I have nothing clever to say

I haven't been writing much on this blog. It seems the constant stream of "tweets" and "status updates" have taken over, and sensory overload is almost at a peak. There is a slow, but very sobering realization regarding these social networking sites; they create an environment ripe for personal marketing and self exploitation. Sure, I love the idea that I have a place I can easily click through the photos I like, but in reality, I just want other people to look at my photos and think "wow, that's a really good shot, he should be a professional photographer" and then see there is actually a place underneath in which to comment "wow, that's a really good shot, you should be a professional photographer".
I easily fall into the lie that I need to outdo someone else's status update, I spend a good 5 minutes writing and rewriting a "clever" update worthy to be read, but then I quit, defeated that I couldn't really think of anything funny or thoughtful. This is where it gets ridiculous though, I begin to think to myself "I'm really not that clever" or "my photos aren't really that good, at least compared to this or that person".
So, I haven't written anything worth reading on this thing, because I've been spending my time roaming the sites that suck out any and all freedom to be myself, really be myself. And to be honest, that's not where I'm really able to be myself anyway, or shouldn't look to be myself; blogging isn't where I really am myself for that matter. I guess I've found myself to be most myself right here, in my room, reading. There was a time when I fooled myself into thinking I feel most myself at parties or social gatherings, but that's really not the truth either.
I'm not a very introverted individual, if you know me well, you know I don't consider leaving a party until a good handful of people are on their way out, and even then, I attempt to make the party last a bit longer. But, life around me is changing pretty quickly and I'm seeing the more I find myself alone, the more I'm discovering my desire to know myself the way God is currently preparing me to be or become.
I guess in order to really take on that type of observation, I've had to look at who God guided me to be back when I was just a kid, and how that relates to who I was yesterday and who I am today.
I question my ideas of family, my ideas of masculinity and my examples of both. Though I don't admit the influence of media has formed my opinion of what I deserve as a man, I cannot deny it has caused me to consider the very notion of "what I deserve 'as a man'".
I suppose we go on in our lives checking our "status updates" and "tweets" just to see what other people are doing, or because we want someone to care enough about us that they'll make a comment that will take 2 seconds; 2 seconds to make a comment and never have whatever we updated be brought up in person. Or we'll make suggestions other people should do, but when approached to actually come through on that idea, we make excuses. You see, I guess what I'm saying is, my cyber life is a lot easier to live. I really don't have to be working through anything, exploring my inner self to see whether or not I measure up as a man, a friend, a son; Facebook tells me whether I measure up on a day to day basis. It tells me whether I made a funny, clever, insightful comment or status update, or whether I took a good picture and made it look cool or not. I can reveal frustrations when I want attention, my exhaustion when I want sympathy, my joy when I want a pat on the back; I can make an encouraging comment or say happy birthday in a way everyone and their friends can see (with a profile picture that says, I'm the shit, you'll want to know me).
I am finding real interaction is a luxury in this world outside Facebook and Twitter, however, it is also a luxury to find old and forgotten friends and follow their lives from a distance, when otherwise would be completely unknown. But, the exploration of who I am and want to become is not a status update or tweet, it is not a new picture or comment, it is outside this computer seen by few.

Over the Hill

I'm moving to Hollywood this afternoon. 

Summertime

That's when he looked up at me, under these muslin lights on the back porch after the smoke stung his eyes; he said "You should read the New Yorker, that is, if you want to know what's going on, everyone I know reads the New Yorker. I particularly like the writings of Nick Hornby as well...I mean, if you're looking to read".
It was a very hot and sweaty July evening, the kind of evening where the boxer briefs cling and the gnats can't seem to stay out of ones nostrils, the only thing happening this night, is a bottle of wine a hand rolled cigarette and the epiphany that I never want to say anything remotely close to what he just said.

My barber, an older gentleman from Italy, has twice mentioned he'd like to "maybe 'hightlight' my hair on my next visit"; I'm not quite sure why he keeps suggesting this to me, I've never considered myself a "frosted tip" type, certainly not one to consider such a suggestion. Tony, the barber, tells me he at one time was a hired barber on the Warner Brothers studio lot many years ago, seems interesting enough to me, I'm just happy he has some skill with cutting. I don't need a cut for another few weeks, but I'm now faced with this question every visit and consider other throw-back hair fads that are now open to me. For instance, what about the lines on the side of the head just above the ear Dominic Wilkins style? Or, the quarter inch shave in the same area with a mullet? I guess there are some things men really shouldn't continue after 30, like wearing "skinny jeans" perhaps. I'm not one to judge...just sayin. 

September 7th 2008...

...was the day a harmless fender bender (101 fwy/Woodman Ave. intersection) became a few thousand dollars and a couple hundred hours of public servitude. Last night, while riding my bike to Universal City Station, my progress was inturrupted by yet another fender bender, by yet another careless woman driver not paying attention and once again I was hit at the very same intersection.

No need to worry, I've had worse bruises and scrapes (as a rad bmx'r when helmets weren't invented yet and Christian Slater was Gleaming the Cube), however I was a little freaked that the woman might call an ambulance or the cops and I'd be arrested. I made my way to the Red Line and played some pool with some friends. Yay! I have a feeling God is telling me something. Perhaps I wasn't meant to live in Sherman Oaks, perhaps I wasn't meant to be around that intersection. I think I'll move.

Oh...and Good Friday wasn't so good last year either.  

Happy Easter everyone. 
I have a "He is risen" party to attend. 

Ciao. 

House (the show)

I think I might end up on the show House, well, not really ON the show, but at least develop some strange disabling sickness that would be written into a script for the show. See, you know how I’m always complaining that my ceiling leaks when it rains? Well, the leaky ceiling turned into a leaky wall and eventually into a damp mess. I lifted up all the plastic I had laid down today (to semi protect the carpet from getting soaked) and when I did, low and behold the great and lovely mold that I hear so much about that tend to kill people, make them sick or perhaps even turn them blind. At first I was pretty disgusted with the nastiness of what it looked like, kind of pancake like, and seriously, about the size of those tiny pancakes I got as a kid at Perkins.
So, with all that said, if I end up passing out someday in front of you, make sure when they take me to the Hospital tell Dr. House that I’ve been living in an apartment room that has been moldy. I’m not sure something like mold can be taken care of overnight either. If it’s showing on the outside of the wall, what’s going on inside the wall and the ceiling?

Any Moron Can...

take a picture. 

write a story. 

be creative. 

maybe it's just the moron that decides to do such. 

i think i may have a moronic nature. 

why?

i want to write stories, stories i have no business writing. 

if you know me well enough you've experienced my daily struggle of not being able to entertain with my stories. i have plenty. 

you've most likely been on the recieving end of a long winded, never ending story that has no direction or point. 

the struggle? slowing my mind down enough to simply articulate an idea and complete a structured, thought out narrative. 

if i could only write. 

i mess around with photos instead. i know how to mess with photos some.

but. 

any moron can take a picture.