Welcome to O C K E T S . N E T - one of many in the wild, wild net.
Well I’m in Los Angeles now… and I’ve been running errands in the morning/early afternoons, and in the evening I’ve been playing Warhammer Online at Howie’s Game Shack in Westminster Mall.
The trip over was certainly an adventure. I had decided I couldn’t wait any longer and I ended up leaving Colorado Springs at like 9 in the evening just to get a head start on my half-cross-country trek to Los Angeles. I made it all the way to Golden, CO, when one of my tires decided to go flat on the C-470. I’m hauling a 5′ by 9′ rented trailer from UHAUL with my motorcycle in it, and as I go over a bridge at the speed limit of the freeway, my steering wheel starts to vibrate slightly. My tach starts to rise and my speed slowly drops. 70 miles per hour. 65 miles per hour. 55. 45. When I hit 45 I had a split second moment of alarm, then I pulled over to the side to figure out what’s wrong. As I’m slowing down I realize what’s going on, as I smell rubber burning and my car feels like one of the wheels is oddly shaped. Yep, I have a flat in the front right tire. I pray to God that my spare is working, and sure enough it’s ready to go, sitting underneath all my crap in the trunk. This was the second time in my life I’ve had to replace a flat on my car, the first time being in my high school parking lot while I was still driving my first car. This was, however, the first time I had to do any freeway shoulder-side emergency maintenance, and getting out of your car while big ass trucks zoom past at 75 miles per hour during Denver rush hour (read: not Los Angeles bumper to bumper rush hour) can be pretty intimidating. Deep breath, wait for a big space between cars… and go. I ended up switching to the spare tire, throwing the busted one in the ramp trailer with my bike, then I proceeded to pull off the freeway at the next exit (Kipling Parkway). After calling the shop (thanks SSgt(S) SAS & Mr. RG), I found out that I had fortunately enough gotten off the freeway and right at a Big O tire store. I ended up spending $500 to get all my tires replaced–Subaru recommends that all tires be replaced if the tread depth between old and new tire is more than 3/32″… mine was almost double that. I pull into the shop at about 7 AM, tires come to the store by 11, and I’m out by 12 PM… half the day gone thanks to my roadside mishap.
So I’m going 75 MPH, eastward down the I-70, even though I have a trailer and there’s a sticker on these UHAUL trailers that say “Speed 45 Limit” on them. I have a little MPG display in my dash that I can switch to and see how much fuel I’m burning to move forward. With cruise control on, I was watching myself do 12 MPG, and stupidly pass by Grand Junction, CO without topping off my gas. I cross into Utah, expecting Green River, UT to be like a few minutes away, I’m thinking to myself “yeah, I’ll gas up at Green River, right before the 109 Mile no-services zone.” Nope. I switch my hud to the display that shows me how many miles I can expect to drive on my current fuel reserve. 120 miles as I cross the state border… “okay”, I think to myself, no problem getting to the next small town with a gas pump to refuel. 110 miles. 100. Concern on my face, I pass a sign that says “Green River 67, Thompson 34″. Now I think, alright, I’m going to gas up at Thompson. So I’m putting along, every couple of miles seeing signs for Thompson getting closer. Eventually I see a lone Shell sign over a hill, and suddenly my engine starts to sputter. At first I think it’s another tire problem, which would be extremely shitty seeing as how I’m literally in the middle of nowhere, and a lone gas station is up the road, first one I seen since I crossed into Utah. Then I’m wondering if it’s something worse, seeing as how I’m towing a few hundred pounds of motorcycle and trailer behind me in my little Subaru Legacy 2.5L GT. I look at my gas gauge… quarter tank. I look at the mile estimator… 50 miles. No gas light. No check engine light. I’m now praying to God that I can make it to the Shell station at Thompson so I can at least get help… possibly. I climb over a hill and my engine sputters hard, and then I realize that I’m actually out of gas (this happened to me once before on my motorcycle back in Colorado Springs). For those that never experienced running out of gas on the freeway, it feels like your car just starts engine braking, i.e. you downshift once, put your car into gear, let the clutch go, and experience your car braking without you actually applying brakes. So I go over the hill, then when I get to the top I put my car into neutral and coast down the other side. Great, I think to myself. Then I look ahead and see that in order for me to get to the gas station I need to go over one more hill. So I put my car into drive once I reach the bottom, and I start accelerating. My engine starts to brake again, and this time it actually feels like something is stopping my car rather than the rapid but steady slowdown I experienced back in Golden, CO… as if I were driving into a wall of water and suddenly created alot of drag. I pull off to the side of the road, and I’ve got the gas pedal all the way down, just trying to get to the top of the hill. I think the 30 seconds it took to get to the top of the hill, with the gas pedal down, and my car sputtering forward at about 10 miles per hour, were some pretty long 30 seconds (not the longest) in my life. My car would surge forward at 10 miles per hour, then would slow down. Surge, slow down. Each time my car slowed down I was praying it had one more surge in it, just to get over this hill. And eventually… the car comes over the peak. 
I put it into neutral and coast down the freeway exit ramp, I do a “hollywood stop” at the stop sign at the bottom of the ramp turning into the road, then continue to coast right down into the fuel station, right up to the pump. Wow. Thank God I made it… I know I’m being watched over and my ass just got saved once again.
Sure enough, I had run out of fuel. As soon as I put that filthy 90 octane gas into my car, the engine revved up like a champ and I was on the road again going to Green River. Lesson learned, I would fuel up at half tank from now on, because apparently my gas needle and mile “guesstimator” are not always correct, what with the recently changing driving conditions my car was experiencing.
The 2nd day of my trip wasn’t so bad. I spent the night at Washington City, UT, (which has an awesome Holiday Inn Express, by the way). Las Vegas was hot, as usual, and normally would not be a concern except today I was hauling a trailer with a motorcycle, so on those uphill climbs I was in the slow lane with the rest of the trucks. Once again learning the hard way, I noticed during my ascent of a mountain during the previous day that my engine temp started rising, and I figured out that simply dropping my speed and turning off my AC allowed my engine to keep under the H line, in a more normal range. I tried to keep it under 3k RPM, 2.5k being the ideal from what I noticed. At times this meant going up a hill at 25 miles per hour in CA. Then once I got into Los Angeles, I realized that no one obeyed speed limit signs… not even the trucks. So me and my trailer were going above the speed limit, but still at the speed of traffic, even though trucks and autos with trailers were supposed to be doing 55 MPH max. Oh well, when in Rome. Because I think it’s more of a hazard if I’m the only jackass on the right side doing the speed limit when everyone (trucks included) was doing at lest 65-75, 10 to 20 miles above the limit for trailers.
All in all I got here unscathed, and I have to say I’m pretty happy about that. That was last Thursday afternoon. Since then I’ve been running errands, and I’ve tried to space them out to one or two a day so I’d have something to do each day, at least in the morning. Since then, though, I’ve replaced my rear brakes, got my oil changed, got my emissions inspection, got new Cali plates, met a girl who hasn’t called me back, and played a shitton of Warhammer at night in Westminster. Also hung out with Alvin, Kyuu Hee, and Janet over the course of last weekend. This weekend… I dunno. I want to go out, and I might end up lone wolfing this shit for the first time because it’s getting boring playing games all night.
By the way, when I left LA in 2004 all I saw were fat office chicks… now I’m back and good lord all the girls are smoking hot. Even the older ones (read: mid thirties). Hell I saw what had to have been a lady in her late 50s, even she looked cute… great shape, nice face, and took care of her silver hair. I’m amazed and how different this town got… it’s like all the fitness that I expected to see in CO, I end up seeing here in Los Angeles. Just goes to show that the world changes all the time, continuously. It’s one thing to know, it’s another thing to see and understand.
Anyway, I’m done blah blah blahing here for now. Gonna go look for some adventure in the Cali sun.
Hasta, cavrones.
Hidy ho.
So tomorrow morning the Gov’t is going to pack up my apartment and store it for a couple of months while I go to OTS and my next base. This is my last entry from Colorado Springs, CO.
You know what they say about the end, it makes you think about the beginning. Today I’m nearing the end of my first tour of duty, successfully completed without any major incidents and with my health. I arrived here back in June 2005, but it’s hard to believe it’s been three years and change already and I’m going to my next assignment.
Peterson is my first duty station.There were plenty of good days, plenty of the ho hum days, and very few bad days. Even during base and MAJCOM exercises, I’ve enjoyed my time here and the challenges that I encountered. I think if I had to rate my effort, as in what percent of my soul I put into my work on average, I’d say I gave it my 87%. I’m definitely not Mr. 110%, but I put forth that kind of effort anytime the situation required it. I think if I were happily married I would become that Mr. 110%… I think that if I had my own family, that I’d be a more focused person. I have alot of love to give, but I have yet to find the right girl to share that with. I figure it’s like that heirarchy of needs… I’m not too familiar with it, but the concept is that before high-level desires can be fulfilled, low-level basic needs must be met. What I took away from the few times I heard about it: you can’t help others before you help yourself. I need to get my life right, get to that foundation of loving family, before I can seriously blow the lid out of anything I can attempt to accomplish. But… I am the man I am today because of choices I made yesterday, and I can only hope to affect my tomorrow by setting myself up today. That means I keep on living and doing my best to grow into the kind of man that the kind of girl I’m looking for deserves.
Look at me go on, though…I guess that’s what happens when you start reviewing the past. You start thinking about the choices you make, grudges you keep, things you’ve forgotten. For better or for worse, I’ll be starting over when I get to Maxwell, and then once again when I get to Wright Patterson. I think this will be good… I have a chance to act on lessons I’ve learned while I’ve lived here. I know one thing is for sure… I’m going to introduce myself to my neighbors when I move in to Wright Patterson. I was reading about how Dave Chapelle lives in Yellow Springs, OH, and that village is only half an hour away from base. Apparently he said that all you need to live there is a smile and a kind way about you, and that’s what I need. I’m going to look into buying a house out there if one is available… I might have too much room but at least for me it’s room to grow
Anyway, I’m wheels-up rolling out of Colorado Springs this Wednesday morning, and I have a few more moving items I need to take care of before I can get out of this place. But as of tonight… this computer that I’ve been using to play games and write this blog from is going down until March 2009. I was deciding whether or not I wanted to carry my computer in my car for the next half a year, and I figure I shouldn’t. All I’m going to have with me on the way to CA is one week’s worth of clothes, my old uniforms, important papers, and my bike on a trailer. I can’t wait to get back home… I get to put my vote in this year! I didn’t vote back in ‘04 so I really can’t complain about the last 4 years… it’s been alright for me. All the craziness with the economy hasn’t really hit me yet–I’m not starving, I have a place to live, and I have a daily opportunity to contribute to society as a servant of the public. Also I look forward to having more food options, thanks to Mom cooking and the much larger variety of eateries in Los Angeles. Around here you get fast food, barbeque, buffets… fat-man stuff. If I want fish, I have to cook it myself, and I don’t trust my food preparation skills enough to make myself a broiled salmon. Mom always says it’s “so easy”, but I’ve got problems frying eggs, so go figure. As far as genetics go, I definitely did not get the family cooking genes.
Anyway, see you in CA if you live there. And to the girl who’s CL ad I replied to yesterday… I’m still waiting to hear back from you, damnit!
-TJ
Alrighty guys, I’m about to head out for Vegas. I’m excited about the ride, but honestly I’m not too excited because I’m going by myself.
Yes, that’s right, even the folks on this side of the rockies didn’t want to go (except for one of my friends PGT, and I haven’t heard back if he’s coming for sure or not). I wish I weren’t but I feel bitter about this… I feel like had I been a different person I would have been able to generate interest in the idea of a trip to Vegas among my peers over here. Just because I don’t go to clubs or whatever over here doesn’t make me an un-fun person, I just do different things for recreation.
But you know what, I can’t really dwell on that. I’m not going to not take a vacation because other people won’t go… I’ve been hoarding my leave days for that reason and I really just need to get over my fear of being a lone wolf. It’s something that I have to accept for the time being, and something I have to work on in the future, but as of this moment I guess no one wants to hang out with me–whether or not I’m okay with that is irrelevant.
Well I better get ready. It’s almost 4:30 and I haven’t even started getting ready yet, and I’m trying to leave by 5. I’ll see if I can do a travel log or something while I’m on the road, but if not, see you on Tuesday.
Damn right I dropped the N-word.
I rarely ever think about race. When I deal with a white person, I don’t ever think of what the difference between how I perceive myself versus how others perceive me… I just have business to take care of, and I’ll present myself in a professional manner… any snide remarks about my race are ignored… that’s just the way things go sometimes.
I never refer to myself as a Flip. For those that don’t know, that’s a supposed derogatory term for someone of Filipino descent, such as myself. My first and only encounter with this, unfortunately, was with another person who happened to have a half-filipino ethnic background. The day I met this person, he asked me if I was a Flip. I responded “no, I’m Filipino,” with as stern a look I could muster, and I didn’t hear about it since. I’ll nip that shit in the bud–I’ll be damed if I let someone start that racial “only between us” name shit.
Which brings me to the title of the post… Nigger is a state of mind. Certain folks will occasionally call each other that when they’re in a social mode I can only describe as “among friends”. Note that I say “certain folks”, because if I wanted to say “some black folks” I would have said “some black folks”. I choose the phrase “certain folks” because apparently it’s not just some black people using this word… on occasion some non-black people will call each other that when they’re socially among friends. “My nigga” or “Nigga please”… when used among friends, it’s not derogatory. I know it’s among friends and sometimes considered in style, but calling others “nigger” is wrong all the same for various reasons. But that’s not what I’m discussing in this post.
I’m trying to get to the core of a problem that some American minority communities have, which is racial identity. Someone tell me how often Martin Luther King Jr. referred to himself as a nigger. Someone tell me when Rosa Parks said “Nigga, please” in casual conversation. I’m willing to stake my pride as a human being that these words were never uttered by these and other true champions of civil rights. I’ve been watching and thinking, and have come to the conclusion that Nigger is a state of mind. When someone identifies themselves as a nigger, it’s not because they’re black, but rather they accept and possibly adhere to a certain culture that advocates blaming circumstances beyond ones control as the cause of some kind of failure. This is probably a difficult concept to grasp, but I have no idea how I came to this conclusion except by riding the train of rational thought on the matter. I’ve concluded that you don’t necessarily have to be black to be a nigger… that sounds crazy and is a bit unnerving but it’s true. I’ve on occasion heard non-blacks of various backgrounds use this phrase to refer to themselves and their friends. I don’t have the whole concept nailed down yet, but the core of my perception of Nigger is that you don’t have to be black to be one, regardless of what some black niggers may tell you or due to the background on the word itself.
My gut feeling on this is that once a person starts using “nigger” or a similar ethnic slur in casual speech (”Flip”, in my case), in their mind they accept the unfortunate perception that as hard as they try in life, they won’t get as far as other successful folks. I’m purposely vague here as I haven’t nailed down what the perception of “other folks” is… I want to say “white folks” but again the image of a successful person is different to everyone, and when I think of successful person I’m thinking of my parents, or a group of people like Bill Gates, Will Smith… yeah. Alot of different folks. A person who uses racial slurs in everyday speech as a method of identifying with someone of the same ethnic background thinks less of their own race, for whatever reason… that much I’ve been able to discern. I’m not a “Flip”. I’m an American of Filipino descent, trying hard to make a living, gain social status–just generally trying to deserve living in a good country. Although I personally feel like I’m doing things later in life than most other folks, I think overall I’m doing alright.
It’s vague, and I’m still trying to form my conclusions revolving around the word “nigger” and the frame of mind someone has when they use what is supposedly a very severe ethnic slur among friends. I value all input one may have on this subject, and even if you call me crazy, threaten to report me to my squadron commander, whatever… it’s your right to say so, and I’ll approve the comment. I’ve been wrong before, but each time I try to take away the lesson from the situation so that I won’t be wrong in the future. But as of right now I stand by my words in this article until given insight otherwise.
Firstly, happy Constitution Day. It was this day in 1776 that the Constitution was first signed into law, so happy 221st birthday, United States Constitution!
So I’ve been thinking about this lately, what does it mean to be American? When I first started having a racial identity, I would tell people I’m Filipino. After all, that’s where my parents are from, that’s the culture they were raised in, and that’s how they raised me–as a Filipino. I have brown skin, asian features, and a small stature, so that’s why I’m Filipino.
As a young man in high school and through college, I think I started identifying myself as Filipino-American. After all, I might have been raised with Filipino values from Filipino parents, but I also learned American values from friends and media. Therefore, I am a Filipino-American, and I’ve been that way up until last year.
Last December, I read an article lamenting the rise of the hyphenated Airman, which referred to the concept of the hyphenated American. The article claimed that the hyphenated Airman implied a fundamental difference between a regular Airman and a Communications Airman, Services Airman, or a Security Forces Airman. Also last December, I heard a story at a christmas party where a man at a new job was identified as Chinese by his coworkers, even though his family was born and raised America for at least three generations.
This got me thinking, what am I? My final answer: I am an American. Born in New Jersey, raised in California. I had a whole diatribe to explain what made me come to think of this, but then I took a shit and got to thinking, “I want information fast, so I should deliver in kind”. The short and sweet of it: I’m about as Filipino as John McCain is Scottish. Just because my parents were from the Philippines, doesn’t make me Filipino. I am an American.
So, then I got to thinking, what is an American? What does it mean to be American? To me, that’s living here under the protection of the Constitution, the three branches of government, and all the people that make this great nation run each day to the best of their ability. Cynics be damned, I think I live in the nation that tries its best to provide a safe haven for all ideas and beliefs. As my friend LBW said once, we have the right to be wrong. If I express my dissent peacefully, I don’t have to worry about being next on the chopping block at the execution square. If someone works hard and takes responsibility for their own actions, they can rise to greatness in society as far as they can dream. Dad came to America and worked to get that better life that they couldn’t get in the Philippines, and you know what?… we’re doing pretty good. Just the fact that Grandpa served in the US Navy, which allowed Dad to come to America and marry Mom, and then have me and my sisters, without having to worry about paying the corrupt local officials or any such garbage… America is doing pretty well. Not perfect and there’s room for improvement, of course, but nothing is ever perfect.
I am an American. I might have a Filipino cultural background, but that’s all the Filipino I am… a cultural background. For better or for worse, I know where I come from, I am aware of the obstacles that, whether or not I deserve them, impede me from living a successful life. I accept the existence of these obstacles and I know I just have to work harder to get what I want, and thus it becomes not a question of if I can have it or not, but rather how bad do I want it. “It” being any damn thing I want.
So there you have it. I am an American, and I live in America, where the only limits to how far I can go in life is my desire, drive, and energy to work towards my goals. For anyone to claim otherwise would be patently incorrect.
Hey guys. Just wanted to say, thanks for all the text messages. 
I had to do it. Had to hit you with the double-post.
As I stated previously, I just witnessed my cousin wed the girl of his dreams this weekend in San Jose, CA. As this is a significant event in one’s life, all relatives on both sides of the union gathered, and I ran into people that I guess I really needed to hear from.
The first was Dad, and I said in the previous posting what I talked to him about, which got my mind right and put things in perspective once again.
The second was Kuya M. I’m not so much blood-related to him, as rather his is married to my aunt. But I had gotten to talking to him, and of course he asks me if I’m getting married soon… not in the “you’re next, of course” kind of way, but just as a curious question (to which the answer is “no” as of the current date). I told him I couldn’t really find anyone, and that I was starting to get worried because I’m 28 as of this Friday and I haven’t managed to meet the right girl as of yet. And Kuya M tells me that I’m fine, and that it’s worse to be one of the guys who consider having intimate relations with a girl akin to masturbating. Normally Kuya M clowns around alot, but this moment of clear advice gave me strength to live on with my own standards, which admittedly unfortunately erode to points of insanity between visits back home, as in I thought I was insane for hoping and praying for the smart, kind, patient, and beautiful girl who hasn’t already been married/divorced/had children/become jaded.
The third, Kuya R. It’s hard to believe that in 2008, in our era of post Sex-in-the-City liberation, that there are still people who are old fashioned and believe in making relationships by becoming best friends first before becoming in love and eventually married, and not fooling around otherwise. I’ve felt the lure, and I’m unfortunately not perfect… I never made it home, per se, but I’ve gotten around a few of the bases (To my credit, the times I’ve approached that threshold I’ve always felt horrible and cancelled the relationship, so I guess there’s hope for my wreched soul yet). There have been times when I lost sight of that ideal relationship with the ideal girl… I guess I’m a passionate guy and I tend to let the flames get a hold of me whenever they actually show up. Anyway, the details of what Kuya R told me aren’t relevant, but the conversation we had gave me hope that I’ll find that girl with old-fashioned values as of yet, with the patience, kindness and humility that I desperately need in her.
And to that end, I need to deserve her. I need that girl, but in turn I must deserve to find her. I think alot of the reason why I haven’t met her yet is that God knows I’m not yet ready. I’m still getting my life on track, up to where I’m supposed to be. He knows what I’ve been praying for my whole life, and He knows that I shouldn’t find that girl until I become the man that deserves such a woman. I think I have a good amount of major flaws that I need to work on, and alot of things I have yet to define about myself.
So I guess I need to ask you, reader, to pray with me, for me, because Lord knows I need all the help I can get. God, if you read blogs (which you probably do), help me to be totally honest to myself and to others, because as much as I think I’m “brutally honest” I admittedly don’t admit really difficult things to myself, and I can’t grow if I don’t acknowledge what I need to fix. God, you’ve given me the foundation through my mom and dad, and I am eternally greatful. Please give me the strength and patience to build upon that foundation and become my own man, able to stand on my own and provide the support my present and future family will need of me. Give me the courage to overcome the fear that keeps me paralyzed and stops me from making the moves that I need to be making to reach that end of true independent maturity… security and faith in oneself, and altruism and patience to give to everyone around me.
I make mistakes. - I am the subject.
I make mistakes. - I actively perform the action so specified in said sentence.
I make mistakes. - I actively perform the action so specified in said sentence, and am now claiming responsibility for the object of the sentence.
I’m only human, guys. I went to San Jose this weekend to witness my cousin wed the woman of his dreams (grats Kuya E & Ate D dG). I know I have a temper, and I know it gets set off by random but very specific things.
I fully redact my last post. The bridges I was talking about weren’t burning, but as history is “the interpretation of the past in terms of the present”, I just saw them as such.
My friend L is right. And so is my Dad, who counseled me when I mentioned how I was mad at my friends this weekend. Dad suggested that we’re all at the age where we’re all trying to get a handle on life: saving up for that house, learning to be married, getting a hold of a steady job, things like that. He also pointed out what I knew in my heart to be true but I just didn’t want to say it, that my ability to take leave was much easier than it can be in the civilian world. I know this to be true for my friends L and C, where they have deliverable dates and such. I guess it’s the same for my other friend A, and KH is still trying to find work as far as I know. I need to calm the fuck down and understand that just because I can take leave essentially when I want with 1 month notice, the same is most likely not true for my friends who are still quite possibly working hard to get into that phase of stability.
But, as L points out and has pointed out to me a bunch of times, I really do need to find my own way. I think I’ve not allowed myself to really develop any new friendships since college–actually since CIS One. Since my own flesh and blood uncle used my loyalty to family for his own ends, it’s been quite hard for me to learn to trust another person. I have had a hard time trusting all but the most innocent of people in the military, and the few backstabbers and schemers I’ve met certainly haven’t helped rebuild that ability to fully trust, the way I do with pre CIS One friends and family. I don’t blame CIS One, but I just marked that point in my life… October 23, 2003, as the day I stopped being so naive and unfortunately became pessimistic about people and their base motives. I’ve quite jobs because I couldn’t trust my boss. Not even Air Force BMT really fully ever took that pessimism away from me… I think the most I’ll ever trust my fellow brothers and sisters in arms will be 95%, which is devastating to me but at the same time to even get that high is really good, because people who I won’t have to rely on with my life I tend to trust even less. But the realization I made that day almost 5 years ago now, if family can screw me that bad, how can I even trust people who aren’t family?
And “family” is the f-word for me… in the sense that it’s one of those words that I really had to stop and think for a long time what the real definition of that word was. I define family the way I defined friends from my last post. Family is actually the ones I rely on, who have my back when I need it, and who will call on me when they need mine. My mom and dad are my family. My sisters are my family. Nanay C, Ogie, Kuya Weng, Kuya R, Beanne, J, L, E, Odie are my family. Lolo D, Lola M, Kuya E, Kuya R are my family. L, C, KH, A, and S are also in that family… my family.
So I make mistakes. Forgive me for my last statement, it was in error, and yet I leave it up as a testament to my own failings, and a reminder that I really do need to grow up and gain true control over the totality of my own life and destiny. As much as I have of that control now, there is still more work to be done, and I think I’ll grow to attain that in due time.
I’m cancelling my social networking accounts. They’re just a waste of time.
Friends… now that’s a word. Sometimes it’s a word you don’t want to hear, especially when a girl I like says “Can’t we just be friends?” But what does that mean really? I meet someone at work, he’s a co-worker, not a friend. Someone adds me on facebook/myspace/friendster or an IM list… their name shows up in a “friends” list, but am I really their friend, or am I just a name in a list? I meet someone at a bar, we have some drinks, share some jokes… is that a friend? I’d still say no. When someone willingly answers the call “I truly need your help,” that is a friend. When a friend asks me in kind for help, I will be there as soon as humanly possible to give my aid, because that’s what friends do for each other.
It’s come to my attention that the people I once regarded as close friends apparently don’t see me the same way. I hear that people naturally grow apart, and that’s just the way the world works.
Am I wrong to want to hold on to relationships that have built me up to the person I am today? Is it wrong to want to counteract the natural tendency of growing apart? I valued my relationships with these people, but I can only do so much.
I don’t really want to go into detail. I just need to vent a little bit, then I’m going to move on. I wanted to be there when you finally got married. I wanted to physically be right there when you bring your first child home. The rate things are going, it looks like I’d have just found these things out in passing. “By the way, I got married.” “By the way, we finally bought that house we’d been saving up for all these years.” “By the way, we just had our second child.” Well, nuts to that. Goodbye, friends. I’ve known you for years, and I thought we’d grow old together, but it seems that the reality is much much different than what I had been perceiving. If I’ve broken any promises to you, then I’m sorry and I guess I’m getting what I deserve. I’m only human.
But enough of that. I’m going to keep moving. I’m getting this commission, and I’m going to make the most of my life. When I retire, I’ll have influence, and I will use that to the greatest good I can. Along the way I hope to find people who value interpersonal relationships as much as I do, who feel that when a bond is strong enough, that bond is worth maintaining instead of letting it erode in time.
I’m done. Perhaps it really is my fault, and I didn’t do enough to maintain them. Either way, it’s apparent to me now that things haven’t been the same for a very long time.
I will mourn the death of my relationships… it’s something that needs to be done. Maybe then I’ll be able to move on.
Ah… November is coming up quick, and October just in front of it!
I’ll be leaving the Springs within the month, and I only have one regret… I wish I bought my bike sooner than I did. Like, when I first got here.
As most things go I know I did things when I was finally ready to do them, but still now that I’ve been planning for this trip and doing my practice runs through the mountains, I wish I had more time to ride around before I leave. I want to take a trip to Kansas, down to Texas, then through NM and back, camping each night and doing a hotel stay every third if I’m out that long. I want to explore alot of these backroads that are literally all over Colorado. Phantom Canyon yesterday was challenging, but awesome… I wish I had friends that I could have shared that experience with. I don’t want to wait until I’m retired to do all this stuff… I’m young, and I need to do this now.
It’s funny… I never thought about camping until I started seriously considering what I’d do for vacation. Camping was always something these silly CO natives did, and I just never thought to try it. The few times I went camping as a kid my family always brought a ton of food with them and made it like a stay instead of just camping on the way to someplace… thus I always thought camping would be an ordeal. Not so… I’ve realized all I need is a tent, a sleeping bag, and a relatively clear place to put down camp for the night. Perhaps it’s not as hardcore as some would want, but that’s all I need. I don’t want to cook or catch my food or whatever, I’ll leave it up to the roadside diner to refuel me. Maybe someday, but not now.