portrait painted by Frida at the UT campus and stopped at the Texas Chili Parlor for lunch. We then went to Little Woodrow’s for a few drinks and Opal Divine’s for Pub trivia. After the trivia we mounted our bikes and began the ride home.

That speech gets me every time. Six inches. Six inches in front of your face is the only thing you are guaranteed in this life. The six inches between your ears will dictate how you spend that life you are so fortunate to have.

The bike ride started down Seventh, which was wise as it was a smaller side street and allowed for the avoidance of traffic. We rode a few blocks and hit a stoplight, rather than stop, I decided to make a right and keep my momentum to head down Sixth. In retrospect, I should have probably just waited at the light and continued law abiding cycling.

There are many times when I get lost in my thoughts. I go for long walks to try and figure out the future. I meditate to try and understand answers to everything that has happened. I try and look at other writers work to try and understand if what I am going through is normal. I watch films and always place myself in the lead, as each individual person is the lead in their own adventure. I like to think that I am everything that is good in these characters I watch and non of the bad. I try and exist as best as I can. I try to live.

We head through the intersection on Congress and Sixth and split. I am on the sidewalk to the left, my girlfriend to the right. I am in a Yellow Ten speed bike I purchased years ago for ten dollars. My girlfriend is on a blue beach cruiser. The sidewalks are fairly open as the evening is still early enough as people have not flooded into downtown. I am not sober.

Life is this constant fight to stay ahead. Not ahead of anything in particular, just ahead of yourself. I have to keep telling myself that I can only worry about the six inches in front of my face and everything else will be ok. Everything will be ok. Everything is meant to happen for a reason and these reasons are never apparent in the early stages of the action. Time needs to separate you from the event in order to understand why it had happened.

I lost track of my girlfriend as she snuck ahead of me on the other side walk. I did notice enough of that sidewalk to see it was a bit less crowded than mine. I was pedaling and avoiding pedestrians like Frogger. I was getting yelled at for being on the wrong side and didn’t care. I had only a few blocks until the Interstate, than it was one mile on a bike route to the house. We were almost home free.

The thing about this life that I lead is that it is a delicate balance. It is a balance to try and not worry too much about the future as you assess what has happened in the past. History repeats itself only if you allow it to. Sure, the same situations will be incarnated in different challenges for you and it is up to the skills you learned before to survive the newest threat.

The good thing about going down Sixth St the wrong was is that it is downhill. I was able to just maneuver and pick up speed without the task of pedaling. I was enjoying this part of the ride. I had just passed a long line in front of the Alamo Drafthouse Movie Theater and was looking back at one of the patrons yelling in my direction for my general “I don’t give a damn” attitude for cycling the wrong way on a sidewalk. I was laughing about the person when I looked forward. Only two more blocks to the Interstate than home to the East side. When my dilated eyes refocused forward there was a wall of people. The men had Capri pants and cameras around their neck. Europeans.

I think of myself as Al Pacino from the film. I think of myself as this desperate person hoping for redemption. I have no reason to do this as my life does not look like his at all. But, as I learned in film school, you must identify with the character and be in their skin to understand their motifs. With this understood, I feel the pain he is going through even though I have never experienced it. This is because of the six inches between your ears. Your mind can be your worst enemy and cause you to perceive any reality and experience however you want to experience it.

I don’t really remember it because I was so embarrassed and just hopped on and rode off like nothing happened. When I looked down, my hand was mangled. My leg was bruising and sore. Blood was flowing from the top of my hand to the handlebars of the Schwinn. I had officially wrecked on my bike to avoid Europeans on Sixth St. It didn’t really hurt at all. I think it was the adreniline and alcohol that had me bounce of the wall like it was a bouncy house and it didn’t have any effect on my body. The reality that my mind created with the booze allowed me to bounce off and pretend nothing happened. If I stub my toe sober, I will make a scene enough to get some attention and feel the pain it caused. Hitting a wall, it is like blank tape, I have the scars to prove it, but it never really hurt.

I believe in the notion of perspective reality. The understanding that you create your own experiences depending on your emotions. If you are sad and a dog barks, you freak out and yell at the dog for doing what it is hard wired to do. If you are happy and get a flat tire, you laugh it off, call AAA and it becomes a funny story at work. See, your perspective reality causes you to remember experiences differently depending on your mood. It is bliss when everything in your life is magical and you are happy as you wake up floating around on a cloud no one else can see. When you are depressed, everything that is good in the world turns to black and there is no way out.

I made it home that night and tossed my bike on the lawn. As, it was obviously, my bikes fault for running into a wall while it rode itself with me on top. Sometimes, we as humans, make absolutely no sense at all. I bandaged my hand and just laughed. I laughed at how stupid I was, I laughed at how drunk I was, I laughed about how I threw my bike on the lawn and I laughed about how ridiculous I must have looked hitting that wall. To this day, I wish it was taped so I can watch and I scampered off after impact like nothing happened. I can really be a funny person sometimes without trying to be.

These themes parallel when I realized why I was in the state that I was. Like anything, it didn’t make sense immediately, but after a few days it has developed like a photo in a dark room. I was trying to create another reality than the one I was living. I did this by trying to fit as many things into one day as humanly possible and drinking too much as it was happening. I was trying to create any sense of distraction that I could find to make it all go away. I wasn’t depressed, more repressed. I was getting cabin fever from my house and felt no way out. I felt like I needed to go make life happen rather than be patient and let it take it’s course. I was Al Pacino when he was his own worst enemy in the film. I was creating a monster inside of my head that was killing everything around me because I didn’t want to identify with the reality I was living. Life is out there, you can not make it happen, you have to just keep your mind clear enough to enjoy it when it presents itself.

Moral: “Any Given Sunday” was purchased for that one scene. Do not, I repeat, do not ride your bicycle down Sixth St on the sidewalk while going the wrong way. Life is however your mind creates it, do not get caught waiting for a ship that is never going to get t here.

Not about Austin, Sorry

Depression.

I would like to think that my entire life has been in this state. I warn you that when I say I would like to think, it is not in a positive way as this is something that can cripple you down to the bone.

It is a state in which you have no idea which way is up and how the heck to find it out. It can be caused by a number of things.

My depression came when I was a child. I still am unable to remember the exact moment that caused me to exist in this state. I think it was when I first went to school in Arizona.

See I had moved from Connecticut to Arizona in fifth grade. I was young and thought of the move as something that would have been new and exciting. I did not think that it would cause me years of heartache and self-disabling mental nuisances.

The issue that was brought into the forefront at this point was a two pronged diagnosis that I have yet to conquer to this day. The first was appearance. I was a fat kid. I was the kid that would wear the white t-shirt into the public pool rather than going shirtless. I would make my mom but me golf shirts 2 sizes too big as I thought that would hide my figure. I would tell my mom that I had to buy pants a size bigger because inside the tag it said “these pants run a size too small.”  I lied to my mom. I knew that I lied to her and I think she knew I did. Everyday my life was a lie.

The second prong had to deal with my speech pattern. I have something called a reverse over bite. This causes my tongue to do different things from the “normal” tongue. The most obvious of these differences is when I try to pronounce a word that utilizes an “r.” I taught myself to avoid using words with R’s, just so I could avoid the confrontation. “Rather than” became “because.” “Over there” became “that way.” I would like to think positively and assume that this fault in genetics has caused me to have a superior vocabulary. At least I hope it did.

These two elements have caused me much ill-will toward my stance in society from a young age. I always thought of myself in the worst light. A fat kid  that needed subtitles. This has caused me to become a writer. I wanted to write because I than didn’t have to run the chance of being mad fun of.

I think it all comes down to that. I think that we, as a people, are very fragile. It only takes one thing to happen to have a mood shift. It takes on accident to shift an entire life. It takes one misstep to cause you to second guess your every thought.

I know that I have no confidence. I never did and I blame the depression that I created for myself. It is not like I was ever really made fun of. It is not like I wore a scarlet letter and everyone avoided the leper.

I created these scenarios because I was unhappy with myself. Rather  than change myself and work on these items, I alienated myself. I developed an eating disorder that causes me still to second guess my appearance almost on a daily basis. I became judgmental while carrying a conversation if someone asked me to pronounce something an additional time. Sure, the may have just not heard because of the noise at the party, but I know better. They were trying to state just how much better they are at talking.

I have been programmed to compete at everything. Americans have been trained in Capitalism which say win at all costs and challenge everyone to better yourself. What happens when we create a society of driven individuals fighting to climb a latter that leads them nowhere? What happens when we create drones that loss the ability to challenge their thoughts, but would rather just challenge each other? The world is becoming a work place. There is no more chivalry and everyone is fighting each other to try and get a leg up. They have no idea why they need this leg up or what this advancement would do for their happiness. They just continue in the process. And, when something happens that causes us to think again we become depressed. We become depressed with who we are and who we are not. It is not other people being critical of our existense. It is ourselves and the brain that we nurture that becomes the worst enemy. This becomes the basis of all evil and causes you to lose any sense of understanding that you have earned over the years of experience. Life continues in this cycle and if you can not get out. If you can not fight to get your head above water. I am sorry my friend, you will drown. You will become 70 and wonder what the hell just happened to the last 50 years of your life. The regrets of the time you can not change will cause you to ruin the people and experiences that are the key to a happy future. Do not worry about what is done, worry about the future and what you can change in order to never get into the cycle again. Sure, I am about to go into the cycle. I may be in one now. I may have just gotten out of one. Whatever the case my be, everyday is a fight for the sanity in which you are trained to ignore but passionate to keep. Life continues to be this balancing act, and until you lead the life your happy mind wants you to lead, the machine of society will continue to churn with your thoughtless conscious as a lubricant for the gears,

Challenge and get out. Do not let the society have you lose 20 years of your life because you felt fat and couldn’t talk. Get your voice out there and change the future for yourself as it will change the future of those around you.

Can't Run Away from Everything

Friday, August 14, 2009.

I am a very stubborn person. I can have a very destructive temper. I can lose patience very quickly. I would like to think that I can control myself most of the time, but there are moments in which the Incredible Hulk appears. I do not like to admit defeat or ask for assistance. Again, these are things that I am working on and I would like to think that I am gaining a better control of. That’s another thing, I have to be in control. I think that goes to my Italian roots. Actually, I’d like to blame my Italian roots for all of my flaws and take my personal awesomeness for all of my positive attributes. Honestly, I’m human and therefore emotions take over sometimes.

Running is something that I hated for a long period of my life. I never understood it. Why would someone want to just run? Why would someone voluntarily go around in a circle? These thoughts began when I was much younger than my current status at a time when I despised exercise and loved the cool feel of the couch and television. At this point in my life, I enjoy running. It is freedom. You put on music and just go. It is a liberating experience to worry about nothing but your own thoughts. It is difficult to get this level of clarity in everyday life, as your mind likes to worry about every little thing in every little moment. But, when you are running and your mind is occupied with the immediate goal of survival, your conscious is free to roam and enjoy a little independence.

Austin is one of the fittest cities in America. It is constantly in the top ten on whatever health publication you would like to rely on. After being here for two weeks, I can attest to the fitness level of Austinites. Running trails are set up in parks accompanied with water stations. Bike routes criss cross every inch of the city allowing for pedal pushers to make it just about anywhere their hearts desire. A cultural study will show that people within the city are generally in good shape. This is not scientific, but a look around shows that people take care of themselves. There are small café’s, juice bars and vegan restaurants around every corner. There is also Whole Foods. Look, they have Whole Foods in Arizona, but they have Whole Foods-land in Austin. It is 40 aisles of in your face healthy food that makes you second guess ever eating birthday cake when you were six.

I listen to rap. Yes, me, white Masters student who can’t dance, I listen to rap when I run. It gives me a steady enough rhythm and the lyrics distract my conscious enough so I loose track of the pain that I am feeling. I usually listen to Kanye West with the chance of slipping into Mos Def. Yes, rappers who white people can like without having to actually like hardcore rap. Depending on my mood, it will dictate the music I listen to. As, the music will create a soundtrack for the run. I can veer away from the rap and hit a little alternative as well.

For example, if it is a morning that I am angry with, I will click over to Rage Against the Machine. If it is a morning that I lack motivation, it will be turned to Kanye West. If it is a morning that I am just happy and want to enjoy the scenery, it will go to Arcade Fire. You catch the drift.

This was to be my maiden voyage around the running trail in Austin. My girlfriend had done the run with our new group of friends a few times before. On this morning, no friends were around and she was going with her sister, also my roommate. They were about to leave when I lumbered downstairs for coffee. They were walking out the door and I joined the caravan. A little exercise would do me good.

We arrived at a pedestrian bridge. There were tables lined up with water and people in work out gear. People had bikes, dogs and kids. It was like a convention for the health conscious sect of society. We stretched and my girlfriend gave the directions for the trail. I was not really listening as I was deciding what kind of run it was going to be with my music. Before I knew it, she and her sister were off and I just started jogging.

Before this gets into the meat of the story, understand this one point. I am tall, not basketball player tall, but taller than the average male. This causes me to have long legs which make jogging easier. I am like a giraffe; I am awkward and choppy in foot races and sprints. But, when it comes to distance running, these stilt legs allow me to cover a lot of ground without that many strides. Therefore, I can run longer distances without getting tired as I am utilizing less energy.

Back to the story, so we start over a bridge and around a trial. It is a beautiful day and the sun is coming up. To my left is Lady Bird Lake and the sky line of the Austin. The temperature can not be a tick over 80. I began the run listening to Pearl Jam, hoping to just ease through about half and album and enjoy the day. I soon found out after the first song, that my lungs were burning and my mouth was dry. I was horribly out of shape and needed a boost.

I went over to Kanye West and needed his anger to give a shot in the arm. I passed my girlfriend on the run and kept on going down the track. I came to a pedestrian bridge to my left and crossed it over a smaller section of the lake. I then passed my roommate and was in front in the relay of the house. I then hit my stride for the rest of the run. I passed the initial fatigue and found myself in a runner’s zone. My legs were working without me having to think them through each step. The music was flowing and I was laughing. It was a gorgeous day.

The album ticked down and was over. I found the trail of runners thinning until I was by myself. I took a few step break and flipped the music to the Kings of Leon. I started the engines again and went for another song. I did begin to worry. I had this thought: This was a lot longer of a run than I thought. If I burned through a whole album, it was about 50 minutes. I can run about 4 or 5 miles in that pace. The trail was supposed to only be 3 and I have yet to even cross the bridge. This thing is going to take all day.

There it was, the bridge that I was supposed to cross. I turned the corner and the bridge leading to the other side was there. I did break my jog as my legs were a bit shaky at this point and I told myself to walk across the bridge  and  then run the rest of the way back. When I took that first step to the left to enter t he bridge, I saw cars. Not a few cars or anything like I had before, but the highway. This allowed me to get my barrings and understand that I had run to the Interstate 35.

Backstory is like this, the I-35 is the main freeway that cuts through Austin. It is about a mile from out house and separates central Austin from East Austin, where we live. The location that we started this run at is about three miles from this bridge. The location of the house in which we live is exactly one mile. My legs were rubber and I had maybe another ten minutes of jogging left in them. So, I had reached a fork in the road. Do I go left, back to the start of the run, it would take about 40 minutes as I would walk a majority of it and meet up with my roommates. Or, do I go right one mile and make it home. I did not have a key to gain access to the house or any form of communication to let my roommates know that I was home and ok. The decision is something that sparked a very long debate.

The directions that I was given by my girlfriend were as follows, go down the trail. Cross at the pedestrian bridge, then cross at the next bridge and follow the trail back to the start. I thought that I had done this properly and the trail was just a lot longer, but I was wrong. She gave very good directions, which after running the trail again make a lot of sense, but I did not follow them the first time.

I blame my stubbornness on my family. I blame them for pretty much everything that I think is negative. The more I think about this, the more illogical it is. It is my actions that cause me to think in this manner. There are moments that I have a great amount of patience, and there are moments that I do not. I think that I am not alone in this manner as everyone goes through a similar spectrum of emotions. One day, some small minor thing can trigger you off onto a rampage that hurts everyone close to you. A few moments later, you look back and wonder why the heck that happened.

I think that we are very emotional creatures. We have minds that cause us to think too much about everything around us. We have expectations to constantly be the same person to everyone around. When we are having a bad day, we do not look at ourself for causing that bad day, but try and find something external that is causing the pain. As, we are who we are, we are great people, we could never possibly be upset with ourselves because of a whole somewhere in our soul. But, it has to be something else that is inflicting this pain that we are feeling.

When periods like this happen, destruction of everything near and dear follows. We become the Incredible Hulk until there is nothing left to break. Ok, maybe that is a bit dramatic and maybe you are reading this and have never had these moments. If you are in this population, I apologize for the length in which I am covering this, but I do think that we all have these moments. I think that we have these moments everyday. I think that our daily lives can be too much sometimes and we need to unplug. We need to have alone time. We need to just ride out the wave as there is nothing we can do.

Nothing we can do. That is a phrase that I never believed in when I was younger. I always thought there was an answer to everything. Every problem has a solution. That is the logic in me. That is the way I was programmed. I think I am maturing to the point to understand that some things do not have an answer. Some days you may feel terrible and there is nothing to do but ride it out. Everything will not be perfect at every moment. Understandings that the world and the moments within the existense you are carving out are not in your control can allow you to be liberated. It can allow you to go with the flow more. There are times that I can never be in control and I am becoming ok with that. There are moments that I cannot fix and I am becoming better with that.

I stopped at the bottom of the bridge. I was at the offramp from the Interstate. Left or Right. Meet with the roommates and understand that I made a mistake. Go home and laugh it off and blame my girlfriend for bad directions. I went right. I ran down Cesar Chavez to my house. My back door was open and I entered the house. I showered and cranked on my computer. No sight of my roommates until they called. I told them what I had done and how funny it was. My girlfriend hung up on me and then it hit me how stubborn I was.

A debate happened where my girlfriend explained how they searched for me. How they spent two hours trying to find me. How they were about to call the police. How worried they were for me. I was home. I was showered and laughing about what I had done. I did not think at all about the situation I placed them in concerning my wellbeing and whereabouts.

I was a stubborn person. I would fight you in a debate until I win. I would give you logic for every decision. I would plot out how something will fail prior to it beginning. I would think six moves ahead in order to find out just how to get out of every situation. I would be anxious for things and situations that I had never been in or understood.

I am getting better. I am becoming more understanding. I am trying to think less and enjoy more. Life is this great string of moments. These moments are presented to you and you decide how to go forward. I believe in fate but I do not rely on fate. I think you can create your own identity and the actions will speak toward the character and life you will lead. I am learning. That is all I can say, I am learning how to be an adult. I am learning how to live through emotions. I am learning how to be mature. I am learning that everything is a test and you need to trust yourself before you can be yourself.

I looked at the lake and thought of how beautiful it was. I think back to the final scene of “American Beauty” and how a flying back can be beautiful. I look at the moments that I have had and will have in my life and a tear of joy formed because it was so sublime. The moments and life you want to lead is out there, do not be stubborn and turn to your past negative actions when the fear of growth is too much. Like in running, you can control everything and there is nothing stopping you from going forward and making the right decision than your own mind. Have the confidence to trust it.

Moral: Listen to directions before you engage in a task in which you have never accomplished before; never be too stubborn to apologize or limit your growth because of fear.

Gruene Hall

Saturday, August 15, 2009.

Sometimes life can be a whole lot like soda. But sometimes, life can be the White Ghost Shivers.

It is about 40 miles. It is a quick 40 miles. That is what happens when you take the highway 38 miles of it. It is a hot Saturday and a little past noon. The car is filled to the max with five. The air conditioning is screaming out at full blast with the slightest bit of coolness hitting the three passengers in the past. The music is blaring random songs from my past life. I can recognize most of them in between the stories that the members of the car are sharing. The ladies in the back are enjoying a few fine imported Italian beers. This is officially the first road trip of the crew in Austin.

Gruene, Texas is nestled between Austin and San Antonio. It is a very small town that is close to New Braunsfels. The attraction of New Braunfels is Schlitterban and water related activites. The motto for Gruene is my favorite label that a town has ever placed on itself: “Gently resisting change since 1872.”

We pull down the main street and see old buildings that look like the backdrop to “Pleasantville.” To the left there is a very large flea market consumed in a sea of tent tops. To the right, there are people drinking root beer and sitting in rocking chairs. I think if I looked hard enough I would find Norman Rockwell drinking a Shiner. We found parking and patiently waited in front of the dance hall as Greune does not believe in traffic lights, but rather having a police officer at the main intersection directing traffic.

Gruene Dance Hall is well known as the oldest dance hall in Texas. When you take into account the size of the state and how many little towns like this make up the population of the Republic, that is no label to laugh at. And, if that wasn’t enough, it is the location of the famous dance scene with John Travolta for the film “Michael.” So there you go, we were about to enter some pretty significant territory.

Gruene Hall has two main entrances in the front. Both are screen doors. They gain you access into the bar, which like the rest of Texas, is strictly wood and nails with neon signs. There is a corridor that leads from the bar to the actual dance hall. The corridor is lined with framed and autographed pictures of any performer of significance that may have earned their stripes at the Hall. The dance hall itself is made of very worn wood that allows for easy dancing while wearing your favorite pair of black and yellow boots. Picnic tables are set up in three long rows to allow for families to sit and congregate. The hall is very long as these 20 or so tables take up less than half of the hall, leaving the back cavity empty for a few billiards tables and plenty of room to stand or dance to the music. The hall also has a side door that empties to a wood shaded patio that allows for a little more of an intimate setting with views of the stage inside and the rest of the town down the main street outside. This is the perfect venue in the perfect town.

“White Ghost Shivers” is chaos. They are a band hailing from Austin, Texas. As with anything of any interest, they can not be simply classified on your iTunes and they do not fit into any standard format for your National Syndicate radio schedule. They are a band of pure entertainment. The ensemble on stage consisted of one lead singer over seven feet tall with a banjo, fake mustache wearing overalls. The other lead singer was a dead ringer for a French Burlesque dancer wearing a shorter white dress type. The bassist was wearing jeans and sporting a cigarette for pretty much every song of the day. A gentleman was playing what looked to be a stand up bass or a harp or, to be honest, who the heck knows how he was making music but it sounded good. Finally, a set of three men played trumpets, boxes, jugs and any other type device that can produce any sort of sound. Throughout the day this band of seven played well over a dozen instruments, including my personal favorite, a banana.

Honestly, I had no expectations for the show. This is what I knew going into the vehicle to make this trip. Number one, I had met the lead singer the first moment I set foot in Austin after a 13 hour drive with an SUV that was about as overworked as Michael Jackson days before you know what happened.
Number two, we were driving about an hour to a place in the middle of nowhere to an establishment that had no air conditioning. Number three, when it comes to music I am very picky and will be very critical of the smallest of things. This was learned while in Master’s classes and has proven to ruin many a good artist because I was too pretentious to admit liking something. Lastly, the set was to begin at noon and last until 5 PM. I asked myself as I heard the news, “Who in their right mind sings up to play a five hour set in a place called Greune without charging a cover at the gate?” My answer at the moment, “Probably a band that is desperate to just get some face time.”

For the record, those were all questions that I had as I was filling up my gas tank about an hour before the time we left for the show. I would like to apologize to those reading for my unwarranted judgments and my discriminating thoughts toward the concert I was about to witness.

I stood in the back of the dance hall with my notebook opened and my pen in hand. I was trying to capture the mood. As I learned in my very first sports journalism class, you need to have your story written before the end of the game. You just leave the ending open depending on who wins and in case something unforeseen happens. This is a tool and writing style that I have taken to my life. Therefore, I will take notes about everything and anything so when it comes time to sort out the plotlines, I have my notes and the story is already written. This was not the case that afternoon in Gruene. I was prepared. I was ready. I was pacing my Shiner ingestion to ensure that enough details will be written down to remember the moments. After the first few songs, I found myself in a trance. I was no longer worried about details. I was no longer being critical of the music or trying to find a flaw in the design. I was no longer worried about where I was or what else was going on. I was fully and completely entertained. I was full fledged, head over heels in love with the experience.

White Ghost Shivers creates this sort of show utilizing time tested entertainment methods. They are part sketch comedy part magicians. The show is part vaudeville and part really good music. The charisma for which each performer has is impressive. If you have been to enough concerts, you can tell when someone is going through the motions to collect a paycheck. One of my last concerts in Arizona was for one of my all time favorite songwriters and in the middle of his set a song played while he was changing microphones. Nothing like finding out one of your idols is lip singing. But, the Shivers have none of this, they are pure.

I opened with a random quote about life. It is something that I have been kicking around my head for a little while now. It first came to me when I drank soda for the first time years as it was the only cold beverage at our house after we first moved in. As everyone reading this knows, as everyone reading this has drank a soda at least once in their lives, the experience is a fraud. Example, I finished unloading the trailer in which we moved in. I was drenched in sweat, which is no new occurrence, but experiencing the humidity of Austin, I was much more parched that I usually had been. Therefore, I reached for a soda from the fridge. I drank the soda in about two gulps and felt worse after.

Soda is sexy. It comes in cool colors. It has fancy marketing. It is cheaper than any other beverage. It is packaged to be consumed and enjoyed. It does not provide anything to body that is positive. After you finish drinking one, you are thirstier than when you began. The sugar in soda will either have you gain 20 pounds or if you reach for the diet, give you cancer with the nutrisweet. If you place the facts on a graph, you will see that soda is a fraud. It is a comfort food that people consume to enjoy the experience of drinking it not because it makes their body feel good, but the image they are being sold and packaged within the marketing of the product portray a lifestyle they hope to achieve through the consumption of the beverage.

On the other hand, you have the White Ghost Shivers. They are a no nonsense, in your face, pure positive energy tonic that you better love and not worry about why because if you don’t you’ll miss out on one hell of a party. They will rock your socks off for 5 hours straight and still leave you wanting more. They are not phoney packaged. They are not a band that sounds good on their records because of the magic in the studio. They do not care about anything but your enjoyment. In the current landscape of music and the society as a whole, it was refreshing to see a group that truly played for the love of the music. With insider information, it was learned that the band had played a club in Austin until well into the early morning hours. They went home, caught a few winks and shipped out the 40 miles to Gruene for the marathon Saturday set. With this said, the Shivers still made their money. Throughout the show, they made their way through the audience with a tip bucket and utilized the amazingly cute children in the crowd to assist.

So, to get metaphysical before the conclusion of this post, if you look at your life. Ask yourself this, are you leading a Coke and Diet Pepsi life or are you leading a White Ghost Shivers life. Are you following the beat of the drum that offers empty promises of happiness if you listen to a certain type of music or drink a certain type of beer. Or, are you tossing every rule you were ever taught by your teachers and bosses out the window and experiencing everything with an open canvas of possibility. I wish I could say that I rock out with the Shivers, and I do very often, but it is daily struggle to dig up from the expectations of a lost society that wants to fit your square body into a round hole no matter how much it doesn’t fit.

Moral: If the White Ghost Shivers are playing in your town, get your ass there; also, lay off the soda and drink in a little positive, uncontrollable energy.

Saxon Pub

Saxon Pub

Monday, August 10, 2009

Austin is a city filled with people. It is a city that has a vibe unique to the people who live inside of it. This is first understood coming from a culture in which Independent is not something that is self-promoted.

Moving from Phoenix to Austin has changed the perspective in which I have toward people. In Phoenix, no one has an identity. No one has a sense of self. No one has any true clue what to do or how to live. This is not an attack on Phoenix as I grew up there, but witnessing the lifestyle of Austin there is a definite difference.

Saxon Pub is an establishment that is south of Lady Bird Lake on Lamar. It is in South Austin and a few blocks from the known SoCo. The Pub is nothing more than a few rooms, one that has a stage and some seating, one that has a large bar and the last that has tables. As is the norm in Austin, everything is wood paneled and neon signed lit. We had a table in the back of the third room, this offered low visibility of the stage and the band except for the television screen that was playing the performance life. But, it did allow for more comfortable of seating and a sound level that allowed for quality discussion.

The Pub has housed many famous talents including the Great Willie Nelson. On the evening I attended, Bob Schneider was playing. He is a local Austin musician and plays the venue religiously on Monday nights. The cover was 10 bucks and by the time Schneider took the stage the Pub had reached max capacity and a line was forming outside and around the building.

Schneider is a singer/songwriter born in Michigan and raised in Germany. He currently resides in Austin, TX. He has made over a dozen albums. He is also a published poet. I’d like to think the music has the lyrical description created by Bright Eyes without being so bleak, with the look and musical stylings of Pete Yorn.

Prior to the beginning of the show, the party in which I attended the show with became hungry and the Pub does not serve food. Therefore, utilizing the amazing Iphone, a pizza place was located, an order placed and picked up and brought back into the Pub by a member of our crew. He walked right in without any discussion with the bouncer and was back at the table with a few pizzas from the uniquely named, Austin Pizza.

By this time, I had vacated the tabled and ponied up to the bar to consume more Shiner and try to get a better view of the band. I stood by the entrance of the bar with a clear shot of the stage. This allowed me to watch Bob and his band rock the hell out of their instruments. The vibe of the show was that of Bob himself. It was a chill vibe that was very nurturing. Not to get too Lifetime network on you guys, but that is the vibe of Austin.

The people at the show consummated the vibe of Bob and his music as well as the greater Austin. It is a vibe of understanding and support. It is a vibe of expression and Independence. It is a vibe that I think exists in San Francisco. It is a vibe that exists in pockets of New York and Los Angeles. It is a vibe that is the lifeblood of the artists in San Diego and Chicago. This vibe is something that is brand new to someone that grew up in the suffocating track homes of the Phoenix desert.

I find that people are constantly changing and this causes everything that I am writing to be placed into question. A friend of mine has a blog and the point of his blog is to record what happens during live music concerts. Why do people become so excited and understanding. Can the emotions that are evoked during these shows be developed past just the concert and into everyday life?

I say, yes. I think that you can be as happy as you are during concerts all the time. It does not have to be concerts. This can be anything in your life that brings you joy. If you are newly in Love, you can bottle that and keep that flowing past the first few stages of a relationship. If you have been promoted, you can keep that feeling of accomplishment past the first 90 days and still be proud of who you are months later.

I find that as a society, we are constantly worried. We are constantly worried about what is enough. We are worried about what others think of us. We are worried about how we look. We are worried about what is wrong with someone else. We are worried with what is happening to people on television.

My question is this: When do we worry about ourselves? When do we become selfish and worry about how we are feeling? When do we stop being a cultural push over because an even keel is easier to handle than rocking the boat?

These are questions that I found answers to in Austin. I always thought that I was the only person who wondered why everyone worries about so many things they can not control. I was worried about my job. I was worried about my appearance. I was worried about sports and social activities. I never worried about myself during these things, but rather how I looked to the outside world during these activities.

I am not saying to give up society and go Libertarian. I am not for a revolution and to fight the Man. All I am saying is live. Live the life that you want to lead. Do the things that you want to do. If you are in a relationship that you don’t want to be in, leave. If you are at a job that you hate, leave. In you are in a rut inside of your mind that you can not get out of, leave. There is always an answer to every question by assessing the thing that is causing you pain from a new angle.

This is what I found in Austin the evening that I watched Bob Schneider at Saxon Pub. I found a culture of people who were leading the life they imagined. They didn’t just buy quotable mugs from Starbucks in order to distract themselves from the life they were leading. Grab life and go with it. Get lost in the city you are living in. Take a break and go for a walk. Take time to enjoy the thoughts within your mind. Follow the dreams you had when you were six. They maybe outrageous, but you were probably happier when you were six.

The evening concluded with a trip to Taco Cabana prior to use getting home. Before we left the Pub, we exchanged numbers and pleasantries with the people we were introduced to at the table. This occurrence is mentioned as it is something that has never happened to me before. We actually created friends and exchanged numbers while at a bar listening to music. This is something that is common in Austin and goes further to prove that the people of Austin are just flat out nice. It is still funny to me that I am writing about how we made friends. But, coming from the culture of Phoenix, it was nice to talk to people that were not judgmental and open to your opinion. It is nice to not always have to debate and actually converse with people. Who knows, maybe that is just a step for me leaving my pretentious past to my open-minded future in Texas.

Austin is my Nirvana. Austin is my city of dreams. Austin is my Hope. It is my Barack Obama. It is my unicorn. It is all within my mind and it can be within yours. What is your Austin?

Moral: Bob Schneider is an amazing singer-songwriter and poet; and life is waiting for you.

Day One

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Texas Chili Parlor

I have found the best chili in the world. You may ask, “well sir, have you tried every chili ever made, and if not, how can you announce that you have indeed found the greatest concocted?”

I have not had every chili every created and therefore I have not truly found the best in the world. But, to me, it is the best. Therefore, it does not matter how valid the statement is as it is a fact because it is something that I believe in and to me, that is all that matters.

“Don’t be shy.” He said.

“Are you open?” I asked.

“Just did about fifteen minutes ago.” He responded.

I shuffled in and there was a large contrast in the lighting from outside into the establishment. The whole place was wood paneled down to the door handles being made of carved wood.

“Sit anywhere you’d like.” He said.

I found a table by the television. I radiated toward ESPN as it was a luxury that no longer existed within my house. I am happy that TV is no longer a part of my daily life. But, when I wanted to unplug, it was nice to have my ally back.

The main light for the restaurant was from neon lights spattered across the back of the bar. There were about five customers and four people working. This was to be my first meal in Austin, TX. It was the Texas Chili Parlor and the best chili that I have ever had the pleasure to enjoy.

I found the restaurant on the advice from a friend. He was from Austin and told me to check out the food. This was my first day free from the house and I took it upon myself to get lost in Austin. This was done by design as I took my ten speed bike from the house in the Latino part of East Austin, across the Lance Armstrong Bike Route to Sixth St. I parked my bike by the Texas Picnic Company overlooking a creek near the heart of downtown.

I hiked from this location a dozen blocks up Congress and to the Texas Capital. It is a sight that is sublime. I will not go through the task of describing it. For, being true to the definition of sublimity, there is not a proper set of adjectives to visual this experience. I suppose it is a subjective understanding, as what I comprehend when I see the capital is much different from that of another person.

The capital is sandstone. It is in the same shape as the capital located in Washington, DC. It has a park that surrounds every side of it. The park is tree shaded and has multiple monuments that have been resurrected to honor different organizations from volunteer firemen of Texas to the Boy Scouts of America. The inside of the capital has marble floors in every direction with multiple designs. The walls are dark wood and cream. Around the lower walls within the Dome are paintings of previous Governors of Texas. You can look up and see the perfect architecture that leads to the top copula. The very top of the copula has a Texas star surrounded by the word “TEXAS” spelled out between each break in the star. The capital of Texas stands taller than the national capital in Washington, DC by fifteen feet.

“Can I get a bowl of the hot and some water.” I ordered.

“Coming right up.” He said.

He was wearing a T-shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. He was about six foot with a thin build. He walked to another table and joked with the patron. He seemed to know everyone at the restaurant. It was a small place away from everything. I snuck in because I knew a guy.

The best part about moving to a new location is being anonymous. I do not know anyone. There is not a set of expectations for me to do anything. I can spend a day getting lost in the city. I can spend the day getting drunk at a bar. I can spend a day discovery the smallest of things that can lead you to a day full of happiness. I parked my bike by someone who did not enjoy the fact that they worked at a coffeehouse. I walked to the capital by a person wearing a red blazer who was unhappy parking cars at a trendy hotel. I walked to a restaurant by a lady trying hopelessly to start her car to no avail in the middle of the afternoon during a 100 plus degree day.

These little vignettes made me appreciate the possibility to start fresh. I did not have to take on the job at the coffeehouse because my parents made me. I did not have to park cars at a hotel because I smoked too much pot in high school and never went to College. I did not have to worry about starting my car to rush off to an appointment that I didn’t really want to go to begin with.

“Here you go. Hope you like it.” He said. He dropped the plate off on the table. It was a giant bowl of reddish brown stew. Next to the bowl were chopped onions and sliced jalapeños.

“Thanks.” I said. I grabbed the spoon and started to dig in.

“You’re not from around here.” He said.

“From Arizona, this is my second day in town.” I said.

“Well, welcome to Austin.” He said.

“This is actually my first Texas meal.” I said.

“You need a Shiner then.” He said.

“It’s only eleven-fifteen.” I said.

“Never too early for a Shiner. Besides, it’s on the house.” He said.

A few moments later he brought me a beer. It was before noon on a Tuesday and I was drinking. I was happy for the beer as the chili burned the hell out of my mouth and stomach. It was certainly Hot, but good. The secret is the Texas Chili Parlor puts whole beef brisket into the chili that causes it to be so rich. There are not any beans or bits of beef. Rather, it is entirely tender beef soaked in chili sauce. I finished lunch, paid and was off into Austin again. I walked to the capital one last time before I headed back under the Interstate and home to my boxed filled house.

I sat at a bench under a tree with the capital to the left and downtown Austin to my right. I thought how far I had come and how much there was left to do. I wondered why I was there and what the future held. I thought about everything I had done in the past and the distance in which I had come from my adolescence. This was the beginning of my liberation. There would be no more days of settling for less than I wanted. There would be no more days of going with the flow because it was easier than challenging everything.

Austin, like any place in the world, is just a place. It is just a vessel for you to shape your life. If you allow yourself the opportunity to live without censoring yourself, you can develop into anything you desire. Do not settle for less than you are worth. Do not live only within your mind. Do not live in a world of self-vanity or loathing. Experience life and take in every last ounce of it while you still can.

Moral: Do not allow yourself to fail before you begin. There is nothing in this world worth worrying over as you can only control the moment in front of face. Lastly, Texas Chili Parlor has amazing chili and the capital of Texas is an overwhelming experience.

The Move

The Move

Friday, August 7, 2009.

“It just died.” I said.

She rolled down her window with a blank look on her face. “What!?” She said.

“It just shut down. Can you steer it as I push?” I said.

“What do you mean it died?” She said.

“It’s Michael Jackson. Will you just get out and help.” I said.

She moved her car to the median and hopped into mine. We were at the border inspection about 90 miles East of El Paso, TX. My car had seized. I was driving a Korean SUV and after a spat of mountain driving it decided to go on strike.

“Where are we going to push this?” She asked.

“Do you think we can make it to Austin?” I responded.

“This is not funny.” She said.

As she finished a fleet of green clad, sunglass wearing men and women ran to our rescue.

“We are not mechanics.” One man said.

“Ok.” I responded.

“You need to get this car out of here ASAP.” Another man said.

“We are pretty much working on that now.” I said.

“Can you pop the hood?” One woman said.

“I thought you weren’t mechanics.” I said.

“You’re right. We aren’t.” The first man responded.

“Then why would you want to look under the hood?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Look, just get the car out of here.” The second man said.

“Working on it.” I said.

Traffic was stopped, cones were moved, a dozen people were behind the U-Haul trailer with the mural of basketball players on the side, we were safely out of the way of the Border patrol. My girlfriend had moved her car to the shoulder and mine was soon behind it. I popped the hood to make it look like I knew what I was doing.

“I’m not a mechanic. But here is the number to a tow truck.” The first man said.

He handed the number to my girlfriend who put it in her cell phone. The border patrol agents left without searching my or my girlfriend’s car.

“What should we do?” She asked.

“Wait a few minutes. Try to start it again.” I responded.

“And if it doesn’t?” She asked.

“Call Ghostbusters.” I responded.

The closest town was Sierra Blanca. It was about five miles from the Border Patrol stop. We had waited to start the car. It did and made in another two miles and stopped again. My girlfriend picked me up and we were off to meet the fine people of Sierra Blanca to try and get some assistance.

A Chevron gas station was immediately off the exit to the right. The GPS we used told us the location of this gas station. The locations of the other two gas stations in the town and the one motel, El Camino Motel. El camino translates to “the road,” which makes ironical sense as that is where my SUV was located with flashing lights.

“Excuse me, do you have a phone we can use?” My girlfriend asked.

I walked around the store. It was a normal, American convenient store. There were aisles and aisles of snack food and drinks. I grabbed a few gallons of water in case I needed to replenish the car. I also grabbed a few energy drinks and water.

“No one can help us.” My girlfriend said.

“At this time on a Friday, everyone is unavailable.” The gas station attendant said. She looked like an old mother and as juveniles played in the ice cream aisle she kept her eye on their mischievous actions as she helped us with the tow truck.

“Is there anywhere we can try to go?” My girlfriend said.

I lost contact and began watching the children. They were playing some sort of hid and go seek game in the freezer. They would lock one of their mates in the freezer and see how long they could last. They seemed to be having a blast and I was curious what would happen if I joined?

“Just these.” I said. I placed the waters and drinks on the counter. I handed the money to the attendant and she promptly yelled at the kids. My girlfriend was about to have a breakdown and I would have two overstressed pieces of machinery to worry about.

“Everyone is off. They like to drink when it comes to Friday.” The next attendant said. This time we were at a Texaco station two blocks over. It was next to a pair of establishments that looked abandoned with the relics of cars littered around the locations. My girlfriend remained in the gas station and I went for a walk to check to see if a human existed at either of these shops.

In between the two shops was a restaurant. The restaurant was a Bar-B-Q pit that had music blaring from the entrance. It looked to be the only open place in the town outside of the gas station. The closer I walked to the restaurant, the louder the music became.

The song was My Girl. Rather than the Temptations bellowing out the lyrics, a cast of latino men with thick accents rattled the vocals. It would appear that the entire town was inside of this establishment. It would also be obvious that these men love karaoke.

“Hey, I was wondering, do you have a tow truck that could possibly pick up my car?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Where is it?” He responded.

“Back by mile marker 183, about three miles away.” I answered.

“I don’t know. Let me ask.” He responded.

Between the wreck yard and the restaurant there were a pair of Winnebago’s. Between these Winnebago’s were a few milk crates, a transistor radio, a cooler of Miller High Life and three men. One of the men was rugged. It looked like life had it’s turn depleting this man of any sense of self and at this point, he was just holding on for dear life. He disappeared to the restaurant and I was left with two Latino men drinking beer and casing my every move like Americans do when they watch a Panda at a zoo.

“I’m eating.” He said.

“I’m sorry to bother you.” I said.

“I just started.” He said.

“Ok, well is there anything you can do?” I asked.

“Let me finish and we’ll see.” He answered.

The man ate a roll and walked off. He was the owner of the shop and needed to finish his meal prior to his availability to help us get my car out of the Texas desert. My girlfriend drove over from the gas station and picked me up.

“Wait, let me give you my number.” The weathered man said.

“Ok.” I said.

“My name is Gene.” He said.

I would have never guessed his name was Gene. I was expecting T-bone or Veins, but not Gene. He gave me his number, which is still saved in my phone. So, if you are ever caught in Sierra Blanca with a busted up vehicle, let me know and I can get you Gene’s number as he is the man around those parts.

“I am going to run across.” I said.

“Is that safe?” She asked.

“I don’t think so, but the options are a bit limited at this point.” I answered.

“I’m going to pull across up there. If you get it started, I’ll meet you at the gas station.” She said.

“I love you.” I said.

I opened the door to her vehicle, timed the traffic properly, and jetted across the six lanes of highway. I had a gallon water jug in each hand and Usan Bolted it to the vehicle. I hit the unlock button on my keys and hoped in. I turned the ignition and it fired up. It had some juice and I was off. I timed my re-entry into traffic and cruised to Sierra Blanca for gas and to meet with my girlfriend. We were back on the road.

My car did not have another issue that day. We drove about 40 miles and stopped in the town of Van Horn, TX. We ate dinner at a McDonald’s and spent the evening watching Shark Week in a Super 8. The next morning we embarked on a twelve hour journey that launched us to our final destination of Austin, TX.

Last week was the week of liberation. It was my final week in Arizona I had been in Arizona for fifteen years. I had grown up there and went to college there, twice. I now was about to disembark on a journey that will take me from college student to professional. It would begin in Chandler, AZ and end in Austin, TX. 1,000 miles, a trailer full of stuff, a girlfriend following and a whole allotment of dreams.

The trip started on a Friday. The original plan was to take one day to drive from Arizona to Texas. After calculating that the trip would take about 17 hours a change was made and we broke it up to two days.

Looking back, this was my first encounter as an adult. I did not have the safety net of my family nor the luxury of avoiding the situation. Sierra Blanca was my threshold guardian before I embarked on my life journey to Austin, TX. I think that I passed and it was a bit fun when I look back on it. It is a unique experience to be caught in the middle of nowhere with no one to turn to except the person you are starting your life with. I don’t really know what the word Love means, but I think that experiencing and surviving these little trials along the way allow for a clearer understanding.

Moral: Border patrol agents are not mechanics and life is a comedy, you just have to look for the levity.