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Nov. 19th, 2014


.../AZ CaLLED.

/AZ just called.   Just about five minutes ago.  It was quite out of the blue.

‘Hey, the funniest thing happened.  I took a lot of pictures at [her cousin]’s bachelorette party and you know how I said I deleted all the photos of you?  Well, I did, but there were still pictures of us in [city] and they reappeared on my phone in the middle of the party.  Surrounded by drunk people and your pictures appeared!  Isn’t that crazy?’ she exuded in a friendly tone.

I joked that her phone was trying to remind her of better times, of times when she wasn’t surrounded by a bunch of drunk fools in a shit town but rather with me on a mountainside overlooking a beautiful city.  It was a pretty good move, though it didn’t much matter – I could tell where the conversation was going by the tone in her voice.

Receiving a phone call after three months of silence would generally lead one to believe this was an attempt to reignite a spark, though you’d be wrong in thinking that.  On the surface she was quite friendly and open, but her amicable tone carried with an undercurrent of hostility – she was on a fact finding mission.  I’ve learned that girls are vengeful post-relationship, they have a need to check on their former significant other in a silent hope that their significant other isn’t as doing as well as they are.

Her hysterical laugh at my joke had me worried, as if there was a joke I wasn’t getting.  ’So [ObLiVion_Falls], are you still in [City], are you still living at the same apartment?’


She went on to mention how she was buying a townhouse and moving towards my section of the city.  It made me sad to hear of it as it left me with the sense that her, and the rest of the world, were moving on with their lives while I was still living in the past same apartment.  Respectfully, she avoided stating she was moving in the town-home with him, but it was quite apparent she wasn’t going there alone.  We spent the conversation dancing around the issue of him.  The conversation continued for about fifteen minutes as I recommended ways to purchase cheap appliances for her town-home and she railed against the conspiracy of smart phone manufacturers to sabotage their phones to break after two years.

Then, as abruptly as it started, it ended.  She politely stated she had to go because she was getting close to home and it would be difficult to talk and carry things in – a pleasant way of not stating the obvious.  I thanked her and we both said goodbye.  Then I hung up the phone and cried.

Nov. 17th, 2014


…A PictuRE oF My HoMEtoWN.

The sun glistened through the cloud creating an amber effect that made it look as though the sky was burning – though it’s difficult to see in the picture.

The place I call home.  In recent years I’ve become very cautious in using particular words, such as ‘relationship’, ‘girlfriend’, ‘love’ or even something as simple as the word ‘home’.  The word ‘home’ is reserved exclusively for the area I grew up in, never being attributed to my current city, or my current apartment.  In the off event that my tongue does slip and I drop the word ‘home’, rather than ‘my apartment’, I immediately correct myself so there is no confusion.

It’s strange living away from your hometown – nothing can replace the sentimental value for places and things derived in childhood.  The mall in my hometown carries memories of family, memories of sitting next to the serene sound of the center fountain and eating overly priced cookies in the food court.  Back there the brick and mortar houses memories of middle-school dates, of shopping with friends and the time I purchased the broken bluetooth headset, or the last days of the toy store that went out of business.  Here the mall is just a collection of corporate stores – a long quarter mile loop of solitude that leaves you longing for more once you’ve made it around once, or twice, or perhaps three times.

Why don’t I move back?  It’s simple: fear, paralyzing fear.  It’s difficult to walk away from good pay and job security.   As a result, I fall into the perilous loop of trading time for money and security, all the while hoping for the promise of moving back to at a later date.  Day by date, week by week, year by year, the clock slowly ticks by as I literally trade time for money.  It sounds so silly, as the character of every movie always throws caution to the wind and takes off for better times and adventure, but that’s Hollywood…and this is real life.

‘…Once I find a job as secure as this one I’ll move back.’
‘…Once I’ve saved this x dollars I’ll move back.’
‘…As soon as my 401k is vested I’ll move back.’
‘…One more year and I’ll have a pension.’
‘…As soon as \LM calls I’ll move back.’

…All the excuses in the world enable me to continually seek refuge in a fortress of solitude and security in hopes of not doing what I want will pay off and deliver me the freedom to do what I want at a later date and time - a very dangerous proposition, as they say….

…But time is ticking away, and I’m slowly starting to realize the time I have, and my family has, is limited.  We will all eventually die.  Time with friends and family is something to be cherished and it’s the sole thing I want for Christmas.

Nov. 12th, 2014


...HelP Me OB| WaN

“…And what does this mean?”

She ran her fingers over the transcription that lay directly atop my desk, or rather the utility table that had been transformed into my personal desk/workspace. It was a table that had been with me since graduate school – about six years or so ago and fit perfectly with my newly acquired lifestyle that required everything I own must be able to be easily packed up and moved in a moments notice for the moment when I finally pull my life together. While I stuck to this principle religiously, I had no hesitation in adorning the table with my own personal brand of art - simple, yet meaningful. Sprawled across the top if it was amateur sketches depicting mathematics in various forms – equations, drawings and graphs that were representative of what I had encountered in graduate school. The inscription that caught her eye was the unfinished piece that read “O B | F |”. She was the first girl to ever question the half-written words, I was quite impressed that she noticed such a subtle scribbling.

“….what? Oh that? I’m not really sure, it’s been so long ago since…” I tried to casually brush it off as if I didn’t know the origin of my own creation. Her eyes narrowed and her face took on the continence of deep concentration as my attempt to avert it off failed miserably.

“O ….B….” she began to sound out the letters as if by reciting them aloud she would suddenly sprout forth an epiphany and bring conclusion to the meaning.

“OB…1…is that like Obi Wan? From Star Wars?” she spurted out with glee, she was quite excited to be dating someone who was into Star Wars – she had a thing for nerds. Girls love discovering nerdy things about the men they are dating. While I thought the idea was ridiculous, I let her run with it.

“Yea…I think so….I…” I attempted to eek out but she cut me off before I could finish – a common occurrence.

“But what does the F1 mean? Obi Wan F1?” puzzled, she pressed her fingers to her mouth and began to contemplate the two statements together. In all honesty, she looked rather cute while she did it.

She stood there, above the desk pondering the statement for what seemed like eternity. I had learned early on that attempting to distract, or hide, something from a girl increases her desire to know that particular something exponentially. As such, I began to play along.

“F1, sounds like …help?”

She let out a gasp, “Obi Wan Help….Help me Obi Wan?”. She face broke into a huge smile, the mystery was solved. “Oh my god, you are such a nerd!” She let out a playful laughter.

She questioned why I would have that on my desk, I stated that it was probably due to an episode of late night studying when, delirious from math problems, I scribbled out the letters in a vain attempt to seek refuge from the rigorous requirements of school. She smiled and the moment passed, all the while I neglected to mention it stood for “ObLiVioN FalLs.”

Nov. 11th, 2014


To StaRt Aga|N

Not sure why it’s so difficult to come back to writing after such a long hiatus; so much has happened, so many events have transpired since I last sat down and typed out an entry that you think the words would simply take life and transcribe themselves on the page.  I’ve thought about coming back to this journal quite a few times and starting it again, but like so many things it’s always the first step that seems so difficult.  Each attempt to come back and begin writing has been beset by a multitude of factors - laziness, business, or simply the notion that the first entry back should be monumental and anything less than perfection is subpar.

Every journey requires a first step, or second, or fifty-ninth or one-thousandth step and as such consider this my stumbling back into writing.  I hope to reboot this journal and make an earnest attempt to transcribe my life and thoughts, if for no other reason than to have something to look back on and gauge where I’ve been and where I am.

No excuses.  I plan to come back and begin writing again.

Jul. 8th, 2014



I've joined twitter:


Apr. 26th, 2014


Le††er †o \AZ

Letter To \AZCollapse )

H0w DiD †HeY BrEAK Up?

"You want to know why AMD broke up with her ex-boyfriend?  I'll call my friend Allen right now, I'll call him right now and ask, I will call him and ask him" his words slurred together into a long drawn out drunken soliloquy.

"Well, I certainly don’t want you to go out on a limb.  It would be nice to know, but it's really not that..."

"F%@# it.  I'm calling him.  No.  No.  You need to know - you need to know, brother, I am calling him" he cried out as he clumsily grasped for his phone.  Once a drunken man gets an idea into his head, it's very difficult to convince him otherwise.  After fumbling for his phone for a minute, he called Allen.

"Allen!" he shrieked as he heard a familiar voice on the other end.  "How are you?  Yea, listen...I'm here with a friend and I need to ask you a question.  Why did AMD break up with her boyfriend?"

Immediate silence fell upon him as he hung on every word that poured through the phone; he was suddenly transformed from a belligerent drunk into a man with a purpose - a man whose sole obsession was to figure out why AMD broke up with her ex and relay the information to me.  I studied his face as he listened; his eyes narrowed and his face took on an expression of concentration, of intrigue, of worry.  The atmosphere had shifted from friendly banter into serious discourse - whatever was being said on the other side of the phone was of grave importance to all parties present.  First a minute, then two then ten and suddenly it was fifteen minutes into the conversation and the man upheld the strong face of conviction...and then it was over.

The conversation ended as abruptly as it began, he hung up the phone and met my eyes with a grave look of concern as if a terminal illness was about to be diagnosed.  Silent hesitation filled the air as we sat there, locked in a daze of anticipation as the recent conversation played heavily on both of our minds.

"F#@!....what was I saying?" His look of concern quickly retreated into bewilderment as the dedicated inquirer faded back into a feeble drunk.  Not to be deterred by his lack of focus, he continued "Oh, the conversation...oh he ummm....oh shit...uh" the effect of the alcohol was raging through this system - there was no denying he was drunk out of his mind.

"Look, all I remember is...he said something about 'manipulative psycho'.  He knew about you; AMD talked about you with him, she called you her boyfriend.  He knew you used to go back to visit family every weekend and that you stopped going back because she kept you here - she was about it."

Shocked and in complete disbelief, I made him repeat the last sentence, "He knew about me?  He knew I visited family every weekend?"

"Yea, Bro.  I didn't bring it up.  I didn't tell him anything - he knew, he told me!  He told me that you went back every weekend and that she was keeping you here.  He said...that was like…something else..." his mind trailed off, then came roaring back, "Oh!  AMD and her ex-boyfriend were playing pool, and someone said something, or something happened, and she ran out of the bar crying.  I think, that's.....I think that's how they broke up."

Apr. 19th, 2014


...†HeN I†'s GoNe.

  "This is your bank, isn't it? Do you still need to withdraw money?"

"Yea. I hate this bank - I need to switch."

  "Then switch. Why haven't you?"

"Because I still don't know what city I'm going to be living in. I have to figure out where I'm going to be living then choose a bank accordingly."

  "Is your job moving?"

"No. The job is staying put, I just can't decided if I am moving. I have an issue with commitment".

  He let out a haughty laugh and continued, "I know you have issues with commitment".


  "You wont commit to anything; then once it's gone you obsess about it."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

  "Nothing [ObLiVioN]; it's not supposed to mean anything."

In the end, we both knew exactly what it was supposed to mean and although I hated him for saying it not even I could deny the truth of it all.

Nov. 22nd, 2013


AR†iCLE: WHa† i†'s LikE to FAiL.

What It's Like to Fail
David Raether Priceonomics Nov 2013

I wanted to share an article I read; it's about a comedic writer that ended up losing his job, home, and eventually his family. I found the following quote particularly poignant and very well stated:

"What happens when you hit bottom? I can tell you one thing: you don’t bounce back. You crawl back, fighting every step of the way. It isn’t a straight arc back up either; there are dozens of setbacks every step of the way. And the place you land isn’t anywhere near where you were when you slipped off the cliff."

Eventually, the author begins to piece his life back together and makes contact with his children. It is through the reconnection with his children that he wraps up the essay in an eloquent ending,

"...But I have held onto what I value much more: my children and their enduring love and affection, my health, and my ambition and self-belief. And in the end, those were the only things worth keeping."


Nov. 18th, 2013


HoW WAs YouR DA†E?

"....How was the date?"

"Terrible.  The girl was completely horrible at conversation, every conversation opener I threw at her failed miserably.  I even went so far as to ask what she liked to do for fun, and do you know what she responded with?"


"She says, 'People always ask me that and I'm not sure what I do for fun, I'm always busy... I just...I don't know....sometimes I read'.  ...Toss me a bone woman!  I understand the question wasn't the best, but if you can't even sum up what you like to do for fun...frustrating man, frustrating!" I shook my head in disappointment.

He jerked his head cautiously, pondering the simplicity of the question with the lackluster response.

"And another thing....I used my classic 'brother' opener - which is gold.  I've probably used it about a dozen times; each time it works flawlessly.  She asks me if I have any siblings, I respond with, 'I do.  I have one brother.  I have a brother and if we had a line-up here, you would not be able to pick him out - he and I are that different!  We are complete opposites!' and beam a healthy, cocky, smile.  Though, she doesn't respond, she cracks a faint - uninterested smile - and responds with 'oh'.  Such a waste of time, man, waste of time!"

"Oh wow, so you have a brother?"

Realizing where this was going, I pause cautiously then continue, "Yea, I'm kind of secret with my life; I keep some things to myself."

He chuckles and responds back sarcastically, "Wow, I didn't noticed" and immediately follows it up with "I think I know more about you from  [Ex-Girlfriend] than from you."

I was immediately taken back; while I never considered myself secret I've heard those very same words from close friends.  My mind flashed back to a conversation between two close friends, one jokingly commented to the other: "Wow, you must be special.  It took me six years to figure out [Oblivion-Falls] had a brother, you were able to do it in four" the two friends burst out in collective laughter.  That was then, this was now.  Some things change, some things don't.

"Yea well..." I let it drop at that.


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