It’s been another crazy couple of weeks here in LA. I bought a new camera so I’ve been taking pictures of everything, everywhere I go. I’ve been trying to think of a way to make my writing hobby more full-time, but at the same time I have been really busy at work. I envy the pure artist, those who get to hang out and just create all the time. I’d love for my worst problem at work to be a writer’s block. Then again, by the time you can make a living off of any art form, it seems you have to sell it out to the point that it is compromised. This is why I’ve finally decided to write for myself and get this little journal/blog going. I’ve been surprised at how personal a lot of things that I want to write about are, but I know better than get air out any of that kind of stuff.
It’s crazy how you learn that kind of lesson, went to stop talking or asking questions. You get burned by being too inquisitive, or opening your mouth when it wasn’t necessary. Sometimes you react to things the way that is expected of you, and is natural, but is clearly wrong. Sometimes your feelings get the better of you and you can make a serious mistake without even realizing it. Some of the more serious ones, you can’t take back.
I wrote a couple of weeks ago about going into interviews, as the interviewer being a new experience for me. Now that it’s over, I have to say it was pretty exhausting. I hadn’t anticipated having to talk to and choose between people I work with on a daily basis, and while I wouldn’t say I wasn’t ready for it, I was surprised by it. That in itself, was surprising.
It’s hard to explain, but outside of work and in my personal endeavors I have always pushed myself to, and beyond, my own limits. I have always tested myself, I made myself stretch boundaries by learning new things and forcing the mental gymnastics that spurs my creativity in the withers. Now I find myself going through the same thing in my professional life, and I love it. Music is changing and the whole industry is upside down, but it’s not as bad as everybody thinks, and I’m in a position where I get to be one of the tines of the pitchfork, so to speak. I finally feel a personal responsibility for my work, and the results of my work. I thought I always did, but now my work so directly affects so many people, that I see a lot more value in my day to day to-do.
I’m headed off to Puerto Rico in a few weeks, and I’m really excited about that. I’m going with the good Dr. Jones, and I expect us to get into some trouble and quite a few adventures. I’m not too sure how dead on my vision of it is, but I picture white sandy beaches, and blue waters. For the most part that’s what I want to see. I want to have a fruity drink on the beach with some Rum in it, and perhaps something salty to munch on while the waves lap at my feet, in the warm sunshine of this tropical island paradise.
Well, tropical island anyway.I’m not really too sure why I’m going to Puerto Rico, but Dr. Jones definitely had a hand in talking me into it. I have vacation time I need to use, an itch to travel, and a couple hundred bucks in the budget to get around. Mexico has been off-limits into me, the Mexican, and it’s a damned shame because I used love taking trips down there with the bad Dr.
Now I’m reduced to visiting an island that is related to my people in a way more roundabout way, but definitely close and compatible enough for a Relaxing vacation. Especially with them speaking Spanish, and me wanting to practice it. Not much practice for it out here in Woodland Hills.
In my own bicycling news, last night my cousin Cesar and I rode 26 miles for no apparent reason. We picked the furthest destination that we thought we could ride to, and that turned out to be my sisters house in Sierra Madre, about 13 miles away. I hadn’t ridden in a few weeks, and I’ve been feeling guilty with my bike just sitting there collecting dust. When my cousin invited me out yesterday I couldn’t resist, and I had the idea of going to my sisters house in the back of my mind for quite a while. He didn’t think he would make it, but I was sure it would be pretty easy. I knew from my own experience that I would have no problem with the 13 miles to my sisters house.
I wasn’t so sure about the trip back, and my cousin definitely wanted to give up about three quarters of the way back home. I encouraged him and let him know that if he stopped his legs would cramp up, and then he would be useless. I did not want to be picked up for a ride by anybody, and I didn’t want to leave him there to wait for somebody to pick him up. So I talked him into continuing, and we came up over the big lump at Broadway by Lincoln high school here in L.A.
We flew down the hill hitting 41 miles an hour, which is a new record for me. The whole ride round trip took us about three hours, including a visit with my sister, all the way out in Sierra Madre.
When I went to sleep the night, my inner thighs cramped worse than I’ve ever experienced. I was screaming out in pain, and had to literally Google what to do right there on the bed while I tried to move my legs as little as possible in order to avoid exacerbating the crap. Everybody said massage or rolling pin so I grabbed a tube of foot powder and rolled the crap out of my legs.
I’m still little sore, but I intend to get back on the bicycle, and beat my record of 400 miles from last year, in 2013. I handled 26 miles handily, and I’m rather proud of that. . . . . .
It’s now 1230 in the morning.
Just realized I’m jut typing away, rambling like mad, but I feel like I don’t have much to say today. I’m just kind of laying here in the middle of the night because I can’t sleep, and there is quite a bit of drama in the lives of people close to me. I have managed so far to keep my nose clean. Stuff at work, and just a general sense of a whole lot of energy that I need to use up is keeping me wide awake.
Daylight Savings time is messing with my sleep cycle and I need to get catch some Z’s. It’s been nice, pounding away here on the old keyboard, but I’m afraid I must crash now. Good night cruel world!