keep your victims faceless...or headless

For those of you that know me, I believe I've made my disdain for mice well known. We all have our weak spots; some people are afraid of spiders, I know a guy who's terrified of grasshoppers for some reason, heck even Indiana Jones craps his pants at the sight of a snake. For me, those fuzzy little critters that some weirdos keep as pets make me insane. There is something really creepy about mice. Maybe it's their long segmented tail, or the fact that they are sneaky and move hella fast. In any case, they terrify me. I will scream when I see one. With that in mind, of course we had a mouse in our house a few months ago. Of course. And of course the mouse gave birth to a family of mice in our house.

My mother made the discovery first and told me that she saw a mouse run through our living room and behind the tv. I didn't want to believe her at first. I pretty much shut her out like I always do when she relayed this information to me. Of course I thought about it and felt a little wary when walking around the house, but luckily I didn't have any run-ins with the fucking thing like she did. Every day she would tell me about her most recent encounter with the mouse; she practically had a relationship with it. To this news, I would just cringe. Cringe and shut her out. You see, denial is one of my favorite ways of dealing with things. Well my cozy little bought of denial was shattered when she announced that one of the mice progeny was found dead by our lazy boy in the living room. Ack! I was sitting there last night! You mean I could have been chilling with a dead mouse next to me, completely oblivious to it's presence? Sick. Apparently our dog killed it, which surprised me because our dog is old and useless. She's about 13+ years old, but she managed to slaughter a baby mouse and I couldn't be happier. That was until later that night when I came face to face with mother mouse in the kitchen.

Having an idea that we would interface quite soon, because it's inevitable in those kind of close quarters, I tiptoed in there to put my plate in the dishwasher. Then suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I see this brown thing spring out from under the stove and fly under the dishwasher, where I was standing. I screamed bloody murder and ran away. I know I sound like a bitch ass, but you don't even understand my terror. I don't care that mice are probably more afraid of me, they are horrifying. I hate wild rodents. Opposums, rats, mice, whatever. They are the devil to me.

After this traumatizing confrontation with the mouse, you can imagine my high level of discomfort in my own house. I would actually call people and beg them to let me hang out at their houses meanwhile someone else came home, just so I wouldn't have to be alone with the mouse. My hatred for that stinking mouse was unparalleled. It was totally ruining my week! If you can't come home after a miserable day at work and relax without rabies infested mice running rampant throughout your house, then what's there left to believe in? I wanted that filthy animal dead! So I did something about it. I went to The Home Depot and got some of those glue traps. I heard they worked like a charm, and besides, the old school wood traps seemed a little cruel and archaic to me.

So I strategically place glue traps in the kitchen. After day 1 I come downstairs to observe any potential progress. Nothing happens.

Day 2: Nothing.

Day 3: Jack shit in my glue traps. All I've caught is some lint. That mouse is one tricky bitch. This makes me mad...mad like a beaver.

Day 4: One glue trap is missing.

Hmm. That's peculiar. Inclination leads me to the garage. I open the door and jump back in horror when I see the mouse stuck to the trap, sitting just outside the door. My mom must have woken up early, discovered it, and moved it out of the kitchen. It's twitching violently on the trap, desperately trying to free itself, but with no such luck. Shit man, I think to myself, that must suck. I stare at the mouse for a few minutes, watching it suffer in silence. For some reason I can't look away; I'm captivated by the atrociousness of it all. These past four days I've been waiting for this moment and now that it's here, I don't particularly feel like celebrating. The guilt sits heavy in my stomach, like a consumed carne asada burrito would at 2am after a binge drinking fest. Now that I really look at the mouse, it's actually kind of cute. I feel pretty sad watching it struggle, with its fur and tail plastered to that glue.

I manage to pull myself away from the spectacle that was occurring on my garage floor and go have breakfast. As I somberly shovel fruity loops into my mouth my mom descends into the kitchen and asks me if I've noticed the trapped rodent in our garage. Duhhh. How could I not? She begins to describe the eerie screeching noises the mouse was initially making when she first found it. This is the reason why she had to move it into the garage; it was so goddamn loud and she couldn't stand it. The thought of the mouse screaming relentlessly on the trap chilled me to the bone. What have I done?! First, my dog killed the mouse's baby and now we are torturing the mouse with slow death! I feel like such a barbarian. Turns out the glue traps are even worse than the wooden traps! Instant death is better than slow death, by far. I mean, what the hell do I do now? I can't exactly rip the mouse off the trap and set it free. I'm sure the quality of life won't be as high with a missing leg and tail. Shall I let the mouse just die slowly on the damn thing? Or should I smash it with a hammer and end it all right there and then? Whatever the case, that mouse was marked for death. Luckily for us, it was trash day.

My mother ordered me to throw the glue trap, with mouse and all, into the garbage bin before the trash man came. This was hard for me, because as I slowly inched towards the mouse, it struggled with more fury to free itself. Oh the humanity. I could hardly contain myself. "Why did you have to come here?!", I screamed. "Why couldn't you have stayed outside where you belong? Then I wouldn't have had to kill you or your baby!". More spastic twitching was about the only response the mouse could give me. So I managed to sift the glue trap into our trash bin, with the attached mouse side up so that it wouldn't be more uncomfortable than it probably was. I told the mouse that I was sorry, but it was either me or her, and this house wasn't big enough for the two of us. I watched sadly as the dump truck lifted our garbage receptacle and mercilessly emptied all its contents into the back. All I could picture was the chaos that surrounded that poor mouse as it was flipped and buried in garbage. If it didn't die of a shit attack, then it was probably crushed.

Moral of the story: keep your victims faceless/headless. It's easier to hate them and torture them without guilt that way. Buy the wooden traps. Pretty grim.

weed makes me see me

Recently I have been partaking heavily in use of the illicit drug, Marijuana, after a short hiatus. There was a time in my life when I was a heavy pot smoker and it pretty much took over my life. I had low grades, gained weight and experienced a serious lack of motivation. Nowadays I smoke much less and use it as more of a recreational activity. Yet, I don't experience as much pleasure in smoking weed as I used to. This is why I've stopped smoking as much. I often find myself divulging in a sea of dark thoughts when stoned. I analyze my life and hate what I see. As an already paranoid person, my fears and doubts amplify precipitously and envelop me. I begin to question my purpose and experience a dreadfully intense fear and hopelessness when wondering where my life is going. I see all my faults and weaknesses very clearly. It's a horrendous realization. But I ask myself, is this necessarily a bad thing? In some way, shape, or form, do I need this? Pot, which in theory is the cause of slothfulness and lack of direction, has given me the insight I need to better my life and myself. Sometimes there's no better wake up call than to see your self in the mirror. I see me and I don't fully like what I see. Though at one time weed was the root of my problems, it has given me the power to see me for who I really am and inspired me to change and become whom I really want to be. If that's not ironic, I don't know what is.

my summer, in retrospect

That's right I'm back. After a little more than a month long hiatus, I hope to start posting more continuously. That sounds pretty ironic because I just started school, which means I'll have less time, but this also means I'll have more time to procrastinate, i.e post. Starting school has also inspired me, due to the fact that I'm now chalk full of cynicism and spite, since I'm rather perplexed about starting up school AGAIN.

So before I start spewing bitter and spiteful idiosyncrasies, I will reflect on my summer, in all it's glory.

Ahhh summer, by far my favorite season. Being that I've been in college twice as long as the lay person, without having yet attained a degree, summer means more to me because I don't have a real job yet. Sure I go to summer school and work part time, but that doesn't constitute the crappy "real world", where you find yourself in a daily drone which entails being crammed in a cubicle from 9 to 5 . The commencement of summer for the college student is pretty much grounds for ape shit time. Cramming for finals and all the suffering leading up to it is a great way to gear up for getting plastered daily for 3 consecutive months with no real commitments to bog you down. The beginning of summer brings a sense of relief, a sense of freedom (although short lived) and detachment from all things obligatory. It's a mind blowing era of our lives.

After the June gloom clears the weather starts getting spectacular, especially here in San Diego. I fondly look back on my numerous weekdays at the beach, with a 12 pack of Tecate beer, a few limes and a packet of cigarettes. I don't smoke, but this summer I REALLY indulged in most of the quintessential vices. It's not something I'll be able to do often, or really plan to, but let me just say that getting wasted on the beach is freakin' awesome. If you get a chance, please do it. I have a beach that I frequent called "windansea", which I adore. It is a small, private looking beach where the waves tend to break right on the shore. The surf is only for skilled, due to the rough tides, so it attracts a lot of veteran surfers. The water and it's surroundings is one of the more beautiful settings San Diego has to offer, in my opinion. It also doesn't hurt that the people who attend this beach rank super high on the attractiveness scale, for the most part. When else but summer, would I get to lie on a beautiful beach an average of 3 times a week, soaking up the sun with a beer in my hand and the salty mist hitting my face, while numerous pieces of eye candy parade around in front of me. This is happiness.

Beer. I love beer. Beer beer beer. Get into my belly.

I drank copious amounts of alcohol this summer, but of all the spirits that were most frequently consumed, beer and wine took the crown. The wine did not stop flowing in summer of '05. I attended a wine festival in Ensenada, a wine tasting tour in Livermore, CA and a kick butt wine and cheese party hosted by a close friend of mine. I drank the stuff until my teeth turned purple I tell ya. I had the opportunity to sample many different types of wine, so I guess that makes me somewhat of a connoisseur. My love for wine is unprecedented, and even more so now that I have a little wine sampling experience under my belt. Thanks to all the tastings, I have a new found appreciation for white wine, which I never was a real fan of before.

Nothing accompanies a good buzz better than some good food. I ate like a queen these past few months. What I love about summer cook outs is the smell of the barbecue grill. Even a vegetarian has to be able to appreciate the smell that exudes from the grill cook out; it's capable of activating any set of salivary glands. You could roast dead squirrel on that thing and it would still smell bitchin'. It's a beautiful thing. When it comes to food, I don't mess around. I can eat. And this summer, I ate. On a really good day, I once ate 6 fish tacos, sushi, 2 scoops of ice cream, a hot dog from a street vendor, some candy and washed it down with a couple of beers. I don't know why I'm not obese. I love food! During those moments where I sat and consumed endless burritos, grilled steaks, pastas, seafood platters, hearty breakfasts and the occasional gourmet dinner, I experienced the warm and fuzzy tell tale feeling of true happiness. Nothing beats a good meal.

Going to shows is one of my priorities in life, but in the summer, the need to see shows amplifies 10 fold. I lost mucho cash to ticket master, but it was worth it. This summer I was able to check off Prefuse 73, The Faint and Bright Eyes, Digable Planets, Cafe Tacuba, Kinky & Eli Guerra, Femi Kuti, Mos Def, Transglobal Underground, Heiroglyphics and Los Amigos Invisibles from my 'to see' list. I feel that I didn't get to see all the shows that I wanted to, but my checking account only allowed so much. It was amazing to see Digable Planets reunite after so many years of absence; they were incredible and sounded better than ever. Kicking off the summer concert fest with Prefuse 73 was a treat, because I got to see this very amazing and experimental group of musicians perform at a place called the Casbah. The Casbah is a beautiful thing, because if you're blessed enough to stumble upon a talented band before they blow up, you may be fortunate enough to see them in a small and reasonably priced venue such as the this. Small venues rule all. Once the venue gets bigger the distance between the band and their fans, both literally and figuratively, grows big time. When in a small venue like The Casbah, you are right there with the band, on the level. None of that looking up at them from a distance malarcky. You could reach out and touch them if you wanted to.

I was super pleased with all the shows I went to, except for Mos Def. Mos Def really pissed me off because the anticipation I felt before seeing him perform was so great, due to the high amount of praise he received from fellow concert goers who had seen him before, and the amount of respect he's attained in the hip hop community. I blew off studying for my Animal Physiology test for him, because I felt he would be worth it. I was wrong; he sucked. First of all, he did the premadonna thing and took 3 and a half hours to get his ass on stage. Then he wasted more time by lolligagging around with a bandana, telling jokes and playing Michael Jackson songs on a boom box. Mos Def, you blew it! I got a C on my Bio test because I went to see you suck ass on stage. Eat me.

My final hurrah in terms of summer came with a road trip to the Bay area. I visited San Francisco for the first time in my life, with a stop in Big Sur on the way home. Two of my friends and I left San Diego for the Bay area at 1am on a Friday morning and pulled an all nighter like the hardcore bitches that we are. Having always heard about San Francisco and being told I would really find myself at home there, I had relatively high expectations going into the trip. I was not disappointed. I loved it there. My feeling is that I need to live there at some point in my life. Those are my people! San Francisco has a very urban metropolitan feel to it, it reminds me of the east coast. The weather is colder so I think the people that it attracts are quite distinct; very artsy fartsy. I was able to visit Haight and Ashbury, buy some albums at the Amoeba record store, have clam chowder at Fisherman's Wharf, see the Golden Gate Bridge, Chinatown, downtown and the Mission. I drank Hefeweizen at two bars and got smoked out in a back room of a restaurant by a random dude named Marty Party. It was all kinds of awesome. My whirl wind trip ended with a drive down Highway 1, right along the coast. A stop in Big Sur was necessary and worthwhile. To observe nature and revel in its beauty is something that I don't do enough. It's fulfilling to do so, because you can take everything before you in, and just shut the fuck up for a minute while you reflect on life and the beauty it holds. Even if it was just for 3 minutes, I did just that and walked away from it just a little more changed as a person.

This summer was a blur of emotional melt downs at work, late bed times, musical discoveries, meaningful conversation, dancing until dawn, late night walks, warm sweater-less evenings, great reads, fervent laughter, seaside sunsets, indulgence, vulnerability and self discovery. I can't wait until next summer.

i got hosed

Today I paid $3.45 per gallon of gas. It's like I'm in Europe, except I'm not on vacation. And I'm not having a good time. That blows.