Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Real Life Makes No Sense

I'm only awake because I'm forcing myself to be. I planned to go to bed at 9:30 p.m. Why? I'm a big boy. Wait, what? That doesn't even make sense. Literally the last time I went to bed at 9:30, I was being dragged away from the TV in footie pajamas screaming bloody murder.

So, when I was 18. HAH! Beat you to the punch. Really though, I can't remember the last time I went to bed before 11:00. And that's being generous - accounting for post-Finals week early pass-outs that may or may not have occurred.

But the real culprit is my new job. Which, for the record, I'm diggin' so far! But nine-hour days sandwiched between two hour-long commutes over the San Rafael bridge is tiring. Exhausting, even.

Tomorrow, I'm waking up at 5:30 a.m. to try and make it to the office by 7:30. I'm testing out all the rush hour scenarios in my first week, because God, Moses and Tim Tebow know I don't want to spend any more time away from my lovely bed than I absolutely have to.

Being grown up has its perks. When I get my first paycheck, I'm definitely gonna look like this guy (glasses, wrinkles and dentures included - I'm not getting off the "I'm old" bandwagon). And I might even be able to move to Marin County and live as luxuriously as a one-bedroom apartment provides. But the prospect of starting this new life is unbelievably exciting.

I'm looking forward to it, no matter how stretched my facial muscles get from yawning or how many times I nod off and drool on my keyboard.

Feel free to send me words of encouragement, beer baskets or cards with funny cats. Just not between the hours of 9:00 p.m. and 6:00 a.m. Because, well...chances are I'll be passed the freak out.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Now What? Real Life?

This is me, the 49ers and the rest of the team's fans. The season is over and it hurts. Not as much today as last night. But my butt's still a little sore (okay, come on...clearly, that's a reference to being "butt hurt," not whatever your dirty mind jumped to!).

The bigger issue at hand now that I've made peace with the loss is what the hell I'm going to do with no football. I'm a self-admitted American Idol fan, so luckily that's starting up. But after a slew of terrible auditions and twenty six glamour shots of J. Lo's (still beautiful) face, there's really nothing left to talk about.

In reality, I could watch the NBA, NHL or college basketball. There's only one small problem: I'm a Sharks and Warriors fan like Hilary Duff is a "singer." It's convenient and all my friends are doing it, so why not?

And my college team, my alma mater Washington State...they kinda suck this year. And they are never on TV. That narrows down my leisure activities to drinking beer, watching movies and following the GOP campaigns for pure comedy.

As the Surgeon General has warned us, drinking too much beer is bad. It's hard to watch movies when Dad is asleep watching Hawaii Five-O on the only good TV, and one can only take so much borderline white supremacy before going bonkers.

So, I guess...sigh. It's time to grow up. DAMN IT. I've been avoiding this day for months now. But tomorrow I have an interview for another three month position at a much higher-paying, more grown-up job.

It must be the first step. I can use the money, I can use the steady schedule, and I could definitely use the resume boost! Plus, the company and the position both look pretty cool.

So I'll rock the interview, see where it gets me. And if I pull a Kyle Williams and blow it, you sleep it off, get up the next day, and look for the next shot.

But let's be real. We all know I'd rather be watching a Jim Carrey movie on the couch. Wouldn't you?

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Darn It...I'm Never Gonna Get to Rent a Car!

If the world really does end this year, there are so many things to consider. I'll never get to rent a car; or even worse, a houseboat. I've only scratched the surface of my bucket list. All of Brangelina's adoptions were pointless. Harold Camping is off the hook. And it's going to be so terribly hot when we are all sucked into the sun.

You may think there's no silver lining to an apocalyptic story line like this. I, however, beg to differ.

I'm going to use this for good. And I don't mean frantically knocking out everything I've ever wanted to do, blowing my money on drinks and strippers in Vegas (okay, that's my backup plan...you caught me), or trying to sweet talk every celebrity crush I've ever had into the sack.

What I'm talking about is taking the slim, doubtful, but entirely possible-until-proven-wrong theory that December 21st, 2012 is the Earth's last day and using it as pure motivation. Has there ever been a better reason to really focus and accomplish a personal goal you've always striven for but hit the "snooze" button on multiple times than the daunting idea of the freakin' WORLD ending??

Didn't think so. I don't know about you, but I'm going to cleverly attach a "this is my New Year's Resolution" farce to my dealings and kick some novel-writing ass. I will write my first (and if the Mayans are correct, my last) novel in 2012.

I will stop making excuses like "writer's block" (Which isn't real by the way...that's like an artist saying he or she ran out of paint. Go to Lowe's and get some more damn paint. Similarly, writers, go to the coffee shop and put on some inspiring music, or drink a bottle of wine in front of the fireplace and just type. You know we love stuff like that. Wow that is a long, distracting interjection. I digress).

And most importantly, I will finally finish the product of what I know I'm meant to do with my life and leave that legacy for anyone who might survive the implosion of our planet.

Maybe my book will survive the apocalypse and be taught to the surviving school children on the space station orbiting Neptune. Maybe it will be remembered as the last great novel to be written before the Gods smite all of humanity. Maybe I should hop to and finish before December 21st. You know, just in case.

Maybe I should stop writing this blog since I really only started so I wouldn't have to continue writing the aforementioned novel...

Damn I hope those Mayans are wrong.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Resolution Shmesolution...I'm Already Behind

Once a week, I told myself. One blog per week. 52 blogs over the course of a year isn't such a tall task. Yet here I am, week three of The Last Year Ever, writing my first blog of 2012 and my first since last October. Pathetic!

Honestly, I don't have much to say. I didn't watch the GOP debate, which was apparently the most disturbing thing since war and famine. The college basketball games were boring, and the moment has passed from the 49ers' big win last weekend. So I'm left with...itchy fingertips and an empty slate.

I could complain. But I won't. Because who cares that I still don't have a real job? Nobody wants to hear about these stupid companies not accepting my stupid resume and not giving me a stupid 40k/year job. I even got rejected from an unpaid internship! But we're not complaining.

Instead, we're going to briefly discuss the perks of living at home. Obviously, there's free rent, free food and pure comfort (for now, anyway...Mom's getting restless!). The weather here is great. This "winter" we are having is ridiculous. I was walking around in a T-shirt, shorts and sandals the other day.

The real beauty of living at home is the beauty itself. Look, I spent 66 wonderful days in the Mediterranean this summer. I saw Gaudi's incredible architecture, the picteresque hillsides of Italy and rooftops of Croatia and beaches of Greece. But there's something about Walnut Creek, CA that I just can't let go of.

Don't get me wrong, I can live somewhere else. In fact, I hope to live in a different region...maybe in another country...for a certain amount of time in my future. I want to experience that. Yet, San Francisco and all it's little suburb cretins will always be the greatest place in the world.

If you haven't seen a sun set from Grizzly Peak, off of Fish Ranch Road, you haven't seen the most dazzling, colorful display of nature in the world. The perfect meeting of concrete and ocean.

If you've never hiked Mt. Diablo, you've never seen some of the most luscious 30 mile stretches of Earth in any direction you choose. If you've never been into the city itself, you are missing a Mecca of culture, music, food and art, wrapped in a somewhat foggy, warm foil.

And if you've never trekked back to Walnut Creek, CA after a long semester in the icy bliss of Pullman, WA or a week of reunion frenzy in the gasping altitude of Breckenridge, CO, or a Spring Break trip to the unforgettable diversity of New Orleans, LA...well then, you've never turned the corner at Hawthorne Drive, passed fire station number four and breathed in the sweetness of the warm air as it rolls over your outstretched arm as you rumble back to number 972.

I may - no, I will - move on one day. But you can bet your life that when I'm in a grown-up groove one day, I'll be squatting right back here in the Bay Area, where the biggest daily problem seems to be whether to walk the dogs to the neighborhood park or up in the hills.

It's a rough life in Walnut Creek, CA. You won't hear me complaining about living at home with Mom and Dad after college.