With OS X, I like to keep things clean, simple, and functional :

In comparison, I find Windows so fucking unbearable, that I have to resort to pretty colous to make it worthwhile for even a minimal amount of time :

I feel a little overwhelmed by everything I have amassed over time. In an effort to simplify, I have been attacking an aspect of my life where I spend a great deal of time: the web.

I’ve gone through all of the chat protocols that I subscribe to and removed almost a hundred people. I’ve gone through Facebook and removed people with whom I am no longer in communication. I removed all of the pages that I chose to click “Like!” on at one time or another. I removed myself from any Facebook groups. I just completely detached myself from any other social network for forum I was a member of.

Today, I went through my bookmarks with total indifference. Everything I thought was cool online and collected, has now been set free back into the world.

I’m cutting it all way back. I really hope this provides me with some sort of focus. I hate being distracted, especially with the growing list of things I need to do. The problem is that I get distracted so easily.

Instead of running a note application on my computer along side a todo application, I have uninstalled both of them, and signed up for Simple Note. I can add and categorize notes from a web interface that’s just beautiful, and they sync to Simple Note on my phone.

I just want peace. That’s all.

Like most people, I should eagerly await the celebration of my birthday, but it seems more like the celebration of an incarceration. I’m serving a sentence that will some day be up. I didn’t ask to be here. I haven’t done anything notable. I’ve been here twenty five years now, and I’ve made hardly any progress. There’s people my age that have started companies. Every “brilliant idea” I’ve ever had has turned to naught. I’m stuck on this planet, as we all are, and who the fuck am I to complain, right? I don’t know how to feel about it. My perspective on life flip flops so much, that anything I say or write at this point can easily be disregarded.

My birthdays have always been bittersweet. There are the people who care and want to see me happy. There are the people who always enjoy a good party. There are the people who love me, and are genuinely happy that I am here. I am, in turn, genuinely blessed to have those people in my life. The problem though, is that my birthdays have always, for some reason beyond my comprehension, reminded me of shitty times in my life. Among the grocery list of failures, I am reminded of just really crappy stuff.

I remember being little and having birthday parties that I was invited to by default. We would have people over, and they’d all being having a grand time, but I would be grounded. I always felt like a guest. I remember one birthday when I was twelve or so. My aunt and uncle bought me tickets to this concert that was being put on by a local radio station. They bought me two tickets so that I could invite someone to come along. I was so excited to go, but had no one to invite. Imagine the embarrassment. Since then, I’ve made a lot of great friends, so that’s probably not something I’d have to go through again. I just didn’t have any at the time. I was a weird kid.

Birthdays have just represented embarrassment and this feeling of being solitary. I will say though, that the best birthdays I had were those organized by and celebrated with Jess. I never felt so… ugh! I’m not going there with this. Fuck.

I’m not writing this to instigate a pity party or anything. This is my blog, and is supposed to serve as a repository for what’s on my mind, and so it shall. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Well, this has been another trip through shit valley. Thanks for stopping by.

First things first. Update on the last entry and its contents :

• Still haven’t heard from my cousin.
• I’m definitely not talking to my ex again. I’m just so tired of it all. We slept together and it was amazing as it always was. I proposed to her, if that’s important at all. I went to Tiffany’s on Rodeo Drive and got her the best ring I could. She put it on her finger, took pictures of it with her iPhone, and then said no. She let me spend hundreds of dollars in train tickets going up and down California, knowing what I was doing, and then said no. She said she wanted to visit me, though. She then asked me for a shit load of money that I owe her former mother. I’ve told her I’ll pay her back some day, but I just don’t have it right now. She threw a fit and said she thought I was changing for the better, but because I can’t give her the money right now, I obviously haven’t changed, and she doesn’t want to talk to me. Despite how she feels about it, I still plan to give her the money not because I have to, but I feel like it’s the right thing to do. At that point, I will be done with her for good. Moving on…

I moved to Colorado with a suitcase, and around $2000. I found an apartment and a job. I still have both. I just got back from California. I needed to drive out there and get my stuff. Oh, that’s a good story. Let’s talk about that…
_________________________________________________________

I had a bunch of different versions of this complex and expensive plan to go to California and get all my things. I didn’t bring anything aside from my suitcase the first time I came out here just because I didn’t want to live out of a moving truck for two weeks while I found a place to put it all. Then if I didn’t find a job in time, I’d have to move it all out of the apartment, and not have enough money to move it anywhere else. So anyway, my dad comes down to visit a couple weeks before I had planned on going out to California. He hands me the keys to his truck and says, you can use this to get your stuff and drive around until I want it back. And so begins the journey.

The plan was to leave at midnight. I took a half day and intended to go home, get some sleep, and then leave. I didn’t want to sleep the night before so that when I got home from work, I would be tired enough to pass out in the middle of the day. I failed at staying awake. I ended up sleeping for three hours and being exhausted for the whole day. Well, I took the half day and instead of going home and sleeping right away, I thought of all these things I had to do in preparation for the trip. I ran my errands and headed home. I fell asleep at around 1900, I think. I then woke up at around 2200. It was a little earlier than I wanted to wake up, but it happened, so I had to deal.

I went down to the couple of bars I usually go to, and said goodbye to my friends. I left from the bar, and headed to Taco Bell to get a grilled stuffed burrito (ad sub bean). That’s when I got pulled over. I got a ticket for failure to signal. Well, it turns out that my left blinker doesn’t work. Good times. It was only a $50 ticket, though. The officer was pretty nice, actually. It’s about 0030, and I finally head out towards California.

I’m cruising up 70 towards Utah when the transmission starts making noise. I was listening to the radio, so I didn’t hear it at first. It got louder. I turned off the radio and heard a really loud grinding sound. I panicked and pulled over. I go to push the clutch in and it stays on the floor. I remember my dad saying that if you push the clutch to the floor enough times, it will unscrew its self. I figured I’d be able to just reconnect it, and that maybe that was the problem. Weak explanation for the sound, but I wasn’t sure either way. It’s about 0400, and I’m pulled over right between Sigurd and Aurora, UT. Imagine the environment below, but pitch black with no moon.

I turn the truck off and crawl underneath it. All I had for a light source was my iPhone. I play around with some stuff down there until I find something that’s loose. It wasn’t what I thought it was. It actually looked a bit simpler than that…

A. fell out of B.
Effing A.

So, I had to screw that back into place by hand underneath a hot engine in complete darkness with semi trucks blasting by me. I made sure everything was nice and snug, and then tried to continue my trip. As if it was going to happen that easily. I’m up and running for about fifteen seconds when the sound from the transmission starts back up and worse than before. I pull over again, and again, the clutch stays on the floor. This time I leave the truck running because I know I can get under there and reconnect A to B a little more quickly. I make the connection, and go to take off again. As soon as I get into the truck and close the door, FFFFWWOOOOSSHSHHS HISSSSSS FUCK!

I turn the truck off immediately, and pop the hood knowing damn well that sound was. The truck effing overheated. There is water and coolant all over the engine bay and all over the road. This trip is not going to happen. I have a gallon of coolant in the cab, but it’s only about a quarter full, and the radiator is just below half full. I didn’t have enough to get anywhere. I’m calling and texting my dad off and on throughout this ordeal and he’s giving me advice. We decide that I have to walk into town. Remember that picture right above that was really pitch black? Yeah. I had to pick a town based on how far the lights appeared from my location. I chose Sigurd. I pour the rest of the coolant into the radiator, and carry the empty bottle into town. I find a closed up little market that had a water spout. I fill up the bottle and start walking back to the truck. By now, the sun is on its way up and it’s about 0530. A highway patrolman sees me walking back up the highway, and gives me a ride to the truck. I pour the water in, start up the truck, and he drives off. I then turn the truck off (it overheated last time while it was idling). I crawl underneath to look at that clutch fork and rod. I put it back together again, and then wait a bit for the engine temp to drop back down. It had pegged at “fucking hot”.

The temperature drops back down to “i bet you think this is cool enough”, and I begin to head down the highway. I planned to get off at the exit ahead, drive it into town, and take it to a shop where I can get the clutch/transmission shit looked at. I get to the exit and see the temperature needle making a beeline for “fucking hot” again. I turn off the engine and roll down the offramp and pull it over to the side. This little fucker…

The purpose of the thermostat is to allow the engine to get up to temperature before it allows water into the block. The engine has to get up to temperature so that it expands and the pistons don’t grind inside the cylinders. This one is supposed to open at 190F. Guess what it was not doing. It was closed and preventing any water from getting into the block. I pulled it out, and I never had another problem with overheating throughout the trip. I was cautious of it the whole time, though. Especially since I would had to drive up and through mountains between St. George, AZ and Barstow, CA in the middle of the afternoon. I’ll get to that later.

I drive into Sigurd where I wait until 0900 for a shop to open up so that I could get the transmission looked at. The shop opens up and the guy who helps me is awesome. He hops in the truck and drives it a bit on the highway. Of course, it doesn’t make a sound, and works perfectly. We get back to his shop where he changes my oil, tops off the transmission fluid (it was pretty much gone which kind of explains the sound. Heh.), and adjusts all the clutch linkage. I fill up the tank, and head out on the road again.

I made sure to fill up my tank any time it got to the half line. I had no idea how far each town was from me, and I kept my phone off to preserve the battery life. I drove through St. George, AZ and it really started getting hot. I had to stop a couple times just to get out of the truck and stand inside gas stations. Having the window down didn’t help. It felt like standing in front of an oven for the whole trip. I get into Vegas and consider stopping there to meet up with a friend of mine, but instead I stop for a slurpee and a sandwich. I fill up, and head out again. By now, there is another sound. It’s a metallic plinking sound and it’s coming from the floor of the truck. I thought it was the transmission making noise again, but I could feel something hitting the floor and it felt like it was coming from underneath. I pulled over a few times and looked under the truck, but didn’t see anything that could be making the sound. Every time I laid on the ground, though I was burning myself. It was so effing miserable in that desert. I would talk to the truck the whole way. Just providing words of affection and encouragement. “Come on, lady. You can make it up this steep fucking hill in the middle of nowhere while whats left of your paint is almost melting off…” Stuff like that. That plinking sound wouldn’t go away. It kept happening every time I got some speed. I thought it was mechanical, so I would let off the gas every time it happened. It didn’t seem to be causing any problems, so I kept on truckin’.

I pull into this little casino colony just west of Las Vegas and I’m having a panic attack. I literally could not breathe because it was so hot and I was seriously fatigued. I pull into a gas station there and it’s jammed. Every parking space is taken. I’m going to lose my mind. I find a place finally and get out of the truck. I sit inside of a Starbucks for about an hour while I let my phone charge, and try to calm myself while I get back to normal operating temperature. I think my body’s thermostat was fucked, too. I decide I’ve been there long enough and head back to the truck. Before I get in, I grab a jug of water I had bought in Vegas only an hour ago. I pour it over my head and it feels like it just got done boiling. Scolding hot water all over my brand new trucker sunburns. Awesome. With the window down, the air would slightly cool the water on my skin, but not by much and not for very long at all.

I finally make it to California. The sun is going down, and I’m almost freaking there. Excitement kind of sets in, but at this point I feel so ravaged that I can’t really be in a good mood about much. I get to Marc’s house at around 2130 where I am greeted by Ben and Jan. We have a couple of people over that night and drink some PBR. Marc is nowhere to be found, and he doesn’t show up all night. I take a shower and go to bed. I pass the eff out immediately. In the morning, I load up the truck. Marc shows up and helps briefly while Ben helps me carry stuff out. I wanted to see a few people while I was out there, but just didn’t have the time or the energy. At around 1630 that day, I head up to the Bay Area. The stupid tarp/canvas/whatever it was keeps coming off the bed and I have to keep pulling over to refasten it. That killed a lot of time. The plinking sound is still there, but by now I’m just kind of ignoring it. I get to Fremont, buy two six packs of Fat Tire, and head to my grandparents’ house. I stay up talking with my grandmother until around 0300 when I finally decide to sleep.

I wake up the next morning (noon) and hang out with them for a while. I work on her machine, and talk to my grandfather for a while. I finally leave there at around 1700. I’m going to take 50 back, so I drive up through Sacramento. Again, I wanted to see a couple people there, but don’t have the time or the energy. I soldier on into the desert while the sun goes down. The plinking sound remains, and now there’s another sound. “shhhhhhhh”.

This concludes part one of the story. Stay tuned for the second half…

I’ve waken up every morning at around nine for the last week or so waiting for the mail to come. I’ve been waiting for one thing. A group of four envelopes containing what serve as the catalyst for another major shift in my life’s direction. Well, on the morning of Friday the twenty-sixth, they came. Each of the four envelopes contained a check from the Employment Development Department. The total was far greater than my expectations.

After cashing one of the checks on Friday morning at a fifteen dollar loss, I was able to pay my phone bill, pay Marc some money I owed him, buy new glasses, buys socks & underwear, update my MobileMe account, and have just a little bit of fun. Saturday morning, I woke up with a whole new world of opportunities. I decided Friday that I would purchase nothing peripheral. I’m really making an effort to minimize my belongings for various reasons. In doing so, I’m becoming just a little more responsible with my money. There are all kinds of things I want, but I don’t really need any of them.

I called Amtrak and booked a one-way ticket to the Bay Area. I wanted to visit some friends and family there and in Sacramento County. I stayed two nights in the bay with family. I went to a BBQ with my aunt and uncle, and ended up seeing a few people I haven’t been in touch with in a very long time. That night after the BBQ, I went up to my cousin’s house where they were just finishing a meal with more family that I hadn’t seen in forever. After dinner, we just hung out and had a couple of beers. Funny story actually…

I think while I was at my cousin’s, I had maybe three beers. I wasn’t really even buzzing. We wake up in the morning, and have cereal and coffee on his front deck, overlooking the whole area. It was such a nice way to wake up. I wasn’t really saying much because I was just in this state of deep relaxation. My cousin offers to give me a ride down the hill to my grandparents, but I decline so that I can walk and take in the scenery just a bit longer. I arrive at the house, and I hear an ATV coming in after me. I turn around and see my cousin. He shuts it off and says, “Dude, I need to talk to you for a second.” I’m obviously confused, but yeah why not?

“How much did you drink last night?”
“Not too much, why? What’s up?”
“Did you piss on my coffee table?”
“Haha. What?!”
“Dude. I went inside and the coffee table is covered in piss. Like, everywhere.”
{I’m still totally blown away}
“Haha. Oh my god. No way, man. That’s insane. I had like three beers. I got up to go to the bathroom once during the night, and I still had to go when I woke up…”
“Are you sure you didn’t just let loose right there?”
“That is impossible. I was no where near that drunk, and regardless of how much I drink, I’ve never done anything like that in my life. Maybe it was the dog? Are you sure it was piss? It could have been some spilled tea or something. They were boiling some last night.”
“I don’t know man. It’s definitely piss.”
“Dude. Check it out. Find out what that is. I’m really glad you came down and asked me, though. That would have been terrible to be not invited back because I’m the guy who pissed in your living room.”
“Haha. Yeah man. You’re absolutely sure, though?”
“Yes. I am positive.”
“Alright, well have a safe trip and I’ll see you later.”
“Later, man.”

I got on BART shortly thereafter on my to Sacramento, and texted him asking him if he found out what it was so that I could clear my name. I’m not sure if he believed me. There’s nothing more embarrassing than people thinking you did something obscene without the pleasure of actually having done it.

So I take BART from Pleasanton to Richmond and get on Amtrak to Sacramento where I am picked up by an old friend of mine. That night we went to her friends house where I spent most of the time talking to her friend’s dad. I was in Space Command and he worked on missile propulsion for Aerojet, so we had a lot to talk about. We left there eventually and went to sleep.

Today, I woke up and went to my old photo studio in Citrus Heights to visit my old boss. Amazing woman. My ex actually works for her now as a photographer. She does really good work. I’m actually meeting up with her soon. Which brings me to where I am right now. Temple Coffee on 10th and J in downtown Sacramento. I’m nervous as hell, but really excited. Maybe someone can explain to me the following…

I decided not to talk to my ex a few months ago. It was just too hard for me to hear casual updates in her life without digging up old feelings. I was an asshole and messed that one up big, and I still haven’t lived it down completely. She said she understood and left it at that. Recently, I’ve been receiving text messages from her regarding meaningful things that happened while we were still together. The most recent one was “I just drove by your grandparents’ house. I miss them.” This was later followed by a repeat of that information with the addition of “‘Let Down’ was on the radio.” “Let Down” is a song by Radiohead that I used to sing a lot while we were in the car. Over time it became somewhat of a symbol of better times. I remember singing it one night in the car and she started to get teary eyed. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me that things just aren’t the same, and she misses those days. I felt terrible, but I was just a complete idiot about everything. Ugh, now I’m going off on a tangent.

She asked me the other day if I would let her give me a tattoo. She’s a tattoo artist now. My response was affirmative, of course. She asked what I would get, and I told her that I don’t know yet. The fact is that it really doesn’t matter what I get. The fact that she is the one permanently marking me is kind of a physical manifestation for so much.

Anyway, I’m really confused about all of this. People tell me that she still loves me, but she’d be the last to admit it. She’s afraid, I think. She has been scarred by the bad times that I created, and is so afraid of seeing it again. I understand, of course.

So we’re going to meet here at this coffee shop. I’m still waiting for her to arrive. I have no idea what we’ll talk about, but I do know one thing. I’ll have coffee, and she’ll have tea.

Thank you all who read this.

I would like to start a motorcycle group in the greater Los Angeles area. All types of bikes, ages and genders welcome. No racing stuff, just cruising, having fun and showing off our two wheel machines. If you or a friend would like to join do not hesitate to call or text me. Spread the word. I’ll come up with a meet time once enough people are interested.

Ben

213-793-6302
sotrenvertigo@gmail.com

Benjamin Lopez: can you paste that on all ur social media stuff?

I am sitting in the living room, drinking a Fat Tire (best beer in the world). My friend and the rest of his family left for his cousin’s birthday party across town. I wasn’t invited, so I just chilled at home. I mean, I was asleep when they started getting ready, but I woke up before they left. Usually, I would be woken up if only for a moment to drag my ass out of the house. If not, then when I woke up, I would be told to get dressed or something.

Fast Forward.

One of Marc’s friends just came over. Haven’t see him in a bit. We actually had a moment to talk or whatever. We went over some art online and shared our own creations. Kid’s got talent.

Rewind.

Why is it when I meet people I’m interested in, they end up being unattainable. My heart, bound by the restraints of time and space, is slowly losing its voice. Sooner than later, it will be nothing more than a faint echo heard in the distance of a windy, Northern California plain.

Fast Forward.

I’ve been working on a lot of music lately. Some of it’s good, some of it’s not. I finally released a track that’s been on hold for the last few months. It’s one of only very few that I actually sing over, so I wanted it to be right. You can experience all of the aural madness for yourself over at AuralEleven. The link is right over there somewhere.

Rewind.

I look off into the distance and listen. Carried on the wind are dark clouds and treacherous whispers. Mutiny. I feel as though everything currently hangs so delicately from the thinnest of filaments. It’s ready to snap. I have to move quick. I have to unload all of my presence and on my own terms, in my own time, cut the filament myself. Cut the ties and move on.

Fast Forward.

I’ve redesigned the landing page of my site with a very strong “less is more” motivation. Like my workspace, it is now clean and concise. There is no confusion. No clutter. I’m loving the new font, too. The design was originally inspired by the packaging of WWII K Rations. You might also notice that it is the same font used in Wes Anderson movies. While I knew this, that connection in this circumstance was completely coincidental. It’s just such a beautifully retro and neat typeface.

That is all for now. Good day to you all.

I haven’t made any super drastic changes, but as a part of the continuing effort to bring overall continuity to the LetterboxTen family, I have modified the theme. One benefit of this modification, though is the increase of media dimensions. I have added an additional 100 pixels to the width of the content area. Exciting, I know. Hope you enjoy the new design. Good day!

PS: I’m not going to bother resizing all the previous posts. That’s just ridiculous. Preposterous. I said good day

I just heard about the possibility of a Twilight Cookbook via The Office. Pam was talking to Kevin, who said he was cooking from it (Edward’s Cornflake Chicken). I didn’t want to believe it was real, but knowing Twilight people, well… it probably was. I looked it up quickly, and bam!

“Love at First Bite”

There wasn’t even any food in those effing movies! Let alone food that Edward would eat! Unless we’re talking about Kristen Stewart, then maybe Kevin is onto something…