One Year Ago

     Almost all at once everything seemed to be set in motion.  In recent moments I’ve been riding an unfamiliar yet pleasant wave.  I waited a long time for it to happen naturally but it never did.  In the end I realized it was all me. I spent the last year pulling myself out of a dark hole I dug myself into years ago.  And like anything that effort and direction is put into, progress was made.   

      Sure I was all dirty and muddy and covered in scratches and a scar or two, but it was never my destiny, or my fate, if there is such a thing, to be stuck in a hole.  My dreams are in the clouds, and not on the ground.  The first step has been setting up a solid foundation, weeding out the bad habits and moving forward.

       Overall I’m on the cusp of being very happy.  Though I’m afraid to fully admit that, because that marks the end of a cycle, and it’s really only the beginning.

      The Lonely Road of the Exile is an intro paragraph to an English 5 essay, and it marks my return to writing.

The Lonely Road of the Exile

 (October 2009)

My more substantial memories started when I was 15 years old; as I watched Bethel Manor, a place I came to call my home for three years, disappear in the rear view mirror of the Ryder my father had rented.  It was no different from the previous five times I had moved, except maybe in consciousness.  A mix of fear and excitement of the unknown passed over me as my father picked up speed and put 2500 miles between Hampton, Virginia and myself.  
     A few years later I turned 18, and like other 18 year olds I thought I had a grasp of the world.  I wanted to be a writer; High School in Tustin, CA passed by in the blink of an eye, and before I knew it, I was metaphorically tossing my black cap in the air.  As the years progressed, and seemingly many lifetimes ago, at 4 A.M on January 21^st 2007, a Fire Truck pulls up to Clark Kerr as I’m sitting on a bench with my arm and a blanket around a short brunette girl, and I’ve fallen in love for the first time.  
     The winter quickly becomes the summer and I’m a boarder at the Sigma Nu Frat House with people from Dublin, Galway, Cork, and various other parts of Ireland.   I don’t know what day it is, they’re all blended together, it’s early morning, I feel uncomfortable and I have the taste of Steel Reserve on my breath.  
     Too much of the same has never been my strong suit, and the next memory that comes to mind is when I’m 20, it’s week 2 of 6 in Maui, and I haven’t showered in 3 days.  I’m sitting under a tree a few feet away from my illegally parked tent at Kanaha Beach Park, staring at the waves, and listening to the sound of water hitting rocks until the morning becomes midday.  
     Several weeks pass and I’m back in the Continental U.S and making a right turn onto Decatur in Las Vegas, NV.   I think for a long time about what I want, and how I can meet that objective.  I feel a strong desire to proceed with my education, and decide to go full force as a writer, with an emphasis in screenwriting and directing.  18 months pass, and I’ve found comfort in the education I have been receiving at Berkeley City College.  Though, I grow to find that I want my physical form to be as equally striking as my intellect.   
      I’m 22 years old now; it’s a Sunday, and water is falling from the sky.  My hair is wet, my clothes are drenched, my lungs are on fire, and I wonder if I will have to keep running, or if the rain will let up so I can slow down. 

The Dark Period: A Montage of Sorts

(Unknown Date-08)

It doesn’t take much for the loneliness to settle in.  A flash of a memory here and there.  A familiar scent or setting.  A rhythmic melody. 

How did I get here?  This isn’t my life.  None of this belongs to me.  It could if you wanted it to be.
 

I don’t know where to go from here.  It's like a bad dream I can't wake up from.  I’m in a bad spot. I have no work ethic.  I have no goals.  I have no place I want to be, or need to be.

Pretend you just woke up today for the first time.  You had a magnificent life, and you awoke to the things you have now.  To the conditions you are in now.  To the mindset you have now.  What would you do? 

I would pick myself up, and dust myself off.  I would adjust my style; get myself a nice paying job. Fix the things that are broken.

What did I do to get myself into this rut?  

(3-17-08)

Eventually all the things that make you sad fade away.  I’m not really sure if it’s a form of self-preservation.  It would only make sense though.  The mind wants as little stress as possible. 

Out of sight, out of mind.  Everything that isn’t part of the present slowly disappears from the mind.  Sure there are concrete beings like family and close friends, but everything else almost ceases to exist the second they leave your daily life. 

The only place you should ever live in is the present. 

The girls, they all come and go.  Sometimes the timing is perfect or just right, and, well, other times it's just the opposite.

(3-18-08)

It starts with a burning desire. 

Pupils dilate, static thoughts fade away, all that matters is the present and now.

The past is gone, and the future has yet to come.

You fix your back and stand up straight.

(3-26-08)

I heard once that the only place you ever love is the place you left behind and the one you're heading to.  I'm almost 21 and I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever stop and settle down.

It's always interesting heading home. 

I kind of feel like I'm waiting for something.  I guess that's the worst part. 

I walked around South Coast Plaza the other day, and sort of soaked in that SoCal feel.  It feels really good to be home sometimes. 

The music still plays, but it doesn’t really have the same beat.

(4-10-08)

What are the things you want?

You have to label these clearly.

If they are not marked down then you will never know if they happened.

I want to eat breakfast lunch and dinner again.

I want to wake up before the sun does, and move around with the day.

I want to be able to afford the little frills, like a movie here and there.

I want to be able to pay for myself, Rob, and a girlfriend.

I want to be back in school.

I want to look in the mirror 2 years from now and see myself in a 4 year college.

I want to write a film or a book.

I want to be self-sustained.

I want to be able to run around shirtless.

I want to play a show in a large venue.

5 years from now I want to have large quantities of money.

I want to never be in this situation again.

(10-9-08)

I've been here before, it’s been a long time, and for the first time I can type it all away instead of writing it in multiple notebooks.  I'm trying this from a different approach.  

You have such potential.  Imagine if you put more care and love into everything you did.  You've done some amazing things.  Pick yourself up.  You've got to make a gearing up list.  Each piece takes money and time.  It's a lot to take in at once, but slowly all the pieces come together.  We'll call this list your life plan.

Where does it all start? 

Body?  Mind?  Past?  Future?  Present.

It's so intimidating to look at the whole picture all at once.   If you don't start with that first step, then you will never get what you want.

I want to be a director, a screenwriter and a producer.  I want to be successful.  It all starts with an idea.  Turns into a plan, and then you have to take action.

I woke up a few years ago and started making my way down the rabbit hole.  The biggest thing is that once you start, you can't stop.  Or you end up like this, stuck in the endless void.  A limbo-like state of consciousness. 

(11-9-08)

Everything can change in an instant.  You can wake up one day and just completely change your position in life.  There is always an out, and you are always in control.

I think the thing that sucks about change is that you have to start somewhere.  Sometimes you have nothing and you have to be willing to start from scratch, other times you just about have everything, and you have to be willing to lose it all in order to advance. 

Simply meaning that shit happens, sometimes you're alone, you took the wrong path, you went left when you should have went right.  You have to backtrack to where you messed up, and figure out what the real problem is.

Your overall goal should be internal glory.  You are not trying to impress anyone, you aren’t doing this for someone to notice you, but rather that you truly want to be a happier more fulfilled person.

(2-23-09)

No matter how many times I try and manipulate it, I can't find a girl that makes me feel the highs and lows of the first time I fell in love.  I think I might be on some sort of a run of a self-fulfilling prophecy.  I think so much that I overlook the bigger picture, or the new picture, and everything sort of becomes the same.  

I don't know why I haven't gotten a job yet, or why I don't pick myself up and live my life.  It makes me think that maybe I don't really want all that.  I don't know why I sit here every day and play the same game over and over again.  It's always new and fresh, and I think it gives me the illusion that there is change, and because of that I can't move on.  But I can't seem to quit either.  I wonder where I'd be now.

(Unknown Date-09)

You slow down for a second.  You pause to live in the moment; you admire the brightness of the day.  The scent of the earth.  You fall in love. It consumes you.  Years pass, but it doesn’t matter.  Eventually the moment is over and the whole time you were living in a memory.  You pick yourself up and make your way towards the goal you walked away from, years ago. 

So much unfinished business.  Life proceeded to move forward.  

----------

You have to have a goal.  There has to be an end result.

Proper diet, extensive cardio, good sleeping habits, time at the gym, and most of all happiness.  You have to learn proper technique or else you might end up harming yourself more than helping, or not getting the full effectiveness of the exercise.

Physical appearance is the easiest to start with.  The gym builds companionship with close friends, with Robert.  It allows you to set goals.  If you absolutely have to, you can do much of it alone, or without heavily relying on others.  The biggest thing you have to work on is your inner self.  You have to love yourself fully, before you can ever hope to fully love someone else.  

Pop culture tells people to be happy with themselves.  Personally I think that's a lot of bullshit.  I mean everyone should be happy with themselves, but one should also not accept their short comings and strive to achieve their best selves.  

When you think about it, tomorrow is going to happen, and so is the day after, time isn't going to stop, and no matter how long you wait around, the goal is not going to accomplish itself.  To reach your goals, you have to take immediate action.  You have to have no concept of failure.  Everything is a learning experience.

You make every second of every moment count.  The small things, the large things, I mean everything.   You hold onto the things you love, and you hold them close.  But not too tightly.  You understand that sometimes they leave you and sometimes you leave them.  People change, conditions change, and everyone of them makes you better, stronger, faster.  The world is filled with experiences.  Appreciate every moment because that is all life really is.  A series of moments and experiences.

Most importantly; once you get momentum, don't ever stop moving.

Banana Bungalow

(Week Two in Maui)

          We spent a week recovering at Kanaha.  It was a beautiful spot, a popular area for novice wind and kite surfers.  The beach has a swimming area, an area dedicated to windsurfing and one to kite surfing.    The trail from the parking lot goes for about a mile before it hits private cabins.  Our campsite was located in a perfect little spot that was off the beach, but to the side of a trail.  During recovery I started writing a letter, learned how to shave without a mirror, learned when the best time to shower at a beach is, and some elite ninja skills like how to walk around and not be seen by park officers at night. 

          Out in the water one day, we saw two men dressed in yellow talking to the homeless man with the fishing pole we had seen earlier in our visit.  He pointed at us and then in the direction of our tent.   The following morning a park officer told us to pack up and move out, they were about to raid the beach.

          Reluctantly we moved out.  Our bank account was about to be filled with the weekly allowance, so it wasn’t too bad.  We walked 6 miles to the first hostel of our visit.  It was called Banana Bungalow.

          It reminded me of the frat I stayed in over the summer.  So many people poured in and out on a daily basis.  Someone was always either drunk or stoned.  Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, including the people that worked there.  To most of the people it was a new experience.  To me it felt like home. 

          The building was huge and must have had about 25 rooms, including a social room, a Jacuzzi and a T.V room.  The front door was just about always locked, and everyone that worked there smoked pot.  I haven’t straightened my hair in about a month, so I must have that look.  I don’t know how many times I got asked for pot or if I wanted to buy any while I was out in Maui or Vegas.

          Most of the people there were in their mid to late twenties.  Aside from maybe two other people, Rob and I were the youngest.  There is something about crowds of people I just met that gives me immense energy.  For the first time in a week in a half I could take a warm shower and throw on one of the two nice pairs of clothes I hadn’t sent home.  Taking off the 65 lbs bag was a big relief, I felt like I could take on 5 guys if I had to.  I felt good.

          The worst part about Maui is that girls in Southern California look better.  Sure Maui women had better bodies, but pretty much no sense of style.  Something about a girl in running shoes that isn’t using them to run turns me off, that and when a girl wears jeans from the 90’s that go up to their belly buttons.  The guys in Maui are insane.  I have never seen so many ripped fifty year olds.  There is nothing more uncomfortable than when you have to suck it in when you pass grandpa.

          It’s very easy to meet and get along with new people.  I love meeting new people.  Just the idea that before that night you were complete strangers.  Something about those first minutes is magical, and usually determines a whole relationship. 

A Taste of Happiness

          (Week one in Maui)

           It couldn’t have been later than 2 o’clock when we arrived at Wainapanapa State Park, but it looked like 6 p.m.  Which is like midnight on the Mainland.  We were in true jungle now.  We hadn’t moved a muscle in an hour and now the pain was everywhere.  Multiple fruit stands lined our path to the national park.  One had three dogs guarding it.  Those damn Hawaiian dogs seemed to follow us everywhere.  None of them bark, they just shadow.  It was cute at first, but when every dog did it, it was just a pain in the ass.

          We needed a permit to camp at Wainapanapa, and a sign said there were absolutely no exceptions.  The only place to get permits for campgrounds is in Wailuku, 60 miles in the direction we came from.  It was too small of an area to squat.  In another life I probably would have lost my head in fiery rage and paid a homeless man to take a shit on the front door step of the camping coordinators office, but I had some odd concept of life after my little rebirth.

          So we ate some dry ramen and then headed back the way we came.  Dark clouds filled the sky, and rain I have never experienced began to fall.  Forrest Gump came to mind, the scene where he was in Vietnam and became accustomed to all the different types of rain.  Sky falling, sideways and ground springing rain hit us all at once.  We were drenched and car after car passed us.  It was pitch black, so our youth and boyish good looks didn’t hold ground.  Eventually the rain stopped and a car with it.  Casey and Brian drove us a short distance to a better hitchhiking location.  They were either related, had been dating for several years, or Brian was locked in the friendship zone.  Either case, the guy seemed to have no balls whatsoever.

          Two seconds after getting out of their car, an old couple with a truck asked us if we needed a ride.  Like our first few hitchhikes no names were exchanged.  Thankfully they happened to be heading past Kahului.  Right next to our spot at Kanaha Beach.  Two days of travel went by in an hour and a half. 

          We laid back and watched the eastern half of Maui unfold.  The waterfalls were in plain sight over our shoulders.  The gorgeous wooded bluffs, cash only fruit stands, and sight seeing tourists were a blur as we drove past them.  Eventually the truck shot out of the winding road and the forest began to thin out.

            We were dried in a moderate amount of time.  Occasionally the old couple would pull over and let people pass.  Just before we cleared the forest, a familiar rain covered us again.  It was ice cold now; the winds that picked up in the back of the truck chilled us.  We looked at each other and laughed.  It was a hearty laugh that lasted longer than it should have, but all of it was genuine. 

          Eventually we were back in farmland.  We passed the free stuff sign that earlier housed a couch that we sat on for a long time.  Next it was the avocado stand we came across, at which point the clouds parted and the sun beat down.  We looked at eachother and smiled, it was a best friends smile, the kind that only two similar people can share when they’ve been close for so many years.  It made me wonder how many people have seen and experienced the things we have, and then I smiled harder.

          They dropped us off near the airport, which was 3 miles from a safe camping spot.  A friendly man saw us walking and drove us the rest of the distance.  A woman I met on the plane told me I would remember this trip for the rest of my life.  At the time I thought it a little over dramatic, but now I believed it.  I smiled once again, as I realized it had been less than a week.

Someone Always Stops

(Week one in Maui)

          I couldn’t get over how pretty she was.  Her name was Kelsey, and she was a hippie from what I could tell, or at least a vagrant.  She had beautiful blonde hair, blue eyes, and was in very good shape.  Which surprised me, because she didn’t look like the type that exercised.  She was wearing a black tank top and camo shorts.  She was about 5’6 and had a very laid back personality.  The kind that screams out I just don’t give a fuck.  Her back seat was about as messy as my room at home, and had 3 cd cases filled with Reggae and hip hop music.  I don’t like either very much, but it added to her image.

          I was wearing a purple Sacramento King’s cap, a baby blue Hurley shirt, plaid Billabong shorts, and hiking shoes.  I could feel the outline of a mustache and beard growing on my face.  I had a complete absence of style.

           I put my head against the back passengers window, Rob calls it Cobain, and took the moment in.  She did have a lot of trash and random shit in her car, but something about it was welcoming and familiar.   She had a unique laugh that sounded like someone singing out of tune, and the stereotypical stoners voice. 

Kelsey first fell in love with Hawaii when she was 19.  A few years later she moved to Maui with the prospect of working to buy land.  Something about acres on a volcano being really cheap.  Who would’ve thought. . . Her best friend was with her up until January, when she ran off and got married.  From the sound in her voice to the look in her eyes, one could tell that life hadn’t gone exactly as she planned, but that she had long since been callused to the outcome.  She works on a farm in Hana, three days a week.

             Every so often I would ask her a question, just so she would have to turn around and match the smile on my face. 

              I shook my head; I learned the hard way that things aren’t always the way they appear to be.  It’s folly to assume that everyone is good-natured, and more than often enough people are in their positions for a reason.  I don’t truly trust a person until I’ve known them for a long time.  But I was grateful that she’s the kind of person that stops for hitchhikers.

             One hour later, we arrived at our destination.  She gave us each a big hug and a helpful hitchhiking tip someone always stops.  We told her we’d try and stop by the farm she works at, but we didn’t get around to it, and never saw her again.

The Hitchhikers guide to Maui

 (Week one in Maui)

“No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become.  No one can chart the blue and lonely section of hell.  There are no maps of change.  You just. . . come out on the other side.”

-Stephen King

          10 hiking miles later it got worse, but first let’s backtrack.  Hana Highway is 68 miles long.  Hana was about 55 miles from our starting point, so that meant we were about to hit our halfway mark, walking.  The thing about a trip to Hana is that it’s never about getting to Hana, or even the seven sacred pools nearby, but rather the journey getting there.

 There are a couple kinds of people that will pick up hitchhikers, friendly people from the other 49 states that moved to Maui, Hippies, and crazy people.  The natives pretty much suck cock for quarters and the average tourists are just rich assholes.

          4 miles down the road from our previous campsite, the one that’ll probably haunt my dreams, we found a small vegetable stand.  Various fruit and vegetable stands were spotted throughout the rest of our journey to Hana.  The cool thing about them is most of them have honor boxes and no tenants.  An honor box is a box where you put your money for the cost of the item and take what you bought.

          It was bright and early so this one had the owner restocking his vegetables.  He had a gleam in his eyes that showed complete adoration for our choice in travel and suspected adventure.  I had seen it often from old men his age when they drove by or passed us in supermarkets or at fast food restaurants.  It was our father’s generation that glowed with envy, and our generation that didn’t seem to understand at all.  We bought an avocado for a dollar, refilled our Nalgene water bottles and roosted ourselves on some rocks near his stand.

          A few miles later a white truck stopped abruptly and asked if we needed a ride.  Hitchhiking was taboo to us, but we were tired.  We got in the back and collapsed.  It didn’t take long to realize she was crazy.  She picked us up a few weeks later, where we learned that she was just a drunk driver.  It was a fast, bumpy and wild ride. 

          The worst part about hitchhiking is the hiking part.  By the time someone picks you up you can only hope that the ride isn’t short, and at the same time only be thankful that you were driven any distance at all.  It also depends on the time of day.  Morning and late afternoon are hard hours.  In Maui we’ve waited as short as 5 minutes to as long as 30.

          The cab of the truck had a Bob Marley picture and a sticker that said Maui Girl.  The sound of jungle drums beat from the inside of her vehicle and vibrated the whole truck.  We played a guessing game as to what drugs she was on.  The ride was practically over before it started.  I finally got a good look at her face when we pulled over at her exit, and our new walking point.  She looked worn down, probably from years of Ice, and her chin reminded me of Pinocchio’s, or one of those other puppets on a string.  We told her to have a good day, she yelled back 'don’t tell me what to do,' and cackled as she peeled off.  Jungle drums filled the forest and didn’t fade until she was out of sight.

         

          We were now officially in the middle of fucking nowhere. 

We were in between a canyon, and there were no cars in sight.  Eventually we got out of there and then we were completely surrounded by farmland.  We walked another four miles, and then I broke down.  I’m a city boy, I’m not going to lie, I have had it easy most of my life.  I’m not a saint, I’m human like everyone else, and I’ve constantly taken for granted all the things that I have been blessed with.  But this, this was just too much.

It was hard to keep up the morale.  But I definitely did not go down with out a fight.  At first I had false motivations.  I thought of a girl, but somewhere I knew that that was a rotten road.  I thought about how at least I would look really good physically by the time we were done with this trip.  Eventually the pain in my legs stopped that thought as well.  I thought that in the least I would have one amazing story to tell.  In the end my thoughts stopped all together.  It was like floating in Limbo.  I couldn’t quite tell where or who I was.  We were out of water and it was mid day, the tropical sun beat down.

25 miles, with 65lbs sacks, in two days, with no chance to recover, or real ending, was all I could handle. 

I gave up. 

The sparkle left my eyes and the only thing on my shoulders was gloom.  About a mile back we bought small bananas with our last dollar bill.  The Hawaiians we had met at our most recent rest stop were genuine dicks.  Most natives speak with an undertone, they have good reason to be angry, tourists have taken over there home, but to take it out on everyone is just ridiculous.   They scoffed at the idea of credit or debit cards working anywhere in the vicinity of the next 45 minutes of travel, and that was if we were in cars.

             I stopped moving and told Rob I wasn’t going to move another inch, backwards or forwards, I was just going to lay there and die.  I’ve never been homeless, not had enough money to do or get the things I needed or been on a trek that didn’t have a real end.  Rob and I argued for a long time.  It ended with the solution being that I go back to California.  I’ve had some serious low points in life, but nothing was ever this bad. 

            That was when the first positive thought came over my mind.  Nothing worse could ever happen to me, and even if it did, I would know that eventually everything passes. 

            It was like a spark went off in my head.  When you reach the lowest point in your life, the only thing you can do is pick yourself up and start all over.  Sometimes you have nothing and have to be willing to start from scratch, and other times you have everything and have to be willing to lose it all to advance.  I had the option of going home or seeing the trip through.  I chose to make the best of what we had, and that was the first time I understood that everything has a positive angle to it.  My motivation should be myself, not about what others thought, but rather internal glory.

            We pressed on, and about a quarter mile later we reached a cut off point that had 20 miles of winding road and no shoulder.  The first legitimate hitchhiking thumbs went up.  It felt really awkward asking for a ride.  I hadn’t shaved in 4 days so it made me think of all the homeless people that ask for money in Berkeley. 

            10 minutes later a shitty car pulled over.  Hitchhiking lesson XX, shitty cars and trucks are more likely to pull over.  A busty blonde stepped out and I’m pretty sure my mouth dropped.  We stuffed our gear into her small Honda Accord. (No  pun intended)

The Unknown

 (First week in Maui, 2007)

I’ve always considered myself a free man.  I think life as a Military Brat left me with an almost unconscious need to move every couple years.  I have never really felt bound to one particular place.  In my experience, there have always been treasure troves filled with interesting people and experiences around every corner. 

One of the most amazing feelings I have ever felt was probably the moment Rob and I shipped home 30 pounds of useless items and bags, and everything I was to live off for the next several weeks was in a 65 lbs sack on my shoulders.  The freedom I felt was incredible and exhilarating.  There were absolutely no boundaries I could think of, we could go anywhere or do whatever we wanted. . .

xo

Stark fear is one way to describe it.  Above the pain and exhaustion of walking 15 miles with our heavy ass packs, fear was all I felt.   Our first hole in our ideal freedom was money and having spent our first weeks allowance on the first day.  The second hole was having a place to sleep at night.  Originally, our goal was to make our way towards the east side of Maui, including Hana, over a series of 10 days, camping along the way.  But having been on the Island for about 3 days, we didn’t know there are very few legal camping spots in Maui. 

Nightfall was sudden and approximate; the only lights on Hana Highway were from the occasional headlights of speeding cars.  I was beyond exhausted.  It felt like one of those horror movie moments where the hero is running down a narrow hall to escape a bad guy, and the end never comes.  The beach must have ended 3 miles opposite our direction, all that surrounded us was lush farmland, and it went on for miles.  Eventually we passed a dark alley of a road, probably a home away from home for highway killers.  Not wanting to die, we trekked on.

A long mile later, we found a house under construction.  Barely lit under the moonlight, I could make out large bulldozers around the huge building.  It must have been a multi-million dollar home.  My morale and motivation were gone.  Rob set up camp in a dark corner on the side of the house.  The only exit was the way we came in.  We were pressed against a guardrail, at the end of a small dirt road.  Just past the guardrail was a hill that dropped 30 feet and it was covered with jungle trees.  The mansion was on top of a cliff about 15 feet above our campsite.  All the windows were boarded up, and it felt like something was watching.  Except the eyes weren’t in the house, they were in the dark of the forest, 5 feet away.  Every now and then all the birds and bugs would become absolutely silent, as if some evil presence was nearby, and they didn’t want to get its attention. 

I’ve been robbed at gunpoint, and didn’t blink an eye.  But this scenario was nerve wrecking. 

Sleep did not come easy.  Long painful spasms shot along my muscles covering every inch of my body and ending at my blistered feet.  Not to mention the thought that someone or something could kill us in our sleep.

Rob is a natural born leader, which constantly causes us to clash in our later years.  I’m a big believer that one should surround themselves with strong willed friends.  I think we learn the most from those we are constantly around.  The oddest thing about our relationship is that neither of us seems to remember how we became friends.  

Maui is a tourist haven.  White, red and black sand beaches are just some of the beautiful attractions.  Mountain biking tours, parasailing, and scuba diving are a few of the adventures.  Secret waterfalls, mountain sunsets, and valleys with swinging bridges are just waiting to be seen.  Beautiful girls and ripped men are scattered along the various beaches.  Rented Mustangs and Jeeps line the streets; people flock from worldwide to live the dream. 

Freezing in a small tent, next to an abandoned building off the highway, told me I was living a much different dream.

About the 4^th time I woke up it was morning.  To no surprise my body was stiff, my feet were sore, and I was now wet and cold.  The rain had seeped through our shitty ten-dollar tents.   And the ground was littered with fire ants.

We packed up camp, bit into an apple, and trudged on.  I was more than a little broken spirited, but I was in Maui, nothing could be that bad.

Maui Prologue

Prologue

          The waves are infinite.  Like billions of tiny hands working together, the saltwater stretches out as far as it can go along the shoreline, only to be pulled out back to sea.  The sound of water hitting rocks never ceases.  Gorgeous golden sand litters the ground, as if to serve as a border to a beautiful picture, and beyond that is the Pacific Ocean, as far as the eye can see.

          In some ways the shoreline represents the problems of everyday life.  An endless cycle that constantly grabs at your feet to pull you in, even in moments when you want to stay dry.  But like all problems that rise and fall, the waves pass, and in the end it's only water.  Though, something is magical about this particular spot.  Bills, credit card debts, family/relationship problems, physical or mental dependencies, don’t make it past the shoreline.

          In a half moment the sun leaves the sky and clouds cover the horizon.  It’s amazing how fast the cycles change.  Jumping from one extreme to the next in seconds.

Maybe it’s the feeling one gets, when darkness covers the landscape at nightfall, or when the sky becomes engulfed with rain forest clouds and unleashes a warm yet pleasant rain, but a chilling breeze.  Or just how good it feels when the clouds part and a hot sun warms and dries everything in its glare.  Conflicting feelings really, sort of like the moments between falling in and out of love.  Concerning mostly how much light one's pupils allow to be entered, from the endless stream of grays or blues and murky greens.

          As the clouds part and rain stops, a rainbow springs in the distance.  They always feel so close.  How brilliant it would be to find the end of one.  It’s radiant light colors the sky. 

The scene is beautiful, though not quite paradise.  But what is Paradise anyhow?

Time Won't Let Me Go

(The End of Summer 2007)

           Pheromones.  I could feel it in my fingers; I could feel it in my toes.  I let out a stammered breath, and then took in three fast ones.  The sensation created was what I can only describe as euphoria.  It lit up my mind and senses.  The headaches stopped, my thoughts stopped, time stopped.  I was no longer looking towards the future; everything I could ever want was in the present.
           When the knee-buckling aroma hit my nose, I finally knew and accepted that I was dreaming.  I was amazed that I could remember those simple details; such as, how a person smells or sounds after not seeing them for a great deal of time. 
            She looked innocent enough in my mind, but I know she is a misguided little devil with no sense of direction or real knowledge of what she's looking for.  It was at this moment that I realized she was wrapped in my arms, with my head pushed into her left shoulder blade.  I quickly let her go.  A curious and playful gaze met my eyes.  It was probably one of her more attractive qualities; she didn't have an answer for everything, and didn't claim to.  Though, maybe she just didn't care, or even worse, understand.
            My head started pounding and my fingers tingled from the memory.  I knew it would be a long time before I would let it go.  She was never everything I was looking for, nor anywhere close to it.  She had short boyish brown hair, a fatal flaw in her personality, and an ever-growing stomach that developed from her eat-whatever-I-want-and-not-exercise diet.  When she poses for a picture, her left eyelid closes half way and her face and teeth make what I can only describe as the Bride of Chucky smile.  Not to mention that she is a complete bitch that would leave me to rot in despair, if she mistakenly thought for a second, that there was someone better.  And she did.
            But, she was the first one I ever loved, and my foolish head has a hard time believing that any of her flaws really matter.
            Almost immediately after I let her go, a boy I recognized came over and started flirting with her.  Her curiosity and playfulness turned to him.  She was wearing a baseball cap that only added to the façade that she was an adorably harmless girl that one should get to know.  The boy did a move I haven't seen since third grade, he pulled off her cap and held it away from her.  Most likely in tribute to the story she told me of the day she met her ex-boyfriend of two years, the guy I stole her from.  She pushed his arm and changed the tone of her voice.  He let out a sarcastic gasp and stood in such a way that pushed me out of her view.
            I looked around the room.  Apparently it was a stadium.  What Dreams May Come, came to mind as the room around me took form.  It was a strange sight; it was filled with people I met over the years.  I thought it might be heaven, except there was a baseball field instead of clouds.  Further up the stadium, sat the Irish girls I met over the summer.  The ones that actually lived in the Frat with me sat closer towards me.   Debbie sat closest to the stairs.  She was about the same height as me and twice my weight.  She gave me a discomforted smile that held so much pain.  I looked away.
            I looked back towards the girl that made me heartless.  The dream intruder was still standing in front of me.  And here he was causing confusion in my dream.
            Still understanding it was a dream, I tried to exact the reason why I was in this situation with a girl I thought I finally moved on from.  I remembered that I had seen her for the first time in 4 months, drunk off my ass, at a party during the summer.  She was with two English guys, and she kept telling me that she just met them earlier that night.  It was a friendly reunion, from what I can remember.
            It made me somewhat sad, surely this boy knew we had some sort of history, couldn't he wait until my back was turned?  She seemed to be engulfed in what I assume he was trying to pass as charm.  I felt small and helpless.  Next thing I knew, I was on autopilot.
            I did the only thing any jealous guy knew to do, I put one arm around him, and talked to him like he was a two-bit jackass.  I asked him if he was Irish, even though I knew he wasn't.  I asked him if he cut his own hair, but added that it was a good style, and he shouldn't ever change it.  The girl continuously laughed at intermittent points.  I eventually shifted the conversation back to her and cut him out.  He stood for a solid few moments, either from shock or a lack of basic social acuity.  Eventually he allowed discomfort to overtake him, and he left.
            My brain returned to normal.  Then the headaches started again.  She tugged a little at the tips of her hair, exposing an ear that I wanted to massage until she caved into desire.  Then she smiled.  It was the smile that broke me.  And it was her eyes that won me over, her greenish-brown eyes seemed to scream out save me, forgive me, and love me all at once.   

             I woke up in a cold sweat, hung over with the taste of Steel Reserve still lingering in my mouth.  It was much like everyday in the summer.  Mid afternoon, an entire day wasted and work was coming up in short hours.  I don’t like patterns much, if there is one thing that bores me, its routine.
            I had a dark emptiness that needed to be filled.  Something inside of me was broken; the recurring dreams seemed to prove a point.  The only thing I could think to do was run.  I learned once that running is the worst thing anyone can do, as humans we are creatures of habit, and until we recognize something is wrong and resolve it internally; the same problems will find and follow you wherever you go.  But sometimes environment is a necessary change, and making my way across Hawaii sounded like just the right adjustment.

As Far as the Future Goes

(Wednesday, March 14, 2007)

"First time speeds up, and then it slowly trickles down,
The first thing to stop is the music and terrestrial sounds."

             I'm heading to Berkeley in a week, and I don't really have any intention of coming back.  That's not to say that I won't, hell, if I did everything I said, I'd still be over there.
            I guess this all came into focus around my Sociology class the other day, when I tried to convince a teacher of mine to let me take an exam early.  She told me she would not, because that would mean she'd have to make an entirely new test, and to add to that, she does not allow make-up exams.  She repeated herself several times.
            It's worth 20% of our grade.
            Under normal circumstances I probably would have found a way to soften her up and let her know that I was worthy of the 5 minutes it would take to reword a couple of questions, but instead I took it as a sign.
           I made it a point to leave her class while she was in mid lecture.  Allowing the sound of the creaky old entrance door to fill the room, and let the almost artificial looking sunlight encompass its entirety.  
            I've never been in such a predicament before.  As a matter of fact, I've never found myself in a situation I didn't talk my way out of.  Just this morning, I was going about 60 in a residential zone to pass some slow moving senior citizen, when a cop on a motorcycle flicked on his lights and sped up to my side.  He peered into my window, with an almost emotionless face, and for some reason, he pulled away and drove off.  "We'll all float on. . . "
            Just my luck I suppose, as it happened when I enrolled for college this semester, being granted every class I petitioned for, as well as immediate registration the day of.
            Maybe it's just my perception of reality, but for me, my life has always been laid in solid singular directions, I can never go in more than one.  Everything will work out if I choose one path.   I guess I'd have to explain this in further depth.  There were 30 kids petitioning for my English class and 3 open spots.  We all had to draw out a card; I needed that class, well, mostly because I love writing.  I pulled out the Ace of Hearts.  I might have just considered that exceptional luck, if I hadn't gotten into my other 3 classes in similar ways.  Everything works out for me, if I understand my goal, and have a sense of direction.  Just like the first time I moved to Berkeley, I found money when there was none.
            Right now my situation regards education, if I pop out of here again, that's 4 more incompletes on my already building list.  Regardless, I'm sure any future essay I write will get me into a great college.
            I have all A's so far this semester, and a nicely building GPA, I guess what I have to really decide is whether or not I should give that all up for what I consider happiness.  If I stay down here, my ideology will change.  It's inevitable, in order for me to gain comfort here; my thought process has to change.  Right now my mind is beautiful, just the way I like it.  I can spin nicely worded poetry again.  A few more months of this and I'll lose the quality of my thoughts.  The kind of interaction I set myself up for down here is much different from what I have come to love in Northern California. .
          
            I was sitting at the beach a few days ago, on a very cloudy day.  It was hard to see the sun.  Aside from the rays of light that penetrated the holes and cracks of the cumulus clouds; you would hardly know it was there.  It reminded me of what I'm going through.  I have an overall goal, but aside from knowing that it exists, the little spots of sunshine, and imagining how I will feel when I reach my desired outcome, the only thing I really know is that it is there.
            I sat on the bench that overlooked the Corona Del Mar beachfront.  I was in writer's clothes.  That is all I have left, nothing new, just old shirts and pants that are losing their color from consistent washing and general lack of new additions to my clothing line.  Being in the negatives, for months now, I don't really have much of a choice.
            But style is something I no longer have a great desire for.  Where I'm going, I won't need it.  It's just a matter of time before I'm back in a place that I love.  Less than a week to be exact.  Everything seems to be based around that element of time.  I can be with her again, for a lack of using any stronger words, the first girl I ever truly adored.  I could live with my best friend Robert Wagner; in the very same room I rented out months ago.  All this will be gone by summer time though.  Even Rob and I may be on very different terms.
            But what is time, really?  I've sat on this Corona Del Mar bench several times.  It's even included in a poem I've written.
            The memories are all crowded here.  It's the same bench I sat in 5 years ago when I considered the idea that I was sitting 2500 miles away from the Beaches of Virginia and everything that mattered to me.
            The same bench I sat in two years ago, when I wrote a 16-page letter to my school newspaper.  The event that changed the way I viewed my position in society, the first time I ever considered myself a writer.
            As well as the same bench I sat on just a few months ago, with my best friend, talking about life and the future.
            Finally, it's the bench I sat alone on, days ago, realizing it's time for me to move on from this place, that Orange County is no longer my home and to say goodbye to the proverbial Yellow Brick Road.
            I've got a plane ticket; I leave Wednesday the 21st at 9 p.m.  That part is easy, it's set in stone.  The hard part will come at the end of the week.  I always enjoy that critical decision of whether or not I'll take that bus home.  Because I always understand that I may never find myself in the same situation in which I would want to go back.  Right now I know it's a place that makes me absolutely happy, and aside from the immediate ability to finish my education, I know that that is a small sacrifice in order to find what I truly love in life.
            I find it ironic, or hypocritical, that less than a year ago I gave a speech to a class of mine on how one should not make an emotionally based decision.  How rationality, and an economically informed choice, would always be the best route.  I guess that was before I ever knew what this feeling I'm going through was.  Anyone, or any place that can make me feel this; surely will lead to what I would consider a successful life.
            My only fear is that if I wait too long, just by natural human conditioning, my ambition will dry out, and I will find myself alone (Though, I'll admit, Annie has always been there for me) and lost in Orange County.
           I know that whatever I decide to do it will work out, in terms of what it has at the end of the road.  I guess the question comes down to whether or not I want stability, or if I want to leave that road behind, and reach for that 1 in a million spot of extreme success, both financially and emotionally.
            I've taken the bus twice; maybe the third time I'm standing there, I'll fully realize that all I ever need to know is in a little spot in Northern California, 400 miles away from any sort of planned path.

A lot like Like

(February 14 2007)

It’s a crazy thing, when a boy falls for you,

Oh, the silly things he’ll do, to let you know how much he likes you.

Like frequent calling and word slips and water falling from his eyelids.

Those aren’t secure manly things I’ll admit, but like I said, sometimes they slip.

You just have to think of the other things that that boy brings,

Like intense stares, the scent of Curve, and whispers in between kissing.

He’s the kind of guy that’ll grab your hand, tell you you’re lovely, and hold you closely.

That’s just a few of the things all guys should do, and he does it knowingly.

He’s sorry that he went too fast too early; he should have taken it slower.

Next time he’ll take it slow; he knows that that kind of stuff is worth waiting for.

Because liking someone is more than just beauty and nonverbal and the physical part,

It’s everything.  It was her that taught him that fine aspect of the relationship art.

And how did she get in, or so close to him, I don’t really know.

It’s like she had an old key that opened an old door in his humble abode.

It began at a Frat Party; it’s funny to think that that’s where this all started,

But not as funny as Pablo Francisco, or those times her roommate . . .!

It was day 3 at K.A, that mystical number three,

Everything works in threes, letters and wishes and kisses with meaning…

He saw her sitting with some other guy, and found out she was with another guy.

But he knows just who he is, and the others are just other guys.

He took some shots; he downed a beer, to get the nerve to sit next to her.

He talked to her.  She talked to him.  She leaned in and snuggled against his shoulder.

Her friends tried to steal her from him at least twice,

It was their trust in him that finally broke the ice.

Or was it Joe?

That part I’ll never really know…

--------

He walked her home.  She held his hand.  He walked on the side closest to the street.

It was freezing cold, on a silent night, except for the shuffle of non-sober feet.

They walked together in zigzags; a church might have been in their pathway,

They were all foreign buildings at first, though, over time he got used to that walkway

Then they got to her bed, where they would spend maybe the next three days sleeping

Nothing Dirty!  Just kissing and cuddling and hugging and flirting!

He stared at her, she stared at him.

He got close, she snuggled in.

Kisses weren’t allowed at first, but somewhere in time, the rules started changing,

But only on the lips at first, as simple as that, it was a very good thing.

Who would’ve known how things would’ve been had they ended before they began?

The flavors of waters and apple juices and ramen might’ve never happened.

The moments and memories and timepieces would have never happened.

But good thing they happened, because those seconds and minutes are everlasting.

Their phones seemed to be endlessly ringing,

Quite annoying, like the sound of K-Fed singing!

Eventually they sobered up and daylight flooded the room,

It was time for him to leave; her roommate was coming home soon.

They had been with each other for several hours now,

And the comfort had settled in, on each other’s selves.

He got lost on the walk home, and that wasn’t all that was in store.

He arrived to his old apartment, sealed off with a chain on the door!

But it was worth it, standing in the cold for a few.

Because next we go onto day number two!

The comfort was there.  He liked her, and she liked him…

She called just like she promised.  The second after her last class ended.

He talked to her.  She talked to him.

For nearly 3 minutes, before the phone conversation finished.

But that was alright.  Because he knew in person everything wonderful happened.

The movies were next on the list, and they still had plenty of time left to spend.

--------

He looked at her and she looked at him.  She was like nothing he’d ever seen!

He brought her close, he held her hand, and then gimped the way to the movie screen.

After that things got hazy.

The lack of sleep and appetite made things somewhat crazy.

He didn’t sleep or even eat much the next few days and nights,

Like the first time they met he stayed up thinking until the morning light.

The only thing he could think about was the first time they kissed,

And her hair band bracelet was burning a mark on his wrist.

But that was ok; he has the rest of his days to spend sleeping,

It was one of those special once in a life time moments that are worthy of keeping.

He packed his bags; He cleaned his room, it was time to leave,

There was time for one last outing with his best friend, a trip to the Campanile.

It was a foggy day; especially looking down, when you are two hundred feet high,

It was kind of like the future, shrouded, uncertain, and deviously divine.

Maybe that’s where or when reality hit. Why was he leaving?  This was his home!

His closest friend and this precious girl were the only things he ever needed to know!

I guess it was just unfinished business in his other life,

He had to go back and say goodbye to the things he left behind.

He had to give her time to breathe,

He had to give her time to sleep and time to think.

It was night now, and clearly time to repair the things he broke,

He saw her walking, so he called her phone.  She looked down, and she looked cold.

He ran over in a somewhat hurry, to talk to her.

Yeah, what was that word? That’s right, Awkward Bird!

She looked up, she looked scared.

It was an expression that anyone could read, even the reading impaired!

The next part is even more confusing than it sounds,

Somehow he did something or said something that made things well.

Somewhere along the line he must have lost her interest,

But not for long!  He found it again in 3 kisses!

--------

Before he knew it, they were back in her room,

Recreating the ballad of two human spoons.

This portion of his mind is called the creation of memory.

First time speeds up, and then it slowly trickles down,

The first thing to stop is the music and terrestrial sounds.

The senses pick up articulation and momentum,

The room blurs out and becomes just her and him.

He closes his eyes and whispers a line,

He wishes for this moment to be frozen in time.

He stares into her eyes, and smiles, and wonders what’s going on in her mind,

She looks up, she looks down; she gives an eye roll to the side.

He memorizes the color and texture of her eyes,

He wonders if she knows just how beautiful she is on the out and inside.

She leans in and kisses him, he holds it in.

She breathes out, he breathes her in.

He massages her lips, he kisses her cheek, and he kisses her chin.

He rubs her arm and pulls her closer to him.

He shifts her body and holds her tightly,

Intertwining finger tips and holding them lightly.

He runs his fingers and hands through her hair,

Soft and short, of perfection, with the essence of shampoo and sleep and Berkeley air

He finds the spot on her stomach that makes her prone to laughing,

He wonders what else he can discover such as her waving her arms to express a feeling

He’s saddened by the fact that he can’t stop time,

The only thing he can do is hold this moment in and take it a day at a time...

For a second he wonders if he will ever find this seemingly perfect feeling again.

He looks at her and she looks at him.

--------

And that was the past, assorted memories that already happened,

Though, as far as the future goes, we’ll see what happens…!

Anytime you or anyone else tries to convince you, that you are just regular,

Read this poem and know that you’re not.  You are exceptionally spectacular.

Happy Valentines Day!!!

I’ll talk to you soon

Gary Lopez