Dave’s…

Alright folks, here’s the monthly addition with a few kinks present. First, the Categories ain’t working too well on the ol’ Wordpress, even though they’re hidden away in the Wordpress database. If I even try adding the same category back into the seemingly empty list, the database recognizes its presence, but doesn’t seem to want to show it and denies me the right to put it back into place. From time to time, if you refresh on a good day, the categories might pop back, but it’s being a little too Lochness-y. Secondly, private posts are now released to public viewing. I know for some of you, it’s really hard finding the REGISTER link on the right side panel of my website, and considering how the number of my viewers is probably just a handful, I might as well let it all out. But the real reason is because the stupid plugin for keeping my posts a teaser and private is conflicting with this updated version of Wordpress. Thirdly, I’m still at home waiting for the results of potential employers. Thus far, I’ve had the chance of talking with many nice and big-hitters in the games industry – people from Volition, Timegate Studios, Bioware, and two others that I’m going keep under wraps for now (though you might be able to find out for yourself if you look at my Cover Letter page.) Obviously, the good folks from many of these places have found more fitting employees, so the search continues on my part and on potential developers. I would say that, for the most part, it’s almost like the life of a musician all over again. Sure, I went to Peabody Music Conservatory and thus, I ought to expect this kind of lifestyle, but I wanted an in with sound engineering jobs so that I wouldn’t have to endure the struggles of a musician. Little did I know coming out of college that the line of work I wanted, and still have a heart for, is starting to widdle away, and like musicians, I would have to “audition” through a series of interviews, tests, and more interviews. There are preliminary rounds, which involve a simple interview with the Human Resources department, the semi-finals, which involve some sort of skill test, and the finals, which is either an on-site interview or a phone interview with the audio lead or creative director, etc. It’s kind of bringing me back to the days of violin competitions in middle and high school, which has its ups and downs. Though it’s true that you can pour your heart and soul into your performance, winning isn’t always guaranteed. In this end, however, a gig’s a gig… not a trophy.

So I guess there’s not too much about me except for finding newer leads in sound design jobs. I did, however, find a new hobby in acquiring quality writing utensils. ANNNNND there goes half of my viewer-base. So a while back, there was a post on Lifehacker about quality pens that people use on a day to day basis, and for their reasons in using it. Reading through the comments, I’ve found a suggestion for lefties, which proposed that we try out the Uni Jetstream pen for its ease of writing and quick drying ink. So for all you righties out there who don’t quite understand why you all have it so good, we lefties have to push down a bit harder to write while using a pen to let ink out of a ballpoint pen, or from certain fountain point pens. Gel ink pens work alright, but the ink from those smear very easily as the gel dries slower. Since our hand rests on the opposite side, the side of our palms glide across wet ink, hence why gel ink isn’t all too popular among the lefties. We would use Sharpies all the time, but the ink bleeds through many different types of paper. So to my delight, I’ve found the cheapest and best pen for us lefties! Behold! The Uni-ball Jetstream Model SAN33921! So yeah, that was the seed to my newly found infatuation of stationary. I started to let some people try out my pen and they all commented on how well it felt to use something so smooth. Sadly I was feeling a bit too generous and gave one to my mother, and another to my friend. Either way, all I could think of is a.) I need more! and b.) What about pencils?

Since I’ve always been more of a mechanical pencil kind of guy rather than pens or wooden pencils, I recently thought, “Alright, time to take a plunge into another hobby and make my search on the wise internets.” Luckily, I’ve found somebody conveniently named Dave who has a stark familiarity with how I begin my website title or my categories (IF ONLY THEY’D SHOW UP) - http://www.davesmechanicalpencils.blogspot.com/ It was through him that I am starting my collection with a Pentel Sharp Kerry and an Ohto Tasche with a pack of Pentel HB 0.5 Ain. Then I ventured out some more and through eBay, acquired the classic drafting Rotring 600 0.5 pencil. Then I started looking around some more and contemplated a Parker 51, but quickly yanked the mouse from my right hand and put a hold on anymore purchasing. Luckily, I’ve minimized the damage to only three mechanical pencils that’ll probably outlive me based on their construction, but I’m still eyeing the Lamy 2000. Thank goodness I’ve already found the only pen I’d ever need, so the idea of Fountain Pens isn’t going to, or least, isn’t supposed to enter into my head… right? Anybody?

After three months of staying at home, the mind takes a toll. It would be far fetched to link my experience with a life in a prison cell, but the lack of human interaction outside of my home is truly mind-numbing to say the least. Day in, day out, I’m sitting in front of my computer waiting to hear back from potential employers, constantly checking message boards and classified ads for job openings, and bombarding my audio/visual senses with rerun sitcoms and video games. If I had the opportunity to head outside, it would be to perform household chores or to find a place to eat dinner. Of course, I still try to take good care of my body through a healthy diet and periodic exercise. Even then, all I really have to my availability in the enclosed space of my bedroom is a small strip of carpet to perform descending sets of burpies and free weight curls. The monotony of it all starts to dull an active brain. Here’s what I have started to notice:

- Whenever attempting to reach out for human interaction, (be it online chatting, phone, or actual face to face meetings), I quickly run out of interesting topics and start to unconsciously ramble without a word filter.
- Vocabularies vanish from day to day speech, no matter how many books and articles I could read in a day.
- I even avoid multi-player games for fear of not coming back with an even less intelligent insult to hurl.
- Loss of appetite is rampant, and eating becomes another chore.
- Trying to balance the pace of a day will take up most of my time; while throwing out such worries will have me end up wasting a day. This can be attributed to my newly found lack of bounds for laziness.
- I catch myself at my most annoying moments and find that apologizing doesn’t help when I’m alone.
- Deadlines don’t seem to be closing in anymore… until I realize I don’t have any money available to pay for student loans.
- Even ads and credit card offers in the mail with my name stamped on it makes me feel better. (RSVP for weddings, however, don’t.)
- When surfing the web, I revisit the same addresses constantly, knowing that there isn’t going to be a change of content no matter how many times I refresh.
- I can’t watch movies without being bludgeoned over the head with the point and crying hysterically afterward. (Case in point with the Crips & Bloods documentary.)
- Though two guitars are just three feet away, I talk myself down into thinking that it’s too much trouble than its worth. (Again, a reference to my laziness.)
- Amidst self-deprecating alienation, I still cling onto the want of recognition.

A small sample, if you will… Thus far, I’m just trying to clutch onto the dream job I’ve had and hope that I can get it back through mass distribution of my CV, portfolio, and cover letter through whatever outlet I can find online. Practicality is what I’ve been living on for these past months, and it’s through practicality that makes me want to achieve something higher than settle with what everybody else has got. What would I want a job for, you know? So I’m paying off student loans, credit card debt, a car, a home, an independent lifestyle… what use would that all be if I don’t get what I’ve been pursuing all that time? For whatever sanity I’ve left in this slowly deteriorating casket, I still know that I belong someplace. And I sure as hell am more than patient when I’ve become a vegetable.

Sums up a good chunk of what I’ve been listening to and thinking of.

We dug these holes we crawled into now they’re my home
Now here i cannot feel the wind, can’t feel the rain oh no
And I believe in gentle harmony
Well how I loathe all this obscenity
Is this the way my life has got to be?
Have I a single opportunity?

Look at me oh look at me is this the way I’ll always be
Oh no, oh no
Now I pray that somebody will quickly come and kidnap me
Oh no, oh no
Everyday I lie awake and pray to God today’s the day
Oh no, oh no
Here I am, oh here I am, oh when will someone understand?
Oh no, oh no

And all at once I feel this, oh how it clings to me
It reels and calls me towards it, confounding destiny
And I can feel the madness inch by inch
The more I run the more I am convinced
A color all these like the branches glimpse
Just like the saddle in the foggy mist

Look at me oh look at me is this the way I’ll always be
Oh no, oh no
Now I pray that somebody will quickly come and kidnap me
Oh no, oh no
Everyday I lie awake and pray to God today’s the day
Oh no, oh no
Here I am, oh here I am, oh when will someone understand?
Oh no, oh no

Look at me oh look at me is this the way I’ll always be
Oh no, oh no
Now I pray that somebody will quickly come and kidnap me
Oh no, oh no
Everyday I lie awake and pray to God today’s the day
Oh no, oh no
Here I am, oh here I am, oh when will someone understand?
Oh no, oh no

Alright ladies… What the fuck? Why are you targetting me as the go-to-discussion guy whenever your relationship with your former boyfriend turns sour? Over the past month (literally one), four young women within five years of my age have brought to me their troubles regarding their dysfunctional boy-toy. One of those four I randomly met over Yahoo Messenger four days ago; she spilled out her personal life to me just after our third conversation together… in broken English nonetheless! Am I just that “nice” of a guy to be preyed upon so as to bitch about how shitty of a time you’re having? Okay, I’ll admit, yes… yes I am.

But what the fuck? You don’t see me bitching and moaning about my girl situation, (or whatever shred of it there might be.) It’s actually because of girls like these who put me off at even thinking about involving myself in a relationship. I mean, seriously y’all, if you suddenly figure out that the guy you’re with decides to become an asshole and starts to lose interest in you and decides to go back to his ex, shouldn’t that turn you off? Even in the slightest bit? Or maybe, if your boyfriend lights up and gets high because his excuse comes down to “Working is hard…” and hangs around with your ex’s crew of friends, didn’t that ever occur to you that you might want to look into a different category of people you might want to date? Or how about if you’re having a hard time communicating because of language and culture barriers for the past two years, and he’s hesitant about asking your hand in marriage because his family might not deem it socially acceptable? Hmmm…

It’s not rocket-fucking-science folks. Sure, we men tend to think with our penises, but we at least think. I also couldn’t help but wonder whenever conversing to these young ladies, “Why don’t they find me attractive and give me the light of day? They’re dating idiots, and the last time I recalled, I’m not one.” Then I would punch myself in the ballsack to get my brain working again, and remembered “Oh wait, I’m not an idiot, thus I can never date these women. PROFIT!”

So at some point, you arrive at a place called adulthood. You don’t know how it happened, but you’re undeniably there, and you keep thinking about, “Wait, but I didn’t mean to…” You’re sitting on your ass one day, in the bed you slept on six years prior to leaving the household, trying to make a name for yourself. Slipping and sliding around a feigned existence people seem to acknowledge as “real life,” acquaintances were made through your own know-how and whatever resources you can muster without thinking back about the life you’ve left behind. Even though you were still technically funded through the a bank that had an uncanny resemblance of your parents, and yet, the only bank you really know that has no firm policies placed behind legal documents, independence could still be had when adding 3000 miles of buffer zone. Leeching off the goodwill of others, and only offering blank promises of whatever hopes and dreams those “others” might have had, you built your connections and network of so-called friends so as to convince yourself you held some sort of pseudo value in the hearts and minds of those you were trying to con.

Give or take a few years, and you figure out what you want to do when you finally grow up… but everybody’s already looking at you like you’ve grown-up. Those who you’ve been trying to con have picked up on your feeble attempts a long time ago and have already excommunicated you. Those who are still waiting for your major breakthrough were wondering why you were still sitting on your ass, in the same bed you slept on six years ago. You try to convince them that you’ve been working on it, that the economy has been unfavorable, and that now, you need them more than ever; but they just keep on waiting, like you’re a magician with a top hat in hand, but with no rabbit. You can’t make it any more clearer that your trousers have already fallen, so you just keep to yourself for the time being, wondering what you’re going to do now. So in the meantime, you start praying, you start thinking, and you start looking for more opportunities to rekindle your expertise in fooling others. And then you finally get it… you’ve grown up! Everybody realized that you’ve been trying the same con act your entire life because they’ve done it all before, just to get to where you’re sitting now.

So what the hell was all that you’ve been through the past years? Character development? Plans for your career? A guided pathway to a coveted and pomp lifestyle? As it turns out, you started to buy into your own little ruse… that after trudging along a twenty year long education system that you’ve managed to slip on through, you’re going to make it on your own. That the investments people have made in your name years prior just somehow dissipated into the night’s sky. Nope… the rope is still fastened to your waist, and because nobody else has any idea how to get out of their own hole, they’re just glad that they’re not alone in the world, and hold fast onto you. Is it that we continue our existence to feel the need of being wanted? And if, and when we finally get to that, we make a 180, and tell the world to stop because we finally want to make amends? Well, I guess that’s noble and all, but this time, they’re taking away our legs, and telling us to learn to walk all over again.

Alright guys and girls, gather around as I’ve spent a massive two and a half hours setting up this photo gallery after finishing some of my recent applications out to IO Interactive and Volition (check them out here!.) I haven’t done anything to these photos except resizing and rotating them in Photoshop. These come straight from my first ever crappy digital camera, (the Nokia 6301,) and a year’s worth of experiences that I thought may have somewhat enriched my life. Every time you click on a photo, a big caption comes along with it. Might not really be anything of value or interest to you guys, but what the hell, I need a blog post. Plus, I’m fulfilling my end of the bargain from last month! I know that it said “soon” in the title, but it’s all relative, my friends… So whaddaya say Rugcutters?! Let’s get tappin’!

[View with PicLens]

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Well, as my June post, I will be promising, after I have moved back to Los Angeles county in mid-late-July, a post full of all the photos I’ve taken from my very first digital camera I’ve ever owned… which is my current phone, the Nokia-something or other. It’s a crappy camera to say the least, but there is, more or less, a good story behind each picture. I’ll take the time, after all the dust has settled in my unemployed life, to go into excruciating detail for each photo I’ve taken… Let’s just hope that nothing serious happens to it in the time being…

See you next month!

So on the way back from a Staples run for some boxes and packing material for the sake of packing all my books, CD’s, records, and games, and shipping them back to California under rather unfortunate circumstances, I had the rare opportunity of witnessing a bizarre, yet commonplace crime scene that unfolded on the outskirts of Baltimore City. Before taking the 83 South exit, at around 8:30-9PM, there was a traffic collision that spanned over three lanes with at least two SUV’s completely totalled. An ambulance parked behind the scene on the right-most lane and another SUV parked in the second left-most lane to ward off oncoming traffic; thus having all four lanes converging onto the left lane in order to proceed. The Volkswagen Jetta driver in front of my roommate’s car decided to have a brain fart and stay in two lanes, and probably took delight in the overall situation of having multiple cars wait for his dull sense of direction to focus over a span of four entire minutes on the road. Of course, I wasn’t driving, nor did I have much urgency to head home, so I looked to my right, and here’s what I thought as the scene presented itself:

- Oh, uh… Brian (my roommate)? Might want to merge on the left there buddy. Accident and flashing lights on the right.
- Okay, so a big black Ford Expedition just cut us off. Please don’t honk, Brian, the windows are tinted and the rims were just chromed.
- Are… are people running to the ambulance?
- Wait, a black teenager in a grey sweatshirt just ran past the ambul-annnnnd into the woods and into a gated community.
- Followed by another black guy (wearing a green-lined white shirt) who stopped before the gate, yelling “Freeze,” twice.
- And followed by two more black guys (one wearing an ambulance uniform and another wearing a tan sweatshirt) who also decided to stop short.
- Wait wait… alright, black-guy-in-tan decided to go after the teenager, and the other black guys are going back to the traffic collision.
- You know, since it’s already 8:30, and the sun is almost down, do you think black guys can see each other better in the dark than white people?
- I mean, there aren’t any white people there, but I’m just wondering if – I’m not being racist! That tan-wearing-black-guy just went into the woods looking for a possible convict here! What if he got lost and needed to be found? Oh wait… they can shout… nevermind…
- Come on Jetta, we’re letting you in… stop signaling and move.
- Alright, we’re moving a little…
- Holy crap, there are glass shards everywhere… gas tank… emergency kit… and a totally messed up green Ford Explorer with an empty baby seat.
- There’s another Ford Explorer (in black) on the right lane… can’t see the damage.
- And then there are two… uh… ladies on the side of the road; one carrying a baby, wearing all black… and masks…
- Masks… that resemble… Shy Guy? Are those frickin’ Nintendo Mario Shy Guy masks those ladies are wearing?
- Wait wait wait! Why are we moving?! THOSE ARE FRICKIN’ SHY GUY MASKS!
- Okay… so the Jetta wanted to move all of a sudden and I couldn’t pull out the camera phone in time… great.
- And now the Jetta is slowing down on the on-ramp.
- Frickin’ Baltimorons.
- THEY WERE WEARING SHY GUY MASKS!

So yeah, wish I was making this up. Wish I didn’t have to leave Baltimore. I know LA has plenty of crazies out there, but it isn’t going to be the same. Throughout the entire ordeal, everybody just sat calmly and watched, kind of like a sport, thinking to themselves, “Yep, this is Bawl-moh. Oh well.” Of course, I don’t mean to say that we’re all indifferent in the matter of crime around our neighborhoods, but we are on the same page. Doesn’t constitute much in terms of a real community, but it does give us a hoping for a better tomorrow. Can’t really say the same amongst the dormant inhabitants of a Los Angeles County suburb.

I mean come on! Shy-frickin’-Guy masks!

First and foremost, the following is an in-depth look into both my ill-adjusted mind and what you and I have to look forward to during my days of sitting around waiting for job opportunities. But take notice:

- If you’re a family member, you might just want to skip this post and wait for next month to roll on by.
- If you’re somebody who would even conceivably consider letting me ask you out on a date, you might just want to skip this post and wait for next month to roll on by.
- If you’re a childhood friend who wants to reacquaint yourself with the drudgery of my arbitrary thoughts and ramblings, you might just want to skip this post and wait for next month to roll on by.
- If you came strolling onto my blog thinking that this is in any way shape or form an insight of my professional life, you might just want to skip this post and wait for next month to roll on by.
- If you’re a recruiter or somebody who would like to employ me as a sound engineer/designer, you might just want to skip this post and wait for next month to roll on by… and head on OVER HERE.
- If you have even the slightest shred of human decency, you might just want to skip this post and call for a doctor to check up on me.

Alright, so I think I may have experienced one of the most undesirable (but tolerable) bit of discomfort just today – hiccuping whilst delivering your number two’s and having allergy symptoms with an all around sweat-encrusted body. I know some of you all might come up with something even more disgusting (like… child-birth… or something…), but hear me out for a bit.

When you’re on the throne, and hiccups enters the scene, (just putting it out there) – storm’s are a’comin’! Apparently, under really strenuous hiccuping sessions, the abdominal muscles contract violently and that may or may not cause the sphincter to contract uncontrollably at undesired moments of defecation. When the contracting happens at an irregular moment of squeezing out one’s own waste matter, the natural log turns into a stump, which causes splash-back due to improper landing procedures. So there are basically three phases to the first round of discomfort – hiccup, squeeze involuntarily, wet bottom.

The second round is dependent on locale, as certain regions of the world affect different persons’ allergy symptoms. It just so happens that I’m around what seems to be a vast amalgamation of tree species going willy-nilly during mating season we gleefully call “spring.” After taking two pills of generic Costco brand of Zertec, I now only experience mild symptoms of the so-called “allergy season” including itchy eyes, stuffed sinuses, and a leaky nose. Thankfully, only one nostril could effectively detect the smell of my (so-far) dreadful bathroom session.

So I unroll some of the toilet paper and its fibers come flying into the air and into my one good nostril (the right one.) I start folding (another interesting tidbit about my bathroom habits, by the way) and make the first majestic wipe. The proceeding two wipes went on as scheduled, but my right nostril seemed to swerve from the status quo and come about as a bit itchy. Dropping the carefully folded collection of papers into the pot, I used the only corresponding hand and finger to scratch the inside walls of my right nostril – the hand I was wiping with. It didn’t occur to me at the time, but as soon as my finger reached my nose, I had to follow suit and wipe away the first order of temporary expendable discomfort with the utmost efficiency. I regretted the decision almost immediately after I took in a whiff of my seemingly triumphant victory.

The third and last round of discomfort came as an afterthought when I’ve finished my business on the throne and began lifting up my trousers. Now there are often times when sitting on the toilet, one might get caught up reading an article from a familiar magazine or a section from one’s favorite book; your seat and the seat of the toilet gets acquainted for a lengthy amount of time and forget what it means to detach. Skin gets clung onto porcelain/plastic, your butt is red, and either side of your leg is numb… it happens. However, when the individual has been outside walking around in sunshine for a while, sweat often manifests itself in the strangest places. And since we’re on the subject of seats, I’ll let you make the correlation.

Since moisture between butt and porcelain don’t tend to bond the clingy skin to toilet seat, lateral shifting is often experienced. Splash-back, as discussed in round one, augments said experience.

Moving on, liftoff from the throne often occurs when the individual feels satisfied with what the body might signal to them, an empty colon. Generally the case, when one is at ease whilst sitting on one’s pot, (which in my case, after I’ve finished my number 2, and having cooled down a bit from an afternoon of Baltimore street hustling,) one tends to end the pooping experience and exit the bathroom premise. Having felt a whim of modest satisfaction, I began to lift my body from the porcelain chair until I felt and heard a hint of sticky posterior sweat adhesive clinging onto both my skin and the toilet seat.

Having come this far, the only solution was to roll some more dusty toilet paper and dry both regions, as my patience wore thin. I quickly performed said task and started washing my hands until I realized there weren’t any clean towels to dry my hands with.

Haven’t really been myself lately. I can list the excuses and it’ll still come up with just excuses, so I’ll leave y’all to it and keep on livin’. Most of my days are rather well documented through my Twitter, which is still located on the right column of this blog if y’all are so inclined to figure what I’m up to. I was going to post up a lengthy documentary of how the company restroom paper towel dispenser assaulted me after my trying to do a good deed by picking up a leftover paper towel on the ground, but I think you’ll get the gist if, and when I post the picture of the offender with remnants of my hair still clutched on its corners. Anyway, the blog’s been updated for this month… here’s a consolation prize:

That’s how it starts.
We go back to your house.
We check the charts,
And start to figure it out.

And if it’s crowded, all the better,
because we know we’re gonna be up late.
But if you’re worried about the weather
then you picked the wrong place to stay.
That’s how it starts.

And so it starts.
You switch the engine on.
We set controls for the heart of the sun,
one of the ways we show our age.

And if the sun comes up, if the sun comes up, if the sun comes up
and I still don’t wanna stagger home.
Then it’s the memory of our betters
that are keeping us on our feet.

You spent the first five years trying to get with the plan,
and the next five years trying to be with your friends again.

You’re talking 45 turns just as fast as you can,
yeah, I know it gets tired, but it’s better when we pretend.

It comes apart,
the way it does in bad films.
Except in parts,
when the moral kicks in.

Though when we’re running out of the drugs
and the conversation’s winding away.
I wouldn’t trade one stupid decision
for another five years of lies.

You drop the first ten years just as fast as you can,
and the next ten people who are trying to be polite.
When you’re blowing eighty-five days in the middle of France,
Yeah, I know it gets tired only where are your friends tonight?

And to tell the truth.
Oh, this could be the last time.
So here we go,
like a sail’s force into the night

And if I made a fool, if I made a fool, if I made a fool
on the road, there’s always this.
And if I’m sewn into submission,
I can still come home to this.

And with a face like a dad and a laughable stand,
you can sleep on the plane or review what you said.
When you’re drunk and the kids leave impossible tasks
you think over and over, “hey, I’m finally dead.”

Oh, if the trip and the plan come apart in your hand,
you look contorted on yourself your ridiculous prop.
You forgot what you meant when you read what you said,
and you always knew you were tired, but then,
where are your friends tonight?

(Video credits to This is Japan! from Eric Testroete on Vimeo.)