Are you ready?

Tonight has been the perfect summer night. It was warm today, but the cool of night brought relief - the kind where you drive around with all your car windows rolled down, the music far louder than it needs to be. The air temperature makes me nostalgic of being a child and playing in the street well into the night. The feel of sweat cooling my body, only to be foiled when I must go back inside the still warm house for bed.

I tell you this so you know where I am coming from when I say: Southern California is the most damn wretched place in the summertime. The sting of the air when walking into 105 degree heat from a 70 degree room. Having to wear pants at work, my navy uniform absorbing the summer sun. Nearly instantly my armpits, and nearly every crevice, becomes engorged with sweat. I find refuge in the shade and cold hospitals, the sweat dries just when I need to go back outside. Repeat the process a dozen times per day. The night rarely is as cool as you hope. Sleeping in underwear is little relief unless a constant stream of air pours over my body. All this only to wake up to the stench of my armpits the next morning. Thank God no one is ever close enough to me to notice.

And this is how life really is in southern California from June-September. Don’t let silly shows like The O.C. fool you, for life in The Inland Valley is not all roses and beautiful people. Mungo Jerry and I do not see completely eye to eye:

In the summertime when the weather’s high,
you can stretch right up and touch the sky,
when the weather’s fine,
you got women, you got women on your mind.
Have a drink, have a drive,
go out and see what you can find.

If her daddy’s rich, take her out for a meal.
If her daddy’s poor, just do as you feel.
Speed along the lane,
Do a ton, or a ton and twenty-five.
When the sun goes down, you can make it,
make it good in a lay-by.

We’re not grey people, we’re not dirty, we’re not mean.
We love everybody, but we do as we think.
When the weather’s fine
we go fishing or go swimming in the sea.
We’re always happy,
life’s for living, yeah, that’s our philosophy.

When the winter’s here, then it’s party time.
Bring a bottle, wear your bright clothes.
It’ll soon be summertime, and we’ll sing again,
we’ll go drivin’ or maybe we’ll settle down.
If she’s rich, if she’s nice,
bring you’re friends and we’ll all go into town.

Mungo Jerry, “In the Summertime”

• Robert and Cyndi: Thanks for “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” (the book from which Blade Runner is adapted). Also, the poisoned Chinese candy. Between the two, my mind will be blown. I will also forget you even bought me Olde English.
• Aaron: The expensive bottle of whisky will surely last me through countless tennis matches. Thanks buddy.
• Elise: Thanks a bunch for the gift cards. I treated myself to new socks and underwear with the Target one, and I have always said socks and underwear are the way to my heart.
• Becca: The fact you re-gifted Champagne will be overlooked, and I am excited for the next gift you promised! Horray!
• Natalie: The bottle of Absinthe is surely going to be a way to get away, which is the best gift anyone could have given.
• Mom and Dad: Your generous gift will get me a new stereo for my car, something I will use everyday. I can’t wait, thank you so much!

Since I am not a big drinker, turning 21 has not meant too much to me. I have yet to use my new found rights and buy alcohol. I have tried some whisky and brandy now. Also several brands of beers. No matter what I have had, I can’t help but think I would just rather be drinking a soda or milk. I guess drinking alcohol for the effects is the only reason to drink it at all if I can’t appreciate it’s taste. Effects I have yet, and would rather not, experience. Maybe I’ll just be a wine-o.

I am starting to feel older. Though, I can’t help but feel like I should have accomplished more by now. If I would have focused, I would be nearly done with college. Instead I am a good year behind. As a whole, I am too eager to get to the end of things, and don’t enjoy the process. Hopefully I still won’t be saying that when I am 31, 41, 51, or 61. I plan on dying before 71.

My left bicep now reads: “Not all who wander are lost.” With the period. It felt conclusiveness.

It is a line from “All That is Gold Does Not Glitter”, a poem featured in the Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien. It is actually paraphrased from the original quote “Not all those who wander are lost.” If only I had bigger arms could I leave the quote unmolested.

My best, and life-long friend, Andrew, is leaving for Afghanistan with the Marines this week. Months ago my roommate Aaron and I told him we would get inked with him before he went overseas. Being a man of my word, I followed through, despite their doubts. I could not think of an image that I would want permanently affixed to my body (as appealing as a dragon wrapped around a sword is). So I decided I wanted words. Which, in addition to my body being worth 1,000 words, it is now worth 1,006 words thanks to the help of some ink.

To me, this tattoo represents a time period of my life, and definitely means more than it says. And since I barely see it, I can’t regret it.

I bought a new iMac with my tax return money. It has spurred creativity, or forced me to want to try and be creative. Either way I love it, and vow to use it more, which includes blogging.  

Expect more in the future. Another empty promise.

If you were to be getting a car, which kind and why?