lowercases and capitals

work

friends

The past week has been a little different than most other weeks.  I've started to look at the "bigger picture"; life as a whole instead of just the sum of all its parts.  I need to work on focusing what's important in life and take that as far as I can.

I got promoted to a position of power, which is a first for me.  I won't go into the boring details, but now I have significantly more responsibilities, am in charge of an entire section of employees, and in turn, am also to blame if the performance of the department is not up to standards with my company.  I didn't receive any type of pay raise for this position, although technically I am "Full Time" now, so I would qualify for benefits,

Stock options, health insurance, and 401k.  Stock in an electronics company that will probably be out of business in the near future?  Or health insurance when I can stay on my father's for another...almost decade.  Yup, neither really appeal to me whatsoever.  Maybe that's a naive decision on my part, but I can't see much of a reward, especially in the long run for either one of those choices.

Something that I've noticed about this new position...I don't have any passion for my job anymore.  I do believe it is because of everything that is different from my old part-time position to now.  Before, I didn't take my work all that seriously, but I didn't need to because I was just another part-time sales associate.  I was good at what I did, I knew my shit [unlike most all my coworkers].  Now, I'm forced to take charge, coach sales associates, drive sales, care about numbers, and be cutthroat.  None of which are me, I'd rather hang out and talk to people about electronics and if they wanted to buy anything, great.  If not, so be it.  


This may be a temporary train of though, so I'm not making any rash decisions at the moment, I'm just playing it by ear, however one thought keeps coming to mind.


If you're not happy with something, change it.


That's why I moved to California in the first place, taking steps to becoming a happy person.  That's what I think I want to focus on these days, being happy.  I could step down from my lead position, or I could ride it out for a while longer.  It'll take time for me to make a decision, but I feel the catalyst in any decision I make will be with the intent of enjoying life more.  I'll take 5 less hours a week with the same pay and MUCH less responsibilities.


I'm yawning and my fingers are getting heavy.


I had planned on having an entire second stanza to this post, but tonight, that's not going to happen.  Maybe tomorrow, we'll see.


Better tomorrows.

Stay Young

I don't have much to say tonight,
I know its been a while since I have posted an update on this blog, here's what you have missed;
I live in California,
I got promoted after less than a month working at my new store,
I am having an art show at McClains CoffeeHouse all of April,
Life is amazing,
Now enjoy this shot of Villhelm!

Hey Guys

Testing this whole thing out.
Testing this whole thing out.
Testing this whole thing out.
Testing this whole thing out.
Testing this whole thing out.

think about this

Setbacks

I've had to deal with so much stuff in the past few years, it's hard to remember back when life was just easy.  I know other people also have problems, which is why I always tell myself that mine aren't that bad, but shit, they bug the hell out of me.
Sometimes I'm able to just forget about whatever's going on, put it in the back of my mind for a while, and focus on what's going on at the current moment.  But other times, whatever's going on in my head takes priority, I can't focus, I can't get it out of my head.  It's mentally debilitating, it can ruin my entire day.  And the part that makes it worse, is I've grown so used to telling myself that my problems aren't that bad and nobody wants to hear about them.  Because of that, I almost never let anybody in, nobody will know exactly what's going on in my head because I have emotional barriers.
I try to be a genuine guy, I try to not hide things from my friends and family.  Of course there are things I won't bring up unless asked, like my brother, but I'll still talk about it, I won't lie about that, it's part of who I am, and if there's one thing I want my friends to learn about me, is who I am and what made me this way.
A quote that sticks in my head is "Trust everybody, just don't trust the devil inside them." [The Italian Job]  That quote strikes an eerie note with me, because I feel it is a very good way to live a life, but I don't know what the devil inside myself is like.  If someone were to tell me, if someone could tell me, that would be eye-opening.  It's like somebody critiquing my photos, it might be hard to hear it, but it's another's opinion about what you're doing right and wrong, you just need swallow your pride and take the advice.
I think I should stop watching so many movies and do something more productive with myself.  I have no idea what, but I think it would be a good idea to pick something up, something that will make me a better person.  Reading?  Studying something?  I might need to just sit in a dark, quiet room and think about it.  Hollywood is a little too fake for me right now, life never plays out like it does in the movies.  Your neighbor isn't a serial killer, your mother's friend doesn't want to bang you, your friends aren't going to throw you a surprise birthday party, and you can't make a fraternity consisting of non-students.
But now that I think about it, even reading novels, it's the same thing as all these Hollywood movies, just with less explosions.  Depending on the book, it's just as far-fetched as any movie.  So what is left?

Living.

This is my brother

body modifications and the self perception of beauty

This entire post is about me, get over it.

Have you ever found yourself thinking about an individual of the opposite sex, thinking about a small detail about them, and you find it irresistibly attractive?  Did you then take a step back and feel that what you like isn't "normal" for someone to like about someone else.  Who cares.  You find something about someone beautiful, it doesn't matter if anybody else does or not.  For example, when I was sitting in on a lecture with Lauren at Cal State Fullerton, the girl two seats to my right had to most attractive feet I have ever seen.  Now, don't get me wrong, I had never looked at a pair of feet and said "damn, 'dem some good feet", but the culmination of her Sperry's, no socks, and how it all worked in conjunction with the other parts, I found it amazingly attractive.  Still to this day, I have never experienced the same feeling about feet.  I feel like a weirdo for saying that, but if you're judging me, you're an asshole.

What I'm getting at with that anecdote is how everybody has many different definitions of beauty.  Whether it is self-beauty, or the beauty within someone else, no two people have the exact same idea of what beautiful is.  

Now is where we bring up the hot topic of the decade, body modifications.  

Why do people do it?
Why do people ride bikes?

Why do people protest things?

Why do people dumpster dive?

Because it makes them feel beautiful, because it gets that endocrine system going and produces endorphins, because they feel passionate enough about something to risk something else for it, and why are you worrying so much about other people?

If you don't personally know me (which you do, because you're reading this), then you may or may not know that I am one of the many people with stretched ears.  It is the single (x2) modification that I have done to my body that my mother does not like, but as much as it hurts me to say it, I like it, and I trump her.  (Sorry mom!)  The question about a career always seems to come up when I get talking about them with someone, as well as the "When you're 50..."

As far as a career goes, to be completely honest, and I may not feel the same way in a few decades, but if there is somebody who is not going to hire me for a job in a field that I am extremely passionate (and talented) in because of how my ears are stretched...then frankly, I don't want to work for that person.  That just says they want everybody to fit in to the societal norm, not to be an individual, but part of the pack.  Working at Best Buy, one of the first things I asked when they called and offered me a job was their policy on stretched ears.  I was told "no larger than a dime".  Okay, I googled the diameter of a dime, converted that into inches, and found out I was right on the cusp, barely smaller than a dime.  That was when I was at 5/8".  The store's general manager and I have a pretty decent relationship, he's gotten to know me on a relatively personal level, his daughter listens to similar music, and he tries his best to make her happy, so naturally we have good talks about shows he had went to with her, and he understands what kind of person I am.  He realizes that not all people in bands are scum, not everyone with stretched ears are criminals, but to give everybody a chance no matter how they look.  SOP states that dress code and policies are under the discretion of the individual store's GM, meaning he can let things 'slide' if he thinks it would be appropriate.  I have never gotten even as much as a "hey, are you ears larger than a dime?" the entire year I've been at this store.  I think a big reason is that I pull more than my own weight at my store, and if I can do that without ever having anybody complain about my 'freak ears', then where's the issue?  Now I'm at 15/16", which is about the size of a quarter.  Still, nothing.  It happens all the time, I'll have friends who have no idea I have tattoos, and then when they see me in shorts, they have to have a double take, maybe triple.  I guess I don't seem like someone who would be covered in tattoos?  Stereotypical, but I'll admit, sure, I guess not.  It's always exciting seeing people's faces light up with confusion at that moment.

I'll watch you burn

Bounty Hunter had a show on Thursday night at a bar called the Frequency in Madison.  We've played there a few times, it's usually a pretty cool place for a Thursday night bar show.  But for some reason, we never can draw a decent crowd in Madison, no matter where we go, with the exception of the battle of the bands we swept a bit ago.  This show was no exception, a smaller turnout, but still had some a friend or two there, which is always nice.  Nothing like the 13k days, at all.  Anyhow, while we were playing, in the middle of one of our songs, I look over and notice something.  I had to take a double take.
Really?
Again!?
Man.
Wally threw up on himself, as well as Andydrummer's cymbal.  I guess I shouldn't laugh...but how can you not?  So the rest of the set, my head was filled with "I bet everyone is staring", "Stop Staring", "I think they're still staring" type of thoughts.
The thing is, this isn't the first time he's done that.  It was the second!  I won't go into any more details about that tonight.
But the fun begins after our set is over.

We're starting to load our gear into our vehicle, when I go up to my guitar case, which is laying on the ground.  Odd, because I had set it upright when I put my guitar away.  Okay, carry on.  Next thing I notice is that the latches are unlatched.  This is starting to seem bad.  I open up my guitar case.

empty.

After running around the venue, I come to realize that my guitar had been stolen.  Shit.

But, because I knew most people at the show, I asked around, played a little bit of detective, and found out who had stolen my guitar.  His name was Caleb Murray.  He had gotten kicked out of the show for starting fights with other kids for no good reason.  He snuck in the back door of the venue, grabbed his backpack, skateboard, and my guitar.
After finding out his name, I was able to get his phone number, where he lives, and where he works.  Good information to have, and to keep for later.  My friend Kyle had a mutual friend with this shitbag, so Kyle thought he would have a better chance getting it back if he called and said it belonged to his band.  He told him 'no harm, no foul, we just want our guitar back.'  At first, he didn't deny stealing it, nor did he confess to stealing it.  So, we're left with nothing but the knowledge that he did take it, but no proof.  Kyle stayed persistent, and after an hour or so of talking to him, texting him, and coaxing him, he ended up getting him to admit to stealing it, and now return it.  I guess it was due to his fear of getting jumped, he decided he was going to "drop it off in a SAFE PLACE and let you know where it is".  Shit, that's not too assuring.  >> Fast forward a little while, Kyle, Anthony, and myself are waiting in my car outside god knows where waiting for a text to tell us where my guitar is.  Ends up, dude sets it outside the tobacco shop he works on in the middle of state street.  For those who don't know state street...it's a busy street, at all times of the day/night.  Great, we're speeding to get there ASAP, we call Wally, who was on State Street to head over to the place.  I drop Kyle off on the street, and he takes off, hoping nobody else gets to it before he does.  Ends up, we get the guitar back, yet I'm not satisfied.

Why not?  Well, doing something like this and getting away unpunished?  Not how the system works.  After a little research, I found out that because of my guitar's worth, the theft of it classifies as a Class H felony, which also means the perpetrator can face up to a $10,000 fine and up to 6 years in prison.

Am I going to pursue this to the end?  I am certainly going to try.  Tomorrow I will be calling Dane County Sheriff's department to see what needs to be done to begin pressing charges.  Even if I am moving away in a week, I want this to be on his record.

Your actions have consequences, and I'm going to see that you face them.

a note to Bxxxxx Hxxxxxx

When I first met you, you seemed like a nice girl.  Potentially friend material.
Although the first night I met you, I overheard you say "...Well I could sleep with the guitarist of XXXXX XXXX XXXX if I wanted to", or something along those lines.
I didn't think much about it at first, but at I got to know you, it became more clear.
You met this guy at a concert, you being a huge fangirl, became infatuated with him.  You even travelled to Texas to spend time with him.  Okay, maybe there's something.
We talked about your trip and you mentioned how your New Years Eve was the worst time ever because you didn't even go out with friends.  You told me how your trip(s) to Texas were always boring, you didn't do things with other people other than xxxxx from XXX.  Then you mentioned how you got a ton of XXX merch for a super cheap price.  Jared and I had the same reaction, ...he made you pay for it?
You need to open your eyes...get it?
Oh, and also, he's a Christian in a Christian band, so naturally, obeying the laws of conformity, you decide that you should become christian too, right?
Of course you do.
You're falsifying your "faith" so this guy will like you, or you're doing that because you're spending time around him, so you might as well?  Whatever your reasons, I think it's the biggest joke ever.  You're changing yourself and who you are for someone else, who by the books, doesn't seem like he really likes you all that much.

If you're reading this, consider yourself a trusted source.  Yes, this is me bitching, but this is also my personal blog.
If you don't agree with anything I'm writing, then simply stop reading, stop visiting, stop caring about it.

...and better tomorrows

I'm a mac in a PC world

Not much gets me angry, much less infuriated.
But one thing that does, is people who think they are astute businessmen, but in reality, they are just pieces of shit with a Facebook page and a "Company".
Being in a band, and having done photography for many years, I have seen it all.  Perverted dudes trying to start a clothing line just because they used to be in a popular band, guys trying to be show promoters just because they can call and book a bar for a night, or my favorite, photographers.

Apparently, being a photographer is the most popular trendy hobby out there.  It makes me sick just because every kid with an SLR thinks it's necessary to start putting watermarks on their photos of shitty landscapes in b+w.  If you want to take photos and enjoy doing it, then do it.  But if you want to be a photographer just because it's popular to do that, and you have a false sense of pride because of that, then f-u.

I mention watermarks, but if you look closely at my photos, there are a select few that have watermarks.  Why is that you may ask?  The people in the photo probably pissed me off, didn't pay on time, or the shoot was done for free.
Other than that, I detest watermarking.  I'll admit, I'm not the greatest photographer in the world, in fact, I'm still trying to find my style.  Once I find it, I won't need a watermark.  People will be able to look at a photo and know that I took it.

I'm going back and forth between writing this and watching Fast Five, and the balance of intellectuality and balls-on-your-face action movie is quite enjoyable.  Okay, I don't know about that description of an action movie, but whatever.

My coffee is just about done brewing, I like to drink coffee at night while I watch a movie.  It calms me down, puts me in a good place.  McClain's and Alta, hell yeah, less than two weeks.

Photography, right.

I hope someday soon to be able to have enough money saved up to be able to invest a lot of money into a high-end camera.  But don't I already have an amazing camera?  Nope.  Did Slash learn to play guitar on his custom built Gibson Les Paul?  Definitely not.  The way I see it, once I master the art of using what I have to its full potential, just imagine what I can do once I drop $1k+ on a camera.  The idea gives me an arton, and hopefully it will be sooner than later.

I remember reading one time that if you say "How are you", or another follow-up question after somebody says hi, it shows that you are generally interested in them.  Today, at a grocery store, I didn't bother saying the secondary question, I thought about it, and didn't care.  I don't know why, usually I'm in an outgoing, please everybody mood, but at that point, I may have already been in a "me vs. everyone" mood.  That happens from time to time.  Coffee.

I try and make it a point to be kind to everybody I meet without question.  But of course, that doesn't always happen.  If you approach me and are a dick, no respect for you.  If I'm working and you come up to me, no greeting, and just tell me what you "need", fuck you.  I'm going to point to what you "need" and walk away.  (Did that tonight, felt great)  But, if when I walk up to you, and I can tell you have an upbeat, good (or in the least, not bad) attitude, and actually say hello, shit, I'll do whatever you want me to do.  It seems like every time I'm talking to a manager about me as an employee, they always mention how amazing I am at talking to people.  I don't really try to fake kindness, or pretend to be a nice guy, I'm just not a dickhole.
So, with all this praise I have gotten from my employer, it kind of makes me shake my head at the thought that I'm still paid barely above minimum wage.  If you worked with me, you would completely understand what I am talking about.  I worked in Portable Electronics (DVDs, CDs, Cameras, GPS, and MP3s) for eight months.  Yes, it was around 60% of the store, and I mastered almost every aspect of that department.  It's just how I work.  So, when I am about to transfer into best buy mobile (BBYM), I tell my soon-to-be supervisor that I will be happy when I don't have to go back to SLRs several times a day when somebody has a question and the employees in the department don't have an answer for them.  She says that I will be in BBYM, not PE anymore, and I shouldn't have to do that anymore.  Damn right.  Time goes by, I switch departments.  Guess what, yup, I'm still having to go back to cameras to help out because the other employees don't know how to do a google search.  This all comes back to the fact that I'm still just another sales associate, or rather in BBYM, a mobile consultant.  While I'm still at the bottom of the totem pole, there are other who shall remain nameless who are getting promoted to positions of power and higher pay who still are coming to ME for questions.  I had my GM in the store on his day off (read:plain clothes) asking me questions about something while I was helping other customers.  As he walked away, I told the customers that he was my GM, and they replied with a small laugh as well as "And he's coming to you for answers?"  I feel you, I feel you.  Maybe at my new store things will be a little different.  One can hope.  Coming from a young, inexperienced kid, is that how the world works?  God, I hope not, but I expect it to.

Well, I think I've ranted enough for tonight, check out the site I've started building just for something to do.
http://bit.ly/rockymorgan

and better tomorrows.

This is me in my future home.

move it like a gypsy

Last night while I was working, I had to be pulled away from the end of a transaction [I had already gotten their phones taken care of, activated, all I had to do then was ring them out] because I was told "they needed help in SLR's".  Okay, because this is coming from Josh, a coworker who knows I know my shit, I realized they're probably getting the "This is a....nice camera....it has a lens with it..." from the workers in the camera department, because they're all idiots.  Josh saw a potential sale, and knew I could close it.  I'll spare the details, but they ended up leaving with printouts of the two cameras they were looking at, to do a little reading, and because the mother wanted to come in tonight without her child and husband, because it would just be easier to have one-on-one time learning about it.  I spent around 40 minutes with them explaining what they needed to buy and what they could buy.  Because I'm not on commission, I could give two shits about if somebody buys anything, just listen to me and don't be a dick and we're squared.  That's exactly what they did.  I got them excited about a camera, excited about finally being the parents that email the other kid's parents photos of them from the soccer/football/baseball game.
I knew they would be developing a sense of pride, not at their child, or themselves, but at something they had and something they could create.
There's something about the feeling you get after you sit back and look at something you created.  Something you made from scratch, something you put your hard work into, something that wasn't easy.  It's a sense of accomplishment unlike any other.  Yeah, you feel accomplished when you get a good grade on a test, or if you win at beer pong, but that is a molehill compared to this mountain.  That is one of the very reasons that I love what I do, and also love taking photos.  Yeah, if you're looking at my Flickr, you'll see a lot of self portraits [there are more, but most are hidden].  It isn't because I'm vain, not in the least.  I take so many photos of myself because I'm always available for me to do a shoot with.  I'm ready, willing, and able.  I look at it as keeping myself in check.  They say that you are your own harshest critic, and I couldn't agree more.  So, if I'm taking/editing photos of myself, I won't let anything slide.  I have an extremely keen eye on the details of everything, and I won't settle with mediocre.  That way, I'm used to not cutting any corners in the editing process.  Yes, I will cut a corner here and there when doing work that I'm not too stoked about, but barely ever.
So there's a reason why I have so many photos of myself on my social sites.
If you could, wound you do the same thing?
Today in the shower, I ended up thinking back on my cat, Mike.
He was my first real pet, and the only one I've ever really had.  Yeah, my family had cats, but they weren't "mine".  Mike was mine.  We spent so much time together throughout the years.
When I got back from my first California stint, Mike was right where he was when I left him, waiting for me.  We continued right where we left off.  He would come and just lay on my lap no matter what I was doing, regardless of the time of day.  Watching a movie, lay on the lap.  Eating cookies, lay on the lap.  Tying your shoes, lay on the lap.  You get the idea?  Mike was also a licker.  I don't think that cat had a single mean bone in his body.  If you ever found the rare chance of playing with him when he would start "scratching" your hands [when you would furiously rub his belly], he would end up taking your hand in his paws, pulling it quickly towards his cat fangs, and...start licking your hand to death.

Mike passed away from kitty cancer a while ago, and it was devastating.  I remember my father calling me after I told him to take Mike to the vet to get checked out.  He just wasn't himself.  Mike was still there, they waited to see if I wanted to say goodbye to Mike.  I couldn't do it.  I didn't want my last memory of Mike to be one like that.  I have plenty of memories of Mikey, and all of them are amazing.

Well, those people from last night didn't show up tonight, I guess it just goes to show excitement is temporary, so get stoked as much as you can.

Weird moral, huh?

Oh how they envy

I'm a patient trapped in a waiting room.
A traveler stuck in the terminal.
It's my time to escape.
Life, let me go live.

Just breathe

As you may or may not notice, there's a sizable chunk of my last post missing.
I did something that I didn't think I had to do.  I removed it because it may/did upset people.

Because this is my personal blog, a journal of sorts, I will tell you how I feel about this.

But before I start, let me state that you may not agree with what I think.


I repeat, you may not agree with what I think.


But the beauty of that is, that I shouldn't have to mind, because this is my blog.  I blog for myself.  I write what is on my mind.  I shouldn't have to write with other people in mind, censoring what I feel to cater to the needs of others.  I certainly mean no harm by any words I say, that's not in my nature.  But, when thoughts are coming straight out of your head, often times there isn't enough time to stop, take a look at what you just said, change and omit parts, then publish.  It's not part of my process.

I have never had a real place to express myself.
I can't show how I'm feeling by photographing some local metal band,
I can't tweet my true thoughts in under 140 characters,
I can't update my emotional status and count on someone to like it,

This is the best that I've got.
I never said you have to read/like/agree with anything that I say, that would be being pushy, and I am not a pushy person.  I am a kind-hearted guy who wishes the best for people striving for success, health, happiness, or anything that takes hard work and effort.

I need this.

I don't have any other outlet to say how I actually feel about...anything.  You can't take this away from me, so please don't make me feel like what I'm doing is wrong.  Would you deny an artist his paintbrush? How about taking away Lance Armstrong's bicycle?  Never.  They're tools of their trade.  Well, the keyboard is the tool of my trade at this very moment, and nothing else is this important.

You may find yourself here, just reading for entertainment, a tourist.  By all means, read away.  I hope you enjoy it.  You also may find yourself here reading what I have to say/think because you are generally interested in it.  Thank you.

In this day and age, paper and pen are dead.  What was once written in a journal, is now written in a blog.  I could just write down my feelings, save it as a draft, and never publish.  But that's cowardly.  I'm putting myself out there.  My whole self.  I'm a pretty complicated dude if you really want to get into it, but I would much rather make myself seem simple just so you could relate to me.

I keep considering going a week without a phone or computer.  See how much more stress-free my life would become.


The creative juices aren't flowing tonight, there's too much on my mind.

An Open Letter to Anyone who's listening

This is a story of a boy, or rather now, a man,
one who never knew what he wanted, but he knew how to get it.
That he is me, and I am living.

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I think that's enough for tonight, if you're actually still reading this, then you're one of the few people that I truly care about in life, and let it be known that you will always be a part of me.

I took this photo of myself today.  When I don't have anything else to do, I photograph myself.  Why?  I tell myself it's to keep myself in practice, but I have yet to figure out any deeper meaning.

When I dream

I've always been one to "live in the moment".  You know, don't plan out your entire life in hopes of making it perfect, just go with the flow and greatness will be achieved.  Today, I realized I'm sort of going out of my normal way of living, because these days going by are no longer "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday", they're "26 days left here, 25 days left here, 24..."
And you know what?  That's completely okay with me.
I am counting down the days until my new life starts.
I won't be doing anything petty and dumb like dying my hair a crazy color, changing my name, or getting a gym membership, I'm not a 35 year-old woman breaking up with her boyfriend, I'm a dude who's making life happen for him.

While on my way to work today, I saw at a bus stop, an older couple.  This wasn't just any couple, it was a couple that made my heart sink with joy, pride, love, and empathy.
It was a man and a woman.  The man was standing with his back to the road, arms at his sides, collared shirt tucked in, facing the woman.  The woman was facing the man, staring intently at his head, combing his hair for him, making sure it looked right, presentable.  I don't know why exactly it hit me so hard, but it almost brought a tear to my eye.  I felt the man's happiness and excitement being passed into me, but I do not know where he was going.  Perhaps he was going to a job interview, his first day of work, or maybe it was the daily routine before he took the bus to work.

This made me realize that some people are just legitimately happy where they are.  I was glad that I was able to see what I did, because it put things into perspective a little bit.  I'm not sure what I can write about that experience, so much of the feelings I have about it can't be expressed.

Today I had the pleasure of spending the afternoon with one of the few of my truly good friends, Abigail. We have similar pasts, similar stories, and similar feelings on life.  We share our hardships, open up to each other, and are able to be real with each other.  She will be one of the few people in this state that I will truly miss when I am gone.  I hope everything goes as planned for her, and she ends up happy with wherever she goes.

That's all for tonight.
Today was a good day.

Photo is from a sad day.

If it hasn't broken, make it better.

Today, as I was pulling up to Staples to pick up some nice new pens, I noticed a car in the parking lot with the Ironman logo (the race, not the superhero) on it's back window with the words "Ironman or bust!".  Upon closer inspection, I noticed there was a giant "You go girl!" painted on the right side of the car.  I'm pretty good at using deductive reasoning, so I figure the woman who owns the van is attempting to do the Ironman.

If you don't know, the ironman consists of a marathon (26.2 mile run), a 2.4 mile swim, and a 112 mile bike ride.
Not your typical morning workout.  My father did an ironman, and anybody who can cover 140.6 miles in a single day, not in a car, is batshit insane.

So, feeling like this person needs all the encouragement she can get, I grab a handful of my "Never Quit" stickers out of my glovebox, write on a piece of paper "You can do it!" and put them all under their windshield wiper.

Hopefully she enjoyed it.

Knowledge is power

If you want to experience my atmosphere while writing this, turn our your lights, Go here, listen to this.

I've never been one to show any emotions or feelings outwardly since I can remember.
Yes, at times I might get frustrated, or excited, but those aren't the feelings I'm referring to.
The feelings I'm talking about are the type of feelings that tell you a lot about a person.
Rage, Resentment, Adoration, Lust, Compassion, I think you get the idea.
I was driving today, trying to pinpoint a reason why that's the case for me, and have yet to come to a conclusion.
Ever since I've been talking to girls, middle school or so, I've never been the ladies man.  It may be because I am terrified of women.  In that sense, I'm still stuck in middle school.  I've never been one to go up to random women and strike up conversations.  It just has never been...my thing?
To my credit, I have been told that I am extremely good at talking to girls, and people in general, but when the idea of picking up women, hitting on them, with the sole purpose of getting a number, a booty call, etc. it just doesn't click with me.  I won't go too deep into that, because I can only make assumptions about myself, and that may or may not be accurate at all.
While in California on my last trip, I was at Chipotle with an amazing friend of mine, Sean Kelly.  We went there before a concert, and of course, maxed out on huge burritos.  In fact, it was his first time ever being there.
After we were done eating, we go inside to refill our waters before leaving, and at the fountain was an employee getting a drink to go with her (assuming) dinner that she got before she was leaving work.  I started up a conversation  with her about the perks of working there, and whether or not she got sick of eating burritos (she didn't), maybe two or three minutes of a chat, and then I said "Have a good night." and left.
Looking back on that, that situation says a lot about my actions compared to most others.  If I were to tell someone that I just had a conversation with a girl who worked at Chipotle, and she seemed really nice, their next canned response would be something along the lines of "Did you get her number?" or "Was she hot?"  But in reality, I could care less.  I didn't want any takeaways to prove I had a good chat, I didn't need that.  The satisfaction of being a good single-serving friend was all I really wanted.
Emotions are something of a weak category of my personality.  I have trouble expressing them, I have trouble identifying them, and I have trouble letting others in.
The only thing that could change / improve this is time.  The more I go on, trying to let my real self out, the closer I get to unlocking myself.  Lately, I've been experiencing some newer feelings, good feelings.  I'm not exactly sure what to do with them, and that fact alone makes me feel naïve and less confident about myself, but it doesn't discourage me.  I just need to feel it out, look into myself a little bit more, and put myself out there for these feelings to take shape.  I'm starting to hold things closer to me, things are becoming more special as days go by, life will be getting full of amazing feelings, experiences, people.  I don't want to be misunderstood, but I don't want to be overlooked.  I'm sure it is the start of many good things to come, and I am excited to learn more about myself through these new experience.  




All I've got to do is jump.

Unrelated photo.

what breaks us, makes us.

What makes you and I so different?
What makes me so different than other people in my situation?
What makes my life different than other people I know?

I take action.  I make things happen.

The recent week spent in California made me realize, well frankly, a lot of things.
The biggest realization that I had, the white elephant in the room, the thought that was almost slapping me in the face as it lingered in my head for 8 days solid, was the fact that;
1a. I am unhappy where I am, geographically and mentally.
1b.  I can change that.
It didn't set in immediately, the idea of control.  It was something I had thought I had forfeited by moving back.
But that wasn't the case, the idea of control was only lying dormant, waiting for the right time to expose itself.

Control of one's life is what separates the happy from the unhappy.  Yes, this is a very bold statement, and who am I to make such an assumption?  Well, first of all, if you think that, fuck you, this is my blog.  Secondly, just think about it.

I won't give any examples, just imagine what makes you unhappy about yourself.  Is it unreasonable to think that it can be changed?  Absolutely not,

do something.

As evident in my writings, I am not content with where I am.
And you know what?  I'm changing that, in more ways than one.

Track #15 will be called "Attitude".

If you know me, you know that I'm always upbeat and stoked on life.  But what you may not know is that it is impossible for anybody to truly be that excited about everything in life all the time, that is, without meth.  Since I'm not one for meth...I have a thing about my teeth, I've decided that I might as well just act that I'm happy to be where I am.  A special person once told me that you have 80,000 conversations with yourself every day, and 80% of them are negative things.  If you think about it (at least for me) this certainly rings true.  It is even more true when you are putting on a facade.  Working with people just hammers in that statistic even more.  I remember reading about how if you tell yourself you are happy for long enough, you will eventually begin to believe it.  Horse shit.  That doesn't work, it hasn't for the last two years.

The bright side of this post;
I have literally been counting down the days until I leave.  I am like a child on Christmas morning, wanting to sprint into the family room and tear apart every present, whether it has my name on it or not.  But, I have to be mature about this, and wait until someone says 'go ahead'.  That someone this time is Lindsay, because she is my co-pilot.  She's accompanying me on the trip back home, and there are many adventures to be had on the way.  I've been working an insane amount since I got back from my trip, up until I leave, accumulating as much new life money as I can, because, to be frank I don't have much left here for me, I have already started the transformation.  Planning out the silliest things, things that most people would roll their eyes at, but make me giddy.  As sad as it may sound, I can't wait to not talk to any of my "acquaintances" from here ever again.  I just want to have a goodbye dinner just so my last words to them would be "You'll never see me again!", followed by the finger and a door-slam.  Don't worry, if you are actually reading this, that means you will be missed, and you will be kept in touch.


Time to move on to a better place,
no more lies,
no more masks,
time to do some living.

Kids Into Living Life

Have you ever taken a road trip as a child?
Maybe you and your family went to your grandparent's house a few hours away, or a family reunion a few states away, or you went to the Gulf of Mexico for Spring Break once or twice.
I have had the opportunity take more than my fair share of road trips in my lifetime.
But, the constant with most of my long car trips that I have taken is that I was always in the backseat.  I was never even nearly old enough to drive when we used to actually vacation as a family.
Last year, I had the pleasure of driving from Wisconsin to California with my best friend Nate Mead, and on the way back with my other best friend, Lauren.  It was an amazing time, spending all day in a car, listening to music, having good chats, and finding a countless number of interesting truck stops, the stories are endless.
Now, in about a month, I will be heading back out on the road with Lindsay, but this time is different.
Unlike last time, where it was a round trip...trip,

this time I won't have a return trip to make.

Lions will be lions

Are you running away from something, or running towards something?

I am terrified of settling down. Moving back to Wisconsin, in my head, was the epitome is settling down. I was moving back into the room I had spent many years in, using the same bathroom that I had for 16 some-odd years, put my clothes in the same closet I had used for so long, it had become routine. Even thinking about this now, me writing this in the aforementioned room, makes me sick to my fucking stomach.

I was on a roll for a few years, moving every 6 months like clockwork. My 'security blanket' was a suitcase, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Then, came the opportunity of a lifetime, a dream come true, the bright side of a bad situation.

If you've read many of my previous posts, you may know of the point in my life which took place 6/15/09 - 9/21/09.

I had the pleasure of having my grandparents (whom I was living with at the time) move out of their house, back to the midwest. No, they didn't leave me with their house, they sold it, packed up, and got the hell outta dodge.

Well, what about me?

I seized that opportunity and decided to have a life adventure. One that would change my life forever. After careful thought and research, I decided I would live a nomadic lifestyle for a while, living out of a backpack and a keen ability to adapt to life situations...like Wolverine.

If one were so inclined to hear about those adventures, see the earlier posts in my blog. I feel I would sound like a broken record if I once again wrote about my backpack adventures, so I will spare you.

I guess, in a very roundabout way, I'm trying to say that this period of my life was an amazing time, always at risk, living on the edge, never knowing where I'm going to stay, where I'll end up, if I can afford to eat that day.

Did I enjoy this?

Fuck yeah I did.

But now look at me, I've been living in Wisconsin for the past 'I would rather not say", and hating every single minute of it. Do I have a little anger inside because of that? Yes.

You're a baker, and you love helping out your local community. The zoo in town is preparing to have a birthday party for the famous Lion, Reggie. You decide it would be a kind gesture to make Reggie an extravagant birthday cake, with all of the trimmings. I'm not talking about a funfetti cake, I'm talking Cake Boss style cake with fireworks, modeling chocolate in the shape of other animals, and thousands of tiny blades of grass made of green frosting. You spend every waking moment working on this cake. It has become not just a cake, but your life. Everything about yourself is being poured into this cake, your blood, sweat, & tears. After many hours slaving over it, the creation is finally finished, and just in time. You arrive at the giant birthday party, the entire town is there. Reggie paces back and forth in his cage, inspecting all of the people who showed up for his special day. As time goes on, the tension builds, you think to yourself,

"What will he think?"

"Is it good enough?"

"Should I have done...?"

The time approaches for you to unveil your creation to Reggie. The zookeepers bring the cake into the cage, candles lit, it is perfect.

You know that all your hard work was wor...

What's this? It appears that Reggie is tearing the cake to pieces, as if it was a wounded gazelle.

Looks like Reggie didn't care about your stupid cake.

He's a fucking Lion.

Lions will be lions, and you can't hold it against them for obeying the laws of nature. You just can't help but hate yourself for all the hard work, sacrifices, and effort you put into preparing this gift for him.

In Friends We Trust

If you read, you will judge.

I took a small vacation to a place that once captivated my life, a far-away land where dreams became reality, where nothing is impossible, and the sun was always shining.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was back in California for 8 days. The entire time on the West Coast was spent with amazing people, in perfect weather.

A girl I had been friends with for a while back in Madison, Wisconsin ended up picking me up from LAX, after a few minutes of thinking she was lost, she ended up finding me, standing outside the American Airlines terminal around 3:30pm, a good start to my first day in California. If you know anything about this area of the world, you know that 3:30pm means traffic. So, me being a former Californian, I suggested that I drive in rush hour on our way back to Orange County.

In retrospect, 8 days is not nearly enough time back. I hesitate to finish the previous sentence with "home" for a few reasons, but I digress.

fast forward a few days.

The time is now, the place is here, life is changing before my eyes and I'm struggling to keep up with myself. For the past year, I have had an index card hung on my bulletin board right in eyesight that read

"Do what you can, with what you have, where you are"

This was to help me in times of defeat, when I would sit back in my chair and ask myself "What the hell am I doing back here?" You as the reader may or may not be confused with what I am referring to, depending on how well you know me, my life, or how much of this blog you have read, so here's a little back story.

9/21/09 - I move back to Wisconsin after living in California for 2 years, 2 months, and 2 weeks. (I moved to California on 7/7/07) The reason I moved back was to be with my father, who was recently diagnosed with colon cancer, and was about to undergo Chemotherapy and Radiation (Not necessarily one in the same). I may have told you, your brother, or someone you know another reason why I moved back, but when it comes down to it, that was the sole determining reason for me coming back. I would come up with different reasons why I moved back not so I could tell other people something else, but because it was one of the most difficult decisions I have ever had to make, and it was hard for me to face the facts. Now, I will tell you if you ask me why I moved "Because my father was diagnosed with cancer."

Yes, 19 year-old me dropped everything I had loved, everything I had worked for, all the amazing friendships I had created, to be with my father in one of his most enduring hardships someone can go through. Holy shit, looking back on that, I deserve a god damn medal for that act of stupidity. It may have been a dumb choice if you were to look at the pros vs. cons, the here vs. there argument, but it was the choice that I had to make. I'm the type of person who will put my loved ones in front of myself, no matter what it takes.

Because of this, the past few years of my life have been filled with good friends, and nothing more. I'm a giver, and that is often overlooked. My intentions are always the best, and I'm too kind-hearted to not go with the flow. I'm no good at expressing my emotions. Anytime you find me, I'm probably in a seemingly good mood, or in no mood at all. I have yet to narrow down the reason for that, but I'm sure deep down there's an explanation to my nature.

Let's get back on track to what I was saying...

I dropped everything and moved back to Wisconsin, to live in my old room, still painted green, still donning the sports-themed wallpaper put up when I was in elementary school. I couldn't help but feel like I took a huge step backwards in my life, the ultimate move of digression. I hated myself for it, but it was for the 'greater good'.

Fast forward a few months, to March of 2010...

I am attending college, the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater to pass the time. I, being a morning person, tend to wake up at 6am to shower and get ready, and still have enough time to sit and catch up on the news.

(editors note; my palms are sweating and my heartbeat is increasing.)

This day is a little different. I get back from the showers, still in my towel, I check my phone.

6 missed calls.

They are all from my sister, Katy. There is something odd about that, being it is so early in the morning. As I hold my phone in my hand, she calls again, I answer immediately.

"Rocky, you should probably have a seat."

Oh no, it must be my grandfather. He has had lung problems for years, his health has been slowly deteriorating. I have been dreading this phone call.

"Is it grandpa?" I ask and I stumble to sit down on the love-seat in my dorm room.

"No, it's Jeremy. [my oldest brother] He shot himself in the head."

I don't know what to think, my mind draws a blank. I don't know what to say, this is something nobody can prepare for. From that moment, it is all a blur. I remember calling my father, demanding he come pick me up, so I can go to the hospital. Next thing I remember, I'm running into the waiting room, and I see my mother talking to a police officer. I hurl my body into her arms, "They just pronounced him dead." she tells me, I lose it.

I lost all control over any emotions at that moment. My heart sank to the bottom of my shoes. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what to think, I didn't know what to do.

All I knew is that I would never see my brother again.

Jeremy was the type of older brother you see in the movies. He was the smartest guy I knew, a semester away from getting an engineering degree, he decided to just work construction. He loved getting his hands dirty, creating things, being a part of a team. He was an amazing athlete, setting records on offense and defense. He was an amazing brother, always having one eye on my sister when they would go out places, whether it's a bar, a sports game, or anywhere of the sort. He was her protector. He was our role model, never yelling at my other brother or myself in a threatening way. He truly loved us with all his heart.

I remember the last conversation I ever had with Jeremy, it was about becoming a bartender, something he had done, something I have always wanted to do. I remember how he ended the call, how he ended every phone call to me.

"See you later brother"

"Talk to you later, little brother."

"Love you, brother."

That's just the type of guy he was. Nice as can be, willing to bend over backwards for anyone in need. If I could ever be half the man that Jeremy was, then that is all I can ask for.

Growing up, you never have to think about this situation. You just believe that you will grow up and be old, wrinkly, having Christmas at a family member's house, drinking coffee and reminiscing of the times we would spend at our Grandparent's house on Lake Somo, or the road trips we would often take for vacation. Sitting around a table, growing older, wiser, with your family.

Now, family gatherings are different. I don't know if they will ever be the same without Jeremy. He always had such a presence wherever we were, striking up conversations with anybody and everybody. For his funeral, everybody came. And when I say everybody, I mean everybody. He wasn't the type of person for someone to say "Jeremy who?" No, whether you knew him as Jeremy, Mo, Morgan, J-Dub, or any other pseudonym, you knew exactly who he was. If you had ever had a conversation with him, you would remember his laugh. A deep belly laugh sure to make anyone in earshot at least chuckle a bit. Always smiling, always being a nice guy, always having an authoritative yet kind presence wherever he went.

Now, he's gone, and my life has never been the same. I still don't know how to answer the question of how many siblings I have, nor do I think I ever will know how.

Even if I don't believe in any type of hierarchical deity, I still know that my brother is there, watching over me, making sure I make the right choices.

It probably isn't that hard to believe, but shortly thereafter, I feel into a deep depression, I didn't know what way was up, I couldn't keep my mind on the task at hand, I couldn't focus, I couldn't concentrate. It was like I was...I don't know. But it was a rough time. I was never happy, I found it hard to maintain friendships, or contact with friends.

Most people who know me probably don't know anything about my brother, how I lost him, or that I even had a brother. I never bring it up in conversation. How would you?

"My brother just bought a new house."
"Oh yeah, well my brother just died."

I'm sure you can imagine how Buzz Killington would feel about that.

If you ask me about it, I'll probably talk about it a bit, but I won't want to go as in-depth as I have tonight, unless you're someone special, and we're alone. I don't like discussing my hardships in front of people, I guess that goes back to my "always upbeat" attitude or some shit, I don't know.

And that all happened during my father's cancer treatments.

Wow, that kind of brought the mood back to an all time low again...shit.

My father's final scorecard

Colon Cancer - 0

Thyroid Cancer - 0

Skin Cancer - 0

Brian Morgan - 1

Which is good news. but now, right when he was wrapping up all of that, my mother calls my brother and I to meet at her and my sister's house to talk.

She now has breast cancer.

fuck.

My family just can't get a break. She ends up going through Chemotherapy and Radiation for that, expecting to lose her hair, which she didn't (there's a bright side to everything).

Then, they end up diagnosing her with thyroid cancer also. So they go forth with treatment for that.

Then, they end up diagnosing her with skin cancer also. So they go forth with treatment for that.

She's kicking that cancer's ass though,

Little known fact, cancer is a whiny, melodramatic bitch.

So now here I sit, back to where my story had initially began, me just arriving back to Wisconsin from California.

After too many days and nights thinking, I have decided that I am going to go back home to California.

It is time for me to live for myself, and do what is best for me. I'm 21 fucking years old, and the past 2 years have been a living hell. It's time to fucking party and let loose.

God damn it, bring on the hot tubs.