Notes in the Sand

untamed live

2012-02-06T22:56:00.003-05:00

untamed sessions: the broken stems

2012-02-06T22:54:00.003-05:00

A Wedding

2012-01-17T15:09:00.000-05:00

My New Year started with taking pictures at a wedding - one of my dearest. Here are a few of the pictures:

West Bound Road: A Series of Absurd Essays About A Journey to the Coast (6)

2012-01-13T13:08:00.001-05:00

Starting Line

New Year, new apartment, and thank heavens only a mile from the clear blue waters of the Pacific. The hustle and bustle of legal paperwork I had to sort through just to get approved for a legit studio California bungalow was enough trouble to make a person go bald by way of pulling all their hair out.

January 1st - moving day and once again, I'd have to hail a Uhaul to drag my belongings from the dusty house to a smaller space with a pool. But I could live with that, the studio was the biggest I had ever seen. Truly - the living room could have added a wall and a door with room to spare. The long hallway led to a built in vanity at the end next to a walled off bathroom. A separate kitchen with counters and cupboards completed the space and I was set for time being.

I dragged everything I owned into that apartment: the headboard, the foot-board, the glass iKea desk, the iKea shelf, the dishes, the pictures and well the guitars & cameras. The property manager, Beverly, gave me the keys to the mail box, the gate and my 1-car garage. But, of course, I didn't care about any of that. I just wanted to unload and see how long it would take me to make it to the ocean. I was in a race for the sand between my toes and I wasn't due to be back to work until Monday.

After about two hours of heavy lifting and probably damaging my back for ages to come, I locked up, hopped in my little Honda and drove down the street, literally - 1.2 miles - to the blue vastness that rushed over my toes. Since it was winter; the ice cold sent chills went up my spine. But I took a deep breath and released. Now, now I felt like I was home with a beach and a sane mind.

I had no outlook on the new year, I just wanted to get through the first month, earn enough to avoid detaching my arm for expensive California living. And at the moment, I was content enough to be staring across of body of water that doesn't stop until it reaches the next continent.

What would come next...

Music Video Top 5

2011-12-23T19:44:00.004-05:00

The holiday cheer always brings about a count-down, perhaps to the day vacation starts or when the Christmas bonus will come through or perhaps, we're all just looking forward to the start of a new year even though our resolutions will last through March before we forget them all over again. But as the year's reflections also count down and as I try to pay attention to the music scene (I mean really, who doesn't need theme songs?)...here is my list of best 5 music videos from 2011 and just a few little reasons why....(Bold LINKs to Watch Videos)

Honorable Mention) Moves Like Jagger, Adam Levine ft. Christina Aguilera

Besides having his shirt off in the entire video (wink), Levine's poppy beat - brings actual footage and pictures of Mick Jagger dancing and acting like a rock and roll star, commanding the stage and presence of a room. A classy retro vibe throughout the video on one stage and the superior vocals Christina adds to the end of the song makes the video a great hit. I particuarly liked the aspect of edited jump cuts between Levine and Jagger - as if a new generation rock-star is stepping up to take the stage.

5) Marry The Night, Lady Gaga,

As with all of Gaga's videos - she's takes "creative" to the extreme and designs a scene that often leaves the audience gasping - and sometimes sparking controversy. Marry the Night is a song that is said to come out of a time when she felt despair in her musical career. But the distinct picture of a patient --washed up and being tended by nurses and reciting the way she hopes to remember her reality, "It's sort of like my past is an unfinished painting" and as she puts it, she must fill in the holes. Like a dream, Gaga, creates a fantastic scene of despair, conquering and dealing with pain. The epic video creates illusions of decades past that a 20-something only sees in movies and reads about through old photographs. From the 50s style nurses and hospital to the 80s leather and cars on fire scene, Lady Gaga paints in holes that are an illusion to the eyes - to devise a clear message of human emotion. Fascinating indeed and deserving of on the top videos of the year.

4) Man Down, Rhianna

I wrote a blog when the video was first released, which you can read HERE. The song itself brought a lot of debate upon it's initial release. The song discusses her emotions taking the life of someone. But what most people don't realize is that the video shows the actions that led up to Rhianna taking the gun and killing a man. It was a result of her being raped outside of dance club. Through the use of extravagant color and scenery, shot in her home of Barbados, the video depicts an emotion of a woman who's rage is a real and very raw reaction as a result of being attacked. The reggae swagger, the bright visuals and message of the song ultimately keeps this in my top 5.

3) Honeypot, Bob Schneider
Sometimes simple makes all the difference. Schneider and his band sits in a room and jams out his latest tune from the album, "Perfect Day." The Camera often zooms in and out around the room and adds black and white pacing back and forth with washed warm colors, drawing the viewer (and listener) into the room, right there with them. Bob Schneider is an artist for which I was introduced this year. His lyrics are often literal, fun and rooted in honest emotions we all think about. Honeypot is a simple love song - that is surrounded by the simplicity of life. It's a song that encourages unity and grace with the other person you want to share a moment in time with. Beautiful. Simple. Perfect.

2) The National – “Conversation 16”
Not released until March of this year, The National's "Conversation 16" Features an array of stars including Kristen Schaal, John Slattery, James Urbaniak, Ted Travelstead, Jon Schroeder, Jonathan Nosan, and of course the band. It's a quirky look at --- what seems to be a corrupt leader luring in a vulnerable one and the consequences of primal human nature. The use of comedy communicates an underlined message from one of the President's security officers being heart broken at the sight of of her flirting with the other ruler. Certainly the messages could be taken in any form, but it drives home the fact that The National continues to make raw creative music that comes from where they've been and who they are.

1) Rolling in the Deep, Adele.

Need I really say more? This year, Adele's album "21" has killed it. She deserves every Grammy nomination she received. The video itself, gives a visual pose to the anger and the passion behind the words of the song - from the drumbeat in the corner, to the dancer stirring up white powder, to the powerful vocals from a sitting Adele and the shattering of water glasses. Rolling in the Deep, as a song, as a video and as part of the best album of the year, gets my number one vote.

West Bound Road: A Series of Absurd Essays About A Journey to the Coast (5)

2011-12-22T17:27:00.001-05:00

First Step Misfits

The apartment was at the bottom floor of an old building that had once been of some prestige. Now it was drab house that looked out of place between two skyscrapers which scoffed at the vintage mystique. The bathtubs were from taken from a 1950s sitcom, the wood floors creaked and the so-called courtyard was really just a couple of wicker chairs where the neighbors came out to say hello while they smoked and spread the latest community gossip. They were all misfits, entertaining strangers, with the occasional joint and usually an alcoholic buzz.  

The fairly wealthy Hispanic woman who lived in the corner had been in apartments the longest, a chain smoker and never without a full bottle of wine led the pack with stories about her daughter's ungratefulness. She admitted to sleeping with the mysterious Navy guy at the other end of the house and always hoped her latest fashion statement would impress him. Then of course the Navy guy, himself, had three kids, barely afforded his child support and admitted to being a heavy drinker just to block out thoughts of the children his ex-wife took from him. He often told me the Navy was the only thing he knew and believed he'd probably be a bad father anyway. 

There were two awkward tenants above me - one woman, who worked at the Salvation Army. She talked about church and homeless people, but her loneliness was evident. She frequently isolated herself in her apartment except for the occasional cigarette and was rumored to have strangers in and out her home. Her neighbor, the Gothic-hipster who rarely appeared sober enjoyed conversing about the meaning of life, but the bunny trails usually led to video games, his jobless existence and his handicap mother who provided for him. 

The two who often kept my attention the most were the two "besties" who both lived at the back end of the apartment building. She was tall blond hippie and he was a flamboyant red-headed cosmetologist (the Gay best-friend). She was a dog walker - her obsession was caring for pups that belonged to rich people -- of course I think it was really about being able to overnight in luxurious apartments. Somehow she managed to enjoy the high life of clubs and Hollywood attractive men with little cash in her pocket. Then again, her other source of income - as she boasted - was her ability to donate her eggs several times a year. 

She clung to her fashion obsessed hair dresser as if he were going out of style - and he was the apartment informant who always had a tale to tell about his latest client or a revealing secret we just didn't want to know. The two were awkward, but colorful and were always asking me to wine and waste time on those hideous wicker chairs.

For the next 5 weeks, this little community would be the only people I would have any real interaction with. Ironically - they were all as raw and real as anyone could be, they hid nothing of their reckless existence. Disappointed dreamers, lost in the whirlwind of meaning- one they couldn't figure out - and desperate for anyone, a stranger - a friend - an enemy to listen to their story. 

I felt like I was conducting an experiment - testing their souls in a strange game that moved way beyond the bounds of everyday "people watching." In the heat of it all, it was like an endless play that never exited stage right and because there was no audience to applaud-- what did it matter if the curtains never closed? They weren't acting any way. Most of the time, it was a distraction...from the silence wrestling with me in my quiet-unpacked apartment. 

The Winter holidays were almost over...

Year In Review: The Stories

2011-12-17T09:33:00.001-05:00

As the year draws to a close, we gather with family and friends for the  holidays and a time of reflection. To date, this has been one of the  most adventurous years of my life and I know 2012 will carry it over.

Over the next couple of weeks, I will add my thoughts to the end of 2011  - but to begin, this video put out by Google really hit chord with me.  As a journalist, I have touched most, if not all of these stories this  year - and I can say with confidence, they resonated deeply with me.  People of the world - I celebrate you....

Goodbye Marta

2011-12-02T00:50:00.001-05:00

I have ended the year with a new vehicle, leaving Marta behind. Here are a few memories...

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.1

West Bound Road: A Series of Absurd Essays About A Journey to the Coast (4)

2011-11-27T20:22:00.002-05:00

Down 101, Up 5

Thanksgiving, a time when we decide family and friends are important enough to call together and and stuff our faces and watch football...or something like that, because what would it be without a good old fashioned commercial plot to kill a bird for fun and divide his stuffing by color? Of course, you get the idea but that was besides the point and I was in rush. My time was up. Los Angles failed to have any non polluted, breathable air.

I had a Great-Uncle and Aunt in San Diego hiding out in a retirement community and taking a break from "The Vegas," so I spent the time with them and figured out how to make the next move without the universe calling "check-mate."

I had an interview with a local news station on Thanksgiving Day, because well - the world never sleeps and neither does anybody who's chosen the profession or the title, "journalist." And as such, on the days recognized by the rest of the world as important enough to be absent from work, even in a local newsroom - people are working around the clock to keep you informed like busy ants building up a food supply for the winter. Running low on time and scratch, I needed a job, so I hastily agreed to the meeting with the news director at the local CW. Seemingly impressed with my resume, the affiliate of a larger network and owned by a Mexican company - they were in need and I seemed to fit the bill, of course a writing test and a chat around the newsroom would be the real evaluation if I could keep up. I didn't have any doubt that I would get the job after bantering with the news director about our connections back east and my praises of California. But to be sure, I threw in the extra charm and acted like I fit in just fine.

The whole endeavor only lasted around two hours, much shorter than I anticipated for how much the station hyped up the position, the job and the people I'd be working with. This is not to say there wasn't talent, there was, but the whole scenario was a little less than what I expected. Then again, this was California, the schedule includes morning surfing, followed by afternoon responsibilities and a night life with music, drinking and salty sea air. Frankly it was the style I was aiming for anyway, so I jumped in with both feet and in my state of mind, it would be an easy transition.

****

After putting my belongings in storage just short of a month earlier, I was set to load and unload it all over again - and this time in my own little apartment right in the middle of downtown San Diego. So I hitched another Uhaul on my tiny Honda, grappled with the lock and since my "promised help" flaked out, I grabbed the nearest flat bed and moved all of my stuff from the second floor of the storage to the trailer on my own. Really, the only thing that mattered at that point was getting out of L.A. I was stuffed up immediately entering the city and not the kind that causes one to look down on another, no, literally, my sinuses were insulted by the pollution.

There was not an official offer from the station yet, but it didn't matter. I had no doubt it would come soon and for the time being, I felt robotic and was moving fast enough just to get things done.

I wasn't sure how I felt about living mid-town, frankly, it was claustrophobic and just because my height indicates that I can fit in small spaces, doesn't mean I enjoy it. Even so, it was cheap, it was month to month living and well the neighbors I met seemed nice enough. I had no plans to stay squished for too long, anyhow.

Once again, I was leaving behind what was there, only to find myself "here," in a place a little closer to the waves, a little more distracted by my thoughts and the grace to find a new home. What was to come, I couldn't be sure. What I needed was for life to pick up the pace just a bit more -- for the sake of my own sanity that seemed to have left me long before I ever reached California shores.

West Bound Road: A Series of Absurd Essays About A Journey to the Coast (3)

2011-11-16T23:55:00.003-05:00

Driving 45s**

Simi Valley, California is 45 minutes from everything interesting in L.A. Sure, it's got it's own little community and it has everything one needs to live on daily basis, and it's suburbia for the convenience of families who don't want to be near the hustle and bustle of Hollywood, or want to raise their daughters to be valley girls, though it might come close. What it really meant was that I had to drive to get to the beach, it was a trip and I would have to go through the canons, over the bridge and through the woods or something like that. I was closer than I had ever been, and frankly, I don't actually think I minded the drive, it gave my brain time to relax and think so that by the time I reached the Ocean, I was ready to turn off completely.

Once I reached Malibu beach, in the middle of the fall, and seriously with no one there, the stillness is suprisingly unsettling, I was on my own and a wide open space of vast waves that would reach Japan. The emptiness would soon feel comforting as soon as I had a moment to empty the pockets of insanity that lingered on my mind. As I looked out the at the waves, each thought began to slip away and I was closer to bliss that I had ever been. Then again, facing the demons is a task no one is ever ready for and it usually begins with the death of one gray thought and the humiliation of another. But such grimacing memories were soon given a break from the swarming buzz they created in my head. For the moment, it was all just white noise.

The winds of the coast were cold and I buried my toes in the sand for warmth as I closed my eyes and listened to the laps of water ride over each other, in an acardian rhythm. I tasted, inhaled and held onto the salty-sea air, because in this was the only place where I could really enjoy California. Until now, the bland and unimpressive Los Angeles was lost on me and I was thinking of every opportunity to escape. Then again, isn't that why I had come out here in the first place? "There" was now 'here' where I had run to -- in hopes of cutting off ties from that which I left behind -- there.

My days in Malibu were often defined by how much staring I did at the deep waters that were too cold to jump into, then again, there were surfers riding in the waves in full wetsuit gear and catching any wave that would grace them with that exhilarating feeling. I smirked, soon enough I thought, I will brave the waves on a board.

One cannot drive so far to the coast and not touch the water --even if the anticipation of the temperature was too much to bear. Anticipation is always the worst and usually ends up being rather silly, but whether it's an interview, the pain of a tattoo or the cold winter waters of the Pacific, we all do it every time - forgetting that it wasn't all that horrible last time. Somehow our mind is tricked into believing it will be this time.

I dipped my toes into the ice cold water, it washed my feet and sunk me deeper into the sand. At first it stung, and then - as if I had gone numb, it began to feel refreshing, renewing -- and my mind finally, it went blank. A grown woman on the edge of the western coast, nothing left to loose and at this rate, nothing to really gain, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered, it was vast expanse of space - waiting to be rejuvenated, brought back to life. It was a fascinating moment, on the surface, my hoodie and rolled up warm-up pants and glasses-- surely I looked out of place. Yet at the same time, I started to realize what my cousin meant when she said, "welcome home." - No person could have given that to me, but the waves did and I was satisfied that West is where I needed to be, but I was resolved, I needed to head South, because well frankly, I wasn't ready to be somebody where nobody had to be everybody all at one time. I just needed to find me.

And that's when it really all began...

**(Part 1) // (Part 2)**

#OccupyWallStreet - Between the Lines

2011-11-11T22:10:00.003-05:00

I laid my eyes on the remnants of an old city and what I was about to encounter was an explosive scene beyond the bounds of a typical protest.

Like a modern day refugee camp, citizens with cell phones and ipods danced around tents, tarps, piles of...whatever and sleeping bags that were sprawled across the cement park. A single pathway made it maneuverable from one end of the camp to the other and each station ran over the next with only a cardboard sign to identify its place.

A peaceful war with no destination or anticipated outcome, a spectacle to the public, a threat to city officials, an annoyance to local businessmen. The protesters were definitely sending a message - they weren't moving.

I snapped pictures, took interviews, made friends, and blended in. Dressed in torn jeans, a hoodie, jacket, converse shoes and beanie, no one thought I was any different. I was absorbed by the scene and even the profundity of the protest and honestly, the simultaneous madness of it all gave way for an awkward narrative. As it were, I kept wondering if any comparison could be made with their protest predecessors nearly 40 years ago.

I zipped through the camp like a buzzing swarm, being short actually made it easy for me to dart in an out of crowds and well...crowded spaces. In a fast-paced city with millions bustling and subways racing - a movement of disgruntled locals translates no differently.

One such day of my visit, Golden Sachs was the target of unified loud voices, "Banks got bailed out, you got sold out!" -- voices that disrupted business, protesters who - void of employment and responsibility - were abandoning any prospect of their daily post to join in solidarity for justice..

It seemed that Wall Street was listening. Professionals, suits of many color were investigating the premises, wandering through the group of misfits, asking questions, taking notes. Would these hippies shape up and ship out? Or would they get a grip on how to solve the problems that ailed them?

Of course, then again, who needed a solution - the "wigs" were already supposed to have the answers: stop being greedy, someone said. Maybe, just perhaps, they were onto something.

Like clockwork as the sun set from the afternoon and into the evening, drummers at Occupy Wall Street rigorously called attention to the protesters in Zuccotti Park. In Rhythmic fashion, they set the stage for sign holders to hoist their messages above the crowd. Cardboard pieces that said, "Wall Street, War Street" and others that declared. "This is Democracy." It was as if they were preparing for battle, a daily cry against all forms of injustice.

To the spectators who walked outside the barricades, snapping photos and recording video with their phones, the whole scene was a loud joke. One woman behind me said, "Most of theses people don't even know what they're out here for. This has just become a tourist attraction." Indeed - it seemed to be just that.

But others felt the emotion behind the music, stood together and cheered, rallied and tried to solicit outsiders. All this despite a heavy police presence around the perimeter of the park. And most people told me, "Eh, this is normal."

Several Occupiers wore the masks from V for Vendetta identifying with a character who's face was marred and spirit broken by the corruption and torture of a frivolous government. Flags were raised in declaration of freedom. It was a sight that could draw anybody in...it certainly brought energy and momentum to the spirit of the protest.

It was a mystifying moment as I peered upward at the tall skyscrapers on Wall Street, the rebuilding of the World Trade Center Behind me and the sound of a Sax leading the drummers into a melodious renegade that required something more than what existed. Change. Certainly those who criticized were missing the point. Then again, were the protesters also missing out on what they could really do to get the results they wanted?

In the mean time, meal time was often long lines through a tent at the center of the park and people asking how to get to the back of the line in anticipation of a hot meal - trying to brave 50 degree (and below) weather as the winds flew through the tunnels of skyscrapers around them. Even with thick socks, I think my toes froze more than once and since my body temperature is determined by the state of my feet, I had to find ways to keep moving around the camp just to keep my blood from halting transportation through my veins.

Despite the fact that the generators had been removed by order of Mayor Bloomberg; Occupy Wall Street didn't let that deter them from charging their cell phones - how else could they Tweet and communicate? Two bikes were constructed in the camp - for people to manually hook up their electronics and charge them or create other functions while they pedaled on the bike (I’m sure the physical fitness wasn’t hurting them either, another few minutes to stay warm). While I never got a good look at the construction of the machine, I got the point. It didn't matter what the Mayor tried to do, they weren't going to be thrown out over a little generator, they would just invent their own and keep going.

The leaderless movement they've grown so fond of seemed to function smoothly and yet there was something missing - volunteers at the various tables of information were not often under an area of expertise and who was in charge of organizing it seemed lost on them. But they're were armed with propaganda - fliers, a newspaper: The Occupied Wall Street Journal, and most importantly, "The Declaration of the Occupation of New York City," their creed and manifesto. They began with "We the people..." Much like the Constitution. They listed their frustrations, they wrote down, put in a booklet, got a sponsor to print it up for them and delivered their complaints. While it offered no alternatives, it grabbed my attention, because it existed. And most Occupiers found it "moving," "inspirational," and a point of reference for them them to talk to each other, like mindedness some said, they were searching for it. But I wondered - with so many minds here, were they finding it?

Wall Street, unlike Atlanta (for who I have been working to document since October), was definitely more focused on economics and financial dysfunction. At the heart of Wall Street and the financial district, they wanted change in their pocket and change in policy.

Atlanta over the weeks has moved in the direction of social change in the community looking to Civil Rights leaders as an example in moving forward and making a difference, if there's one to be had.

Some say it's the political Left's response to the Right's Tea Party. I say - I met too many people in the middle, on the Left, on the Right and well, those special Ron Paul supporters. I met Communists and Socialists and Capitalists who want reform. I met wanna be important protesters and homeless and college graduates. I met people running from their problems and others dedicated to the cause.

I met multiple generations, all coming together - on both sides of the Occupy line, those for and against had something to say and they said it, even if it didn't make any sense, then again, maybe more people need to read between the lines.

#OccupyWallStreet - CNN Piece, "Who Are They?"

2011-11-09T21:54:00.002-05:00

Package shot and produced by Ashley Gallagher for CNN.com

Reporter is Ralitsa Vassileva

#OccupyWallStreet: Headed for NY

2011-10-31T23:55:00.000-04:00

Headed for New York City this week to investigate Occupy Wall Street, where it all began. More coming soon...For now, enjoy the music...

Video & Music - by The Yes Team; Astoria, NY 2011

#OccupyAtlanta: Faces of the Occupation

2011-10-30T23:43:00.000-04:00

Following a meeting with local Clergy and the Occupy Atlanta Media group, Tim Franzen and I worked our way down to the next floor for a brief interview about his roll in the Movement. He led me to his office and we swapped introductions. I smiled slyly as I noticed the various propaganda on the wall and cushions in the corner with a pillow and blanket, where I imagine Franzen had spent many nights since the start of the Occupation.

We hadn't really met until now and certainly I was more familiar with him and than he was of me, so I gave him a brief introduction and flipped on the camera.

I don't know that I had any expectations. The Atlanta Journal Constitution [AJC] has presented Tim Franzen as a brazened character who's comments were purposely defiant against anyone who differed from him.

Yet most of the people I had spoken to throughout the camp, up to this point, were generally good hearted people looking for a change - and most revere Tim as someone who really cares about their well-being and the cause.

Here is some of our Interview...

#OccupyAtlanta: Arrest Aftermath

2011-10-30T02:43:00.003-04:00

It was an unusual start to a meeting, a behind the scenes, inside look  at the operation behind Occupy Atlanta and their "media coordination." I  was waiting to meet with Tim Franzen, the face of Atlanta's Chapter.  The hallways were small, and there were written poster board signs  indicating various committee rooms (Logistics Committee, Media, etc) and  the floor they Occupied looked like it was in the midst of renovations. Picturesque and grassroots.

Before we could start, the Almighty Movement of God Church wanted to  address the Media group and ask Occupy to join them in a March next  Tuesday. This march was to help people claim back their homes and  businesses - for which had been foreclosed in the economic crisis. They  would have Civil Rights leaders, Media outlets and the attention of the  city, they said, They wanted Occupy Protesters to join them at the court  house and stand against the banks and government, in hopes of  repossessing the properties.

But what came of the meeting was more than just an announcement for  another Protest. The discussion unfolded into the occurrences of Tuesday  night when 52 protesters from Occupy Atlanta were arrested. Since then,  Mayor Reid has insisted one of the main reasons for the arrest was a  man who entered the park that day with an assault rifle slung on his  back. I remember seeing him and how nervous the Tactical Peace team was  with the man's presence. Others at the camp bantered the man's rights to  carry it and their concern for safety.

According to Franzen and others in the room, Occupiers repeatedly  attempted to inform the police that surrounded the park, outside of the  metal barricades, asking them remove the man or investigate him. But  Franzen said, Officers never responded to the complaints. Another young  man in the room said he had talked to the gentleman and had ever learned  how the gun was obtained. 

The Clergy present at the meeting felt that it needed to be brought  to media and the public's attention that possibly, the Mayor allowed the  man to remain in the park or knew of his presence, which would show his  lack of interest in protecting the people of Occupy and Civil Rights  icon, Andrew Young who spoke at the park that day. The Clergy expressed  concern over allowing the man with the rifle to be within yards of  Young. 

Ironically enough, no one ever learned the name of the man who  showed up, and it is not evident whether he was ever detained or  questioned. 

Since Tuesday, Occupy Atlanta has regrouped and is planning further  demonstrations throughout the city. Some are camping in the park again,  while others are camping near the King Memorial and headquarters is  being moved down the street. Their drive to move forward is impeccable,  and they stand by the statement that they were wrongfully taken into  custody during a peaceful protest. Most video that has popped up on the  web shows protesters being dragged away silently during the raid and  whether or not the public will hear their message about the man with  assault rifle is yet to be determined.

(To Be Continued...) 

#OccupyAtlanta: From Beyond the Barricades

2011-10-26T13:36:00.001-04:00

Recently Police put fences surrounding the park at Occupy Atlanta. Last night, While waiting to meet a friend for dinner near the site - here is some of what I saw...

West Bound Road: A Series of Absurd Essays About A Journey to the Coast (2)

2011-10-22T16:41:00.006-04:00

Fade In: Kin & Courting

Odd as it were; I had only just seen my cousin a couple of months ago. I had only met her a few times in my life. She was of the older clan of cousins we shared. But I'll never forget, she said, "I want you to come. I want you to be here." And when I arrived, she said, "Welcome home." I didn't have a clue what she meant. I shrugged it off and accepted a glass of wine. My friend and I would be sitting with the family for dinner, throwing - jokes and jabs-- with three little munchkins who fell into the quick rhythm of dry humor. It was like a backwards family reunion with kin, connected only by the past and by the fathers who grew up on opposite ends of an awkward Irish Catholic upbringing. Nevertheless, it was where I was to stay for the next few weeks as I got my feet wet and made the best of a nomadic attempt to hide underwater.

My friend and I had driven six hours from Phoenix to L.A. - and frankly we were both done with driving for awhile, at least that's what I thought, but if you've ever been in L.A. traffic, you'd know it's a pain the ass and no one has time, but then again be prepared to take you're time because you'll be stuck bumper to bumper for a while. The brightest moment between the two cities was the lonely gas station just outside the California border that had gas for less than three dollars and personal pan pizzas that I don't think went well for either of us in the end. Needless to say, the ride was over - and she was leaving while I was to make my way on the west coast from now until...well, whenever.

I settled back into a mode of thinking that ultimately was a robotic way communicating among family types that seems so easily familiar and quickly gave me room to forget the reason I had come in the first place or why I had left in such a hurry from the last place. It wasn't as if I were looking for anything in particular, except a job in a town where everybody's and actor and a waitress - and pressing their luck with plastic surgery to get into the industry.

The friendliness was fake, of course, and the routine of every meeting I went into, I felt like I needed to have a song and dance ready for an audition, -- media skills and production just weren't what they were looking for and I swear my height was examined every time I applied at a restaurant -- or maybe I didn't show off enough cleavage? Who the hell knew, but what I figured out was that this wasn't meant to be easy, nor did I have the time. Deep down, I don't think that I had the stamina to stay in big bad L.A. where everybody is somebody even when they're nobody and knowing somebody is the key to everything. How far was So-Cal?

Every day I went out to the field, accepted an interview, filled out a million applications and asked for the head of who ever was in charge. And every day, I came up empty. Blasted all. Then again, where was that guy that called himself Eric, with a successful media production company out of Georgia and California who had promised me a freelance gig editing material for various clients and when I showed up, he never did. No emails, no return phone calls and that promised meeting never came to pass. I had heard rumors about him that he was flakey and really just a jack-ass, and he wasn't proving them wrong. But I didn't have time for him, so I gave up and haggled with my other sources. I didn't know what I wanted, but I knew I had to find it. I was determined, I'd figure it out, at least that's what I told myself to get through the day.

Meantime, I was doing my best to go to football games, cook dinner and offer anything I could to earn my keep. It was a full house and it was bustling all the time. Four children from age 3 to 19 - it was like a scene out of a Roadrunner cartoon, only with more characters passing each other day and night with feet that looked like faded circles; they were spinning so fast. Often the dinner table was the one moment where everything was calm and gentle laughter bounced off the walls of the kitchen.

Then again, there the awkward moments of parents disciplining children or perhaps a flustered phrase that exceeded the normal levels of conversation and on such occasions, as I was not the subject for any of the loud noises, I escaped to the room I was given and tried to preoccupy my mind, not remembering I had left months of arguing behind. The safety of that small space was the only place I could go and certainly my own mind wasn't a blank sheet of paper anymore, it was over run with words and phrases and pictures and ideas that honestly weren't actually going anywhere. They were just there and I was not here, for I left here and fled into there, - the crazy was too complicated to really put down, only because the phrases on paper were too simple to really define what was going on in my mind.

The weeks were passing quickly and it was almost Thanksgiving - almost a month and I was ready to move on. One tried to convince me that I would not make it in LA, let alone California at all, another told me my decision to leave behind a steady paycheck and benefits was the stupidest decision I could have made and if I ever came back, I'd better be ready to commit, while still the days I was spending at my cousin's were growing weary for me, for her, for all. I was exhausted, I was very grateful and I was ready to be on my own.

There was still no job offer on the table and I had accepted the fact that I didn't really want to be in a city where I was expected to compete with everyone I met on the street. San Diego looked promising and so I worked my way down for interviews and scouting. Would it work out? Hell if I knew, I was just ready to be somewhere a little more chill and a little less busy. This west coast thing was becoming a burden and LA was starting to feel like where I had come from. I was suffocating. Gotta go, new place, new space.

I was wearing thin...

#OccupyAtlanta: Social Changes

2011-10-21T21:18:00.006-04:00

October 15-16, 2011

The second weekend of Occupy Atlanta proved to be a much different experience than when it began. Emotional, personal, and what started as an outcry for Economic justice seemed to have morphed into a protest, a movement against Social Injustices. Such is the atmosphere in the South, how fitting Atlanta has turned inward and demanding more from their own community.

The introduction of changing the name of the park from Woodruff Park to "Troy Davis Park," has certainly resonated with many of the protesters as racial injustice, despite that many of them do not know just how convoluted the case of Troy Davis really was. While some, justly, protested the Death Penalty, there are still others who are concerned with what they call an unfair and racist trial for man convicted of ultimately, two murders. But neither here nor there, the passion over this man's life and death was evident among everyone who participated.

On the day Washington D.C. was dedicating the Martin Luther King Jr. statue, The Almighty Movement of God church joined Occupy Atlanta. They set up a tent for church services and ministry. They held a press conference and attracted local news entities in order to show their support for the protesters. They led a March down to the MLK Memorial singing "We Shall Overcome," and preached the victory of the people in the Name of Jesus. During the speeches at the Memorial, one man stood in the middle circle - and what he said, I will not forget, he stated that he realized not everyone, including himself, was a person of faith, but that there was, "something holy about this place, and it makes me nervous." He went on to talk about the failure of leadership in the US - and King's message about the "urgency of now," and rallied the protesters around the desperateness need for change. Another man called out and shouted, "we are the solution," and urged the younger people to change their world. A young 20 year old said he didn't know much but knew that he wanted to make a better future- eliminating the obstacles of not finding a job, being able to live a life of freedom. Still another man, who was very emotional, admitted he was new to the movement but he didn't understand why the community wasn't working to help prostitutes and put an end to street violence. From eliminating racial tensions to increasing community care and participation - the outcries were not really about economics and taxes and corrupt capitalism. It was about the people. When they left the memorial, they continued to sing "We Shall Overcome," and chant.

Later, when asked by a local media station, if they were now aligning themselves with the Almighty Movement of God Church and becoming a religious movement, their answer was, simply, was that they were a Social movement that was not aligning themselves with anyone, but accepting the help of everyone who offered to step in.

Occupy Atlanta has made it evident they do not trust police, authority figures of any kind and are weary of even the kindest Officials - who ironically offered a protective police escort to and from the King Memorial Site. In fact, Sunday night, an announcement was read by a member of their Media Committee - stating that a young 19-year-old had been shot in the back by a Marta Police Officer while running away from a crime scene with his hands in the air-- following a football game. In response; the encampment held an immediate vigil, lighting candles and solemnly commemorating the boy's life. It was as if they had become more determined to fight. Still the Atlanta Police have not made a single arrest at the park. Mayor Reed has extended the deadline more than once to allow the protesters to stay at the park as long as they are co-operative with park cleaning and noise levels. With the social turn of debate it seems the Mayor has extended sympathies to the protesters and a certain report has formed between Occupy participants and City Officials.

But there was something, even more, that stuck out at the Occupy camp this weekend - They had wall, a wooden fence - and written on it were stories of Occupiers, citizens who are in protest of the system. And while some of them described losing jobs or not getting loans from the bank, many many more told stories of broken homes, addict parents, loss of security, homelessness, anger because they couldn't get an education, jealousy, and one even read, "So What's The Point Anymore?" My first thought was, this is Wailing of Wall of Occupy, the desperation of my generation and the one following. As I peered through the lens of a camera, eyes stinging in wonder and sadness, all I read were people who were broken. Sometime later, protesters dressed as zombies, fitting for those who feel dead in the world, spilled fake blood on the wall - and while some were quick to defend that it was ruining artwork, other saw it as a testament to what the words on the Wall read. I did.

Of all the desperation that proved itself evident over the course the weekend, one thing brought a smile - how many of homeless were actually being taken care of, with jobs in the camp, food, responsibilities and given hope that they were worth enough to be trusted enough to accomplish something and contribute to a society, to a community.

Occupy Atlanta is beginning to show itself less as an Economic protest against the banks and governmental injustice. Rather it is showing the faces of social and personal needs for a freedom many of them don't have.

Their continued complaints against political systems are only the mask of far greater issue. As the advocates and protesters continue, one thing is for certain, they are persistent in creating a changed community. The only obstacle it seems is they have yet to define what it looks like when "their work is done." The question still poses, what does the current system and government need to do to show the Occupy movement that they've been heard?

Time will tell.

West Bound Road: A Series of Absurd Essays About A Journey to the Coast

2011-10-17T15:36:00.004-04:00

A Place To Go

It's not as if i was in the corner, like an imbecile scraping the carpet behind the couch for single penny and pressing my luck to a lottery ticket. The fact was I was completely thrown for a loop and landed in an environment that had reached beyond the threshold of my eyeballs and frankly, I was just tired of it. Nothing mattered anymore and I didn't give a damn who or what was next - frankly, the only thought that kept crossing my mind was, "I gotta get the fuck out of here." So I did.

Heading west really just seemed like the thing to do. I didn't know if there would be any meaning or rational justification worth my while, but it was far away, the other end of the country, and it had an ocean. But sentimental thoughts about its existence weren't even on the table. It was just a place to go.

I packed my bags and filled Uhaul, b/c well, this is life and that's how it's done. I called up a friend and we jumped in my little Honda, started for the road. Would it be adventurous? Maybe. But we were gunning it on the road, so, honestly? Who the hell really knew. She was my alibi. Whatever would happen, at least there'd be someone to witness it -- on an empty road headed west. And honestly, I admit, I don't think Highway 40 is any way to travel. It's more boring than you'd realize. I mean first, sure there the mountains, smokey - beautiful and majestic. I could feel it in the air, but unfortunately, late on that Sunday night, the most I ever saw were silhouettes against the blackened sky. It was hard to believe I had just left a city I had spent so much of my adult life in, and yet I didn't even look back. I was running. Maybe.

By the time the first night fall passed we had left the state of Georgia...a long way behind, making our way through the South and sharing as much intimate conversation as two friends might do when all you have in the world...is time. And certainly time is exactly what we had - mostly due to the fact that a little Honda Civic with a Uhaul on the back only means your the slow car in the far right lane and as each driver passes you, yes even the hefty semi-truck driver; they look at you with disdain, honk and belittle your efforts to exceed 60 miles an hour...downhill. We were either a comedic sight for sore eyes or we were the zit on the road no one wanted to admit was there. It was laughable and rather frightful all in the same breath, especially because we were determined to continue moving the vehicle forward, avoiding at all costs - the agony of backing it up.

I don't know if I thought much about anything at the time. It seems a blank sheet of paper existed in my head and the words I formed were out of robotic instinct to say something rather than emotional response to feel something. It was a soul-less time, where words and heart seemed to disappear and perhaps maybe once I dipped in the freezing cold of the Pacific Ocean, it would all wake up again. But if it didn't, I didn't care, I just needed to get somewhere that wasn't "here." People are often cruel to themselves when they have no handle to grasp, no life to celebrate and their very joys have turned in annoyances one too many times. Ultimately, their dreams are no more and therefore, their pithy plan to move up has given them the power to check out. Who knew this would ever happen to them? I didn't. You didn't. It just was. All that kept crossing my mind was, "change of pace, gotta go." That and well, honestly, I just can't sit still long enough. I get fidgety - sometimes for the better, other times for the worse, either way, I like peeking over the edge of cliffs. The view is just too interesting. And who knows? Maybe I'll free-fall.

So there we were in the middle of South - Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas. The most interesting thing we saw between Georgia and New Mexico was a Cracker Barrel - and that's mostly because we were starvin' for a real food...or as close as we could get. Our goal was to make it Phoenix -- we had to make it California. She had a funeral and while I'd like to say I had a wedding, we all know this is a lie, so the truth is I had a business meeting (which turned out to be a fool's errand, but that's another story). Needless to say, much of our conversation had died down - and we traded off driving shifts to sleep. Of course, who the hell sleeps on a road trip anyway? The roads aren't exactly made for a solid cycle of sleep. Then again, neither is the passenger seat of Honda. Curled up, Squished, and even stretch out - it just doesn't work and you really end up running your body on fumes...the smoke smelling of body odor and disinfectant gel. At least the latter comes in handy after leaving a dirty outhouse behind the last gas station.

By the time we reached New Mexico, the scenery was a little more interesting. Ok, so it was the desert, but a Cactus plant and a few tumble weeds make for fine scenery when, essentially, we've seen nothing of interest thus far. Then again, we both had tunnel vision and hitting the Arizona border meant switching every 30 minutes. We were almost there and we were dreaming a bed to sleep in, and well, more importantly, a shower. Going through the mountains the terrain seemed impossible to cross and my car was over-extending itself, even at the lowest 40 miles an hour. The moment I recognized my own blinking, I elbowed my friend and begged her to take over. She did. Then I did, Then she did...we finally made it - 9-am on a Tuesday morning.

The site of our pit stop home was the most inviting thing I had ever seen. It almost seemed like a mirage. I may have had to rub my eyes a time or two to believe it. There was still no emotional attachment, no banter or grace. Just zombie like movement - having left something behind, racing to the coast, and absolute exhaustion from driving such a long way. 36 hours, I think we said. Our hostess and friend jumped up to greet us and make us a nutritious breakfast before letting our dreams take us into a peaceful dark cave.

Have you ever stepped into running water, closed your eyes and drifted off a place where no one else could find you? I did. It was as if every drop coming from the shower head felt like the first drop I had ever experienced. The heat relieved my cramped body and I was soaked in the tears I could not produce myself. The world didn't exist, my destination didn't exist, my life up to this instant didn't even cross my mind, I was absorbing the moment. Time and space seem to simply disappear when the naked human body and the raw human soul come together for a single breath. It's as if all the senses come into play and a supernatural experience just...takes...over.

Later that day, I would visit with my grandfather, have wine with my aunt and uncle, settle into read. But for time being, the only thing I wanted, the only thing I could tap into - was my mind and body's need for silence, darkness, sleep. I was just hours from California. What would come next was yet to be determined - and frankly, I had no intention of trying to do that. It was just a place to go. It was there - not "here," the place I was. I didn't really care what was waiting for me. It had an Ocean and it had Sand and I could justify my odd collection of flip-flops.

T-minus six hours...

#OccupyAtlanta: Observation of the Masses

2011-10-14T18:31:00.010-04:00

"MIC check!" ("MIC check!") 
  

The crowd responded with some sort of wild enthusiasm, like that of an allegiance to  a great leader, for which none seemed to emerge. It was surreal. But  that's the price one pays for not having a proper sound system. 

The call and response, they called it the "People's  Mic" and they told me was a way of making sure everyone in the group  heard the message. Then again, I kept wondering why they just didn't use  the bull horn a little more. By the second night, they had progressed  and the Assembly Meeting etiquette was in better use. Not everyone has  the ability to form short phrases for the rest to follow along. Still  the system required -  follow one, follow all. 

The end of my first night with Occupy Atlanta  participants was coming to a close. I had spent the afternoon and the  better part of the evening wandering the park, looking to shoot photos  and more importantly, seeing just how many of them I could get to come  on camera and tell me about why they were living out of tents in the  middle of the city. 

A warm Saturday afternoon grazed the skin and a  slight breeze reminded me it was fall, as such; there were some who told  me it was the "American Fall," a response the "Arab Spring." I was  aghast at the comparison. The Arab world - Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Syria  -- all came together against oppressive regimes, not whimsical  financially ignorant governments who ran a campaign on hope or war on  terrorism. The people's right to protest has never been questioned, nor  anyone shot and killed. Perhaps their rhetoric was only meant to draw  attention to the masses. Their inspiration to gather in a square, in the  city streets and chant - it was coming from peoples across the globe  who were brave enough under governments of totalitarian rule. And if  they could do it there, why was this generation -- here-- not going out  and practicing their very First Amendment Right? I had hoped it was that and not the former.

The Atlanta protesters, following suit with the rest  of the country, fell into a movement that started in New York- on Wall  Street no less, and their grievances began with the banks. Of course for  some, it was the Federal Reserve, others objected to Capitalism itself.  The dissatisfied group even went so far as to protest the Death Penalty  and the Founder of Coca Cola in the name of anti-racism.  

Their first night out, Civil Rights Activist and Representative John  Lewis attempted to address the crowd, even praise them. But after a  matter of debate - in form of the People's Mic, and blocks made against a  government official addressing them at all;      they turned him down.  As it were, there has been more outcry against their decision-- than  for it - particularly because he was a Civil Rights hero and is esteemed  high in this city. Lewis later said he wasn't offended, but then again,  he hasn't responded to any other invitation to return. Ironically, a  man who understands protesting better than anyone, was unable to offer  any alliance. In recent days, even Andrew Young has come out and stated  there needs to be leadership among the protesters and that it's an emotional outcry rather than a movement.  

The propaganda being used to help rally protesters seems to have questions of its own. While it may be well intended, it seemed to lack a  clear message on how to deal with outsiders or critics or even Police  officials. In fact, one of the brochures seemed very distrusting and  reiterated lines that read, "  Police violence isn't meant to provoke us, it's mean to hurt and scare us, " another line read, " "Police  can't be trusted. They may be ordinary workers, but their job is to  protect the interests of the ruling class. As long as they remain  employed as police, we can't count on them." and even lines that had no follow up explanation or 'how to' read, "the  United States was founded on the extermination of indigenous  peoples...for counter occupation to be meaningful, ... it should embrace  the history of resistance extending from indigenous self defense and  slave revolts."

Ironically, there have been no reports of  arrests or even stiff threats by any police officers in the area. In  fact, most have been very kind, admittedly by many protesters and have  only asked them to care for public property in exchange for making the  park a camp ground. Even after police forces showed up and rumors that  the Mayor would come down himself this past week, there were no riots  and the tensions dissipated. Now, sources say, the Mayor plans to evict  the protesters Monday evening - the October 17th. And the group's  response? While many are determined to stand their ground and stay,  Assembly Meetings have proposed inviting the Mayor to stay a night with  them, which he told the AJC he was, "praying about it." 

The Occupy protests seem to be stumbling forward and trying to govern by  the masses. However, there doesn't seem to be acknowledgement that the  masses needs representation. While the group works positively to create  committees and sub-groups to deal with various problems and concerns,  their organization and system of vote could continue to improve.  Even major networks have poked at their mannerisms.  Their demands are forming and there are groups that know what they  exactly what they want, others may not be so sure. It seems divided  between older and younger. 

There is much to learn from the 60s movement(s) - from the Women's  Rights activists to the Civil Rights activists to the Anti-War  Activists. Even the Hippies and their psychedelics and music provided  revolutionary ideas, that changed the way society was run.  And certainly this group might find inspiration from that very era. 

I will say this - I find it profound that there are this many people who  coming out of the wood work, young, old and recognizing there are  changes that need be made. No matter what side of the political line  you're on, and even if you're not on one at all, there is always a need  for people to be willing to step outside what they think is safe and  comfortable to make change happen. It's been 4 decades since the country  has exploded with such fervor. While different political lines want to  blame each other and point fingers - the people have decided they're  done with it, and whether it's a bunch of Hipsters, Gen X-ers or  Tea-Partiers: something is happening and it's finally breaking through  the surface.

#OccupyAtlanta - First Pictures - Part 1

2011-10-10T19:11:00.002-04:00

These were the pictures taken only a day after the first major city-wide rally took place for Occupy Movement in Atlanta. I spoke to protestors and took there pictures. More to come soon, including video and commentary. Stay tuned...

never and always

2011-09-21T23:59:00.002-04:00

the city is a weary place. the lights stay busy after everyone has gone to bed. it never stops. and yet, it's a place where platforms are created. motivations are questioned. expectations to "settle" and "settle down" rule the atmosphere. the mind, body and soul are attacked by those who sit outside its grip. and so it takes a level of changed perception to understand that it is only meant to be a springboard for the heroic moment.

after leaving and coming back, one finds they are more determined to eliminate what they never want from the city and what they will always long for outside of it. so thus, one finds themselves using and abusing it's presence and offering for the greater good and that beyond.

tonight is a late night for me, pensive and engrossed in the idea of where i stand, the confidence i carry for where i am going and just who i am going there with. it is a night of contemplation and realizing that i could never settle for what some around think i ought. i am at the verge of lift off, the engine has started and the stars are looking closer than they ever have...at least the ones i can keep my on between the city's reflection.

one step forward as i look both ways and make my way across the street, the stars in the horizon have met earth and, yes,i know not everyone sees what i see, but that's just fine with me.

The Story: Planes Trains & Automobiles -- III

2011-09-20T22:38:00.002-04:00

"I guess this is probably a good time as any to tell you this. Our tickets are only good to St. Louis. St. Louis to Chi-town is booked tighter than Tom Thumb's ass."

(Del)

Hurricanes, Failing Trains & did I mention and Automobile?

Friday came fast - we had crossed AZ, NM, and were trudging through Texas. But to my dismay, I received an email on my smart phone indicating that my connecting train to Atlanta from New Orleans had been canceled...and no reason was given. Immediately I called the 800 number and talked to a representative to confirm the information I had received. She, indeed, told me the train had been canceled and it was due to a Hurricane warning, which of course was odd, because at this point, the Gulf had not been under threat - and Irene was headed for the Atlantic Coasts. I even asked her, "why not continue to with the schedule? Do you realize a lot of people will be left behind."

I kid you not, her answer to me, the most indifferent tone I've heard yet, "yeah, a lot of people will be stranded, but you can take your ticket to the counter when you reach New Orleans and they'll refund it for you."

I'm certain disbelief crossed my face. Nevertheless, I hung up the phone, informed my car tenant and the couple of people around me, in hopes that the word would get around. (By the way: it didn't, nor did the Conductor ever make an announcement).

Afterwards I went to the lounge car and met Nate. New Orleans was where he called home, he was beatnik, in his mid-twenties and had just finished riding his bike 4000 miles from New Orleans to San Francisco in two months. Seriously, that's way too true for me to make up. It certainly made for great conversation, as we spent most of the day bantering and swapping stories - like where he camped out and if there were snakes or why I thought Jack Kerouac was an fine author. It all made up for the time we spent at a stand still in Texas - building up the hours we'd arrive late to New Orleans.

We chowed on questionable food from the Amtrak dining car, toasted to our adventure with a shot of rum from his secret stash and in the end raved about the live jazz scene I wouldn't get to see that night.

Finally, at 9pm Friday night, Amtrak rolled in New Orleans Union Station.

My dear friend LaDonna, who'd been waiting hours - was sitting on a bench studying and waiting for me. Nate and I said parted ways, promised to keep in touch and LaDonna and I took off into the night - headed back to Pensacola. She told me her husband wanted to get up the next day and join us on the journey to Atlanta...the last leg.

So after we had our fill at a Applebees (really Salad is about the only I could stomach) - we headed for the Panhandle....to pass out.

Morning came, and the Automobile took me Atlanta.....

Taking our time Saturday morning, we ate breakfast, rushed in and out of the bathroom, and made a stop at and Office Max for school supplies. Hey, ya just can't be a 15 cent deal.

The last leg, while it was the shortest, it was perhaps the most meaningful with good friends, heartfelt chats and sandwiches for lunch. I wasn't sure I ready to come back to a city I had left behind in haste, but ironically the two people who convinced me to move here in the first place nearly 6 years ago were the two people escorting me back and pushing me toward the next step in my journey...on the verge of a dream realized.

Grateful for their friendship and weekend inconveniences, I did most of the driving and it gave me moments to reflect - driving always did that for me. Of course, when nostalgia set in, I subjected my friends to music from my San Diego Family...and hey - the hippies gained two new fans.

It took a lot to get here and I probably had moments of questioning what I was doing. Ultimately though, I have never felt so much peace and patience through a complicated situation. Somehow, it just didn't bother me and I knew then, my Cali groove was finally showing through. It felt great. And in spite of the losses, there was always a conspiring gain that fit the puzzle and gave me story to tell - a week long adventure. Amazing.

All it was missing...was Steve Martin & John Candy - no?

One more thing: Peace and Love to all contributed to helping me along the way - you're beautiful!

Neal: "As much fun as I've had on this little journey, I'm sure one day I'll look back on it and laugh." // Del: "Are you sure?" // Neal: "Oh God. I'm laughing already."

The Story: Planes Trains & Automobiles -- II

2011-09-20T22:34:00.002-04:00

"Six bucks and my right nut says we're not landing in Chicago"

(Del)

And then there was the Train...

Monday and Tuesday passed quickly. I got some extra sleep, took care of making sure I had my apartment set up, and sold my dead car for scrap money.

((Side Note)) While all this was going on, Libya was exploding. Rebels had reached Gadhafi's compound and I watched CNN reporter, Sara Sidner - dodge bullets over her head. In between phone calls, I watched in utter fascination and disbelief. The people of Libya were claiming their freedom. Reporters were making phone calls while on lock-down at a government run hotel and I knew going into work less than a week after this was going to be something else.

But back to the next leg of the trip.

Wednesday came around and I was supposed to hop on a train at 3pm. It would make a pit stop in Chicago and Washington DC before actually arriving in Atlanta on Friday-- late night.

At noon, I thought it wise to make sure I knew where the Amtrak station was and quickly did an internet search. I called my cousin and we confirmed -- there was no such station in Las Vegas. I was severely puzzled and concerned at this point - so I checked my ticket and called Amtrak.

Sure enough, I had a blond moment. Apparently, I didn't fully read the city stations carefully enough. No, it didn't say Las Vegas, NV. It said Las Vegas, NM. Really? Who the hell knew there was Las Vegas New Mexico? Well, of course, my dad told me, he did. He'd passed through it driving and it was a backwater town with tumbleweeds. [Insert Grim Face Here].

Anyway, I talked to a lady at Amtrak and she was able to re-route my train from Phoenix to New Orleans and then to Atlanta. But, I'd have to find a way down to Phoenix...that is Maricopa, another small town just outside Phoenix that I had once passed through while visiting from California. Deep Breath, what a mess. But it was going to work out, and in the end, cost me less.

So- I booked a Plane.

I called my Aunt Margie and explained the ridiculous situation I had put myself in and asked if she'd be gracious enough to pick me up from the airport and whisk me away to the train station in time to make a 1030pm departure. Frankly my awkward misfortunes and adventure played well in her favor as it would give us a chance to hang out, however briefly-- before heading to the other side of the country.

I wasn't excited about the trip to an airport. With TSA under fire for molesting people and the pain of having to carry what luggage I thought was so essential (including a travel backpack, a large suitcase on wheels with as many clothes, a pillow and a computer all stuffed in it, a guitar case, a camera bag and Partridge in a pair tree) --and airlines charging for checked baggage, my annoyance level goes on high alert. But for the first time in a long time, I tried to go with the groove of day - which hadn't been so bad, just busy. I briskly moved through the counter and even talked the woman into only charging me for two bags instead of three (no, seriously, they wanted to charge me for my sleeping bag, that, by the way, was attached to my backpack. joy.).

Security went smoothly and I can only guess that's because the Mafia is running the Las Vegas airport...and they recognized me. Finally, I was able to head to my gate and just sit down. Of course this meant that my scenic view consisted of slot machines - meant to tempt my fate and steal my cash. Thankfully, I don't carry any.

The plane ride was short sweet and to the point.

I hopped off and waited in the terminal for my guitar - which the pilot carefully and kindly retrieved for me. Headed for the baggage claim and called my Aunt. We fumbled with Maggie the GPS - and finally calculated semi-correct directions to the train station. After being told the train would be late, Aunt Margie and I went hunting for a place to eat. Surely - at 10pm, all the restuarants would still be serving food. Then again, our choices were slim: a bar with bad music, McDonalds and Sonic. This after discovering Subway closed, Panda Express didn't have half of what they're menu said and a pizza place that wouldn't fudge to a make us a couple of slices.

I mean really, no charity for the starving hippie and her Aunt? What do people do in this town? The answer was obviously: nothing. So we settled on bad food and tasty drinks at Sonic.

We parted ways and finally, it was time to take the train - which by the way? I still didn't board until nearly 1am Thursday morning. Thank heavens I had two seats to myself to fall asleep. My back would pay for that sleeping position later.

At least I would see the country side, sort of, on the south west, south side. And, my layover was an overnight in New Orleans...so I would just make the trip complete with a night on the town, live jazz music and a fine dinner on Burboun Street. Classy. I called my friend in Pensacola and asked her to join me. - Of course - she said yes.

Settling in, despite on the mishaps, things were looking great and I was going to enjoy the ride.

TO BE CON'T....

The Story: Planes Trains & Automobiles -- I

2011-09-19T21:47:00.007-04:00

"When I'm dead and buried, all I'll leave behind are some shower curtain rings that didn't fall down.

Some legacy, huh?"

(Del)

It started with a Car...

Less than an hour from Las Vegas, Nevada and my car had over-heated for the 3rd time. It was 6-AM and my friend Sara and I were on the ramp of ho-dunk town, California: "Baker," California to be exact. It was quiet and rather quaint - it had a gas station, a Big Boy restaurant and and an IHOP.

I rolled my eyes and thought, "well, car's done." I chuckled out loud and Sara swore in a mocking tone.

After two previous stops to fill up the anti-freeze, let it cool and take time for a nap, the car had buckled on its last legs. It was an awkward moment, like when two people choose to go their separate ways and no one has anything better to say. The ol' car just wanted to die, I guess. Still, there might be hope, right?

I called my insurance company for a tow. Yes, it was the second one in two days. I had grave suspicions that Firestone had not done a good job the day before. Ironically, I stood there on the exit ramp, trailer hitched to my car and waited for the Insurance lady to call the police, because heaven forbid we stop traffic for all of 6 cars in an empty town.

It took the police nearly an hour to arrive. And even then, he used the bumpers of his patrol car to guide into the gas station parking lot. It would be another hour before a tow got there.

The tow guy arrived (relief!) and jumped out of his truck to find out where he need to take the car - but unfortunately, his English was broken and my Spanish, not brushed up enough to make any communication go smoothly (lame!). Finally, I told him he'd have to wait as my insurance only covered the first 30 miles of a tow and I wasn't going to pay $7 a mile for 80 miles to Vegas. Thankfully, Sara was able to call her insurance and convince them to get us there the rest of the way for free (Hallelujah!).

We got the car to another Firestone - though I don't think they're a branch, just affiliated. It was more like a good ol' boy garage and I was happy to talk to men who were honest, more like my uncles and frankly, felt sorry for me. Ha.

Once they inspected the car and did a full analysis - all of two hours later (Thank God for Starbucks, never thought I'd say that) -- they informed me I needed a new motor, there was no oil in the car, the radiator wasn't flowing (i.e. San Diego Firestone didn't do the flush they said they did) and a host of other things on long list of repairs. Confirmed: Car Dead.

At one point my mother called, I answered the phone and I laughed. She scolded and said, "It's not funny!"
"Mom, it's totally funny."

There came a moment when I realized I just didn't care. I had the car for 7 precious years, it was 12 years old and it had been my sanctuary. But it was done, and it just did not bother me. I would figure it out. I always had. Besides worrying about it wasn't going to change the situation. It would only stress me out further and that was not something I needed after coming off nearly a year of un-stressing.

Needless to say, I made arrangements to stay at my Uncle's house - who, though not home, was able to put me in contact with my cousin and make the arrangements. My friend left for the airport. To top it off, my dad was able to graciously help me arrange to have my belongings in the trailer picked up and would later ship them.

Meantime: I made reservations for a Wednesday train from Las Vegas...

TO BE CON'T....

Nostalgia

2011-09-11T02:10:00.002-04:00

I have never been to New York City - and now more than ever - I want to go. I dare say, a part of me has always wanted to see "America's City," but since 9/11 ten years ago, I have had a more urgent reason to see this place for which hatred dared to try and destroy.

I remember where I was that day - in a classroom in Kansas City, the middle of the US, watching a grown man cry, classmates express anger, sorrow and weeping. I remember sitting there bewildered and zealous. It was a like a whirlwind had stung the room and I kept wondering, "what's next?"

Hatred lost that day.

Since then: The world has changed. I have changed. And so has everyone I know. As we've heard the stories, watched families grieve and as a country come together against extremists, there is one thing that remains vital: fear cannot stand for long. This year in particular, the Middle East, in my opinion, is reminding us of just that- dictators are fleeing and this generation is demanding change, peace, love, grace, equality, humanity.

We have a rare opportunity to come together again. This time, in far greater unity than we've ever known. As every news channel runs memorial specials and documentaries discussing the politics and reminding us of what happened ten years ago -- remember who you were then and know who you are now. The greatest hope for change isn't a Black President or a group of Tea Partiers making their way into Congress. Hope for change doesn't come in numbers or statistics. The greatest hope for change is humility. When we realize everything we can do better tomorrow for someone else and when we realize the privilege we have to live limitless and band together for the greater good: change-happens. The world gets a little brighter.

In the end: hatred loses, love wins, grace is found - and we're making the difference.

Traveling With A Little PTA

2011-09-01T23:33:00.031-04:00

From Twitter: Vegas to Atl~

August 24th - August 27th

http://twitpic.com/6at77v to las vegas airport

http://twitpic.com/6atq1w even at the Vegas airport the fate of ur luck is tempted

http://twitpic.com/6aue81 just b4 take off, another leg in the adventure.

Maricopa,AZ is not the place to be for food after 10pm, but it was fun chillin w A. Margie for a bit. Peace & love, aunt! Now train bound.

on train, need sleep, going to fade away with images of waves dancing in my head

can't help but laugh watching a dad discipline his boys w push ups on the train, ha

‎"To take a photograph is to participate in another person's mortality, vulnerability, mutability"

emails written this morning probably wont go out til Tomorrow. Haven't had solid internet connection all day. Traveling by train, stops not long enough. Bear w/ me. I will be in touch w/ world soon. ;)

a lil change in the adventure: train from new orleans 2Atl, canceled. Friends from Pensacola to whisk me away to FL 4the night. 2mrrw ATL

http://twitpic.com/6bkq9r been staring at beaumont, tx 4 way 2 long. Hope they make up the time!

Nate on train explaining how short the Sugarcane was at the start of the summer when he left Louisiana for his 4000 mile bike ride to San Francisco. — with Nate Usrey.

in Pensacola tonight LaDonna Williams Spivey 's house. Tomorrow, perhaps a peek at the gulf and then onto Atl, finally

Love & prayers w friends & family aligning the east coast today. be strong & of good courage.

My poor Midnight guitar just about tuned & a string pops, sigh, she was due for new ones

My morning complete, a much needed conversation w Kinnie Dye , on the road wBrian Spivey & LaDonna Williams Spivey. Soon? ATL

First Morning With "Marta"

2011-08-29T23:32:00.001-04:00

It was the first time I had ever had to use Marta on purpose. The often unpredictable transit system in Atlanta doesn’t give one much faith, but it works and I had to get to my job somehow.

The ride was longer today, mostly because I’m staying with a friend until my apartment is ready. And the experiences were not short of interesting.

I walked up to the station with a lot on my mind: San Diego beaches, anticipation of a new job, two of my guys on their road trip, and of course, what it would be like walking into a building I had left behind – it seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet, no time had passed at all.

But setting my thoughts aside for a moment, I pulled out my credit card, fumbled at the machine and bought a couple of transit tickets. “Breeze” cards they call them, and I suppose it is compared to driving in Atlanta Morning traffic, but it certainly did not define the mood of those traveling – who’s uninviting demeanor kept the morning pace.

As I looked around the train car I was stashed in, I saw so many people with their ipods on, isolating themselves from the world; their expressions told me that most of them hadn’t experienced a “Breeze” in years. This was just a daily trip, this wasn’t anything new and they were trudging through another Monday morning. There wasn’t a single smile and some had even closed their eyes, still too tired to start a new week. I kept thinking: these people need a trip to California.

At each stop – more and more people got off, headed to their jobs, headed home after a long night, wherever their adventure was to lead them. And ironically, I think I prayed a little adventure into each of them for the day. Certainly this morning, headed to a job I hadn’t been to in months was about to be an enterprising experience.

Each train arrival prompted the automated woman to remind us where we were and what attractions were worth seeing in the area. I just kept thinking, “I hope I don’t get lost.” Traveling by train in Atlanta was going to be interesting mostly because I had to remember where things were in terms of walking pace rather than driving turns. Timing was also everything considering I had to take connecting buses. Nevertheless, when I reached Five Points station, I transformed to game face determined to make my around to the W/E bound train – a hop skip & a jump to the CNN Center. Five Points jumped with activity, and more people, especially since it’s a connecting station. I was glad to see that people were a bit livelier, and perhaps it was a result of needing to be. We were in the middle of the city: more business, government jobs and even homeless getting on their morning ride.

Arriving at the CNN Center was weird. It had only been nearly 11 months since I had been in the building. I looked around perplexed – took a deep breath and bought a Chai-tea. I was a little early, so I sat in one of the booths in the food court area and just moved my eyes upward around the room. It seems like it had been almost a life time ago that I worked here. I was ready for a new challenge & was very interested in the department I had been hired for.

Later – on the way home: I met a woman who seemed eager to talk with someone. She was a security guard for the Library and was already looking forward to her Sunday, a Sabbath and day of rest for her, she told me. She asked if I had a day of rest too and told me that everyone ought to – to pray and thank God for life. She pulled a few bookmarks, and said she had made them. She makes them every Sunday and slips them into the books she reads. More-over, she wanted me to have one, which I graciously accepted. It had string through the paper and even a scripture that read: “The Name of the Lord is a strong tower, the righteous run into it and are safe.” (Proverbs 18.10). Interesting.

All in all, the first day of my public transport wasn’t boring. It got me where I needed to go & and it got me back to my friend’s house who lives North of the City. More to come.

video blog 1: ...road trip blues...

2011-08-23T13:18:00.003-04:00

From My Twitter Yesterday:

funny little story, my car overheated. Oye, need some yes n lovin...spe-cial.(T-MINUS 10 HOURS BEFORE TAKE OFF)

Beginning 2wonder if my car troubles are a sign from Above that im not supposed to leave the beach. (AFTER 2ND TIME CAR STEAMED, FILLED WITH ANTI-FREEZE)

Car lame again, a lil Bosen music to laugh the desert heat away while we wait....

Just witnessed a fishy exchange bt the tow truck guy, a wad of cash, & a mystery vehicle. ....haha.

Will soon b headed to vegas for free...

leaving socal by tow...after 11 hours. Mmm

In Vegas, ate a lil sub, waiting to hear back on the car, new mechanics seem reasonable. Exhausted!

eyes tired, glasses all day, looking forward to shower sometime in the future. still aghast it took us so long to get to vegas a typically 4.5 hour drive....still waiting on car update.

Funny story: the ol' green klunker didn't survive. The adventure continues.... ;)

for those of you wondering: i'm safe & sound with a cousin in the Vegas - we ate food, i showered, watched home videos - and laughed at our silly 80s hair -- now i'm researching....peace & love my hippies. i miss you all.

Acoustic...Ninjas?

2011-08-22T12:57:00.000-04:00

I have it, Brian told me, Acoustic Ninja Fest!

Really?

Yes...really: three bands, acoustic peace and love that bring out the ninja in everyone - and more importantly, three bands that are coming together for one epic show August 27th at Winston's in Ocean Beach.

But who are these sly groovin' melody makers?

It all started in February: truly the first day I met them all. The sun was warm, there was a perfect chill in the air and I needed a break - so I went down to Ocean Beach to shove my toes in the sand and there they were-- singing, harmonizing and drawing me in. I couldn't tear myself away and ended up staying the entire afternoon...

Jonathan eventually turned toward me and I found out they were from New York - and had come to make music, friends and live off the good graces of anyone who could show a little love. Little did I know, he would soon become a friend, an inspiration, even a superhero.

Brian seemed friendly and shared his crackers while we listened to this scraggly group, "The Yes Team." Eventually Brain joined the music and played, singing in Spanish. Naturally, I was impressed. Vinnie took his turn playing guitar and his lovely girl, Molly stood by singing along and enjoying positive vibes. The group drew crowds - people taking video and pictures. They were sweeping us all off our feet.

Since then- Each one of those people have become some of my closest friends. This weekend, they're playing a show together - and while I admit I can't be there to show my pride and dance my flops off, I can tell YOU to go - and I promise, if you haven't heard them before, you're in for the treat of your life, I swear.

The following is just a little more information to twist your arm.

First up: Vinnie & Skinny at 5PM-

Vince Costanza and Ben Cummings were two friends who started jamming together, a guitar, a violin and a little blues to fit the bill. They added Nelson Pamplona and the band was officially set. Vinnie is known for his astounding singer-songwriter ability which has even earned him the attention of -MC Hammer just a few years ago (Seriously, no kiddin). Ben, known to his friends as "Skinny," for his slick height and build has been handling the sweet strings of a violin since he was a toddler, to top it off, he's classically trained. As for Nelson, the local surfer needed a musical outlet and keeps up with the sweet music lovin' - of his band mates. Together - they impress every friend and foe they encounter and typically have the crowds groovin' on their feet, taking up the dance floor, keeping the mood swinging through the night.

What's more is the genuine nature these three men have to participate in spreading the good vibes. Ben's singing violin adds a rich texture to Vinnie's soul strings and vocals. They're talent goes beyond the stage and their warm personalities are transparent. And when they've reached the end of the set? They'll likely join you on the dance floor in support of other musicians.

Next: The Yes Team at 6PM-

Just eight months ago, three New Yorkers cruised into San Diego in a Purple Van. They hoped to make a few friends, fans and enjoy the beach, because, well, this is California. TJ Moss and Kinnie Dye had been singing for years together with the TJ Moss Band. But they needed a new niche for their song writing, so they joined forces with renown singer-songwriter Jonathan Walsh. As the three made their way out to the West Coast, in search for a little breeze, they realized - they were meant to be - and so, they said, "Yes," to a new vibe. Their harmonies are what draw the crowds in - and you won't be able to stop putting on your shades, even in a dark room.

The Yes Team has heart and soul and they appreciated the San Diego Music scene so much so - they asked a local star to join their 2011 tour: Jackson Price. After traveling the country over the summer, the four back to the beach with new music, a studio released EP entitled, Back To The Sea, and solid performances never heard on the stage before.

Last, and headlining: Bosen Arrows at 7PM-

Brian Bosen has spent much of his life mastering the guitar and writing music. After gathering some of the city's most talented musicians like guitarist, Wil Forbis, drummer, Kevin Johnson, rocker Craig Farvinall and bassist Lara Stucki - Brian set out to create not just outstanding catchy tunes, but a fun-loving experience that no one would ever forget. Brian's music captures life in its truest and often comical form. He is a high energy performer and wants his audience to relate to his music in any way they can - ultimately, he wants to connect and often does just that.

Bosen Arrows is comprised of talent and originality that creates instrumental freedom and harmony with each melody played. The band members effortlessly add to the positive mood that keeps their audience laughing, singing and connecting. Watch out, there may truly be some surprises in store....

I highly recommend you visit all three bands on Saturday at Winston's. It's only a $5 dollar cover for anyone 21 years old and up. It's worth your time and the best kick off possible to your Saturday Night.

documentaries unknown- update

2011-08-12T22:06:00.003-04:00

nearly half way through the month of august and i haven't updated you. i'm terrible i know. but here we are and i have a few moments to keep you in the loop.

putting together a film, much less a journalistic documentary, is not as easy as it sounds. first, there's the planning. the content must be worth its weight & gold. the story has to be relevant, appealing and most of all directed toward an audience that either wants to hear it or needs to hear it.

more-over, it's important to note that, particularly in the media focused generation we live in: the documentary, the story must be visually intriguing and capture attention. if it doesn't - then who cares and one might as well give up from the start. then again, evaluation of time, research and effort must also be taken into account concerning the worthiness of the story.

so it was: some time ago, i opened up a new idea, for a documentary film that had personal passion as well as unique spin to an old tale. most prominently, the topic deals with women.

but i digress, just a little.

after the idea formed, it took time to write down on paper, succinctly, but effectively appeal to a friend and director who -- with skills --- that could help me bring the documentary to life. it wasn't difficult, but now we both face the process of gaining our audience and ultimately supporters.

we have subjects for the piece, ideas for the set up, the plot is easily in place and even the time and type of effort necessary are in tact. but we're missing a couple things: 1) financials. yep, every film, no matter how big or small needs a budget and expenses rack up quick. 2) nailing down professional sources so as not to look like we made it up.

ironically, #2 is easier than it looks. in fact just days ago, i met one such source who's thoughts on how present statistics in a way that will drive the message home and solidify the information we're presenting. it will also legitimize the generational turn of women and their quest for empowerment, confidence in the 21st century.

all this to say the meeting went well. and since raising aid for the project in such a short amount of time didn't lift off (and Heaven knows it does take time and is harder than it sounds): i'll regroup with my director and change the course just a tad, so the coming days of planning, filming, editing, traveling and submitting become that much easier.

as for the coming days: i will be traveling cross country, and truthfully, may just have a few surprises along the way.

for now friends: peace & love.

back to the earth: high tide

2011-08-08T15:52:00.000-04:00

there comes a moment, when one realizes where one began. and at the point of changing seasons, reflection comes about in a most unusual form. such moment stood before me in my observation of the waves...

it's been almost a year since i first stepped onto california soil. and at the time, it was only a visit. then again, more than just that - an inspection, perhaps, one searching for promise. and indeed, i found what would soon be a necessary escape.

nearly a year later, the seasons change again - this time - in a post-operative state of mind. this time, ready for challenges beyond the horizon. time to launch a new hope, goal and dream. the blue skies aren't just for dancing pig-tails, they're for anyone who's ready to explore and lift off. and so it is: this new phase of life and other graces, i'll gladly embrace the new day.

a week into the last month of "summer" - and two weeks until adventure unknown comes my way- and i'm feelin' groovy.

peace & love to the old.

peace & love to the new -

sand in my shoes

2011-07-19T04:19:00.004-04:00

hiking in california can be its own unique experience. head to the east and there are mountains and waterfalls. head north west (at least from i live) and there are cliffs along the coast. as such one of my favorite places to bound the terrain is torrey pines - mostly known for its pga golf tournaments and luscious scenery. but its touristy trails make for a beautiful coastal hike. and while it's not difficult, certainly a level of physical exertion is put into the effort of climbing the cliffs. on my my favorite routes is to head down the beach - probably not quite a mile - up the cliffs, down the road, circle back to beach and take a dip. refreshing, exhilarating, and well, simply put: beautiful.

the first time i did this hike on on my own, i didn't think to take off my tennis shoes while trudging the sand down the beach...as such, a wave came up further than it had the last time and my tennis shoe was soaking wet: so was the sock i chose to wear. with a deep sigh, i paused on a near-by rock and stripped my feet of my socks and shoes and went the rest of the way barefoot, at least until it was time to climb the cliffs. i figured, what the heck? i'm on the beach, sand is everywhere - it's going to get in my shoes anyhow, and frankly they're already covered - i'll just go with it. and honestly, what i found was some of the dry sand in my shoes kept my feet from sweating too much - a little dryer for the race to the top. ahh, i can handle that.

ironically, climbing that day and each day since: i have found a pattern. i tend to watch my footsteps at various points in the climb and am keenly aware of my journey - the one inside, that is. whether each foot takes the next man made step or finds a foot hold in the rock, there is always another step to be taken. and if one foot falters, i still have another foot to pick up again - an analogy i heard long ago at youth group. but what's more is the satisfaction i find. the process is exercise for my body, and in the sweat and heat, there is quiet peace that accompanies my soul. there is not thought to what i look like in a mirror, there is no expectation for me to be in perfect pose, the rocks aren't concerned if my hair is in place or if i'm thinking in complete sentences. there's no worry or stress-- just deep breaths, an ambition to feel the earth beneath my feet - my senses strengthen and i become more aware - in sync with my surroundings. no games to play: just the fullness of who i am and where i belong.

plus, knowledge of the refreshing destination makes the appeal to keep climbing more fascinating. it is a sensational existence - the sand in my shoes - one i welcome, each and every opportunity i get.

to be continued...

back to the earth: part 4 -

2011-07-18T22:55:00.000-04:00

may it was the war cry of the misty edwards song going through my head. maybe it was the crashing waves chasing me to shore. maybe it was the sound of nature speaking to my soul - or just maybe it was all of the above.

but there was a moment, a moment of confidence and settlement in my heart. it was one i needed and if it only lasted for that moment, i was grateful for it.

it was a steady beat that set my steady gaze upward, right where it needed to be. the rocks cried out behind me - the sun shone warmth on my face and the chill of the water soothed the singe of my mind.

something greater.

more spectacular.

another chapter.

comes to Life.

this is what it is about: the greatest of these? is love...in every aspect, of every definition. "this is who i am//this is who i'll be//and that settles it"

sometimes? that's all that need be said.

broken in brooklyn

2011-07-10T15:27:00.009-04:00

10 days into the month of july, and i'm finally thinking in completely sentences again.

recently a friend asked me to read a book. he said to me, "i want to hate this book." and he didn't tell me why. well, i was curious, and i always appreciate a read that might lead to a discussion, so i read. and i have every understanding why he felt that way.

written by hubert shelby jr. (known for requiem for a dream) - last exit to brooklyn renders a disturbing life for multiple characters who cling to an existence at "the greeks," a bar in the red district area of town and often draws societal misfits. the stories take place sometime in the 50s and subjects of sexuality, home life and ethics are often ignored or treated with distaste.

the characters are often broken, searching, hurting, living in poverty and the content has moments well, that contain raunchy and uncomfortable material discussing sex, drugs and alcohol. there's georgette, a transgendered female who often tortured by her brother and mother, henry- who is often lazy, drunk and hates his wife, tralala- a prostitute who tries to take control by beating the men she sells herself to and steals more of their money and of course the mentally ill widow, ada, who bangs her head on walls - and then rocks back and forth with a cross in her fragile hands.

ironically, i did a little research on shelby. he was an addict during the years he was writing. there are claims he was "sober" during the creation of his books. frankly, i have a hard time believing that. after being diagnosed with tb, a collapsed lung and other physical ailments, he took to prescription drugs and heroin. sad, really. interestingly enough, he was definitely a writer of his generation - similar in tone to other beat authors of the 50s & 60s, the book itself was well written. nonetheless...

but here's what stuck out to me most about the read: each chapter or short story as it were; there was a scripture from the bible written as an introduction. it was as if the scriptures were something of a confession, or perhaps a recognition of guilt or sorrow where the human condition reigned as if there were no redemption. this too - also deeply rooted in sadness for me.
tralala's story struck me. she was a prostitute playing a game - licking her lips and counting cash. and then ultimately- she was gang raped and beaten. the scripture that preceded her story? songs of songs 2.1-3 1 All night long on my bed I looked for the one my heart loves; I looked for him but did not find him.2 I will get up now and go about the city, through its streets and squares; I will search for the one my heart loves. So I looked for him but did not find him. 3 The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city. "Have you seen the one my heart loves?"

so misunderstood. this passage, spoken by the Lover desperately seeking his Beloved - so that he can love with all that He is. by the time the pages of the book finished, i was fighting back tears.

but here's what i'll say the positive: it sparked an intense and meaningful discussion for over 2 hours --between my friend and me about that state of the human race, spirituality, and frankly, a God that heals....at least, i told him, "that's what i believe."

recommend? nah
glad for the sake of it's following conversation? yeah.

Refuse To Be Defeated

2011-06-23T03:35:00.004-04:00

‎"It's not just a song. It's also a submission."

Initially, it was just an explanation from a band who is hoping to create their wings by getting into a music festival. But when I listen to the song, it is so much more than that. Truly admitting "life is good" is a profound step in living in it's very attitude. The phrase is more than just t-shirts and hats, it's an expression meant to be worked out AND embraced.

What's more: is that it IS a submission - surrendering to all that is good, letting go of what is behind. It is a step forward to a life giving experience. a push toward the epic. We must surrender before we can be called up.

"You have to fight for what you believe in, you have to believe in what you'll be receivin'"

I think the song speaks for itself....

back to the earth: part 3

2011-06-22T03:09:00.007-04:00

that one moment...

sitting by the ocean in la jolla the other night, i shared a moment with the waves and with a friend.

i was in awe at how many times the clash of the water against the rocks created a "boom" underneath where i was sitting. it was fascinating, nature's way of communicating beauty through obstruction ~ so we agreed. it was if the water showed clemency to the land, halting its gentle flow, creating splash - keeping our awe, wonder and fear abreast.

why would anyone want to know how the waves work? he asked me. i had no answer, because truly the mystery was beyond us both. nevertheless, the speech we received commanded our attention and again, i was drawn to something truly magnificent.

broken things moved on, his grand finale left a quiet in his soul...at least for the moment.

on this night, there was no need for commentary. it just existed

back to the earth: part 2

2011-06-17T10:01:00.003-04:00

as it was...

"the stones will cry out."

it was the first thought that crossed my mind as i stared at the fallen rocks all around me. imperfect formation and seemingly in the way, but nevertheless: my perspective felt flawless. i had hiked through tall grasses, brush, and dirt - only to come to a landscape of rocks that i had to climb over just to see a picturesque waterfall, a rushing creek...the destination of my journey.

the sun had grown quite warm and my skin welcomed the cool breeze in the air. slipping off my tennis shoes and stretching out my legs, i breathed in and out deeply, peacefully taking in the scene. and all i could find in my soul was that even the rocks reflected a Majestic Origin.

while the phrase refers to a rebuke made at self-righteous leaders, it is a reminder of the very Spirit behind all that is.

i was enthralled by stepping stones to the very rock i was perched on. the spring waters sprayed delicately over stones that dared stand in the way. it reminded me - even these were Created with purpose and pose. the green grasses and seaweed coming out of their crevices was a sign of beauty and life...exceeding limitations.

and then i realized...

"knowledge of season lit his face//but he seemed restless//what he said almost made sense//but from a distance."

there was something spiritual about this place, the quiet affirmation of worship. it was an awe of expression, a union of strength and beauty. the power of this position is more than words could express. it is the sound of the rushing stream, a fresh perspective -- complicated, gorgeous, surrounded by stone. i was taken by a foundation of the transition, evident changes, rocks that had fallen.

((back to the earth: part 1))

going guerrilla on food

2011-06-11T23:46:00.005-04:00

i'm hooked on jamie oliver's food revolution. i'm even excited about his "war on the system" through nutrition and food. sound comical? maybe, but i find it rather fascinating. mr. oliver's battle with the los angeles unified school district has been real. the district has refused his appeal to visit the school's cafeteria and observe the food in hopes of helping improve the dietary intake of our students. after one school hired him on as a culinary teacher, the push against the district got harder. he was given rules to stay certain distances away from the school's cafeteria and how many students he could cook for at one time and whether or not he was allowed to even discuss the school food w/ the children in his class. in the latest episode, oliver shows the viewer an email that said all filming was to be shut down and was determined by the district. in one last attempt to appeal to the board about working with the district and the schools to improve nutrition for the children, superintendent ramon cortines of l.a.u.s.d directly stated that HE was the one calling the shots and making the decisions to shut oliver down. cortines claimed that he follows "government regulations" for food in a student cafeteria and that's all that mattered.

of course, government regulation doesn't necessarily mean improved health for students.

but that's beyond the point. jamie oliver mentioned that his next step is rent out a facility within walking distance of the school and go guerrilla style. the students can join him after school (and i presume this is his intention) and talk about whatever they want, cook, learn and be part of "food revolution" and take it back into their schools - simply by using their first amendment right and in the privacy of a property not owned by the school district.

personally, i find it's just another problem with california lawmakers.

ironically, i have learned a significant amount watching the show. it's not a cooking show, it's a nutrition show. and jamie oliver is out to educate americans about how we eat, treat our bodies and the image we create for ourselves, our being and how it affects our mind. you don't normally think of "food" as being problem in the u.s. but statistics don't lie. according to a recent article in forbes magazine, the u.s. ranks #9 - with 74% of the population considered obese, those 15 and older. but considering our population size, that number actually out ranks the #1 country on the list, nauru, by 20,000 times. incredible and actually disgusting.

shows like "the biggest loser," "food revolution," and others are important shows - not just for those that are obese and not because, "aw they're inspiring," but because they have something to teach us about how we treat our bodies. jamie oliver actually visted the home of a single dad with two sons who look healthy because they're skinny, but not so, they admitted their lack of energy and how they typically feel when all they eat is fast food plus they're insides will be shriveled in the years to come. so oliver took time to show the three men how to cook and get rid of the fast food lifestyle.

there is something to be said for doing an overhaul on your diet no matter where you come from. and the goal is: live a whole life - mind, body and soul.

from Africa to America - learning is peace

2011-06-08T16:50:00.002-04:00

learning is peace, he said. in fact it was one of the greatest things Atef said he hoped would help him change the world.

i went for a late night work out at the gym this weekend. and while i was taking a moment between weight-lifting sets, a gentleman on the bench near by commented on the tattoo on my left shoulder in Arabic.

interestingly enough, he told me he was from Tunisia and that he had come to the U.S. to study. he'd always been interested in literature and languages but, he noted, he was experimenting - so he tried his hand at computer science for awhile and now wanted to go back to political science. he had been in the United States for 3 years and worked as a bartender while he studied.

the impact his country has-had among the African and Middle East revolutions has been on his mind because to Atef, it would be only a matter of time before the people would put another dictator in place and the cycle would start all over again. even with a good ruler - unless a new set of standards was adopted by many of his countrymen, it wouldn't really change. but then again, with the right education, maybe it could.

he noted that he loved being in the US for now, and really Tunisia was just as diverse as the US. Atef said that people don't realize here that Tunisia is Africa and that there are just as many blends of ethnicity as anywhere else in the world - that being a majority Muslim country in the religious sense was really meaningless.

his eyes were intense and he told me that if countries and cultures would take a moment to learn about one another, and understand that humans were really all the same, there would be more peace in the world.

Atef hopes that by studying political science, he can better understand how to take new ideas back to his country - to influence laws and government and social change.

but, he said, i don't know, people don't read in Tunisia. they play cards in coffee shops. i don't know how i'll get them to read. i laughed thinking of how many Americans play cards in coffee shops and how many of them don't read.

of course - what it really proves - is that we all are the just same.

back to the earth: part 1

2011-06-03T00:00:00.006-04:00

as it began-

"back to the earth," he said.

it's a phrase that is resonating with me every time i repeat it and ever since my friend said that's what he was looking for. of course, at the time, he was initially referring to the pictures he wanted to me take for his photo shoot. and i can imagine that the connection of something greater than himself was a stake....something, yes, outside my own pretenses.

the earth...is the sum of it's parts.

and then it came-

at 1am, on the way to work, i diverted my route and decided to grab a chai from a local coffee shop, the only one open 24 hours...and i met frank. while he made my tea, i noticed an exquisite tattoo of the virgin madonna on his left arm and below, a celtic cross. in the course of conversation i learned that he was raised catholic. while he rarely, if ever attends mass anymore: he still goes to confession. it's not quite the obligation, he told me, there was just...something about it.

how fascinating...

and so i find -

the two are coinciding. it is in the state of confession, prostate in the presence of the earth: each hold the spirit of their Creator.

breathed into life.

spoken into existence.

it is a communion. for what is confession but nothing more than the soul surrendering to the spirit? and if that Spirit is in all that is, could it not be possible to surrender back to the earth? the origin of form, where it is we come from. in doing so: the Creator then rightly reclaims what belongs to Him.

my soul.

my gaze.

my fascination.

going back to the earth renders my confession, my admittance of weakness, that i may be strong again.

to be continued....

Man Down

2011-06-02T01:56:00.001-04:00

Rihanna's new video, "Man Down" has been causing an uproar with anti-violence activists and even parents who feel the content of the song is too heavy and negatively influencing their kids. And my initial reaction is, "Really?"

While Rihanna's twitter rants are perhaps less than "collected," - she makes a point in saying that it's not the music industry's responsibility to parent teenagers...it's the parent's job. What's more is that, Rihanna's own circumstances in life have simply moved her to overcome suffering through creative means. And I think it's the perfect opportunity for adults to open up conversation with their children about rape, violence and how to deal with anger.

How many women who have survived a sexual assault or experienced domestic violence didn't want to kill the man that had done it to them? Ironically, the song also expresses a level a remorse when she says, "I didn't mean to hurt him, could've been somebody's son," that is, the song does not go without the recognition of guilt for her revenge.

Last year, I made a similar point about Eminem's song, "Love The Way You Lie," where i said maybe it's time that those who have gone through such violent experiences to know they're not alone anymore and maybe it's time to promote a discussion that, while difficult, is often ignored. Young women need to know their anger isn't a bad thing and they need to know they're desire to lash out isn't abnormal.

I'm not promoting murder and I'm not advocating violence. I'm simply saying that I think song and the video are brilliant because I think, not only does it communicate Rihanna's inner struggle with her experiences, but it also is a opportunity. Her art and expression really create a message that can be used for good - for social justice. And I can appreciate the imagery. One thing about suffering? It connects people, it unites people - it opens the doors for understanding, forgiveness and overcoming harsh realities together. Some of the greatest music has come out suffering and pain.

Remember Jimi Hendrix? One of his most famous songs, "Hey Joe," is a song about shooting a woman he found cheating on him. And he's considered one of the greatest musicians of all time. Or how about Adam Levine's song, "Wake Up Call?" The video shows him storming into a room where his girlfriend is cheating and shoots them both.

There's a story here, and maybe it's time we as a society- listen instead of freaking out every time an artist talks about violence or shows the reality of pain. If, as parent, you really don't want your kids to be exposed to it - then fine, don't let them watch it. But maybe, it wouldn't such a bad idea to open up the conversation. And maybe it's time to deal with pain rather than hide from it. Anti-Violence activists? Martin Luther King Jr. may have preached against violence, but that's because he saw the the reality of it and used it to create a message. So use this artistically woven song and it's imagery to create a message that will encourage daughters and mothers and nieces and women to overcome the deprecating circumstances of rape.

The controversial video - could be used to wrestle a change into the world. So don't be afraid of it. Maybe...just perhaps, the song has a point.

The End of One Era...On To The Next One

2011-05-30T19:19:00.008-04:00

A few words about Oprah...

This past week, after 25 years, she ended her daily talk show by simply telling her audience "I won't say goodbye- I'll just say, until we meet again." And certainly that's true as Oprah Winfrey's network, OWN launched in January and I imagine there will be more to come. While I've never really followed her talk show (though I've seen it many times), I have followed her career - and I must say: impressive, inspiring and amazing. As a young woman to witness Winfrey's success from the ground roots of nothing - I'm am motivated to go and get everything.

Her early beginnings are not wished on anyone and living in poverty with her grandmother gave her the unprecedented strength to pursue her dreams. She showed the world what she was made of and she "gave back" - supporting education, abused men and women, and did what she knew to lift up those who are broken. While people have often made fun of her for her audience giveaways -- I really think it was her way of saying, "thank you" to everyone who supported her. Because despite trials, speculation of scandals or problems, she kept forging ahead not just to put on a show, but to reach people - she never missed a day of work. And honestly, is it ever truly work, when you're living a dream?

Reguardless of whether one agrees with Oprah's career or politics or view on the world - you cannot deny that she has accomplished impeccable things and the legacy of one of the most powerful women in the world is that she was able to achieve something so many didn't think she would ever do -

Below is a great wrap to the two and half decades of one of the most powerful and influential women in the world....

Justin Froese

2011-05-29T18:03:00.012-04:00

Recently I had the privilege of shooting my friend Justin Froese who is a talented musician on Tour up the California West Coast this summer. Here are some of the pictures from the shoot and if you want to hear his tunes, which by the way, are awesome-- his website is: http://justinfroese.com/ one of my pictures has already been posted on his About page. Check it out!

nutrition 101 - no meat, creative proteins

2011-05-19T14:53:00.003-04:00

as of late - i have taken up - not eating meat...and while i'm not a fan of beans (ok, a freshly cooked and well marinated green bean is fine), i still manage to find ways to supplement protein in my diet. one of the things giving up meat this year has done- is force me to research the nutrition in food.

but let me back up - why did i give up a delicious hunk of juicy meat on my dinner plate? i mean for crying out loud, i'm irish and german...meat is essential food group, right? well, the simple answer is this: my body is happier with me when i'm not eating meat. no, i'm not jumping on p.e.t.a's band wagon and you won't see me at a rally declaring cows have rights (though i do think the process for which animals are slaughtered is atrocious). my hippie ways have a much more basic purpose: i want to feel great, all the time.

so as i embark on this nutritional journey, i'll post a little here or there on what i finding. and today? protein...

from what i've read, and granted, i'm always still learning, the average protein necessary for the human body can be anywhere from 10% to 40% of your daily intake per day. it's different for men and women and people of different weight or size.

proteins are biochemically organic molecules that provide essential amnio acids, enzymes for metabolism and help promote a better immune system among other things.

and actually integrating this essential nutrient is not difficult because ultimately, it's in just about everything we eat. ironically broccoli and wheat grass have significant amounts of protein-- approximately 800+ mg per ounce. dairy products like yogurt, milk, cheese all carry proteins as well as many nuts like almonds and peanuts (or peanut butter- yum!). even bananas are a good source. combined in various meals each and every day - there are solid ways of getting protein into one's diet without ever eating poultry or meat. certainly - protein shakes, smoothies and powders are great for protein on the go.

needless to say; while all this is a very basic, it's a place to start and as i keep track of my daily intake - i'm finding creative ways to make sure i get the nutrients i need.

being a vegetarian isn't so bad. i rather enjoy it actually and it's adding creativity to another element of my life which i think is just swell.

...then again....could i really say "no" to tasty pile of fresh fish &chips?

How The Homeless Help the Hopeless...

2011-05-15T00:32:00.000-04:00

Homeless Chicago Man Donates Thousands to Down-On-Her-Luck Banker: MyFoxCHICAGO.com

songs of spring & joy...

2011-05-02T10:27:00.004-04:00

it has been a long month of hard work. from a photo-shoot to an art show to preparing a video for a beloved band who swept san diego off its feet....AND here we are at the end of the month and you're wondering: well - let's see it! -- well, friends, you can do just that: head over to my website - http://untamedfocus.com and head to the music category. oh and below are some photos from talee's shoot earlier this month. she is a local musician with a BIG heart. her sweetness, beauty and faith come out in the spirit of her smile. it's inspiring and inviting.

Shouldn't Love Always Win? Part 2

2011-04-14T22:20:00.006-04:00

In the last post I reviewed Rob Bell's analysis on heaven vs. hell in his book, "Love Wins," (so if haven't read it yet, get to it - here's the LINK) but one statement, one question remains unanswered, and I'll proceed here:

"Does God get what God wants? is a good question, and interesting question....But there's a better question, one we can answer, one that takes all of this speculation about the future

--which no one has been to and then returned with hard empirical evidence and brings it back to one absolute we can depend on in the midst of all this, which turns out to be another question....

'Do we get what we want?'" (Rob Bell, Love Wins)

Bell continues with the notion that we, as humans have a will, a choice in the matter of our life, death and ultimate destiny. Previously I noted how he discussed bringing heaven and hell to earth. Here we take a look further into what it means to do so. It's important, I think to realize there are multiple wills working in the Earth - and as such how we choose to respond to each of those - is our fate.

There are those who would choose to torture less fortunate - and in doing so, they not only create hell for themselves, but hell for those they're afflicting. Then there are those who choose selfish means to get ahead, in business, in relationships and they too are creating Hell in their own life, consequences for poor choices and actions that do not speak life. Certainly, the experience of pain, physical or emotional or spiritual or mental can be a be great hell for which we need rescuing.

What about natural disasters? I personally think that there is such a thing as the "will of the Earth." This in my mind is how creation functions. It is the result of Chemistry, Biology or Physics. It is the elements that make the world go-round. As such, these affect the human race also, for better or worse. And Bell recently said in an interview that when he's asked the question: how could God allow such traumas, like the one in Japan, and a host of others -happen? - He can only respond first to believing that God is a good God, that he understands pain and grief and sorrow and can meet the human being right where they are. From there, the answer is about redemption and restoration.

But back to "Love Wins," - Bell spends a great deal of time, and entire chapter concerning the matter of what God wants and what we want. He tackles a little more on the Book of Revelation and he says, "...the letter does not end with blood and violence. it ends with two chapters describing a new city, a new world that God makes, right here in the a midst of this one. It is a buoyant, hopeful vision.....this vision we're given here in the final words of the bible tells us all kinds of things about the big story, the one Jesus invites us in to...." (p.113) And in the new place - this life of Heaven, there is no room for destruction or decit. There's no place for evil to succeed.

I imagine a person standing in this beautiful environment and their skin - their negativity, their evil and even their pain, their sorrow - peeling from their very being, their body and spirit. It is as if they are so compelled to strip from their Hell and enter the beauty of a heavenly life, an unconditional love - a extraordinary existence. Bell explains that for such beauty to exist, as God intended, He must say - no - to things that are not life-giving, and to those who continue to do them - "Not here you won't..." implying there is no room for their hellish thinking and living. But this does not negate the opportunity for restoration. And what it shows is that "love demands freedom. It always has, and it always will." (p.113) Such love compels - for one to leave the old and embrace the new. The stripping away is picture of death before life. Why would someone choose to live in Hell? Well, we all do - inadvertently- with or without thinking sometimes. But this doesn't mean the Gates of Heaven are shut. And it doesn't mean reconciliation to God is not eternally possible.

Nevertheless, "The End" remains more mysterious than our Human mind can comprehend and I think it's fine to leave it just like that. Rob Bell may have critics, but theology is only a perspective so to harbor offense seems unnecessary. I do find his process and perspective agreeable - it's a conversation worth having. It's a conversation that's been hanging in the balance for thousands of years - and will continue. My recommendation is simple: have an open mind.

In the meantime, I think it's accurate to say, we are all craving the beauty of something Greater than ourselves. And it's our purpose to bring Heaven to Earth - to be inspired and inspire others. The beauty of dreams and the beauty of sacrifices propel us forward into community living and an epic existence. These are a taste of Glory. Living now, today, thinking about how to spring out tomorrow and be just who we're meant to be.

Shouldn't Love Always Win? Part 1

2011-04-11T20:01:00.005-04:00

There is a lot of Material in the book I am about to review, and this is only a small approach to a wide topic for review. For now, I'll begin with this:

"Those are questions, or more accurately, those are tensions we are free to leave fully intact.

We don't need to resolve them or answer them because we can't, and so we simply respect them, creating space for the freedom that love requires."

(Rob Bell, Love Wins)

It implies that there is a mystery in the account of heaven vs. hell. Rob Bell takes the topic by storm and addresses the questions so commonly asked by people who have never believed in a God and by those who have spent their entire life being frustrated by the box so many institutions -often- place God in. So what is the truth about heaven and hell and the fate of the entire human race? I don't think Bell presumes to know the answer, rather after reading his material, I'm convinced that he is only presenting a new way of thinking that makes God truly powerful. "God gets what God wants."

And if God made man in his own image, if the Spirit of the Creator in everything that exists in the earth because of Love alone, why would He not offer every opportunity possible for each one to choose him? Even if it meant in infinite time and space?

What I appreciate about Bell's analysis is that he presents both and heaven and hell as reality now, in the Earth. "The age to come" does not necessarily have to be a realm that is yet to arrive. Rather by establishing the reality of heaven and hell in the present, it prepares the human being for the future of this life and yes, then ultimately a Realm that will unite itself with the Earth.

In his address of heaven: he pulls in the story of the rich man who came to Jesus to ask him, "what must I do to have eternal life?" Bell states that the rich man wasn't necessarily concerned with whether or not he would get into heaven, in fact, having done all the "right" things and living the "good" life, he assumed he would. What that young man was concerned with was a deeper sense living in the "age to come" - the future of his existence before and after death. So to this, after Jesus recites the commandments (which the man had kept), he drives it home - with a heart-issue. "Sell all you have..." and the man walked away. "He had great wealth...." Such was his greed. The point, Bell says, Jesus is making is that heaven is ultimately "entering life." What does it mean to really live? To have peace, love, joy? What does it mean to live in the state for which we were created? Could the goodness of LIFE be heaven on Earth? I can imagine so -- if in fact a God so big could create an Earth so beautiful, with laws of Physics and Biological intricacies that function at will. And honestly, I couldn't imagine the eternity to come existing without them.

Bell taps the lack of imagination we have when it concerns heaven. Floating in robes atop gold streets, through pearly gates and big 15th century stone castles. While it might be interesting - the world has grown, progressed, and discovered so much more since the days of King Richard the Great. Would it be so impossible --for what we experience on Earth to be a taste of Heaven? Could not heaven's existence mesh with the beauty of the Earth? I think so.

Moreover - Bell continues by discussing the very idea that God set out to save the human race and that it is not FROM God for which people need saving, it is unto God one is saved. This indicates, in my mind - what we are being saved from ultimately - is ourselves. And if it is eternal - then it seems to me, it should exist in death and in life.

But one might ask, what about justice? -is this not the fate of Hell? I am beginning to believe that we, as humans have derived our own form of justice (and in western culture, it includes court dates and prison cells and political bias) - If God is truly to be all powerful, is it not conceivable that His version of justice is beyond our comprehension and we have no idea what justice REALLY is? The Cross was meant to be a sacrifice - not just for the human race of 1st century, but for every century past and in an "age to come."

I'll back up a moment and address Bell's analysis on Hell. First, it's important to note that he takes a more scholarly approach to the place Christianity has deemed a place for those who do not accept confess their sins in this life...

Bell discusses an the idea-- stating that in the Old Testament of the Bible, there is very little reference to a place called Hell and that there is more commentary on death itself - both in the physical and in the spiritual renewal of God's graces. In the second half of the Bible, Bell points out that Jesus reference's to hell were of a physical garbage dump that the Israelites of his day would have been familiar with. In essence, a common noun was used as metaphor to the consequences of poor choices.

This is interesting. Why? Well - once again Bell makes a significant point about the importance of this life and how sometimes, we do a fine job of bringing Hell to Earth through our will, which we were given by God. We're not robotic. We're human and we are allowed to make up our mind, for better or worse, how we want our life to look. So this approach to the idea, once again, creates life in the here and now - rather than some furnace --where we'll feel our skin scorching for eternity.

But what about the passages where Jesus may not refer directly to hell but to condemnation and punishment? It's a valid question. Bell takes a look more specifically at the audience Jesus was talking to - and ironically, it was never heathens that received his words, but rather - the religious culture that believed they were on God's good side and had their ticket into heaven. "This is not say that hell is not a pointed, urgent warning or that it isn't intimately connected with what we actually do believe, but simply to point out that Jesus talked about hell to people who considered themselves, "in." (p.82)-- He continues on to discuss references in the Bible where such punishment is the preparation for a great Redemption. It is ultimately about a death and consequences --before a transformation. "Failure," Bell notes, "isn't final, judgement has a point and consequences are for correction."

As for references in the book of Revelation and traditional teachings about the end times, I was interested to find out -- through research -- more than one interpretation exists on the book, i.e., there are some theologians who actually believe the book was written specifically for it's time and the events already happened. Others believe that it was a book written to address timeless truths and still others who believe it is solely the end times. Nevertheless, the book is debated -- and we may have no true understanding. Which is it? Option D: All of the Above.

So is there a place called hell? I believe so but I also admit my understanding of it is human, and therefore minuscule compared to where it actually may be or what will really exist there. Could it really be His people that He made in His image? Or could it be the "fallen beings" - that do not yet exist in their eternal damnation? We really don't know. But it certainly gives the mystery of love and salvation more hope - don't you think?

Ultimately: Rob Bell's words make sense to me. His reference to scripture and study of the Hebrew text often fascinates me. There will be people who disagree with him, who will disagree with me. There will be some who would say these ideas are heresy and frankly haven't cracked open the book. And there will be those who read these words, already pre-set to disbelief and will still call Bell a heretic. Others will find they just can't wrap their mind around the concepts he offers. And that's ok. There will still be others that will find his words resonate in a deeply spiritual way, so much so, they find themselves approaching God in a way they never have before. To each of you -- I'm fine with that. So if the book stimulates any conversation, I can imagine it will be that of a God who came to save the Earth --- Such attention, in any form can only be applauded, correct?

So go ahead, read it, decide what you think. But don't jump on the bandwagon of critics before you do. Have an open mind.

Nevertheless, I conclude with this. Each generation has its heretics. Ironically, Jesus himself was considered one in his own time. Often they are the revolutionary leaders that bring people into a new life of grace and understanding of an old idea. And frankly, I'd just rather be a heretic.

eman al-obeidy: a woman in libya

2011-03-30T00:09:00.001-04:00

this past weekend, a brave libyan woman stormed into a hotel where journalists were staying and began recounting her exerperience with gahdafi's regime. she had bruises on her body, and media personnel said you could see what looked to be rope burns on her wrists. the woman said- she was raped by 15 men - and while she was telling her story, a waitresses and government minders at the hotel tried to cover her head, shut her up and dragged her away.

a bbc reporter was punched in the face, trying to protect her. cnn reporter, nic roberston and his crew were on the scene and their cameras were taken and destroyed.

what we know about the woman is that she is 29 years old, engaged to be married and working at a travel agency. government officials tried to pass it off as if she were a prostitute or drunk and such accusations carry the weight of shame. her family is outraged. and no one seems to know exactly where she is.

my heart is outraged over this situation. it's true the story can't be directly verified -- but why would a muslim woman in a conservative country- dare to risk her life to tell a story if there wasn't something to it?

and it begs the question, how many women are being mangled and assulted -- and because their "society" or government shames or dismisses them -- never talk? it's not the religion's fault. it's culture of "authority" figures who corrupt it. and i pray deeply for her safety, the fate of her honor among peers and...that she will soon be returned to her family.

the outbreak of the people in libya is an important one. it builds on the revolution in egypt and tunsia. you see, people in these arab countries want freedom. they know they can have it. they should have it. and they are showing the world they can be muslim and be free. i believe whole-heartedly, they can be muslim and be free. they deserve to have a government they choose, leaders that will help them have a successful economy, and flourishing communities.

democractic ideals do not belong to western-judeo-christian people. nor is the responsibility of western nations to force it upon any nation. such freedom belongs to anyone who finds it. i think egypt, tunisia, yemen, and libya...are showing us just that.

The Yes Team, Stills --

2011-03-24T23:53:00.000-04:00

As I'm wrapping up pictures from The Yes Team photo-shoot and starting on their video, I thought I would share a few of my favorites:

Hungry Boxer, Part 2

2011-03-22T17:07:00.016-04:00

Today, Deb and I worked on a bio for Danyelle. The three of us hovered over a plate of waffles, my netbook, and a rough draft of the write-up- changing words and making it flow. We set creative details in motion to help "sell Danyelle" - that's right - how do we get people to sponser her so she can go to the Olympics? With several fights coming up, it's essential for the hungry boxer to be prepared - physically and mentally. But of course, we don't want pass up a little press.

We also thought it would be important to make sure we transformed the fighter into an artist, show a side of Danyelle's beauty that may not often been seen....It was a great exercise and I enjoyed working as a team.

It's interesting to learn about boxing, just by listening to Danyelle's stories. I enjoy hearing her talk about sparring with different opponents, practicing with both men and women. It's a new appreciation on my part and I hope I have an opportunity to try it out myself. Danyelle definitely has the momentum and it pushes her through the toughest challenges. You can hear it in her speech. Moreover, with as many hours a day as she dedicates to training, I am confident she will compete well and land a spot on the team. The photo-shoot is Thursday, now if only we can guarantee warm temperatures, no?

Oh and here's a snippet of what was written...

"Having grown up as an athlete, Wolf knows that it takes hard work and endurance to master a sport. In college it was basketball, field hockey and track. For her, boxing is another new challenge, one that she has set out to conquer.

"I have to be the best," she says. It's important to Wolf to master a skill and achieve distinction in any new art. From sparring to counter punching, Wolf believes that the sport of boxing is a scientific art-form that exudes style and technique. She has learned that boxing has much to do with what goes on inside the ring as well as outside of it. Many of the fighting arts teach some type of meditation, a calming of the mind and soul: for Wolf, this takes place when she sits down to paint a canvas.

The fighter becomes an artist, a coalescence of beauty, creative thinking and intelligence.
Whether it be sketching with pencil, painting with acrylics or sculpting- Wolf experiments with various mediums and they are all a sage for her concentration, giving her the ability to breathe confidently. "I like to wow myself," she says, "it takes a lot to 'wow' me. Art is finding a technique that works for you and going for it."

a hungry boxer, part 1

2011-03-21T01:04:00.000-04:00

it's the dream of every young athlete...to have a shot at the olympic games...and bring home the gold.

this week, i embark on a journey with a woman who until just a few years ago, had no idea what sport would take her to the olympics - even though she's been dreaming since she was a child.

this woman...who's artistic beauty is often forgotten --- is fighting to reach one of the world's most watched sports events, as a boxer and not just any boxer, but one of the first women to officially be an olympian for the sport.

not since 1904 has women's boxing been allowed in the olympic games. and even then, it was only as demonstration. but in 2009: the ioc approved women's boxing to debut in london's 2012 games.

and while there are many contenders, i have the priveledge of working with one woman who's tenacity is inspiring and her spirit shines on everyone she meets.

pictures, write-ups, press kits...here we go. i suggest you stay tuned...

steward of the soul: lent

2011-03-09T23:21:00.002-05:00

"we are the clumsy stewards of our own souls." (r. rohr)

ash wednesday. the beginning of lent...a sacrifice. it is a holy time, a sacred road that leads to great victory. for many catholics, it is a time when they give up their indulgences. but more and more - people are taking on the sacred ritual and grasping for connection with the needs of their soul. so it becomes a place of tender-loving-care where one might find new life where it did not exist before. whether it's a physical improvement through things such as --meat, sugar or coffee or and emotional detachment through social networking and the 2.0 world: it is a primitive time to reflect on the need of you heart and mind

the human condition is in need of desperate repair. and how fitting that 40 days is set aside to focus on what will make us whole again. it is the act of "living ourselves into a new way of thinking." (r.rohr) it is by this we are able to step forward into a life that is meant for the moment - one that compels us to open up to extraordinary possibilities.it is the rumbling of the earth before the greatness of "what's next" -- and it bursts into life. this is the need of the soul - so forget being comfortable, forget what's safe....what's convenient. don't let society's rules and lies keep you down. don't let the routine take control of you...instead, ask yourself, what can you leave behind and grab hold of?

when in march: yes to l.a.

2011-03-08T23:40:00.024-05:00

the month of february came and left and many of you probably are wondering where i went. well --certainly between the world exploding in the middle east (and wisconsin) and keeping up with the band: the yes team, it's been busy. but here we are and ready to step up the month of march.

a few words about the yes team:

this past weekend, i joined them in l.a --.in preparation for their show at molly malone's near beverly hills. i took a train from san diego to union station ...for the glorious price of 23 dollars. yes, that's right, i refused to drive in downtown los angeles, california.

my groupies picked me up in what they call - "purple reign," and truly it's royal, - a rather unsensible color of violet that just overpowers you. the trusty dodge van safely shauffered 5 dirty hippies (myself included) to a nearby hole-in-the-wall mexican joint for breakfast burriotos. talk about full.

after the tasty eats, we rushed off to a studio for a band rehearsal - and-it-was-solid. the yes team picked up jackson price on electric, ben "skinny" cummings on violin along with a drummer and bass player. the other musicians picked up the music quickly and they rolled through the music while i snapped pictures in a timely two hour rehearsal.

but it was a newer song --for the band, that had us all heavy hearted...emotional, creative and connected, so much so, that afterward we all needed a break and kinnie suggested, none other than beverly hills park.

so off we went - to find a patch of grass in the sun. the afternoon could be described as playful...and simply -rest. lazy acoustic songs rose melodiously from carefree friends - while a little yoga engulfed the souls of some and well then there was the shirtless kid with the hair...and we all had a hearty chuckle.

finally - dinner and show ~ we stopped in with angie, an old friend of tj moss and kinnie dye, who made cheese ravioli, salad and ...."crack" cheesy garlic bread. no, i'm not kidding. watch out kids: this stuff was explosive - you've never had cheesy garlic bread until you've had manufactured kraft dinner dried cheese on top. that's right, powdered cheese, fake, in all its glory and...yum: so much so, it was wrong. between that and trader's joes iced tea, we were geared up for the evening.

the yes team definitely brought in the biggest crowd of the night. friends, families and friends of friends all showed up to show their support. everyone had beer in hand and a few of their best screams handy for tunes. jonathan even got the crowd around their folger's commericial...live and in concert. the day was a success - for the yes team, for their music and for me.

sunday only proved to be an extention as we made our way home in the purple reign --of course, not before we swerved through an l.a. maze, only to settle on mc'ds coffee, sing a few tunes around a hippie fire pit in hunnington beach and or course - settle in with a little swell season.

say yes...at the beach

2011-02-12T23:01:00.001-05:00

today, i went out to ocean beach...really just to spend sometime by the water...it was beautiful. the sun warmed my face and the sand sunk my toes. as i was walking down the the beach, i noticed singing -"one love" by bob marley- as i recall. a group of friends sat with a djembe, a guitar, shakers and voices...they sounded amazing. i couldn't pull myself away, i just wanted to keep listening. and well, i had nothing better to do at the moment. so i planted myself on the cement block and listened. their harmony was inviting. the crowds came in waves and the band of friends -even let little girls bang on the drum. it was a sweet sight. what's more- was they were often joined by other musicians too - including one gentleman, kenny, who added to the talent right away and picked up the band's own written songs very quickly. i think we were all impressed. after some time, one of the musicians - jonathan and i started talking. he told me they, indeed, are a band called, the yes team**(website LINK). he said they just finished recording and ep in l.a. and were living off the good graces of locals. they had driven all the way out here from new york - even had fans and a life there, but they didn't want to spend another winter in new york's icy weather - so they set off to tour the country and ended up in far-south-western tip of the united states - san diego. they're an adventurous crew, and insanely talented. their passion and drive is inspiring and i think they touched everyone who stopped on the beach today. they're determined to remain independent and dedicated to their music...even if it means leaving out of their purple van.

**the yes team-- kinnie dye, tj moss, & jonathan walsh

reporting egypt on twitter

2011-02-04T05:18:00.001-05:00

cnnbrk: Journalists reported arrested amid #Egypt protests.http://on.cnn.com/fouY7a

some say the journalists in egypt - risking their lives - are frankly, out of their mind. there are some who think it is not wise for media to send their people to such a hostile places. but - it's beyond their job - it's what they live for and while fears may exist, it is a profession of passion and honestly? nothing more. so to my fellow journalists doing what it takes to give the egyptian people - of all persuasions - a voice - i commend you.

as for those being rounded up, whether they're being arrested or mobbed (& missing) - i think that it is a despicable act - and if the government is involved - they should know that restricting press during such an intense situation never worked well for anyone. the press are the ones who set the stage for dialogue and so in my mind - it is one of the most grueling professions - but it is one of great value for the world.

one in particular, i have been following on twitter, is a woman by the name of sarah el sirgany. she spoke to cnn by phone a few days ago, and since i have watched her report by twitter - trying to get the word out about what's going on. clearly, she is anti murbarak protester - but the events she is witnessing and experiencing are up close and personal and with - some of her latest --

Ssirgany Shorta 3askaria? RT @raniadailynews: @ElFoulio what do you mean by military police? It's either the military or the police?

Ssirgany RT @beleidy: Just went through army checkpoint on galaa bridge, on my way to tahrir square #jan25 egypt

Ssirgany Last night two brave female friends took medical supplies to Tahrir & were harassed by pro-mubarak mob on the way. Now area is totally safe

Ssirgany All of our reporters and editors want to be in Tahrir today, but someone needs to put the stories together & post online.

Ssirgany We are all with you RT @Gsquare86: hmmm activists disappearing and journalists are being beaten up, keep an eye on me, i might be next

egypt: the people unite

2011-01-30T20:35:00.002-05:00

"it's a sign of weakness......it's makes the people the stronger."

(mos, answering question from ivan watson, cnn about the military air warning)

i find it interesting --that the u.s. government keeps talking about encouraging the egyptian government to give the people what they want in terms of economic change and maintain democracy.

secretary of state, clinton told fox news sunday: "we do not want to see a change or a regime that would actually continue to foment violence or chaos -- either because it didn't exist or because it had a different view in which to pose on the egyptian people." (link) and "this is a very serious time for egypt and we are going to do all we can to support an orderly transition to support a situation in which the aspirations of the egyptians are addressed,"

when candy crowley of cnn asked clinton, "we are seeing signs that say 'u.s., stop back mubarak, what side is the us on- mubarak or the people in the streets?" clinton answered, "well there's another choice- it's the egyptian people, we are on the side - as we have been for more than 30 years, a democratic egypt that provides both political and economic rights that respects its people... "

she went on to talk about supporting "concrete steps" for reform in egypt - but failed to lay out what those might look like in the eyes of the u.s. government - after all, they've done so much to support various rights groups in egypt. then of course there's the "complexities" because the u.s. has been a partner an ally and that reform should start with mubarak have dialogue with the people.

there is also a lot of talk about what the people want and the government analyzing economic change and preventing extremists from taking over- even from the republican side (boehner- fox news sunday) and of course: "we want to see an orderly transition so that no one fills a void, that there not be a void, that there be a well thought-out plan that will bring about a democratic, participatory government" (clinton link).

what no journalist has bothered to ask is this: "the people are chanting for mubarak to step down. while their protests do want economic change etc- what they really want is for the old guy out and for a new guy to take over - they no longer feel mubarak is the best leader - and it's coming from thousands of egyptians: if you support the people: do you support their cries for a new leader?"

but no: mainstream media won't ask this question**. and the american government, like any other government that wants its fingerprints around the world ~will back away from truly supporting a people's revolution. power breeds an attitude among governments that says, "i'll scratch your back if you scratch mine." the point being - they will support a questionable government if it wins them an ally, economic advancements or affluence in a region - the middle east in particular. this is observation alone.

nevertheless: what i find more powerful, most unique and amazing - are how many american citizens (and others around the world: syria, london, and more) are reaching out to the egyptian citizens by holding protests of their own. it shows that people - respect people. it takes away governmental power, in its own way. it unites and joins citizens together. revolution isn't always a bad thing: a government by the people should work for the people - and if the people don't see it or feel it - they have a right to take it.

on the note of terrorists taking over: i think it's too early to even assume that. and it's very important to understand: these are not religious extremists protesting. it's not the religion of islam protesting. nor is it islam running the country - it is one man who wants power - and it a people who are rejecting his power. what's more is that eygpt's military has always been respected by its government and people - but the government has also been run by military men and this time the people are unsatisfied (discussion juan cole: link) and even pushing for a man formerly head of the international atomic energy agency (cnn-link).

certainly this is my speculation from reading, watching and listening to the events take place a half a world away. but i can say with confidence that if a country of people are demanding change and freedom - they should go after it, take it and cry for it.

--------------------------

**update since post~ stand corrected: it seems tony blair has just been asked this questions (01/31/11 - LINK CNNi) but as any other politician, he will not directly answer.

Egypt In Pictures

2011-01-30T16:38:00.001-05:00

Thoughts to come...

exit through the gift shop - true or false?

2011-01-28T03:26:00.001-05:00

exit through the gift shop: an oscar nominated documentary put on by none other than world renown graffiti artist: banksy. the film highlights an obsessed camera guru-- terry -- who fell into filming the underground world of street art - but without a purpose. the french-man began to tell people that he was making a documentary, but he didn't have any skills. so really? he was just filming and capturing every moment....

the one artist terry wanted and eventually got - the most famous of them all finally invited him to come along. after several adventures terry put some video together - but it was terrible. after meeting with and going on several projects with banksy - the filming came to be about him and his footage was pieced together - to tell HIS story....or at least that's what they say...it is banksy after-all. the politically incorrect artist even makes a faceless appearance throughout the film.

i was certainly glued to hulu for that hour and 25 minutes watching this guy's memoir unfold - and getting a glimpse behind the scenes to -not only- to what the artists will face to get their statement out there on the walls and scenes of the city, but also this french-family man that was craving something bigger than himself.

what's more is that his dream - as undefined as it was - took terry into trying out his own street art...well, actually just distorting other people's artwork. but having a few crazy ideas about marketing, probably from his days of selling a fashion line l.a., and some inspiration from banksy: he was able to premiere an enormous gallery and make a significant amount of cash. the scheme, alone, earned him the name mr. brainwash, not his art - in my opinion.

then again...who knows if that's what really happened? it was banksy's film - after all....

the photo spread...

2011-01-25T02:22:00.001-05:00

a few days ago, i told you about pilates plus pacific beach - and the two inspiring women who run the studio. you can read more about them -here (link). below are just a few of the best photos from the shoot. for more - check out the fitness & dance gallery on my website: http://untamedfocus.com ~

westboro's absence

2011-01-16T00:08:00.004-05:00

despite westboro baptist church's decision to cancel its protest at coronado high school in san diego: students, alumni, parents and teachers still gathered tonight to counter protest the religious extremists from kansas. earlier in the week, westboro announced that they would be protesting coronado's play, "the laramie project," which depicts the death of the a gay student in 1998. coronado high filed an injunction against the church - and as a result, westboro backed down.

what was amazing to see though, is that the students were still passionate enough to send a message and *they* showed up. they wanted to speak out against hate - which they feel westoboro is showing.

they sang songs and chanted - of course, most of the songs one of the organizers was playing were from the 60s/70s and most of the kids had no idea how to sing along - so they resorted to a few bars of amazing grace. still it was unique to see the students put on a show say that - even if you disagree with homosexuality: it doesn't warrant protesting a school play - that's trying to promote peace among students and families.

their signs and their messages supported a cause they believed in...most of them declared - "no hate." i would say the only sign that struck me as counter productive was one that said, "God hates fred phelps," because frankly, that's not the case either. And that sign came from parent. God doesn't hate - period.

ironically - some of the students i talked to -were disappointed that representatives from westboro did not attend. it seemed to me that they really wanted to be part of something. and for as much as i don't advocate westboro's harsh messages, perhaps the high school should have allowed the protest - rather than threaten an injunction or lawsuit. free speech is everyone's right in this country - even if it's not life giving.

of course, i think the kids still had an opportunity to learn about what it means to speak out and not be afraid. that's important. and for that - i applaud the school's effort to encourage students to attend give them a chance to be noted.

my hope is that the attendants of the protest will continue to push peace - and the idea of grace toward others, even if they believe men like fred phelps are acting out in bigotry.

Passion for the Core

2011-01-15T03:42:00.004-05:00

Young, beautiful and out-right quirky: Kimi Evans and Yoko Druten are quite the pair and in the true spirit of entrepreneurship - fit for a fitness studio, more specifically, a Pilates Plus studio.

Over two years ago, Evans was introduced to the ground breaking, core-strengthening exercise - Pilates Plus. She notes, “I have such a bad back,” and has been through her share of injections, medications and medical treatment. But discovering the exercise and art of Pilates Plus, much of the tension she suffered was relieved. Soon after, not only did she introduce her friend Yoko to Pilates, she also pursued --becoming an instructor. Druten soon followed and together: completely in love with what Pilates Plus was doing for them - they decided they wanted to open their own studio, in hopes to share a wealth of fitness with others.

Both women believe that Pilates Plus exercise produces efficient results in the body. Evans states, “Pilates really focuses on the core, so no matter what exercises I’m doing on the machine...it’s always helping my core and working my core strengthens my back.” Druten adds, “I’ve definitely felt my body become more toned than ever before.”

Their passion for the work-out is evident. They both have a heart to contribute to the health and strength of their clients, just as they have benefited. In fact, during our sit-down: a woman came in - wondering about their services and training, as she was very concerned about her back problems. I could tell, right away, that Evans was empathetic - it showed in her demeanor and facial expressions. Immediately she reached out to the woman to inform her of all that Pilates Plus has to offer and how she could get started.

They definitely recommend that the average person should only take the classes 3-times a week. It’s important, they add, that the body has time to repair in between work-outs as the exercise itself can be very intense. Evans and Druten agree that it’s important to stay motivated and consistent in order to effectively gain positive outcomes. Certainly, they believe - the high energy of Pilates Plus is a great motivator toward consistency.

And I can say, first hand, Evans and Druten’s energy is inspiring, addicting and even down right hilarious. When I asked them about their personal fitness goals this year - with a silly grin and excitement in her voice, Evans blurted, “I want to look just like Brooke Burke!”

Fitness guru and expert, Brooke Burke was recently quoted in SHAPE magazine, saying, “I’m obsessed with Pilates Plus!” Apparently Burke uses Pilates Plus three times a week and is true advocate of its results. Of course, the quirky pair in Pacific Beach love this - for them - she’s a hero and she solidifies their adoration for the exercise. Founder and head of the Pilates Plus enterprise is Sebastien Lagree - his innovation has given both Evans and Druten the motivation to pass onto others - and they are “gung-ho” about making sure every client they come in contact with is satisfied - and feels better about themselves.

Pilates Plus launched just over a month ago in Pacific Beach. Evans and Druten both carry a business sense and a passion that makes the studio come alive. They house their studio with solidly skilled instructors. They will be soon offering a technical class that will help clients become comfortable with the Pilates Plus machines and learn the correct form for each exercise. Evans and Druten want to work with their client’s specific- and personal fitness goals - so that each one can attain a body they desire...that is: a fit one.

What’s more - are these women - don’t want you to leave the studio without having fun - this "isn't your grandmother's Pilates," you know. So with modern, upbeat pulse music ringing through the speakers, a pair of brightly colored toe-socks and a glimpse of that transforming -bod- in the mirror: you will definitely leave with a smile on your face...and maybe the ambition to climb Machu Picchu in Peru.

so you want to be a journalist?

2011-01-12T01:20:00.004-05:00