Getting Back To A Normal Routine

These past two week have been hell, and right when things are starting to turn around, I get kicked back down to the ground.

So here is what happened this weekend.

Monica (my sister) and I were suppose to go camping this weekend. We talked about it about a month ago and we were dead set on going. Yet, with the death of my uncle Bill, and her fear of having to drive to Chico by her self, she bailed on me. I know I did not want to see if I could work (never turn away from a work free weekend), so I decided to still go camping. Now this is where Jenn enters the story.

I met Jenn this summer. It was the night the Lizzy came over because she had been on vacation for a week. And there was Jenn, lying on Chris's bed, watching Brokeback Mountain (on a date with Topher if you will). The next day I ask Toph if we are ever going to see her again, to which he replied no (choice words omitted). A couple days later she texted messages me and we start to hang out. I never thought about a relationship with her because after being with Steph for two years, I wanted to be single for a change (that was nine months ago). And then my uncle Bill died.

Something changed inside me last week. I met with Steph before I headed down to my family. And after listening to her talk about this guy she is with and how we would never be together again, I knew I had to move on.

I arrived at my parents’ house late Thursday afternoon. This is the third funeral in under a year for my family: Great Uncle Frank, Grandpa Rogelio, and now Uncle Bill. The funny thing about all this is this is the only time we get to see the extended family, even though we all live in the Loomis-Roseville area.

But thought out the whole ordeal there was one person on my mind and in my thoughts; that was Jenn. She called me as the weekend progressed to see how I was doing, letting me know that she was there any time, with a shoulder to cry on. She kept me strong and she was by my side (in sprit) when we laid him to rest right next to my Grandma Hazel and his cousin Danny. She was there when I needed her the most.

Coming back to Chico I knew I had to ask her to be mine. I brought her flowers to work, called her when I thought about her (which was often), and called her best friend to let her know what my intentions were. The best part of all what Jenn was starting to fall for me all over again. The conclusion of all this was the camping trip. I asked her to come with me, I asked her to be my girlfriend.

I was happy; I did not feel alone anymore. The air was clean, the lake was pristine, and Toph's presence made us smile. Nothing could go wrong. I had my best friend, I had the girl of my dreams, and I met a beer distributor named Chris who told us to drink up because he brought three full kegs of beer he was not going to finish (this guy brought a portable tap and everything, he was the best camping neighbor ever!).

Sunday nigh, back in Chico, I call Jenn to tell her good night. She tells me that she is thinking of me and that she cares for me and that she starting to fall in love with me. I tell her how happy she has made me and how great this weekend was. I end the call with "be careful sweetheart" because I know how here friends get when they're drunk.

The phone rings at midnight thirty, its been 20 minutes since I told her goodnight.

"Blake, I don't deserve you."

"What do you mean sweetheart?"

"I just slept with Andrew"

"Just now?"

"Yea. . ."

God this hurts, I need a moment . . . .

A Rare Happy Moment

A beer, burger, and a cigarette at the Bear. A meal for a heart broken man.

How Fucked Up Is This?

Returning To Chico

It's nice to return home, sleep in your own bed, and collect your thoughts. My uncle Bill was to young, only 62.

I read this poem during the funeral on behalf of my Aunt Ronda, its titled "The Dash"

I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of his friend.
He referred to the dates on his tombstone from the beginning . . . to the end.

He noted that first came the date of his birth and spoke of the second with tears,
but he said that what mattered most of all was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time that he spent alive on earth,
and now only those who loved him know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own; the cars, the house, the cash.
What matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard, are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left. (You could be at "dash mid-range.")

If we could just slow down enough to consider what's true and what's real,
and always try to understand the way other people feel.

And . . . be less quick to anger, and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives like we've never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect, and more often wear a smile,
remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.

How are you spending your dash? How am I spending mine?

All We Are Is Dust In The Wind

My Uncle Bill
Monica & Katie's 8th Grade Graduation
June 4th, 2003
From Right to Left: My dad, my uncle Bill

August 21, 1944 to September 13, 2006

Today my uncle Bill lost his battle against cancer. It all started with a trip to the doctor for back pain and a bad headache about a month ago, and ended up with a diagnosis of cancer of the Liver and Pancreas, as well as a mild stroke.

He was only 62. He is my dad's older brother, and Grandpa Tony's first born.

There is so much I want to say. . .but I don't type anymore.

Last Week Surprise

So I'm walking home from class last Thursday when I get this call from Lizzy.

"What are you doing tonight"

"Nothing important, why?"

"I have two tickets to see Charlie Murphy and the Punchline, are you interested?"

So of course I sad yes. She picked me up at 5:30 and we were off to Sacramento. All in all the show was ok (Gabriel Iglesias was by far better), with the best part of his routine being the end where he talked about his stint on the Chappelle Show.

Here is a clip of what made Charlie Murphy his own, and not just Eddie Murphy's brother. Enjoy!

A Powerful Voice

On our way home from work, Hannah (my neighbor who also works at Target; we car pooled today), played me a song. It was Pink's "Dr. Mr. President." I knew I had to share this song with everyone, so I youtubed it. This is not the official music video (because there isn't one), but it's one of the best I've seen tonight.



Please, listen to the lyrics, feel the song. If you are moved like I was, you will find your self with new respect towards Pink and her music.