Thursday, July 28, 2005

What color is my frustration

After reading Prez's blog ( ) on what the color of fear may be, I started thinking about how I am feeling this very moment, and what color that should be.

You see, I am frustrated right now. Lost, really. This happens to me once-in-awhile...I start missing the meaning of life and why I go on every day. Not to sound overly dramatic, but I assume everyone, or almost everyone, wakes up some mornings and just thinks "Why?"

Why do I feel so lost today? Why do I feel a lack of meaning? A lack of purpose? Why am I usually so motivated and so excited to wake feeling so pointless today?

But it wasn't until I thought "What color do I feel right now?" could I even sense the true pulse of my BLAH feelings for the day. So although I can say I don't know the color of my mood, I can say that by trying to discover that color, I realized what my mood truly was.

Colorful it may not be.

Sunday, July 24, 2005 Marketing Event #1

this is an audio post - click to play

Dream Interpretation

Two nights ago I had a very odd dream... and I would like a REAL dream interpretation. Meaning: Don't respond with "It means you're gay" or the like. =)

The dream started with me inside this huge multipurpose room. I am surrounded by Mexicans (and I don't mean any other nationality...they happened to all be from Mexico). There is a metallic box in the middle of the room, and my job is to follow a different Mexican over the box repeating what he has just said in Spanish. Each time we do this, two odd things happen: (1) What is said each time is harder and harder for me to understand, although, for some reason, I have to pretend like I COMPLETELY get it and (2) my three-year-old nephew pops out from hiding in various places in the room and yells out "Blah blah blah blah-blah-blah, Uncle Mark." I either don't remember now what he was saying or maybe I didn't understand then, but I stopped and smiled/laughed every time he did this.

Next, I am in my condo in San Diego, and my girlfriend leaves my room to go get the front door. On her way there, I start having this feeling that I am having a re-occurring dream, although, in reality, I am not. Basically, I get the feeling that what is about to happen has all happened before, and I have no control of changing certain outcomes. By the time I get to the front door, a man with a mustache has already punched my girlfriend in the stomach, and my roommate's stomach, too. They are nowhere to be seen, I just know he has done this. Also, I know that if I don't stop him, the next thing that will happen is that he is going to smash my girlfriend's and my roommate's noses....and eventually, he is going to kill them.

Next, this man is just a bloody mass on my kitchen floor. The only discernible body part is his head, which is attached to a neck-like object which has been completely flattened to the floor. He has no real appendages, and where his body should be is also a flattened, bloody-like mass. I know I have done this to him, but I didn't see myself doing it to him in the dream.

Although this man cannot move, and is basically just a head, he is still telling me that he is going to kill my roommate and my girlfriend, and I know if I don't do something, he will somehow. I let him know that I can't let him do that...but he keeps arguing with me. So, I take out a pizza cutter, and say, "Well, this is the last thing you are going to remember, then." And I sever this talking head from what remained of this mass of mush. He lets out one last gasp, and I feel like I have changed the future somehow.

There was no real emotion in this dream...I didn't wake up feeling like anything odd had happened or frightened or upset. I have never killed anyone in a dream before.

Any thoughts?

Friday, July 15, 2005

San Diego In a Nutshell

I just recently moved to San Diego from the Bay Area, and I believe I saw the essence of this city a few weeks ago. I was at a Padre's game and I had had about a beer or ten. My friend and I decided that our seats were not good enough, so we moved to a much nicer and more open area.

Of course the thing to do at this point would be to keep a low profile. Maybe not say a word for an inning or two and try to blend in with the masses. Well, the second my butt hits the seat I start yelling "MVP...MVP...MVP" for Derrek Lee who is at the plate for the Cubs. I shit you not, within moments, all the Cubs fans in the entire stadium (and there were a lot of them) also start chanting "MVP...MVP...MVP"

We were only in those seats about two minutes.

Anyway, after we were pleasantly asked to return to our "other" seats, we decided to hang out with all the drunk peeps over in the bleacher section. They have this metallic, mini-slab of a table set up there so all the drunks can rest their beers and/or walk directly into it and almost kill themselves (not that I did that...oh no...) in that part of the stadium, so we hung out there.
While standing in this beer tank...I got to watch all the young, drunk, die hard Padre fans taunt and mock every single Cubs fan that walked by. I was fascinated. Completely. Utterly. No matter the size of the man in the Cubs attire: "Take that F'in shirt off" was not too far behind. "Go back to Chicago, you dick" they would scream.

But wouldn't you know it. After ten, twenty minutes of heckle after heckle...screaming at 6'10" behemoths...body name it...ONE tiny black male walks by in a Cubs uniform...and every single one of those drunk, frat-like Padre fans shut the hell up.

THAT is San Diego in a nutshell.

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Control Is The Meat Of The Burrito

So, I am setting up a Blog. I finally give in. Here it goes:

Seeing as this is my first Blog, I thought I would talk about something important. Something juicy. Something people could stick their teeth into...and that, my friends, is to weigh in on the Fat Burger vs. In & Out Burger debate (notice all those puns in the previous sentence? I am so clever). I had no idea this was such a controversial topic, but as I flip through the meat of this heated discussion, I will chuck my opinion into the open flame, rare as that may be. OK...I'll stop with that crap.

Anyway, there is no real contest: In & Out is by far the superior burger. The fries at Fat Burger are MUCH better than In & Out, though.


Although I should post the following on, since this is my first evening of blogging, I thought I would do a favor and relay some culinary expertise right here. I just went to a burrito shop across the street from my house named Reybertos (not to be confused with Robertos, Albertos, or any other bertos in San Diego).

On Reybertos' breakfast menu, they have something called, oddly enough, "The Breakfast Burrito" that I went to Reybertos specifically to order. This burrito consists of three items: egg, salsa, and cheese. I felt like having eggs...and eggs I would have.

Mark: I would like the Breakfast Burrito, please. *beaming with pride*

Counter "Guy": We no more serving these.

Mark: I see.

Foiled by the Counter "Guy," I turned my attention to the Reybertos' lunch menu. I was still very much yearning for eggs, when my eye fell upon something: Could it be? "The Machaca Burrito" consisting of four items: meat, egg, salsa, and cheese. I'm sure you can see where this is going.

Mark: I would like the Machaca Burrito, please. *eyebrow raising*

Counter "Guy": Para here or mumble mumble.

Is there a point in life when someone should just take a step back and honestly look at themselves and say: "Self, you are a complete moron."

Today may very well have been that day for the Reybertos' Counter "Guy."

On the other hand, perhaps the last laugh was on me. I did succumb to his wishes. I did give in and indeed did order the Machaca Burrito.

Who's the moron? This guy, right here. With the stomach full of Machaca Burrito.