You Live till You Die

Careful pursuing your dreams, they could end up being your nightmare.

Sometimes we think the light at the end of the tunnel is what we're after, until that light turns into a train. The problem, I see with hard work, is that you only can do so much of your own accord. You rely heavily on the will power and often the judgment of others. This can be a tough situation for most, especially when those around you, or above you don't have a grasp on their egos. You see it in every work force, in every place. There is no perfect job, there is no place to go work and be 'happy.' You are are the mercy of those around you.

I've worked a handful of places, and generally I find that perception is reality. The spotlighters, those willing to sell their souls at the expense of others generally move on, get promoted and become in charge of you. This isn't always the case, as some good tends to slip through the cracks of corruption, but it's merely luck that this happens. There is a constant struggle in any work environment between those who manage, and those who actually lead. I'm sure your boss has been a real jackass, but you have a buddy in the office who is able to put things into perspective for you, help you understand the true worth of what you're doing, and how that it may appease anyone higher. This person is brilliant enough, understand enough, uses enough common sense daily, not only to accomplish tasks, but actually elevates the team and helps them accomplish their tasks. He could run the company if he were to simply fall victim to the system.

You're worth is usually replaceable.

This is a sad fact. Often, the behind the scenes that is taken care is never credited. As we progress, grow in the ranks, we tend to forget the fact that we had been in the shittiest positions before. We always, as human nature would allow, had it worse than the next guy. We did it better and worked harder and got treated worse. It's the age old story, that I'm sure has some sense of truth, but perhaps only in multigenerational gaps. I'm sure I didn't have as rough of a childhood as my grandpa did, but someone only a few years older than me didn't have it any worse, or to a point where there could be contention in the stories. 

With this being said, it's almost seemingly obvious that we tend to forget who actually gets things done. The worker bee, not the queen is responsible for making the hive successful. They merely rely on her ability to influence. Anybody at the top, will automatically assume through ignorance and ego that they have enough influence to lead anyone to be successful. That makes you instantly replaceable. It's a word where attitude is everything. Bow at the feet of those in charge, and stand up to those below you regardless how righteous you may be and you will go far. Admit you're wrong and you shall fail. Ego, greed, arrogance. 

That statement is untrue. You are not easily replaced. There are plenty of ways to manage and lead people. In my experience, people act how you treat them. If you pull the reigns tight, they become stubborn as mules, unable to walk on their own. If you let go the reigns, they sprint like wild horses. So how do you influence people to do what you want them to do and act with initiative? You can't oppress people. It's against human nature, and especially American ideals to be oppressed. Treat them as a jockey treats his race horse. The jockey wants to win, the horse eager too. The jockey doesn't have reigns, doesn't pull from the front. He slaps from the rear and side. Digs his feet in and leans over the shoulder. Encourages the horse forward, and only holds him back from burning out or letting loose too early. It's both a science and an art.

It takes the right amount of the jockey's skill, mixed with the pushing of the talent of the horse to pull off a victory. It's not an overabunance of one or the other, but the perfect mixture of both that allows them to be successful, just as you and your team must be. These are lessons seen in every sense of history and sports. Team efforts, not just that of an individual will create a championship team. That means every member, no matter what short comings they may have, you have to find what they are strong at, and allow them to at least flourish in that department. At any workplace, you all work towards a common goal. You are a team whether you think it or not. As a manager, it's putting people in places where they need to be. As a leader, it's putting people in places they should be. The difference is understanding that we all are motivated differently, and most are not motivated with idle threats. Remember, we are not a people that like to be oppressed. 

Cap, I'm a peacock, you gotta let me fly!

The Night Man Prophecy Cometh

It was just as normal a night as any other. I had just returned from a refreshing shower and was readying for bed. I had just flipped up my computer screen and put on some music that could soothe my sunburn. The shadow passed over me quickly, as I stood hunched over my computer. I was startled. I wasn't alone in being scared, as multiple people in the tent saw the movement from above.

The lights flickered, and then went out. Only computer screens kept enough light to see the intruder sail by. Two of us grabbed flashlights, luckily placed conveniently close. We staggered back to back, seemingly surrounded. Pim and I grabbed what we could for weapons. Unfortunately only shoes. Now equipped with some kind of self defense mechanism, and flash lights in the dark expanse of the tent, we began the hunt.

As soon as I stepped away from his close cover, I was struck in the face, nearly taking me off my feet. I dove into cover across my bed, and he was ambushed too. They I scrambled back to feet, rolling and tumbling over my bed and to his help. By the time I got there, the attacker, retreating to a corner of the tent. He began maneuvering in the shadows where I lights would not reach, knocking over equipment seemingly all around us.

He flew past us, but wasn't precise enough to stun a counter attack. We rushed after him towards the corner, where like hound dogs trapped in the fox. We fixed our lights upon him, and Pim, with the hand of mighty Zeus, let his hammer of a shoe slam into the beast which had haunted us. The first blows were insignificant, though malicious on our part. We continued, like an African drum band to pound blow after blow upon our attacker.

Blood was everywhere, ours and his. He had caused much agitation inside the small tent. But we had defeated him, before he was able to suck our blood, or carry us off. The moth we killed lie there, still and crushed. We, unwaveringly gave a sigh of relief. We would be able to sleep safely tonight.

A swooping sound flutters by angrily. Perhaps a second intruder, possibly a third show themselves briefly in the dim light. I grab my size ten and a fresh set of batteries. Pim, the Dominican Devil, and myself; we hunt late into the night!


Fighter of the Night Moth-man, oooh whoa ooooh!

Bum, I am

The drive is the adventure. It's the fleeing that's exciting. It's the company that's stupendous. It's the beach that's the destination.

It seems like this time of year was a constant norm for me as long as I can recall. We would pack up in a car, cooler and towels where they would fit between anxious legs smiles that threw little caution to the wind. The windows would have to be down, even with the valley heat pouring past. Out of the valley and into Calabasas and through the grass desert mountains spotted with gandering oak trees. It was breakfast with the Beatles, if it were Sunday, or the Beach Boys to ride shotgun up the 101.

The canyon could be the scariest part, but only to my sister. I loved to imagine flying off of the cliff to the left and climbing the rocks to the right. The conversations were always so meaningful, even if they were about who liked Coke or Pepsi better. Hold on, raise your hands and hold your breath two or three times and look for the naked lady in the rear view. Or just turn around. Sliding through the passes rolling over the peaks, the ocean seemingly always cutting the valley even wider in it's awesome display of blue.

PCH was the end all, right or left. Too many choices, and with the correct one, would soon see Zuma. You'd pay to park, or nearly get killed by the flying cars out on the road trying to find a gap between the other bums. Too excited to have started the day, you forgot your sandals or to put them on. You skip across the asphalt playfully, but dangerously into the even hotter sand. As a kid, you'd run from your mom holding the sunscreen and be in the surf before the umbrella was even unsheathed from it's carrier. As a teenager, you wouldn't waste the time either. The waves, glistening and calling for a Hasselhoff sprint into the offshore break.

All day, your plans would change, and one idea would become better than the other. When you weren't scoping out the babes walking to and fro, or swimming out further past the waves, you'd be fighting over PB&J's or control of the boom box. You'd toss a football and regret sliding in the sand. All day, from start to finish, your energy endless. No one would ever want to leave, and much as the rise of the day you'd fight your mom or responsible member of friend for five more minutes. A cold shower to knock off as much sand as you could, but still knowing whose ever car used would still need vacuuming.

Your nap would last only as long as the swerving and ear compression would allow as you climbed back through the three virgins' canyon. You knew you'd be stopping and getting a shake, somewhere, someplace, even if it were going to be a quick In n' Out. You couldn't recount the fun that you had, no matter how you concentrated. But you'd sleep well in the night, and do it again tomorrow.

Nothing like anything else. Paradise, defined.


... the west coast has the sunshine, and the girls all get so tan...