Firelfies

In a cold dorm room, I focus on sounds.

Someone's laughing as another tells a story in the hallway; the pipes hiding in my walls, creating crowns around my head, gurgle and hiss as someone, somewhere, showers; keys are jangling as someone fusses to get into their room.

Amoungst it all, I hear my roommate's breathing and how it doesn't match with my own.

I inhale as she exhales.

I exhale as she inhales.

I hold my breath, my heart fights me with tiny, red fists of defiance, and then I exhale as my roommate does.

And, suddenly, our breathing pattern is synchronized. For several seconds we are living in exactly the same way.



Somewhere in the world, a wife and a husband breathe each other as they sleep. Their children breathe like their parents, swollen with the life they've been given, and safe in dreams of summer.

In the afternoon the children will run through amber fields, soft textures swiping over their smiles, and creating whispers hard to hear over their laughing and yelling. They will hide in weeds, not a worry in their heads about bugs, snakes, or any other small monsters that could threaten their good-time. They will go on playing, with stomachs they do not realize are empty.



In the evening, the children will catch fireflies. They'll put the bugs of light in a big mason jar and gaze with large eyes at the wonder they've captured. Their noses will touch and their fingers will stain the glass. They will feel like gods and guardians, watching over the world they've made a possibility. They'll giggle and tease as their parents drink wine under an oak tree. And when they ask for a sip their faces wil sour and their lips will frown, and they will vow never to drink again.



In high school, the children won't catch fireflies. They won't enjoy running barefoot as they used to. They will buy shoes. Shoes that commercials tell them to buy; shoes that their friends tell them to wear; shoes that they feel project a corrupted idea of who they are as a person to the world that exists outside of themselves. Their souls will feel like the fireflies, trapped in glass jars. Their faces will always be sour and so drinking adult beverages won't make any difference to them.

And their parents will ask about the fireflies, and wonder when time had caught up with them. They will remember high school and they will laugh. They will remember high school and they will still find themselves crying.

Saturday nights will be spent in an empty house, talking until the early morning, asking, "Remember when...?", and, "Do you still love me?"



The day will come when their children have children, and the wife will be happy and the husband will be worried. They will develop the prideful features of grandparents. They will have soft wrinkles, and careful hands. Their fireplace mantle will be cluttered with photographs of their children and their children's children. Picture frames that they had kept in a drawer, will see daylight. Photographs will find their home. Frames will find their meaning in life.



Their adult-children will drink coffee on the porch with their father late at night. And they will tell the stories of their grown-up life, and they will ask for guidance, and they will be granted forgiveness.



The grandchildren will have ball-playing-hands and bubble-gum breath. They will spend their days outside, running through the amber fields, re-tracing the steps their parents left behind long ago.

And in the evening, they will catch fireflies. They will be proud of their findings and thrust the jars into their grandparents' laps for recognition. And, sometimes, the little ones will feel guilty of their findings, and ask the grandfather to twist open the cap so the fireflies can be free once again.



The day will come when the grandparents die.



They will be in their bed on a warm summer night, with a window open, and pale curtains creating whispers as the wind tangles itself into them. Their room will be painted in blue as the full moon looks down upon a world it will never touch. They will sleep, unaware of their breathing in unison.



Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale...



Exhale.



And as their breath releases, fireflies would float from the caves of their mouths, slowly to the ceiling, and, free once again, out the window.

Until the day that Rainbows fly

Rainbows seem to disappear,

A soul is once more gone.

Fear and anger makes its place;

A nation is in shock.

Youth and dreams are taken;

From those who need them most.

Through the years they were cast out,

Made fun of and let down.

The fear of being who they were,

Drove them to the worst.

Six young angels now take their spot,

Amongst the sea of clouds.

But what will we a nation do

To change our nasty views?

Until the day that rainbows fly,

The angels will begin to sing.

Thats all she wrote!

The Baseball season for 2010 is in the books. The ending to this baseball year was truly a year for the underdogs. the underdogs had came out on top, the San Francisco Giants had won the World Series. they had defied all odds and beat them all, they are the best in the world! The Giants were not even predicted to be in the playoffs because they were down a few games to the first place San Diego Padres when the postseason was drawing near. yet, they went on a heat streak and took it all the way to the end. Give credit to the Texas Rangers as well because they too were the underdogs of the American League. Yet, they prevailed as well by knocking off the two top teams, Tampa Bay Rays and the New York Yankees. However, its the Giants who are the World Series Champions.

Two Lovers

A war amongst nations has made its call;

A young sailor must go off to war.

Trumpets signal the assembly of men,

While two lovers stand still in loves embrace.

Fears of death and separation cloud the mind,

Only true loves kiss can bring them hope.

A final goodbye sends him off,

She is now alone amongst the sand.

As the ship sails away;
A diamond necklace can be found in her hand.

With this symbol of his love,

Distance and time cannot touch.

As the days go by,

The heart begins to break.

War is never fun,

And is always hard to take.

As the days go by,

The heart begins to break.

Distance and time is taking its toll;

The young maiden has almost given up hope.

But above a goddess weeps,

Tearful over this tragedy.

Promises of protection for her love,

Come to her in sweet melodies.

Up above the goddess speaks

"Don't be frightened you will see,

Love prevails over seas."

Ten years have passed since then,

And now she sees that it is true.

Across the emerald ocean,

Is where the ship is found,

Love knows no leaps or bounds.

Psycho: the original, better version

Halloween is just around the corner and that means it's time for scary movies. Many of the people our age who I have talked to have never seen Psycho, and the ones who said they have seen it, said they saw the version from 1998 starring Vince Vaughn( some didn't even know that the 1998 version is a remake). I am not a fan of remakes. I don't know of any remakes that I have liked more than the original , but then again I'm a little psycho myself when it comes to classic movies.

For the ones who have not seen the original version from 1960 here is what the movie is about. A woman named Marion Crane steals $40,000 from her boss so she and her lover Sam Loomis could get married. Sam, who is divorced, has to give his wife pretty much every penny he makes to his wife in alimony. She flees Nevada and head towards California where Sam is. Along the way she stops at Bates Motel for the night. The motel is run by a quiet, shy man named Norman. He tells Marion that he lives in the house behind the motel with his mother. It is obvious that he is dominated by his mother by the way he talks about his her. Marion is offered the room #1 just in case she needed anything, and also since there was no one else there. While taking a shower Marion is stabbed repeatedly by an old woman. Norman runs to Marion's room and finds her dead. As the film continues the truth behind Marion's death and the old motel unravels and like true Alfred Hitchcock fashion it leaves you with a surprising twist.

The director Alfred Hitchcock has been dubbed the "master of suspense" and he is known as one of the best directors of all time. He has directed some of the best films of all time.

I have not always been a fan of classic movies, but it was Psycho that started it all for me. I thought like most people, classic movies are boring and there is no way I can watch a movie in black and white. I had gave it a chance and I have been obsessed ever since. Once you have watched classic movies, you will never look at movies today the same way. In my opinion, classic movies are a 100% better than movies made today. You begin to realize what is considered a great movie and those that are just for entertaining purposes.

click on the link for the trailer!! www.youtube.com/watch?v=NG3-GlvKPcg

Happy 70K Jessica!!

Somewhere just outside Giddings Texas on this chilly night after owning my car for 2 years and 10 months my car clicked 70k on the odometer. For most people this is a non event, showing that the car is more worthless than it wasat 69,999 miles. But I don't feel this way. I feel I have formed a relationship with my car over the last 70k miles. In almost 3 years I have driven across the U.S. an average of 22 times, but the car has never left the state of texas. I love to drive, its my favorite thing to do, Im a petrol head. I always try to do something special when my car clicks past these milestones. For 25k I Flew through a tollbooth doing 90 mph, for 40k the car conqured the hurricane Ike ravaged beach of galveston, and on 60k the car went on a 1300 mile expedition of south texas. Tonight I missed the oppurtunity to do somthing special so ill write a review of the past 70k with Jessica.

Jessica is a black 08' Honda Accord with a V6. Its not the fastest thing in the world but it's a frigg'n tank! it hit a curb going 70 mph, its flooded.. Twice, and has been stuck in sand,dirt,mud. You name it, its probably driven on it. The car is a witness or has played a key role in almost all of my stories past the age of sixteen. One of the main reasons i put so many miles on my car was because during the summer I lived 30 miles from school where I had cross country practice everyday. The drive was my favorite part of practice. I would be Going about 100 mph and arrive barely in time and smoke literally pouring from my brakes! Jessica isn't that fast but she'll do 125 mph no sweat, and she'll bend through corners if you really manhandle her. Yeah she's not perfect, the breaks last about as long as a snow cone in the middle of june, and the road noise is a little bad, but I love this car its takin me on so many interesting trips.

One night my friends and I decided to do a little drive around town that lasted a little over 400 miles. we left my house and drove east till we were almost to Louisiana then headed south to the coast and discovered a truly spectacular road that was straight as an arrow through the south costal plains. It was about 2 a.m. when we were going flat out.. 125 mph. everyone was half awake trying to sleep before we hit the halfway point on the coast. so I decided to make sure that they where alert by suddenly rolling all the windows down at the same time. I learned that air traveling at these speeds will glue your hair all the way back. To make our halfway spot we needed to turn off the road and hit the beach. I was stunned when I parked my car right on the beach sharing a parking spot with only the tide. The stars are brilliant when your in the middle of nowhere on the beach. I've made that trip a million times now and made several improvements on how Jessica handles costal road trips. 1. Rubber Floor mats for obvious reasons. and 2. Jon Willhites Costal bon fire/camping kit. which consists of 2 recycling bins full of wood, 3 cans of diesel, shovel, tow strap, grill, cooler, and rifle. all of which fits snugly in the trunk.

This car was made to be a family sedan and commuter sedan for the man who works in town and lives in the suburbs. I drove it to the beach almost every weekend full of kids and equipment. and when I wasn't going to the beach I was out exploring somewhere else. I have loved the past 70k miles and plan on driving Jessica till she dies. 75k is coming up and thats kinda a big deal. where do you think jessica should go for her 75k?

Laval's Pizza

I was really thinking hard about what to write about in my first post ever, when it came to me. I looked down toward my chest and saw that I was wearing one of my old, tattered, uniform-required shirts from the pizza joint I used to work at, Laval's Pizza in Alameda, California. A pizza joint that I would call my own for almost three years of my life.
I started working there when a frirend of a friend let me know of the current state of hiring Laval's was in. I jumped all over it. This was a place that I had known since my early childhood. It was a place where my elementary school would always call for "Pizza Parties". It was the location of countless post-season Little League trophy ceremonies. It was a place that has always provided me with unconditional comfort one greasy slice at a time. Laval's just has such an inviting vibe about it. The walls are covered with autographed, sports parapernalia and it seems and it seems that every corner of this place is occupied with your favorite childhood arcade games. As a young child this place was a utopia, but when I finally got behind the scenes, I was acquainted with the real Laval's.
When I started working there as a young, naive, 15 year old kid, I was in for a suprise. My jolly, braces filled personality was immediately met with the intimidating stares of real working men and women. While working on a minimum wage clock I slowly met and befriended a gaggle of different and distinct personalities. There were drop-outs, run-aways, drug-abusers and other lost souls each with their own personal niche or quark. I've seen writers, mechanics, musicians, comedians, athletes, prom queens and immigrants all walk through those doors. These people sculted me and became my friends. I was able to see the real world through the stories and experiences of coming and going employees. We all had one thing in common: we all played a part in the creation of exquisite pizza.
This place has really meant a lot to me over the years;l not only the pure taste of the freshest ingredients cooked atop a bed of home made dough, sause, and cheese, but the emotions and memories evoked in every bite. I recommend to anyone passing through, visiting on vacation, or even starting a new life in the Bay Area, to try my Pizza. You won't be sorry.