Life in the Carolinas

I'm a slacker when it comes to blogging. I could say its been all of the work and socialization that I've been up to, I could write it off on the classes I was taking earlier this fall. Shoot, I could even blame it on the occasional snowfall and the lack of a real internet connection out in Timberlake. No matter the excuse, that's all it really is - an excuse.

The truth is, I've had time. But I'm just a little lazy. I took some classes, and then on top of that I got licensed for both health and life insurance in North Carolina, as well as passing my Series 6 (limited securities trading) and Series 63 (finance law) exams. Top that off with me having completed my training for Prudential Financial, and I've been a busy man. That hasn't kept me from spending my free time with my newly found Carolinian friends. I'm enjoying the folks over at Healing Waters Med Spa, and then there are the nurses over at Duke Hospital. So many great people, so little time.

Life is a funny thing, and if you aren't careful, it can get off track quickly. Having recovered from getting my life way off track, it is calming to not have my head spinning any longer. Give it a few more months and I might actually be thriving once more! I want to thank people like Abe and Stacee Thornton for making the trip out here possible; Jim, RaNada, Ben, Jenni, and Hailey Thornton for taking me in as if I were family; Shannon Disena for being the kind of friend every person longs for; and most of all, Jamie Thornton for being reason enough to come here in the first place!

I can't praise my family enough for their support this past year. Having given up my roots for the hope of a life more grand than the one I knew was risky, but they've seen me through it and shown me all of the support that they could muster. My grandfather in particular has stepped up in my life. He has surprised me with his willingness to contribute, even though it never should have come as a surprise. I spent a lot of time with him when I was young, but at the time I could not see him with anything but the eyes of a child. Having grown up, I appreciate more fully the role that he is playing in my life now, and the role that he has always had. I didn't see how much he did for me in the past, and could spend the rest of my life thanking him for what he means to me. My father has done the same thing. Teamed together with my mom, they have made tireless efforts to connect with me, reach out to me, and build me up. I remember when they drove away from my house in LA, the last time I saw them. My dad nearly had tears in his eyes, and my mom had grown silent. I miss them both, and cannot wait to see them again!

Now I'm here, starting to settle in, and loving what I'm seeing. Things like my own apartment, a new car (maybe), and finishing a degree are all just around the corner! 2011 is going to be very exciting, and I'm looking forward to sharing it with everyone.

Oh, and I'm so over U2. They need to retire already.

Seasons Change (but you actually see them in NC)

I wish that I had some more photos to share with you. As the temperatures begin to subside here in North Carolina, the trees have begun to shift into vibrant shades of red, orange, and yellow. Each day as I drive down the freeways, I find myself captivated by the sheer, unadulterated beauty of it all. I'm grateful for this place that I find myself.

Certain parts about living in North Carolina make me to feel more at home here than I did in California. I suppose that this place is a romanticized version of California. When people (outside of CA) think of my home state, they think of the ocean, extending for miles upon unending miles, rich redwood forests covering the limitless mountains, and metropolises larger than one could imagine. And of course, all of these ideals are spot-on. Cali does have hundreds of miles of beaches, beautiful forests, and giant cities... but not like here. California also has the dead wastes of the central valley. I was recently playing Fallout 3 over at Abe's house. Walking around in the Capital wasteland of Fallout 3, it reminds me a lot of what the terrain of the central valley is like. Sure, there's life. But there is so much unused and dead space put in there, too. The traffic was horrible, the prices were were set by extortionists, and life moves so damn fast. Not here.

North Carolina is slower. They have the mountains covered in trees. They have the beaches (which I have YET to visit), and they have the metropolises. Living in the triangle (Raleigh, Durham, Chapel Hill area) I have access to everything I could want. I went and visited a beautiful art museum a few weeks back. Amazing works, including a large Rodin exhibit. I must say, I'm not really moved or inspired by his work, but Picasso rocked my world. A week later, I caught a Durham Bulls baseball game (they're the AAA team for the Tampa Bay Rays). Art, sports, nightlife, a great job... this place really does have it all.

There are some things you can't replace. We give names to these things. Sometimes they wear collars and we feed them in a bowl, sometimes they pick us up from the airport. Sometimes its a number and a name, other times it is a smell and a familiar smile. I'm wondering what you do when you leave these things behind.

Stuart, my parents' dog is irreplaceable. Sunnybrook for Life, something Doug, Patrick, and Matt often chanted. Stepping into the local Starbucks where everyone knows your name, what you want to drink, and knows to never charge you for it. I miss my gaming group. Matt, Justin, Josh, Patrick, and even double-deuce on one occasion! There's no making up for these things which are gone. I have some great friends out here. They've blessed me every day since I picked Abe up from LAX. That doesn't mean there isn't an aching in my heart. A slow, prodding pulse of loss that stays with me each day. I can't deny the providence of grace and blessings that have brought me to North Carolina. I know that it was the right move; there isn't a shred of doubt at all. To those who I have left behind, I remember you. I carry you with me as I carry on through my days. You are the ones who remind me of what I paid to be here. You are inspiration for success. If I fail here, the loss would have been in vain. You are all worth so much more than that, I refuse to let it go to waste.

I've met some good guys since moving out here. There are a few guys in the office who can prove to be great friends. Great. But who could ever be a Justin, or a Patrick? None of them share a birthday with me like Doug. None have a passion for life and nerdery like Josh and Matt. What about the passion for sports like Chris or Brent? What about silent, strong confidence and reliability like Jared or Brad? I want my cake, and I wanna eat it too. How about the best of both worlds? I know that I'm struggling to find my place socially and financially while out here.

Its all still foreign to me. It looks like something I might know. Something I will know one day. No matter the landscape; the characters have changed, the lines are different, but I'm still the same. If nothing else, I've been given a chance to be myself in every way possible. No longer held in place by what everyone is used to or can expect from me, I need to be myself to redefine my identity in this middle third of my life. We are rarely given such opportunities, to shed all of our past mistakes and blunders, to build anew from ground zero. I will find my support, redefine myself, and claim a life (no, I'm not going to kill someone). Find something to cling to and hang on for the ride.

North Carolina, what an amazing place. It was worth the four-day drive. Not only have the people proven to be amazing, but the scenery is absolutely astounding. Even without leaving the city limits, you can find yourself surrounded by vast, sprawling landscapes, centuries-old forests, and enormous lakes that stretch as long and as wide as you could desire.

In the past few weeks, I've had the good fortune to visit some of the parks within the Durham/Raleigh city limits. Back home in the Central Valley of California, I would have had to drive for an hour and a half to find scenes like this in the mountains. I'm impressed with NC's dedication to preserving wildlife and their natural habitats, these 100+ sq. mile parks take precedence, and the cities must build themselves around the parks, rather than sacrificing park space for housing or retail. I had asked Jamie Thornton a month or so ago when I was planning the move out here how far one had to drive in order to go camping. I figured it would be at the very least an hour or two. Believe me when I say I was shocked to find out that it wasn't any more than a 15-minute drive down the highway to Jordan Lake where you could find yourself completely set apart from the modern world, relaxing and enjoying mother earth's natural beauty. I haven't gone camping yet (too darn hot!), but I am definitely looking forward to it.

My praise continues for the people of North Carolina - over two weeks here and I still have yet to find a person who isn't perfectly sweet, or at the very least aptly respectful. I'm learning to slow my life down to their pace, the 55 mile an

hour speed limits are definitely doing their best to train me in their ways. North Carolina is rich with experiences to be claimed, and I'm excitedly anticipating finding out more about life out here on the east coast. It looks as if I have the new job well in hand, so if it proves to be God's will for me, I'm looking forward to sharing more of my travels and the sights here.

My Life as an Auschwitz Survivor, or "Driving Across the USA in 72 Hours"

It was bad. No joke. What began as a glorious idea of conquest swiftly turned into what would become two men in a small enclosed space, with no end in sight. Perhaps Auschwitz is a bit strong, that was the sight of a major tragedy that forever changed the world and two cultures within it. This trip forever changed my world, and both people who were in it [the car].

I picked Abe up from LAX around 2:00 Saturday afternoon. After finishing my last shift with Starbucks, it turned out that packing things into my car was going to

be a logistical nightmare. I had kept most of my clothes out of boxes so that I would have access to them whenever I needed. There was no telling when the boxes I had shipped would arrive, nor what kind of condition they would be in (the latter proved to be the point of greater concern). After loading a majority of my dress clothes, my guitar, and a few extra pieces that wouldn't pack well into FedEx boxes, I had barely enough space left in the car for

Abe's and his backpack. It was in this tigh

tly packed '97 2-door Honda Accord that Abe and I would live out the

next 72 hours of our lives together.

Abe is, for all intents and purposes, pretty frickin' amazing. He and I attended the same church and high school back when he lived in California. Graduating two years before me, he was someone who I, admittedly, looked up to. He was involved in praise teams, a preeminent figure in the youth group, and liked all the cool bands that were out there. Not only that, but the man had a swagger about him. It probably came from being the oldest of four siblings and having what seems to be an innately high level of self-confidence. That confidence is not without reason. He recently finished his MBA, and had previously received his bachelor's degree in astrophysics. Mother-flippin astrophysics. Smart guy. He and I were in the same small group at

church for a year or two before he graduated. Even with this, our experiences together had been somewhat limited. He came out to Vegas for my bachelor party some three years ago, and we had hung out some during the high school days. Beyond that, we had that loose kind of friendship that is hard to define. We could definitely hang out together, but just didn't have any of those friendship-defining moments where you look back and you k

now you've got a history with a person. We know the history is there, its just somewhat indeterminate. We found that moment.

Four days worth of moment. In my car with the back seat filled, Abe and I spent close to 48 hours of this 72-hour journey within two feet of one another. This is where Auschwitz comes in. In the death camp (okay, now I KNOW my comparison is off-base) people were surrounded by their loved ones, but found themselves in a completely desolate and hopeless environment. As much as I like my car, its never ending value, the trials it has survived (its a phoenix, to be sure), and the history I have with it, I loathe it now. Its just going to take time for me to come to terms with it. We shared this small, enclosed space together for what seemed an eternity. Just know this - I wouldn't have survived the journey without him. I'm indebted to him for his sacrifice, and I'm very glad to have him as a friend. Only half

way through the journey, I told him how this drive was one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences and that I couldn't imagine anyone doing this twice. After a moment's pause of realization, I remembered that Abe had actually done this a few years prior with his wife, Stacee. A bold move and noble sacrifice on Abe's behalf. I can't express how grateful I am.

When I picked Abe up from LAX, he had a splitting headache. Whether it was from waking up at 3:00 in the morning to get to the airport, the nine hours of flight, or the three double-tall Sam Adams he had downed in Dallas, he was not in the best of shape to say the least. Fortunately, I had only been up since 4am, and had only worked seven hours. Regardless of waking up before dawn and having to work most of a full shift, I was in high spirits. I will never again have to don a green [or black] apron and make someone's caramel macchiatto. No more frappuccinos. For those who know me well, I've been with Starbucks for the better part of a decade - about as long as it took Van Wilder to graduate college. I was riding the I-just-quit-Starbucks high when I picked Abe up, so I was glad to get us out of town as quickly as possible. As he climbed into the car, I welcomed him with a, "Hey, Abe. Welcome to California. Let's get the heck o

utta here." Met with laughter, we started off as best as one can, all things considered.

We drove straight through to Flagstaff, AZ on the first day. Its shocking how dry and desolate California is when you compare it to the rest of America. I don't recall where California got its reputation for being beautiful, its dead compared to everything else I saw from Arizona to North Carolina. The first day was uneventful; a little gas here, some Rockstar there, and we drove until well after Abe had told me, eyes fully bloodshot, "I think I'm gonna die." He looked it. Saturday had been more than rough for the man, and we both needed some rest. Checking in to a Motel 6 (a nice one at that), we called it a day.

Day two of the journey was probably the greatest. Even though we stopped off at two separate Wal-Marts in AZ, we had other sights to see along the I-40. We saw a sign off o

n the side of the road advertising "Meteor Crater" and a radio station that we could tune in to find out more. Doing so, we decided we were gonna check out this meteor crater. A 3/4 mile diameter crater in the earth, it was a geological museum of sorts. It wouldn't be until later that I would appreciate all the walking that we did right there. We discovered many factoids about asteroids, learned some geology, and were entertained by the history of the crater and the family that worked to turn it from a "giant hole in the earth" to a center of education and

research. The center is full of information on asteroids, meteorites, space exploration and NASA's research studies. A full-on runner up for stop-of-the-day, it was worth every minute of our time there.

A few hours after meteor crater, we soon realized we had already talked about everything. No, really. Everything. Guns, cars, bikes, politics, life, school, family, California, North Carolina, France, religion, everything. Silence ensued. We stopped off in Gallop, New Mexico to fill up on gasoline and made the plunge - we weren't stopping until Amarillo, TX. A quick geography lesson: Gallop, NM is about 40 miles from the western border of New Mexico, and Amarillo, TX is about 80 miles from the western border of Texas. Amarillo was the home of what was going to be our dinner, so for the next five hours we sat. in my car. and drove. . .

Thank you, Tucker Max. When we realized we had talked about all that we knew and all that we were willing to share*, we turned to Tucker Max's book, "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell." Lauded as wildly entertaining yet utterly repulsive, his stories lived up to their billing. Tucker Max carried Abe and I through most of New Mexico, and during that final stretch before dinner he made it all bearable.

The Big Texan was home of our dinner, what I can only describe as steak-heaven. A saloon filled with people from all across the world, being waited upon by people dressed up as old west

sheriffs and cow girls. The best part of the day came in the form of a 22oz New York strip steak, served with some fried okra and a fully loaded baked potato - to say nothing of the 32oz Sam Adams sitting beside it all. To sit back and relax for an hour or so after being on the road, literally all day, was amazing. The steak was savory, the potato delicious, and the okra perfectly crisp. I can still taste the tenderness of that steak, enjoying every delectable bite. It was so amazing that it truly was one of those, "You would have had to have been there." kinds of moments. Mmmmm....

The rest of Texas is, well, Texas. We drove 'til we hit Oklahoma, and rode until Abe was nearly dead again. Poor guy, I really put him through the ringer the past couple of days.

Day three in Oklahoma started with a visit to my grandmother's house. I got to see my aunt and uncle for the first time in eight years, and my grandmother for the first time in nearly the same. I was grateful for the hour I got with them, they're even better than I remember. I suppose that time and maturity have that kind of impact on your relationships with

your family. They're one of the many reasons why I hope I end up getting this job with Prudential; I want the job so that I can have the finances available to travel around the country visiting my family during my vacations. So many family members that I haven't seen in forever.

Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Tennessee were all pretty much the same. Green, flowing hills. Trees covering everything.

I made an attempt to connect with one of my cousins who lives in Memphis, but I missed her call - and we had already passed through.

We did, however, get some great Memphis BBQ. Not quite the Big Texan, but it was passable.

Our last night on the road, we stayed at a Holiday Inn Express. The best hotel of the trip, but it claimed my 4-pack of Red Bull nonetheless. Which reminds me, I'm in dire need of some caffeine right now.

But that's when the crazy sets in. Bat $#!T crazy. Abe and I had been on the road for days. Slept in beds adjacent to each other, sat next to each other in the car, ate across the table from one another... the two of us, the same two of us every day. When you think about prison, it doesn't matter how much you like your roommate, so long as he doesn't shank you. Abe and I got along just fine, but nonetheless, your patience only goes so far. Jamie had told me how it was a much better idea that Abe go than she, there would've been no way that we could hang out at all if she had spent the past four days in the car with me (plus, sleeping arrangements would've been awkward). At the end of the four days, there was little talking between us. It was a harrowing experience. We had survived the journey, physically. Mentally, though, we were scarred. You can't spend that much time in a confined space with another person without things getting a little too close for comfort. In fact, I think this is the exact situation from which the phrase comes from. We were too close for comfort.

Traveling the I-40 was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I'm glad Abe was there. But I don't know if I could ever do that again. Thank God for air conditioning, iPods, decent hotels, and friends to help you through life's journeys. Never again, my friend. Never again will I take that trip. I have a hard enough time getting into my car at all anymore. ::sigh::

I'm glad to be here in North Carolina. Its green, lush, beautiful. The humidity is a bit much, but the people are all worth it. I still haven't met a single person out here that wasn't friendly. I'm sure its not this way through and through, but for what I've seen, I do love it out here.

Heart Machine meets Hollywood

Tonight I went with Matt to go check out the Heart Machine (http://http://www.myspace.com/heartmachinemusic) show at Bar Lubitsch (http://www.yelp.com/biz/bar-lubitsch-west-hollywood)in downtown West Hollywood. It was an absolutely great experience. The venue is relaxed, cozy, and svelt. When I walked inside, it made me feel a bit like a russian mobster - everything from the signage on the walls to the 8-page vodka menu, to the "house cocktails" available screamed "MOTHER RUSSIA!" to me. I was enamored by the overall feel of the bar. It was far from your hipster dive, selling Bud Light and PBR. I was free from all the backwards-cap wearing bros that seem to inhabit every dive in Fullerton. Thank goodness for variety! I enjoyed three vodka tonics over the course of the evening. I usually go with Effen vodka, a vodka from Holland comparable to Grey Goose. Effen is smoother and has less bite (and is less trendy, which we all know is the trendy thing to do. God save me!). However, because they had such an immense sampling of vodkas from around the world, I asked the bartender to force me out of my rut and to let me try some new things. My first vodka was a traditional Russian vodka (I really should have gotten the names of all of them. For now my descriptions will have to suffice). It was a two-grain vodka. It was scentless, as all vodkas should be, and had just a bit of bite. With very little aftertaste, the vodka was what I would expect from a Russian vodka - swift and to the point. From there we tried a potato vodka. This round was much more smooth than the first, but lacked any real consistency whatsoever. If it hadn't been for the buzz, I wouldn't have even noticed that I was drinking alcohol at all. Although some may see the lack of flavor as favorable (and typical of a potato vodka), I want something more from my drinks when I'm paying more per drink than I would at Starbucks. My final vodka tonic for the evening featured a (yet again) russian vodka that had been infused with various herbs and spices. The initial flavor did nothing, but after only a sip, a pleasant surpise graced my tastebuds! Its smooth and surprising cinnamon and clove taste was electric. That was the second of my two regrets for the evening: that I didn't have more time to consume my thrid vodka tonic. I could have stretched that one over the better half of an hour. Vodka is nice and all, but that isn't why we're here; I just wanted to share a bit of that with you before we taled about Heart Machine 2.0.

Heart Machine 2.0 is still led by Doug Button with Eric on percussion. As Megan has had to move on to other endeavors - focusing on grad school and her work with Una and Geneveve has stepped aside, Doug has brought in two other female performers to try their best to fill the large void left by Gen and Megs. Lauren is the tall, dark haired, and talented violinist. Although she had only two rehearsals before the performance, she did a wonderful job in her role. Her performance reminded me of times when Megan performed with Heart Machine - quality performance, heart felt, high quality, and crystal clear. I was sad that we have lost Megan's vocals - the duets in certain songs really drive them home. Geneveve's replacement goes by the name of Janessa. She, like Doug is a guitarist. She reminds me of a Janis Joplin - mello and laid back nearly all the time. Her long, dark hair and slight stature sneaking in and out of the scene perpetually.

Even with the new components, Heart Machine's perfomance this evening was absolutely amazing. They did a great job with the minimal set. There was something present that sets Doug apart from his contemporaries. This man is not just a guitarist and a vocalist with an impressive range - this man is an artist. He has taken skills such as singing and playing to a new level, incorporated his heart and soul, and found a outlet to express his passion. Listening to Doug and Heart Machine this evening caused me to realize the poingient difference between an artist and a guitarist. I play guitar. I have the skills and capacity. I can play most things laid out before me with little to no problem. Doug, however, is an artist. To think that he will only get better with time is a daunting concept. His lyrics are tight and expressive - more so than even the very word is capable of being. His chord changes, picking, and flow are varied, lively, and engaging.

I must admit, I'm spoiled. Every week or so, I get to be around for Heart Machine's rehearsals and listen in on their works-in-progress. I get to talk with Doug as he goes through things in his life. I get to be privy to the struggles and the joys. Even without all of this insider information, I could still get riled up and energized by songs such as "Rockin'" and "Gotta Get Outta This Town." The bonus was the free CDs at the end of the show. Although some of the recordings are older, I found them to be more than merely nostalgic. I love listening to Doug wail away. His vocals are a blend between Bob Dylan and Thom Yorke of Radiohead, while his guitar-ing (how would you write that?) was likened to a mix of Tom Petty and Jack Johnson. I'm thankful to be here as Doug continues his art, and moves further and further beyond his peers in the music scene.

Doug - my prayers are with you as you continue out on your Heart Machine venture - God Bless!

-David

(Double Deuce!)

Can't Escape Your Past

The problem with morality is the ethics involved. You hold yourself to a certain standard, or at least boast that you do - and if you have any sense of morality, you need to live up to that standard. I've done my fair of shady dealings in the past, and I've decieved more than a handful of people.

Coming clean about all of this has been an extremely cathartic experience. I'm so glad to have shed the baggage of deceit. Once again in my life I am experiencing what it is to be free. I used to hide myself behind my pride, but now I realize that my relationships with others are far too important for me to jeopardize because of my self love. A quote I recently heard, which is quickly becoming my favorite is from St. Augustine. He was recorded as saying, "There can only be two basic loves, the love of God unto the forgetfulness of self, or the love of self unto the forgetfulness of God." I can't believe that I actually putmyself before God for so long. Now that I have better perspective on the issue, I can't go back. I can see myselfishness for what it is, and am happy to be free from it on the aforementioned level.

God is too important. I haven't told everyone my "big secret" that I was sitting on for the better of five years, but if you're interested, call me up. I'd be more than happy to apologize to you, humble myself at your feet and ask your forgiveness.

But the bottom line today? I am not that man anymore. I am a man who has recognized his mistakes, and is more focused on seeking God than I have been in years. Praise the Lord for his tender mercies and forgiveness!

Californication

I wasn't quite sure what the issue was. My roommate Scott and I were driving back from the grocery store, and we passed by (idled by, more like it. Ridiculous traffic.) a billboard for Shotime's program "Californication." We got into a discussion of all the trash that is on TV now a days, and somehow it shifted to the word itself, Californication. Those of you with word processors will note that the "word" Californication has one of those bright red squiggly lines beneath it. "Squiggly" doesn't even get one of those. It was my understanding that Californication isn't even a real word. Its the title of the Red Hot Chili Pepper's 1999 album, the title track, and also of David Duchovony's tv show on Shotime. Scott, however, had a completely different perception of the word and its meaning.

He is from New York, and recently moved out to California to attend Talbot seminary. He insisted that Californication was, in fact, a real word. More so, it held reliable and consistent meaning and connotation universally. Such a thing blew my mind. "Californication" has never held any real context or meaning. After Scott pulled up some definitions off of urbandictionary.com, he seemed to have a point. The word did in fact have some loosely understood definition. I had to know - was I just ignorant, or was this a cultural thing? In order to figure this whole conundrum out, I inquired of twenty friends what their understanding of "Californication" was. I made sure to get as broad a spectrum of friends as possible; Christian and non-Christian, male and female, those groudned secularly and those raised in the church, those raised in California and those who weren't, as well as those who are currently living outside of California and within.

Before moving on, let's clarify one thing: urbandictionary.com is by no means an authority. However, it is a conglomoration of ideas from across the globe at defining slang terms. In this particular instance, it happened to show support for Scott's concept of what "Californication" meant.

From the twenty-two individuals surveyed (we included Scott's opinion and my own), only three people came up with a definintion similar to the one presented online. There was Scott, one friend of his from New York, and Justin Griffin. Everyone else who responded to the question came back with very little input, ranging from "gay sex" to "the things you do that would only be accepted in California." Several individuals came back with comments to the effect that they didn't feel that the word had any definition, or that they had never really considered it a word. One individual referenced it as nothing more than the song and album by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. The most debaucherous of the responses ws "It means that our states is getting screwed so much that its very name is becoming synonymous with getting screwed."

Urbandictionary.com had this to offer:

Californication	385 up, 58 down
	Western society's pop culture and media encroachment and spread all over the world. In particular, the negative aspects of media and culture originating from within the United States' 31st State: California.

Californication	252 up, 40 down
	The spread and influence of western memes and culture, esp. that of California, across the world. Especially focusing on the selling of sex. Made of the words "California" and "fornication"

The "up" and "down" comments are signs of agreement or disagreement. From the numbers, it looks like about 85% of urbandictionary users can agree that the term Californication has something to do with the spreading of western culture and the obsession with sex, hollywood, and celebrities.

Based on the responses, Californication is not a real word, nor a term. But it does have a somewhat accepted idea behind it, and a disgusting one at that. We can't deny that the entire world is getting caught up in the disillusionment of Hollywood. People are overly-obsessed (that's right overly obsessed) with celebrities and their goings-on. The paparazzi, magazines like US Weekly and tv shows like TMZ are all culprits in this debacle, liquifying the minds of their viewers and readers, feeding the presumed importance of movie stars. Even worse, they are creating in the minds of today's youth the importance of being famous, important, becoming some kind of celebrity. I'm guilty of having had daydreams in my youth of becoming someone famous, but this is something different - we're being fed these thought from every side. Its being treated as something crucial. Something that we should all be wanting.

Californication: our world becoming obsessed with fame, fortune, and celebrities to the extent that we're loosing touch with who we are as a people. We loose ourselves to this faux world of glamor and stardom. I can see now why we don't have any real context for the word, we live within the definition. It is only by living in another culture that is being drowned out by Hollywood's onslaught that such a thing can be seen. Perspective is everything.

*special thanks to Adam de laRiva, Gloriann Boni, Anna Cofman, Leigh Cara Hussman, Ken Shrout, Thomas Ariston, Rad Beauton, Joshua Castleman, Abel Gutierrez, Patrick Grafton-Cardwell, Cody Griffin, Justin Griffin, Scott Ahern, and his friend from New York whose name I've completely forgotten.