The Rager, the Menace.

I haven't updated this blog in so long. Thanksgiving was my last post? Really? I've been slacking, for real. Let's see...where to start? A few things have happened between Thanksgiving and now, most notably the Trooper deciding to take a dump on my chest...again. Totally my fault too. Apparently cars need oil to run? Who knew? Luckily, mom and pops were clutch with the save, lending me one of their cars until I got mine fixed. So for the past couple of months I've been getting around in my dad's 95' Chevy Astro Van. She may not be the prettiest thing on the road, but damn it, Bertha's (totally named it Bertha) getting me from A to B right now and that's good enough for me. I'm super thankful that my parent's were nice enough to lend me some wheels to get around with, you know? I could be taking the bus everyday, so I guess there's always some sort of positivity in the shittiest of situations. I'd been saving some money to get the Trooper fixed, but I figured it'd be better in the long run to just use the money I could save up towards a down payment on a newer vehicle. I've been saving since the Trooper broke down two months ago, so next week my parents and I are heading out to Henderson and gettin' this guy a car! That's definitely a whole bunch of stress lifted off of my shoulders. Ever since my car broke down, I'd been stressing out about what my next move needed to be. The fact that I'm going next week to purchase a car is the first bit of good news I've received in a while. Love Bertha, but I'm not pullin' any numbers in a faded blue rapist-van, ya dig? Other than my car situation, things have more or less been the same. I quit my job at Outback in January. The employees and management there were super chill, but unfortunately the twenty mile round trip drive to and from work was costing more than what I was making, so I found myself another job and quit the O.B! I've been doing very well financially since I switched jobs, so no regrets there. I did have to part ways with some people, though. It wasn't an easy thing for me to do, but I feel that things are better off that way. I'd been feeling kinda bummed out about it for a while, and maybe second guessing my decision until I made a trip to Cedar City a couple weeks back to visit one of my best friends. While there, I was able to really get into my head. I mean REALLY get deep down in there, man. I made realizations about so many aspects of my life and how I could tweak minor things here and there to better myself and my life as a whole. I also realized that the closest of friends can become nothing more than someone you brush shoulders with on a busy sidewalk. One of my many epiphanies was that I cut ties with the people that I did because that's what's best for me. My zealously blind selflessness gets misconstrued to the point where I get taken advantage of, and you know what, maybe that's on me. Maybe not. Regardless, I'm tired of feeling used, and I'm sure as hell tired of feeling second best, so I've taken the necessary steps to ensure I don't feel that way anymore. See? Minor tweak to improve my quality of life! Now, if only I could figure out my love life...

Obligatory Thanksgiving Blog Post

When I was younger, I never really liked Thanksgiving. The older I get though, the more I appreciate the holiday for what it's actually supposed to be. It's more than just cramming poultry and stuffing into your skull. It's about giving thanks, go figure. Acknowledging and appreciating the people in your life. Counting your blessings, whatever or however big or small they may be. The beauty of Thanksgiving is that you don't need to present a flashy gift to your loved ones. Being around the people that matter most to you, and who you matter to, that's what it's all about. It's about taking ONE day out of the year to slow the fuck down. I listen to people speak about their lives with such disdain. As if their petty, materialistic problems were at all as world shattering as they play them out to be. Be thankful for what you have. Hell, the fact that you're even reading this right now means you have some sort of internet access. That in itself shows you have it better than at least 70% of the world. I'm going to keep this post nice and simple: I'm thankful for my family. My mom and dad who've worked so hard for what they have and for what they've given me. I have parents who actually care about my sister and I, and I know there are people out there who can't say the same about their parents. I have a sister who may be the polar opposite of me, but who continues to show me that hard work and determination pays off. My friends, most of which I have met through my travels. My surrogate family. I am thankful to have been able to meet and create incredible memories with some of the most amazing people. Genuinely good people. Life has taken us down different paths for the time being, but I still carry each and every one of them in my heart. They have been there for me when my family couldn't. They've helped me learn a great deal about myself. For that, I'll be eternally grateful. So here's to you, blog reader. The food may be amazing, but remember to thank the person who spent all day busting their ass to make it. Take a second to step outside and take a deep breath. Detach yourself from the distractions that may be clouding your mind. Spend as much time with the people who matter most to you. You'll regret not doing it when you aren't able to anymore.

The winds of change.

Deja vu. I feel like I've been here before. Packing for a move, and becoming increasingly bored enough to want to stop and do something; anything else. So here I am, updating my blog on my porch. This porch that has served as a surrogate shrink. With it's musty, earthy smell. Rotting boards. Chipping paint. If this porch could speak, it would speak of heartaches and secrets shared. Of happiness. Of unbearable sadness. Of epiphanies, and of denials. This dirty, decrepit porch has become more for me than I ever would have imagined. I feel that it's fitting I do my final blog update in Utah on this porch. Out of respect. Out of gratitude. I've come here to get my mind off of the task at hand; if only for a little while. The day is absolutely gorgeous. A solid 65 degrees without a cloud in the sky. It makes the mountains next to this house that much more breathtaking. A myriad of the most vivid reds, yellows, and oranges against a backdrop of sky blue. Crazy to think that not even two weeks ago, this whole mountain side was a cornucopia of greens and browns. The winds autumn have arrived, and with them, the winds of change. If it's one thing I'll miss along with this porch, it'll be this view. The smells of wet trees after a downpour. The smell of burning firewood and autumn air. It's starting to finally sink in...that like these leaves, I too will change. In a week, I'll be leaving this place that I've grown to love, and despise. I will be turning from green to red. This move feels different than all of the rest, however. I'm in a zen-like state. I don't feel anything. I don't feel a great deal of joy, even though I think I should. I don't feel sad. To be honest, the only thing I really feel right now is annoyance. Aggravated that I have to pack up all my shit. I don't regret moving to Utah at all. I've learned a lot about myself. A lot about what kind of person I am. You think you have it all figured out, you know? You think you're a smug, clever guy and you have the world and everyone in it figured out. Then you meet that ONE person, man. That one person who takes every ill-conceived notion you've made about everything and they shatter them. They show you things about you you'd long forgotten, or didn't even know. And they don't even do it knowingly. It just happens one day when they smile at you and you look into their eyes. Or you find yourself divulging things long kept hidden, because that person has restored your faith and trust in people. This type of person only comes around once every few years, but when they do, the impact they make on you lasts until the day you die. I met that person in Utah. What the future holds for us is shrouded in uncertainty. People come and go from you life as seamlessly as these leaves transition with the seasons. What I do know, is with this knowledge acquired, I'm changing for the better. Utah, thank you so much for everything you've shown and taught me, but I feel as if I've over stayed my welcome.

Moving, for the sake of motion.

As if by some cosmological twist of what some people refer to as "fate", it would appear that all signs point me back to Las Vegas. Ok, let me rephrase that. Everything is pointing me to move back to Vegas...sooner than I had originally planned. Typical Fabian. I have a knack for making the most eloquent and sophisticated of plans, and life has this knack for not giving a fuck and flipping the script on me. Almost as if I'm a child; building grandiose sand sculptures...only to have someone come kick it all down and tell me I should probably be looking for buried treasure instead. My original plan was to stay firmly planted in the state of Utah until late spring, giving myself enough time to amass a large amount of currency to be able to financially support myself if I were to have found myself jobless. Certain things have transpired recently, however, which are forcing me to abandon aforementioned plan and come up with Plan B: "Move back to Vegas at the end of the month." Part of me is super stoked to be moving back. Back to a place where the majority of things make sense to me. Where people are more diverse; and with said diversity, tend to be a tad bit more open-minded and to put it bluntly, more interesting. Utah people are about as exciting as American cheese and bologna on Wonder bread with mayo. I'm more of an "oven-roasted turkey breast and havarti/gouda cheese on freshly baked honey wheat bread, with a chipotle aoli" kind of guy, if you catch my drift. (The fact that I just turned my analogy of people into sandwiches is enough to attest to that) I'm moving back to a place where things don't close at 10pm. Where there is always some sort of late night adventure, just waiting to be explored. I'll also be about an hour away from my parents, which I know my mom is thrilled about. All these things aside, I'm also nervous. The move feels premature. I had chiseled it into my cranium that I would move at the end of the spring, so now I'm subconsciously worrying about my monetary situation. So what's making me change my plan, you may be wondering? My roommate Alex got the green light to transfer to the Las Vegas branch of the restaurant he works for, and he's been reluctantly staying in Utah for the past 2 years, so you could imagine his joy at the news of being able to transfer ASAP. With that said, he sure as shit wasn't moving by himself, and he's not really the kind of dude to just move in with a random roommate, so naturally I was hounded by him to move as well. I thought about it for a couple of days. Arduously. Nothing is really holding me to this state, so it really wouldn't make sense for me to stay any longer than I need to. I got the okay to transfer to an Outback out there as well, but I still can't shake this feeling of anxiety. I don't want to move and after all of my apartment fees are settled, be left with little to nothing. I've been a fuck up my entire life. Arguably by choice. Sure, I've gotten into some awesome shenanigans and met a grip of wonderful people, but I'm tired of doing things the wrong way. I'm 23 years old and I need to grow up and be a grown up. This move will make me or break me. My resolve's been tested more times than I can care to count, but I feel this trial is big. My life's on the line here, in a way. I've noticed I have this trend of saying that the universe will tend to unfold itself as it should. I solemnly believe that. However, I'm done just leaving it up to "fate" to decide my...well...fate. A man makes his own luck, and I'll be damned if I let my second shot at Vegas fail. Vegas, I hope you're ready for round two. I'm coming for your throat.

Stare like you'll stay.

You did. Our gazes locked for what seemed to be an eternity contained within a millisecond. Every fiber of my being wanted to implore you to stay. Every shred of common sense urged me to keep my mouth closed and let you go. So I did. You stared at me like you'd stay. Like I'd be seeing you the next day. You kissed me and you walked deftly into the night. It's been a month, and not a day's gone by that I haven't missed you. Your laugh. The way your hair smelled. Everything. Some days have been easier than others. Some days I'm bitter. Others, I'm completely and utterly oblivious to the fact you're no longer here. Almost like I'm blissfully ignorant, yeah? This isn't who I am, you know. From confident to self doubt. I don't like looking at my phone every two minutes to check if you've texted me. I'm not normally like that. I mean, I'm not that way with anyone else. Why you? What makes you so different? There are days when we don't even talk, but you'll cross my mind when I see something that reminds me of you, and I'll just quietly hope you're having a good day. Hope you're finding the things you left to go search for. Happiness? A renewed sense of self? I won't truly ever know the exact reasons for your departure, but whatever they may be, I often find myself wishing you the best of luck in fulfilling them. Surrounded by the people whom you've known longer than I can dream you'll know me. It's intimidating, in a way. Almost as if I'll never be up in that echelon, despite the fact that I'd move mountains to make sure you had a smile on your face. And that's slowly sinking in as well, but every day that passes makes it a little clearer and a little easier to grasp. I sift through text messages and look back at things that I've said or ways that I've acted and I realize what a little bitch I'd been. "I really said that?" "Wow, I was totally being a dick." Vain attempts to maybe lessen the blow by making you mad at me. If I couldn't find the way to stop talking to you, I'd just MAKE you stop talking to me. Childish? Yeah, kind of. I know that leaving wasn't easy for you. I know you miss this place. But this is the most important thing you'll do. Detail every ounce of pain that you went through, chronicle it. You're gonna have to change everything you've made. You're gonna have to reword every metaphor you'd use, so that people who are hearing aren't confused. I would have left as well, if in your shoes. I would find a different way to go. There's no signs in life to guide you on that road. And if it's the most important thing you'll say, make sure they understand. Just don't forget about me. No matter where you go, make sure you leave something down to show the way back, wherever that may be. I'll be there waiting.

In regards to myself.

Wow. It's been a quick minute since I've had the time or the yearning to update my blog. Let's just say...life has been "interesting" the past month and a half. A lot of what's transpired, I unfortunately can't and won't post in a public forum...too many people close to the situation would be a stone's throw away from reaching this blog, and thus my perspective enclosed within. What I will post, however, is how during these trials and tribulations my resolve was tested. Rigorously. To the point that I felt that I couldn't continue. And while I'm not 100% aboard the "God" train, I do wholeheartedly believe in the simplicity of the Karmic rule of "everything happening for a reason". That being said, a lot of what was happening around me were things that were, to put it simply, just out of my control. I didn't like the person all of this was changing me into. I was growing increasingly bitter. Resentful. Anxious. Depressed. Which, if memory serves, are things that I'm the complete opposite of. I've always been praised for my optimism, yet there was none to be found. I write this all in past tense for obvious reasons, by the way. I sat on my back porch about a week ago, which has become a sort of quasi-psychologist, and I tried to muddle through everything that was taking place. I was listening to music. I was trying to get lost in my thoughts, to maybe better understand how to step up to the plate and handle everything being thrown my way. I had an epiphany. It's like that saying goes: Life is like a table. On that table are countless glasses of water, and your job is to try and keep them all full, so everyone's happy. Therein lies the dilemma, however. At the same time, you need to keep your pitcher full of water, so you can fill everyone else up. In layman's terms? You can't make anyone else happy until you, yourself are happy. I tried convincing myself I was happy for a while. More so, I was trying to convince myself to BE happy. I just couldn't do it. I'm losing another friend in about a week, which is the second friend I've had to part ways with in four months. It's a difficult thing to try and come to terms with. Especially when you look back at everything you've been through with that person. It started with Apples to Apples. Mass consumption of Otter Pops. Late night smoke outs. Cinematic adventures. Poker games. Shameless. I was the kindred spirit, evolving slowly over time into a bit more. Mass consumption of Otter Pops turns into shoveling copious amounts of ice cream down our throats. Late night smoke outs still present. Jovial talks now talks about the future. Goals. Dreams. Aspirations. Fears. The more time you spend with someone, the more of their inner core is exposed. I've seen this person in a new light. I've seen this person break and I was there to try and pick the pieces up...when no one else would or cared enough to. I've seen this person struggle with everything that life was throwing their way. Heartache. Anxiety. Insurmountable amount of pressure. It's crazy...how much of a person's life can be dictated by a stupid game of Apples to Apples, you know? Fast forward. A year has come and gone in the blink of an eye. I'm sitting on that therapy porch, music blaring from my headphones, trying to find an answer. As much as it may pain me to see this person leave, under the circumstances, it's the only option. It's the best option. I would rather see someone I care about leave and swim to shallower waters, than stay just for the sake of staying...and drown. It took a lot of thinking to get to this state of mind that I'm in. I'm still sad, obviously. I've spent nearly every day for the past 3 months with this person. Which, amidst all of the turmoil, emotional roller coasters, and drama...I would do all over again. I'm still sad, yes, but I'm more excited than anything. I'm excited for this person to finally find some peace of mind and some fucking happiness, because no one on Earth deserves it more. I'm excited for this person to succeed and be all I know they can be. And you know what, I'm excited for me too. As soon as this person leaves, I have nothing of value invested in this God-awful state. Clean slate. It's time to get back on my paper chase. Back on my grind. I've renewed my sense of motivation and of optimism. I'm going to miss this person dearly, but I keep myself positive with the reaffirming thought that the universe will bring us together again someday. Someday. And until then, I'm going to start working on me to be all that I can be. Heh, I guess everything DOES happen for a reason.

-Fabian

Life?

Yes. Life. This is your life. Do what you love, and do it often. If you don't like something, change it. If you don't like your job, quit. If you don't have enough time, stop watching TV. If you are looking for the love of your life, stop; they will be waiting for you when you start doing things you love. Stop over analyzing, life is simple. All emotions are beautiful. ALL of them. When you eat, appreciate every last bite. Open your mind, arms, and heart to new things and people. We are united in our differences. Ask the next person you see what their passion is and share your inspiring dream with them. Travel often; getting lost will help you find yourself. Some opportunities only come once, seize them. Life is about the people you meet and the things you create with them, so go out and start creating. LIFE IS SHORT. Live your dream and share your passion. One love.

-Fabian

Another year older...

...another year wiser. My birthday was yesterday. Yesterday, June 13th, marks the 23rd year since I was born. It's kind of weird to think about, you know? Like, if you sit there and REALLY think about it, I've been alive for almost a quarter-century! A lot has happened in the twenty three years I've been alive. I've been through a lot of shit, seen a lot of things, and met a lot of people. Each and every good experience and misadventure has shaped and molded me into who I am today. My character, my views, philosophies, etc. I've never been one for birthdays, or at least, one to make a big deal about them. I feel as though its just another day. Yesterday was no different. I did my normal routine of early day work out to start, and about midday me and the crew went to Chipotle to eat. Came home, did some laundry, kicked it with Bryce, and later in the evening went and had dinner at Rooster's. Nothing too over the top or fancy. I didn't recieve any gifts, or better yet, any tangible gifts. I was able to talk to most of the people who matter the most in my life, and that's good enough for me. I was super happy with how many people sent me their love and birthday wishes my way. After dinner, I arrived home and made sure to thank everyone who wished me a happy birthday, and afterwards I decided to take a step outside and look up at the stars, to get lost in my thoughts. What impact have I made on the people closest to me in my twenty-three years of life? Like I've said, I've been to a lot of places and met countless people, very few of which I actually consider friends. How have I impacted their lives? How have they impacted mine? That's really what it's all about, right? Just like in that movie "Into the Wild". The protagonist goes on this trek to find himself and to find happiness...alone, only to realize that true happiness is only achieved when shared with others. If I were to die tomorrow, I really wouldn't have much to show for the life I've lived. I don't have a college degree, I don't have children to carry on my name or legacy...yet I feel as if I died tomorrow I'd be okay with how I lived my life. If I were given the option to redo my life differently, I wouldn't change a thing. I can say that without a shadow of a doubt. I think this way of thinking only comes from the maturity gained through life experiences and how they're handled. I can tell you for damn sure that eighteen-year-old Fabian and twenty-three-year-old Fabian are two totally different people. Sure, in essence I think I'll always be the goofy kid who likes to crack jokes, make people laugh, and all that good shit. That's in my personality. I definitely know that my views on people and the world in general are way different now than they were back when I was younger. Who knows how I'll view things in another three or four years, you know? As for right now, I'm riding this newly discovered wave of drive and determination. I may not have a degree or anything, which is cool, but I'm damn sure not waiting tables for the rest of my life. I'm hellbent on bettering my life and myself as a person. The rest should just fall into place after that, or at least I hope. So happy birthday Fabian. Here's to another good year full of success and happiness. Go me!

And the burning of bridges begins.

Life's been more than extraordinary for me lately. I'm finally out of the funk I was in a couple of months ago, which seemed almost never ending. My new-found productivity has just been spilling over into every facet of my life. I've been waking up extremely early every morning to work out with recently acquired friends. This in turn has made me realize how productive I can be, and has rejuvenated me. I feel phenomenal. I'm finally getting things done with time to spare, instead of my normal route of procrastination. I went for a hike yesterday. Adam's Canyon. It's a local trail that everyone seems to know about. The Fabian of two or three months ago would have sat in his room, blazing away and watching t.v or playing video games. Not anymore! I feel so good about myself now and my life as a whole. The old me is starting to be on the forefront. The Fabian who was ambitious and full of energy and life. We hiked up this fucking mountain for hours. It was difficult at times. I wanted to stop and rest, but I needed to prove to myself I could do it. I pushed myself and reaped the rewards of my hard work; a view of a 100 foot waterfall. Not to mention that I was surrounded by the people I've grown to love here in Utah. My surrogate family. The people I would do anything for. Which brings me to my point. I've realized how shady and manipulative some people really are, hiding behind a facade of humility and sincerity. My perspective on life has been slowly changing, and this clarity makes it easy to see who my real friends are. Friends that would do anything for ME, much the same as I would do for them. Friends who aren't situational friends; meaning those kind of people who tend to only hit you up when THEY need something or when THEY have a problem. Call this a rant, but I'm trying to rid myself of the negative aspects of my life, starting with these kind of people. Truth be told, I only have myself to blame for associating myself with those kind of people, hoping that I'd be wrong about them but knowing deep down I'm not. Fuck spring cleaning, this is a summer purge. I'm burning these bridges and not glancing back. I'm slowly molding my life into what I want it to be, and they won't be a part of it. And you know what? I'm more than okay with that. I'll stay true to my real friends and surround myself with positivity. This is the start of something big. I can feel it. Let's see what the universe has in store for me.

Love is just a role that we play.

The days are starting to blur together. Seconds turn to minutes. Minutes turn to hours. Hours turn to days. Weeks. Months. It was Mother's Day yesterday. It seems like just yesterday I was creating culinary art for my mom in our kitchen. Strange to think that was a year ago. Even stranger is looking back on this past year and what I've done. The people I've met. The places I've seen. The things I've felt. It grounds you, you know. I miss my mother. I never really thought about it...her love for me. I haven't been the best son around, yet she loves me unconditionally. That alone is enough to make you feel incredible. That no matter what you do, what you say, or what you look like; there's another human being on this rock that can look at you and genuinely LOVE you. My mother has been through Hell and back to get my sister and I to where we both respectively are in our lives, and I've got nothing but love and respect for the woman who birthed me. Growing up in poverty-stricken Mexico, my mom and her six siblings had barely enough to survive. From that, to crossing the Mexico-US border multiple times in order to find a better life for herself, my mom's been through the struggle for the better part of 40 years. As soon as she had my sister and I, and our dad chucked the deuce and left my mom to raise two kids in East Los Angeles, my mom's been working her ass off to make sure we didn't have to go through what she did. In order to make sure of that, our family relocated to northern Nevada in an attempt to get away from the violence and street life we would have been exposed to in L.A. That being said, growing up we weren't wealthy by any means, but my mom made sure we had the essentials. Roof over our heads, clothes, and food. Looking back at it, you never really realize or appreciate that kind of shit, you know? You ask for a new toy, parents say no, and you throw a bitch fit. Hindsight's 20/20, and looking back I'm eternally grateful for the sacrifices my mother made to get me here. I've often wondered if I'll ever be as good of a parent as my mom is, and I tell myself that if I grow up to be half as good as she was, I'll be in good shape. I love you mom.

Insane by a landslide.

Being an addict of many forms, I find it increasingly more difficult to deal with menial, everyday situations. Let's face it; life is way less entertaining when sober. I fear that my need to be blitzed out of my skull at all hours of the day can and will place me in a situation where I'll be emotionally compromised. I'm slowly losing my mind. My outlook may be more grim then most, but the fault is not all mine. Okay, who am I kidding? It's all my fucking fault. Truth is, I'm tired of feeling this way. It's not in my personality to be depressed all the time. I've always considered myself a pretty happy individual. I try to be, anyway. I find it rather comical that I tend to give pretty decent advice about this sort of thing, yet can't seem to give any to myself. Or at least follow it. You see, for the past couple of weeks things have been pretty off in my life. For one, I quit smoking weed (again). For reals this time! I figured the best way to jump start my happiness was to change myself for the better. Not even for anyone in particular, just for ME. So I started working out again, and let me tell you, being a burn-out may have its up's, but it sure as fuck doesn't help with the whole cardio thing. I ran three miles and nearly stroked out. So, I quit smoking weed and have been a little more irritable towards the people around me; mainly my coworkers. Which brings me to my second point about not being particularly happy. Over the past few months I've been getting to know this person. I won't front, its a girl. Not just any girl though. Rumor has it that everyone has a subconscious list of 10 things they look for in people of the opposite sex. Now, most people are lucky if they find 3-4 things on their list in someone. This girl is a solid 8. So yeah, the kind of girl who's picture is in the dictionary next to the definition of the word incredible. I've become good friends with this girl, you know? Most guys only become friends with girls for one reason, usually. Because they want a piece of ass. Not at all what this is about. My curiosity in learning about what made this girl tick, sort of just naturally transgressed into me genuinely liking who she was as a person. The more I knew about her and the more we talked, the more I liked her. Wherein lies the dilemma. You see, like most of the time this has happened to any guy, the feelings weren't mutual. She had quickly become one of my best friends, and I went and ruined it by telling her how I felt about her. Pump the breaks, I didn't confess my undying love or anything. I merely told her I liked her as more than just friends. I'm not the kind of guy that's afraid of telling someone how I feel, but at the same time...I should have kept my fucking mouth shut. She may deny it all she wants, but things are far from the same. I know she won't confide in me the same way she used to for risk of "hurting my feelings". She likes someone else, and that is honestly okay. I'm not jealous in the least, I'm not that kind of person. I just wish she knew that. As fucking corny as it sounds, I just want her to be happy. Her liking someone else isn't even the shitty part. The shitty part is that I have become the guy I wrote about a few posts back. I'm the guy that would get texted "You're perfect for me", yet somehow still end up empty handed. And it's a shocker to her when I try and distance myself. I'm sorry if I started not being there anymore because it fucking sucks being a doormat. I've been trying to shrug this off for the better part of three weeks now, but it's not that easy. I've been trying to NOT make things weird, but I know the damage has already been done. It just feels different. Thing we would normally talk about, aren't being brought up. Oh, and that's if we actually even talk. Lately, our conversations are short and almost forced. I know she has a lot of shit to deal with as well, but I used to be the go-to guy! If anything was wrong, I'd be there to give my two-cents. Maybe I'm not the only one trying to distance myself though, you know? If I had to use a metaphor to describe this whole debacle, it's like a sheet of paper. You take a perfect sheet of paper and you crumple it up into a ball, right? You uncrumple it, and you still have a full sheet of paper, but no amount of work will ever make that sheet perfectly smooth again. See what the fuck I'm dealing with here?! It's heavy shit, man! Honestly though, all I really want is for things to go back to the way they were before. Reading this, you may be thinking that I'm a creep or that I'm in love. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Love...that's a whole different fucking story. Have you ever been in love? It's horrible. It makes you so fucking vulnerable. It opens up your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside of you and fuck you up. You build up all these defenses. Barriers. A whole suit of armor. For what reason? So no one can hurt you. Then one stupid person, no different from the plethora of stupid people you'll meet, wanders into your stupid life. And what do you do? You give them a piece of you. But they didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day like smile at you, and from that point on, your life isn't your own anymore. Why? Because love takes hostages. It gets inside of you. It eats you alive and leaves you crying in the darkness in your underwear, eating cold Chef Boyardee out of a fucking can, when a simple phrase like "Maybe we should just be friends" turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It penetrates the deepest recesses of your soul. A real "gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart" pain. Nothing should be able to do that, especially love. Whoa, you'll have to forgive my ranting, it's getting extremely late and I'm on the verge of collapsing into the comfort of my air mattress. Before I end this post however, I have to admit that I feel a ton better. Not just about my situation with said friend, but just better in general. For now, I'm taking it day by day. Trying to stay clean. Trying to get back into shape. Trying to not lose my mind. It's a tough job being me. Do I know what's going to happen? Not a fucking clue. There is one thing I'm certain of, and that's that everything happens for a reason. The universe tends to unfold itself as it should.

-Fabian

Kicking your crosses down.

Inhale. The sunken feeling in your chest is suddenly stabbed back to life. You begin to wonder if anything is real. The pain in your chest can't be made up. Exhale. Your mind is chaos. Scrambling to think about one thing, or a million things. Nothing at all. Everything at once. "It'll get easier", you tell yourself. It has to, right? Inhale. Your eyes are closed, trying to sift through the vast junkyard of feelings and thoughts in your mind. Vision? Fuzzy. Things slowly start to come into focus. Exhale. Who are you? Not your name, what you like, what you dislike. Who are YOU? I am me, and you are you. Who am I? Inhale. The fuzziness of your vision subsides, and you see clearly. You're standing in a junkyard, alone. Alone. No one is there, but you. You're alone with your own thoughts and emotions. They've taken on a tangible form. Towering over you. Threatening to collapse on you. They stretch as far as the eye can see. You grow more anxious with each passing second. You chest screams with pain. Focus. Focus on something. Anything? Who am I? Exhale. Eyes open. You know the answer. You know who you are. You're the funny guy. Yes, the funny guy who uses humor as a way to deal with his own set of insecurities and issues. The guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, only to have people blow their noses on it. But the facade must be immaculate. No one can ever know these things, because...lets be honest here. YOU'RE the stable one. You're not massively intellectual; mainly having a strong and keen sense of "common sense" that transfers over to some facets of your life. But those that know you, know you as that "Funny, borderline Narcissist". Facade. In reality, you're the one with way to much empathy. The one people tell their problems to. You HAVE to remain the stable one that will always do what he can to help those he loves. Loves. To help the ones he loves, even if he knows they will end up disappointing him later. You can't even complain, because to them, you'll be considered spoiled or inconsiderate. You have your own problems too. You are incredibly lonely most of the time and have parents, friends, and loved ones who think you're doing ok. Truth is, you're lonely. The days seem to blend into one another, just one more preset period of time before you're on to the next thing. Inhale. The pain in your chest is still there. Constant. Knife being mercilessly driven into bone and flesh. Metaphorically, of course, because we both know the pain in your chest isn't physical. It's not physical in the least. They must never know. They can't, because you're a rock. You're THEIR rock. The damage revealed the cost,and it wasn't worth it. But they'll never know. They can't. Exhale. Your mind is clear, the junkyard decimated like a million sand castles against the tide. The pain in your chest is now nothing more than a bad thought. You can't help but wonder, however.....

Don't rocks need a rock too?

Breathe.

Someone so tired of their routines and disappearing self-esteems.

A war is being raged. This war won't be broadcasted on major news channels. It won't be found in the New York Times or in your local newspaper. This war is being raged inside of my head. I'm battling severe fatigue. You see, today just happened to be the day that I worked a double shift at my place of employment. 10 1/2 hours of work, with a 15 minute break. My eyelids weigh a ton. My mind keeps racing. Don't even get me started on my lower back. Yet despite all of this, I'm awake. The only thing cutting the pitch black; the lingering darkness that is my room, is the dull glow of my monitor. Aside from the sound of my shallow breathing, the only thing I can hear is the clitter-clatter of my furious key strokes. I want to sleep. Fuck it, I want to be in a vegetative state for the next couple of days. Yet I fight the urge. Why? The rational and logical side of my brain is imploring me to crawl into bed and let sleep overcome my body. I know that by staying up this late, I'm just going to make it worst. But you know what? Tonight I like it that way. I like the numbness that comes with being excruciatingly exhausted. The oblivion. The chaos which only exists inside of my own head. Everyone else's problems are suddenly so far from my own. Because I have shit to deal with too. If I'm tired, I have an excuse to just lounge around and not leave my house. To evade the constant problems that don't concern me anyway. When I get to this point, I don't even need to try to block things out, the exhaustion does it for me. And I like that. So for now, as I feel as though my body is withering away beneath me, and I start to slip deeper and deeper into a state of deliriousness, I can't help but wonder if I'm the only person who feels this way? Aaaaahhh, fuck it. It's time for bed.

Stars. The sky. Since the dawn of time, human beings have looked to the sky and wondered. Hoped. Dreamed. We've been infatuated with it since we were able to think. What amazes me is that to this very day, that still has a hold of me. It's amazing what solitude and an open night's sky can do for one's perspective and clarity. At least mine, anyway. I'm writing this from my back porch. I live relatively close to a mountain, so my backyard is a perfect place to view the mountains with a starry night as a backdrop. Finally mustered the effort to dust my little netbook and give it a whirl. So I sit here, wrapped in my winter's finest, listening to Eriatarka by The Mars Volta....and I'm completely and utterly at peace. Looking up at the sky, lost in the sounds of Progressive Rock and my own thoughts. Shooting star. They say if you make a wish upon a shooting star, it's supposed to make your wish come true. Crock of shit, if I ever heard one. Whoever's in charge of the Shooting-Star-Wish-Granting-Association-of-America needs to get fired. I've been doing that nonsense for the better half of 15 years, each time naively thinking THIS would be the one. This one would count. And come 6 months later, I still don't have Jessica Alba in boy shorts playing Xbox with me. Think about it though. What it is about the sky that mystifies us? I don't know, but I can honestly say that this is my Nirvana. Is this how monks feel when they get into that state of meditation? There's nothing more beautiful to me than a night's sky with a full moon and thousands of stars. It really helps you put things into perspective. Like how insignificant we actually are. I read that in 2003, the Hubble telescope was chillin, when it noticed a blank piece of sky. Meaning, a black spot with no stars visible to the naked eye. So it aimed it's camera at this blank spot for 4 months right? They get the images, and what they found were THOUSANDS of galaxies. Each with TRILLIONS of stars, some of which have solar systems, much like our own. Dare you to do the math on that. So that blank spot that they observed, is 1/13,000,000,000th (Trillionth) of the night sky. Yeah. We're a fucking grain of sand in a beach. It's crazy to think about. You feel like your problems here are so big. "Oh, so and so is hooking up with blah blah blah" or "My life is so shitty, I'm depressed." In the grand scheme of things, we're a fucking nano second. If I could tie this all together with like, a central thesis, it would be this: as cliche as it might sound, life's too short to not be having a fucking party everyday. You're in control of your own emotions. So next time you're feeling sad, just smile instead. Trust me, you'll feel a ton better. And all of this, courtesy of your friendly neighborhood sky, found in backyards across the globe.

-Fabian

Untitled.

...Huh?

It's snowing outside? Snow... Never really crosses your mind how peaceful snow truly is. It's like rain without the clutter or noise. You walk out of the warmth of your apartment and into the cold winter air, heading towards the local corner store. You arrive and make your purchases, consisting of a box of Hot Pockets and a 6-Pack of Monster. The world...no one really remembers what you did. You don't care, there are plenty of other awesome things you've done. But you can't shake this feeling. You feel some what...hollow? Why? Is it selfishness? Bah, you're just a kid with a good heart who manages to find his way out of trouble. You don't deserve jack shit. That certain someone's face appears in your mind, as if seared into your brain. What is this? Why can't you get her out of your head? Come on man! You don't deserve her. No matter how much you try, you'll always be that friendly, ordinary dude who does extraordinary things.

"Hmmm..?" Something catches your eye. There's an old man sitting on the curb. No cars going by, and the place looks more desolate than a ghost town. It gives you an eerie feeling of emptiness. Like a void. You look around, as if to gauge your surroundings. Fuck it, you approach him.

"Hey Old-Timer, getting drunk on the curb?" He looks at you wearily and sighs.

"Talking to an old guy like me durin' this shit-storm?"

"Some place I should be?" you reply, almost mockingly.

"Kid, it's written all over your face..." He gives an even more exasperated sigh.

"Son, you see those wedding props lying in the middle of the road?" You notice there's a few paper cans rolling around.

"Yeah, did I miss something good?" You feel yourself dropping your guard a bit.

"You wanna know what makes a wedding so special?"

"Beats me, the cake?"

"Love."

"You're getting mushy on me, old guy."

"Yeah, but I like mushy things sometimes lad, I'ma sucker fer em, really."

"Yeah, I hear you." Her face instantly comes back to mind.

"Anywho, the married couple could be insulting each other this very minute, hittin' each other, cheatin' on each other....but durin' the wedding..." He proceeds to take a sip from the bottle. Liquor dribbles down his mangy beard. "...durin' the wedding, it just melts away. Tow souls come together and share a piece of them within themselves, ya know?" He looks at the puzzled expression on your face. "You like weddings, kid?"

"Not really, I don't believe in the institution of marriage."

"You never do, until you meet the right women." Somehow, you knew he was going to say that. They always do.

"Nowadays? Women are all the same Grandpa...Conniving, over-empowered, whores. Chivalry is dead." You scoff.

"Exactly mah point son. That's what makes that special someone so special! Uniqueness."

"I suppose so."

"Wanna hear a story, son?"

You glace down at your bag of late-night gamer snacks. You look back up at this man, who probably hasn't had any sort of positive human interaction in quite some time. You've already gone this far right? Maybe you can learn a thing or two from this guy.

"Sure old man, I don't have anywhere to be." You sit down, and grab a Monster.

"Just wait a second..." He looks over towards the empty alleyway. An old dog comes hobbling out. A mangy looking fur-ball.

"Heh, cute dog. I would have taken you for a cat guy though."

"This dog...there was a boy who came through here on his way to school, few years back. Lonely kid, never really fit in with any of the other kids. He always had this sort of permanent frown on his face." Another sip.

"...."

"One day, he was pushed into a garbage can down that alley by a bunch of older kids. They though it was funny 'cause the didn't know no better. He cried and cried, until a little pup came out of a box that was in the very same garbage can and started lickin' the boy's face."

"Hate to think where that dog's tongue has been.", you mutter under your breath.

"The boy looked at the door with a perplexed face. The dog did the same. That made the boy chuckle a small bit and the pup got excited and hopped onto his lap and gave him a big ol' smoocher. The boy had finally found a friend. The puppy had been abandoned and thrown away like a scrap of trash. And when he met this boy, that puppy finally felt like he had a master. A friend. Someone he could love."

"I see..." Your guard melts away as you grow increasingly interested in this man's tale.

"Each day, the puppy would walk with the boy to the stop sign and wait for him to come back from school. The day began and ended with those meetings. Eventually, the boy grew up a bit, and thanks to the dog's love, became more outgoing. He found friends and stuck up for himself and such. The boy was finally happy, and it was all thanks to this here pup." He gently pat's the old dog's head.

"......"

"One day, the boy was walking home from the school bus, and there was this terribly stupid moron who decided to drink and drive. He was a suicidal maniac and he didn't care who he took with him. The boy bent down to give his puppy a gift; a collar. He told him that from that day forward, he would be his dog and best friend. Forever."

"The driver-"

"The boy was struck right next to the stop sign. He died instantly. The sonofabitch drivin' was just injured. The puppy walked over towards it's master and sat there. It didn't budge from that boy's side. He whimpered and lifted the boy's hand with it's nose, but the child lay motionless. They say dogs can't cry, but that didn't stop this one. Even if it wasn't on the outside."

"That's horrible..." You feel your eyes swell up a bit.

"The dog grew up , and each day it would return to this spot and wait for it's master. The boy would never come, but the dog will never stop returning to this stop sign."

"My heart feels heavy..."

"Shit like this happens everyday, son." The old man takes a long sip from his bottle. "Do you understand what I'm talkin' about, boy?"

"Yeah, I get the jist of it, old-timer."

"You're a lot like that puppy."

You laugh. "Why? Am I waiting for a master that'll never come?"

"No, the difference between you and him is that your master...is still alive."

"You know, for an old drunk guy who I just met, you sure are fuckin' preachy."

You both let out slight chuckles.

"It's the booze, kid. Makes fools outta all of us."

"And time as well."

"Hahaha, yep. Time as well. So many things I wish I could do again. So much I'll never accomplish. But that's life."

"Bullshit. Age is just a number."

"Maybe yer right, but you don't see any 63 year old men playing ice hockey on the moon."

"I don't think anyone plays ice hockey on the moon, Grandpa."

"I woulda been the first, kid."

"God damn, you're depressing."

"You're listen' to me, aren't cha? Isn't that even more depressing?"

"Well shit, you have a point there."

"You got someone you like, dontcha kid?"

"Eeehhh, I dunno."

"You don't know? Quit being such a fucking pussy."

"...You're right, if I see something I want, I should take it!"

"AHA! Now yer talkin'! Good luck kid, I got a date with a fluffy lookin' box with newspaper for blankets."

"Thanks a lot, for the talk. What did you say your name was again?"

"Never did, but Old-Timer works just fine kid. Now go get yerself a wench."

You stand up, pump up, and vanish into the snowy night.

"That idiot left without saying goodbye...damn kids."

The old man sits down and stares at the spot where that boy lay all those years ago. Its still in his mind to this very day.

"Sorry kid."

The old man sheds a tear as he regrets the day he decided to drink and drive.

The dog lets a howl into the night.

Forever loyal.

Forever waiting.

Chasing the ghost of a good thing.

I figured I'd update my blog, seeing as it's been a little more than a month. I'll set off the month of February with a tribute. A tribute, you ask? A tribute to what? It's not a question of what, but of to who. This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are while disproving the very point. This particular blog post is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to cry on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs. Those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how gorgeous/smart/sexy/funny their female friend is at the appropriate moment because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is for the guys with open minds, laid-back attitudes, honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl's every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style. This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they're at her door. For the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population. For the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, because they deserve them. Yup, this is for the guys who play by the rules in a game where cheating gets you further. This is for the millions of dudes out there who are accredited as "boyfriend material", but somehow don't end up being boyfriends. They end up being overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, on top of manipulated, misled and unjustly abandoned. This post is for you.

This is for that time she left you 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a fucking prick, you assured her that it would all be ok and she shouldn't worry about it. You know, nowadays, the nice guy is a dying breed. Chivalry is all but gone. And it's because being an asshole gets you further than being genuinely nice. The nice guys don't often get credit where credit is due. I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can't. From what I've observed on college campuses and from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion that I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim the just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as "Oh, he's too nice to date" or "He would be a good boyfriend, but he's just not for me" or my personal favorite "No, it would ruin our friendship". Yet, they continue to mourn and lament the lack of datable men in the world and expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the man that are jerks. You know what that's like? That is roughly the equivalent of the guy going to a job interview and the company saying, "You have a great resume. You have all the qualifications we are looking for, but we're not going to hire you. We will however, use your resume as the basis for comparison for all other applicants. But sadly, we're going to hire somebody who is far less qualified and is probably an alcoholic. And if he doesn't work out, we'll hire somebody else, but still not you. In fact, we will never hire you. But we will call you from time to time to complain about the person that we hired". Girls like this are beyond my ability to fathom. I can't figure out why the connection breaks down between what they SAY (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I'm going to fuck this complete and total asshole!). But one thing I can do is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn't last forever. There are definitely girls out there who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating good dudes, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls. Even trickier, is finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys that may be reading this. You know who you are, and I know you're sick of hearing yourself describes as ubiquitously nice. The truth of the matter is, the world NEEDS your patience in the department store, your holding the door open like a gentleman, your party escorting services, and your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate. For the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgment, and my gratitude goes out to you. You DO have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming. I'm patiently waiting along with you.

Welcome Back.

Welcome back to the only thing that ever made your heart race
Similar to running from the cops or a first date
It took time for music to find it's right path
Blinded by oppression now it's made the choice to fight back
Living by the corporate code of corruption
It takes one to teach one the layout of seduction
Prosecute the perpetual predicaments
Punishing the listener by handing out permission slips
We've lost touch with the importance of feeling
We've lost contact with all keen sense of hearing
It's up to music to alter it's appearance
And re-invent itself instead of shopping for a clearance
Giving the state of the modern individual
That doesn't mean a thing if you don't understand the strictural
Music is an open airway to ecstasy
Let's play with fortune and fame along with destiny
At the end of the tunnel there is a bold path
That we'll explore so music will get it's soul back

Welcome back to the time and the place
Where you first fell in love with the things you embrace
Welcome back to the days of enchantment
Attraction, delight and a fascinating passion
Welcome back to the pro's and the con's
The albums, the fashion, the friendships, the songs
It's nice to meet you relax and just sit tight
This is the feeling that'll make you wanna live life

Welcome back to your single inhibition
Of letting everything go and striking the ignition
I'm moving forward on a tedious adventure
A meaningful selection of your favorites and the best hits
Become one with your arrested development
Change for the better 'cause the rest is irrelevant
Remember how it felt to live spontaneous
Inside yourself and outside of the radius
Marvel at the magnificence of your first love
Your first kiss, your first time, your first crush
Does it not wanna make you travel back to that moment in your life?
Your life just felt right
Turn on the radio and get the manual
So the music and you become compatible
And when it's over you'll know just what to do
Welcome back to the best thing that happened to me and now to you.

And we're all whores, some of us just get paid.

So here you have it. My first official blog update of 2011. Life has been rather....life-like as of late. New Years Eve was a blur, but from what I am able to recollect I had a good time. Got to spend my evening with Andy and the crew, which is never a bad thing. Singing "Baby" by Justin Beiber as a way to kick off the new year, playing PS3 while Kev was in the bathroom defecating himself into oblivion, and of course all of us drinking obscene amounts of liquor. I hate to say it but after that day, 2011 has been...how should I put it? Bland. Stale. Dull? Boring. Work has never been slower and my mood has never been shittier. My apathy is at an all time high. I'm in dire need of some thrill! Something to shatter this monotony. I need to go break the law, or get abducted by aliens. I'm praying for the second one, but I'm dangerously close to the first. Which actually reminds me, I've officially given up on making a "New Year's Resolution", simply because A) 98.56% of the time I end up throwing in the towel mid January, and B) most of the time people make resolutions for stupid shit they should normally do anyway. I'm determined to be at the peak of my athleticism again by my birthday. Most people would argue saying "That's just fancy talk for you're going to start working out again". Incorrect. I'm going to subject myself to things that will test both my physical and mental resolve. And I've decided to blog about it. Just now. Yup. I JUST NOW decided I'm doing this. See? This is me being spontaneous and unpredictable. So get ready, ladies. Get ready to lose your minds at the sight of my sheer manliness. It's on. Oh, and Cassie, if you're reading this...I love you. And I'm super proud of you for getting off of your lazy ass and working out. In a way, you've kinda motivated me to get back into the groove. I mean, if YOU can get up at a reasonable hour each day to work out, ANYONE can. :)

Home for the Holidays

I sat talking to my good friend for hours, which seems to be happening much more frequently as of late. Talking to her has been a refreshing change of pace. I haven't just talked to someone on the phone for hours in a very long time. We were talking about me being home for the holidays. I've been away from home, you know, in the sense of not living with my parents for about five years. You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your shit, that idea of home is gone. You'll see one day when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know? You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start. It's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place. Don't get the wrong idea, I've thoroughly enjoyed my time back in southern Nevada. I've missed my family. I've missed the familiarity of this place. The deafening roar of my parents, aunts, and uncle's laughter. The vast array of aromas. It feels like Christmas. It IS Christmas. For some reason I can't quite comprehend though, this just doesn't feel like home anymore. Speaking of ear-splitting laughter, I'm currently listening to my ipod on almost full volume and I can still hear my family laughing. I'm pretty happy I was able to see Billy and Andy. It's been years since we've all hung out together. It felt like old times, us four (Mario was with us as well) hanging out. It was hard not to reminisce about better days. I miss my friends. I miss the person I used to be. It's strange to me how much I've changed in such a short time. Time passes. People change. Some for better. Others for worse. I used to be much more driven. Much more carefree. I used to think I was invincible. I miss feeling like that. I mean, I'm still a hard-working and driven guy, but back then....I was naive. Maybe that's the only thing that's changed about me. My naivety. In any case, this is who am now. I'm rather anxious to get back to Utah. To my friends, who in a short time have become my surrogate family. They say home is where the heart is, right? I'm not so sure about that, but I do know that for the time being, Utah feels like home. It feels...right. Happy Holidays. May wherever you be, feel like home.

The Focus and Winnamucca: How WoW saved my life.

Being Jake's best friend is no easy task. During the tenure of our hetero-relationship, we've done a countless number of idiotic things. This story takes place in July of 2009, and it's become one of the more popular stories I like to tell about Jake and myself. At the time, I was in the process of moving to Reno with my then-girlfriend Tracy. Jake had relocated to Utah and I still lived in Vegas. Before Jake's unfortunate mishap at McCarren International Airport (which in itself is a funny story), we had talked about moving to Reno together. That way I'd at least have my best friend to live with. Things took a turn for the worse and Jake ended up moving to Utah, but still had intentions of moving to Reno with me once we were ready. Before I knew it, it was July and I needed to scope the situation in Reno out because Tracy and I were moving in August. I called Jake and arranged for both of us to head to Reno for a few days and look for apartments and register at UNR. Our plan was for me to fly from Vegas to Reno and for Jake to drive from Salt Lake so we'd have a vehicle to drive while there. This didn't sit well with Jake due to the fact that he would have had to drive eight hours by himself. Selfish asshole, right? After much bitching, he finally talked me into flying from Vegas to Salt Lake to then drive to Reno together from there. As it turns out, this was mistake number one.

I arrived at the Salt Lake airport at about noon on a Sunday. This gave us all day Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday to do what we needed to do and be back in Salt Lake by 6:00pm Wednesday to catch my returning flight home to Vegas. Sounds pretty simple, right? We leave the airport at around 12:30pm and the drive is about as boring as watching dead people play chess. About two hours into our drive, we come across a town on the Utah / Nevada border called "Wendover". This little town is Utah's Las Vegas. I know the area pretty well because I grew up in a small town called Elko, which is two hours away from Wendover. For a good part of my childhood, a few of my aunts lived there, so we'd always visit. We stop in Wendover to gas the vehicle up and Jake drops a bit of information that was previously unknown to me.

Jake: So, I hope you're cool if we stop in Elko for like an hour.

Me: Why? I grew up in Elko....that place is fail.

Jake: Well, a couple of guys I play WoW with live in Elko. I've been playing WoW with them for like three years and I've never met them. I told them we were going through there to get to Reno and they want to have lunch.

Me: Oh shit, really? Yeah that's cool. Only if we eat at Nine Beans and a Burrito though. That place is the tits.

Nine Beans was a place my family frequented when we lived in Elko. Their quesadillas are heaven-sent, I swear to God. Turns out, his two WoW buddies thought so too because that's where they suggested we meet them. The two hours in between Wendover and Elko were just as boring as the previous two between Wendover and Salt Lake. Good thing Jake had a Book of Mormon in his car. Reading that thing was pretty entertaining. Just some of the ridiculous shit they believe, really boggled our minds and gave us a good laugh. We get to Elko in a reasonable amount of time and we meet up with "Tharms" and his friend Ronnie. Ok, so Tharms isn't his real name, it's actually Preston. We meet them and they look like pretty laid back dudes. Preston and Ronnie are both around 19-20, and look like my kind of people. I could definitely have a couple of beers with these kids. Side note: it's always bugged me that there's some sort of stigma about people who play WoW. There's this stereotype that people who play WoW are acne-ridden fat kids who live at home in their parent's basement. Not entirely true. I've met Physics majors, Lawyers, and even professional athletes who play WoW. Do me a favor and go to Google and search "Celebrities who play WoW" and prepare to shit bricks. Okay, back on topic. Anywho, so we ordered some food and just sat and bullshit with these guys for around two hours. Mostly WoW talk, how long they'd "known" Jake in game, some of our funniest memories, yada yada yada. After a while, the topic of Reno popped up.

Preston: So, what're you guys doing in Reno?

Me: Well, I'm planning on moving there and we wanted to scope out some housing and get my shit done for UNR.

Preston: Oh, that's sick dude. I actually live in Reno, I'm just here in Elko for the summer helping my parents out. Come to think of it, the majority of my roommates are out of town, you guys are more than welcome to crash at my place as long as you want.

Jake: Seriously? Yeah dude that'd be awesome.

Preston: Yeah man, anything for Whitelight. I owe him more gold than you could imagine, it's the least I could do.

So it was set. We had a place to crash thanks to WoW. Beat the hell out of having to pay for a hotel for 3 nights! We said our farewells and got back on the road. It's another four hours to Reno, so I took this leg of the drive. Just as boring as the last four. Book of Mormon helped us out again. We arrived in Reno at about 9pm on Sunday. Got to Preston's house after a 30 min debacle with the directions. (Jake is a horrible co-pilot) His house was legit. Right on the UNR campus, and his setup was phenomenal. A room dedicated to beer pong, with a regulation-sized table, official rules posted on the wall (For scrubs who try to cheat. Always a good idea to post house rules), and not a fraction of any wall was uncovered. The walls were littered with band posters signed by bands and theatrical movie posters. It was insane! His roommate Eric showed us around the house and let us crash on the couches. He was a pretty legit guy too. After partaking in a few beers, we decide we better crash to get things done nice and early.

Day 1 in Reno:

Pretty eventful day for me. For the sake of the story telling, I'll try to sum it up to the focal points. We scoped out housing. I registered my classes for the fall at UNR. We turned in job applications. I was pretty much the most productive kid in America. Headed back to Preston's place and just kinda hung out. Eric's girlfriend was nice enough to let us borrow her Tomtom to make our navigating through Reno that much easier. Good people, I tell ya. Drank beers with Eric and his lady, and passed out. Great day!

Day 2 in Reno:
Everything was perfectly fine on Day Two, up until 2pm. This is when I get the bright idea to leave Reno early.

Me: Dude, we've pretty much done everything there is to do. It's Tuesday. Lets just take off back to Salt Lake. If we leave now, we'll get there by midnight. That gives us all day tomorrow (Wednesday) to hang out and shit. Then you can just take me to the airport at like 5. It's perfect.

Jake: Yeah, for sure. Sounds like a plan.

This...was mistake number two. We dropped off the Tomtom and wrote thank you and goodbye on Preston's fridge, seeing as Eric and his girlfriend were gone when we arrived. We also left them a 24 pack of Bud Light Lime. What can I say, we're good guys! Unfortunately, life doesn't care how good of a person you are, because it will still metaphorically stab you in the jugular with a shard of glass and watch you bleed out. This is the part of the story were shit starts going wrong. In numbers. Fast.

2:30pm We leave Reno with the most positive of attitudes! Our spirits have never been higher. We're listening to great music and having awesome conversations about how our lives are going to turn around. We're invincible at this point. Nothing can stop us.

4:30pm We pass a town that's in between Reno and Elko called Winnamucca. It looks like a seedy meth town. Thank God we don't have to stop there. It would also really suck to break down anywhere near it.

4:31pm We're about a mile out of Winnamucca, when out of nowhere, Jake's car starts to smell funny. That "your car is fucking up" burnt smell fills our nostrils. We pull over to investigate. His car is leaking antifreeze, causing it to overheat. Good thing we have water! Just a hiccup, right?

4:45pm About 15 miles north of Winnamucca, Jake's car is in the red. The car is overheating. It proceeds to flip us off and ceases to function. We pop the hood again and to our horror, his serpentine belt is torn into ribbons. Rubber spaghetti. This can't be good.

4:46pm Jake is having a panic attack. I tell him everything is going to be fine. My dad has had me change serpentine belts numerous times. I got this.

4:46pm I realize that we're about 15 miles away from civilization. How are we getting to Meth-Town? Fuck.

4:50pm After putting out heads together we come to a solution: Call Tracy and have her look up the phone number to an Autozone. We can give them a credit card number to buy the part, then we can just hitchhike there and back with the belt. In my mind, we're set back an hour....tops. Oh, did I forget to mention that neither of us were carrying a good amount of cash? I had around 60 dollars in my backpack, and Jake had around 40. Just enough for gas and snacks. Life is great!

5:00pm A highway patrolman pulls over to try and help us. He isn't much help, but gives us a few phone numbers to some tow places. Oh, Jake saw a snake on the side of the road and freaked out. I giggled.

5:20pm We called the Autozone and spoke to a fine gentleman who sold us the belt! It came to be around 20 dollars, which we put on McKell's card. She gave us the CC number over the phone. Mormon Jesus, bless her soul.(He's for sure different than Normal Jesus. Fact.) The guy also offered to drive it out to us after he was done with his shift. Good news, right? He didn't get off until 9pm. It was 5. When it rains, it pours right?

5:30pm It literally starts to pour. It's pouring rain....in 100 degree weather. Not only is that bad, but we have no air conditioning in the vehicle because the belt that spins the compressor is fucking ripped to shreds. We are now faced with a dilemma: Open the windows to cool off and let rain in, or keep them shut thus staying dry, but frying in the heat. We choose to roll down the windows. Mistake number 3.

5:35pm What happens when it rains in the desert? Mosquitoes decided to pop up out of nowhere. Who rolled the windows down and let mosquitoes into the vehicle? We did. This day just keeps getting better and better.

6:30pm After spending an hour talking about random things to keep our minds off of the fail that were going through, we each take the time to call our respective families and give them an update on our situation. Mosquito bitten and spirits shattered, we wait.

9:30pm Homeboy from Autozone calls us and tells us he's on his way with the belt. Rejoice.

10:45pm Homeboy shows up and hour and fifteen minutes later. He gives us the part and proceeds to examine the car. I think his name was Dan or something. Turns out he was like 17 and had just graduated high school. Lord have mercy. He called himself something ridiculous like a "self-proclaimed auto guy who was in love with cars" What he finds isn't very good.

Dan: Looks like yer water pump pully's all busted up. Yew guys ain't movin' this car tonight. Might as well hitch a ride back inta town and call a tow truck first thing in tha mornin'.

Jake and I exchange looks of dismay. The way we figured it, it was just a minor set back with the belt. We thought we'd be back on the road as soon as he showed up. Instead, we were going to have to spend the night in that little seedy meth town. Awesome. "Dan" proceeds to give us a ride back into town and our conversation with him while en route, shed a little light on the town where we'd be spending our evening.

Jake: So, what is there to do in Winnamucca?

Dan: Drugs. Oh, and sex. But mostly drugs. Did yew know that 3/4 of Nevada's meth comes from 'round here?

We were going to die. That's all there was to it.

11:30pm We made it into town, Dan drops us off on "Main Street", and tells us to call the tow company first thing in the morning. Jake and I are walking down this ominous looking street looking for a place to crash. Oh lord! A Motel 8! Maybe there is a God! We stroll up to the Motel 8 and there is a congregation of about 5 or 6 shady looking meth-heads just hanging out right outside the main office door. We ask one of them if there are any rooms available. She says yes. We breathe a sigh of relief. She then tells us it will be 90 dollars a night. We leave.

11:45pm After walking for what seemed like hours, we get to a grimy looking "casino" called "Winners". The Winners Casino. What kind of name is that? Let me tell you one thing, this place was the opposite of win. It failed in every sense of the word. Luckily the room was only 35 a night, so we give the dude cash and head upstairs to our room to elaborate some sort of game plan for the following day. At this point, Jake is pretty much gone. He has been having a 5 hour long panic attack and is of no help to me. Looks like I'm going to have to save the day all by myself. Yet again. Now, the way that my mind works is very simple. I'm a very logical and strategic thinker. That being said, I don't take into account one very small word, and that's variables. This is the plan that I laid out for us:

6:00am Wake up and get some grub. Have everything ready to go and start walking to the tow place. Get there by 7:00am.

7:00am Get a tow truck to take the car back into town, have them look at it and get it fixed....lets just say that'll take 3 hours. Be back on the road by 10:00am.

10:00am-3:00pm 5 1/2 hour drive to Salt Lake, make it back by like 3-3:30ish, accounting for 5 minute stops for gas. My flight leaves at 6:00pm, it'll work! We can do this!

Pretty solid plan, right? But wait! I didn't take any variables into account! Silly me! So this is what ACTUALLY ended up happening:

6:00am We woke up. Got ready. Packed out stuff. Ate. Started walking to the tow place. What we didn't realize was that the tow place was on the outskirts of town...4 miles away from where we were. Brilliant.

7:00am We'd been walking for about an hour and this place was nowhere in sight. Around this time we catch our first break in this whole debacle: Homeboy strolls up in his truck and offers us a ride to the tow place.

8:00am Tow place opens. Mean lady tells us it will be 20 minutes for Mr. Tow-man to come back. We anxiously wait.

9:30am Tow-man shows up. He looks like he hasn't showered in days. Smells even worse. He picks us up and takes us to the car. Our second break arrives in the form of good news. Apparently the pulley that broke was merely a tension pulley, which is only around twenty bucks. He offers to do the repairs himself. Hail Mary, mother of God! Our break comes screeching to a halt when he tells us that A) The tow would be around 300 scrilla, B) the repair on the car would be around 100, and C) He couldn't even START working on it for about 4 hours. Wanna know how shady this guy was? We had no cash and no card, but he took down McKell's credit card info....OVER THE PHONE.

10:00ish We decide to not let the stinky tow-man fix our vehicle and instead have him drop us off at the Ford dealership in town. While the car gets diagnosed, Jake is still trippin' and I'm still cooking up schemes in my brain. I see an Enterprise Rent-a-Car and my brain is fast at work concocting a plan involving that. Variable-less plan, no doubt. My hopes were high, up until the point when I got to the door of the office. Crudely scrawled on a piece of cardboard were the words: " Gone to lunch. If you need to contact me, use the phone and speed dial 1. Ask for Shiela. -Shiela" The phone mentioned was a cordless house phone jammed between the doorknob and the frame. This town is so charming. I call this so called "Shiela" to hopefully rent a car, but to my dismay, they're all booked until the NEXT day. Just my luck.

10:00ish (cont) We get the diagnostics back on the vehicle and they are grim at best. Blown water pump and a few other things wrong. Couple day's labor, 600 bucks. We're completely demoralized and around this time I'm starting to feel hopeless. Anxious. Scared. We were never leaving Winnemucca.

10:30am After sitting on the Ford dealership's front steps for a good 30 minutes, something occurred to me. A spark of an idea. A slice of fried gold.

Me: Jake. I know how we're getting out of here dude.

Jake: -long stare- .....You're not thinking...

Me: Yup. Call Tharms.

We call Preston. He answers. We fill him in on our situation thus far, and he regrets to tell us that he has to work that day. So much for my brilliant idea.

10:40am Tharms calls us back and tells us that he called in sick to work and is already on his way. Could this be?!

10:40am - 2:00pm The drive from Elko to Winnemucca is about two hours. Due to God hating us however, there just happened to be construction zones all the way between the two. 55 mph tops. It took Preston 3 1/2 hours to get to us. A few noteworthy things happen to Jake and I while we waited though. After we dropped the car off at the shop, we walked to Wal-Mart to dick around while we waited for Preston. Here are a few highlights:

A) I call Tracy to let her know that I'm ok and to ask her to grab the phone number for Southwest so I can change my flight to the following day. She's pissed that I woke her up. I lose my shit, yell at her, then hang up.

B) While roaming Wal-Mart, our spirits are now somewhat back. We start joking around and ask one of the employees if there's an internet cafe around so I can change my flight online, seeing as my girlfriend was being a twat. The following conversation took place.

Me: Excuse me, do you know where I'd be able to find like an internet cafe or something around here?

Lady: Yeah, of course. What you're going to want to do is exit Wal-Mart, then make a right. Make another right at the dirt road and follow that for about a mile. Once you get to the train tracks, cross them and head down for about another half a mile to a fence. At the fence, make a right, go around, and it should be on your left.

Me: Serious? Uuugghhh, ok, thanks.

Seeing as we still had about a two hour wait, we decide to try to head to this internet cafe. Mind you, it's July in Nevada. It was 110 at around 11am, and I'm wearing sweats and carrying around a fucking backpack. Jake's not doing any better. Pasty-white Irish kid rocking sweats and hulking around a backpack as well. Recipe for disaster. We see this dirt road and we start heading down it. After about a mile, we get to the train tracks. We cross the train tracks. We look further ahead and see the fence, but behind the fence are some shitty little shacks, none of which remotely resemble an internet cafe. Either this bitch was messing with us, or sending us to get gutted for our kidneys. Either way, we decide it'd be best to just turn around and head back. Fuck this place.

C) Tracy calls me back and apologizes. I get the number for Southwest from her, tell her I'll call her back later, and hang up. Not so much of a twat now.

D) Jake and I fall asleep on a Wal-Mart bench.

2:00pm Tharms finally arrives and picks us up. I want to cry tears of joy because we're finally leaving this God-awful place.

5:30pm We make it back to Elko. We chilled at Tharm's house and drank a few beers and bullshit about WoW. During the drive, I called Southwest and yelled at them for 45 minutes because they didn't want to change my flight. I wasn't in the mood for any of their shit, so I brought out the big guns. I dropped the "Let me speak to your manager" line. Changed my flight for free. I was now leaving Salt Lake at 6am. While at Preston's, Jake decides to call McKell and ask her if she could pick us up after work. She tells Jake she got off early and had already been on the road for 2 hours. Mac FTW!

7:30pm Mac picks us up from an Arctic Circle.

12:00am We finally reach Ogden. The nightmare is over.

I caught my flight at 6am and went back to Las Vegas. As for Jake? Jake had to leave his car there since we didn't have the cash on hand. He worked for two weeks saving up money. When he had enough, he had to take a Greyhound down to Winnemucca, then drive his car back up. I honestly feel like Jake and I bonded on that trip. I've done a lot of retarded shit, and been in a plethora of fucked up situations, but this singlehandedly had to be the worst experience of my life. I'd never felt such a feeling of hopelessness in my entire life. Hopelessness, mixed with demoralization, mixed with fear, anger, frustration. Everything that could have gone wrong did. I really don't want to know how things would have turned out without Preston helping us out. I love you Tharms! And that's the story of how World of Warcraft saved my life.