Tigher

Pepper

Precious

Just about a little over a year ago, I knew my moms health was declining and I began a massive sell off of the things I knew I could get rid of.  In that sell off, my bike was one to go.  It wasn’t as sad as letting my cats go, but equally as hard.  On one hand, I knew I had to let the bike go because I wouldn’t have room, and on the other hand I knew like hell that I would miss our time together.  What I have come to understand is that my bike was un-objective and had no expectations of me.  My bike was there for me if I wanted to ride, or if I was away on a month long stint of travels  around the US while working events.  In the back of my mind, i knew I could count on my bike to always be there.

Mom and me

Now that my bike is gone, I have to admit, i feel like a part of me is missing.  Maybe in the massive selloff, the bike, giving away my cats, and losing my mother, I lost a part of who I am?  Maybe that part can never truly be replaced?   People will say, you can get a new bike, new cats, and build new wonderful friendships.  The things that build us up are the stepping stones for our greatness.  The people, animals and even things, mind you not useless material things, but things that help us become better and feel better about ourselves, are things of wonder and inspiration.  I know for some it may be family time and waking up to their little ones, to others it may be the solace of reading the newspaper or a favorite book, and for others it may be the simple joy of watching a sunrise while consoling a cup of coffee or tea.

My Bike

You see each of us has our own inspiration factor as I like to call it.  They are things that we hold true within us that keep us going.  They keep us motivated to take that next step in life or to even get out of bed.  Often times it can be as simple as a picture or a quote, and other times it goes deeper into our emotional connection with the things around us. Regardless of what that “inspiration factor” is, it is unique to you and you alone.  I may not understand your “inspiration factor”, but the truth is I respect it.

My challenge to you on this day, this week, this month and the years to come is, What is your “inspiration factor”?  What is it that makes you get up and go each day?  What is it that you strive for?  How do you keep that inspiration close and what do you do on the days when it seems to have left or moved away from you?  It is my belief that these inspiration factors are what make us unique and great.  Possibly in sharing this, someone, like myself, or maybe a friend of yours or family member, or just a random g+, twitter, or facebook friend will find inspiration and it will allow them to dig deep and find out what motivates them.  Maybe just maybe we can start a brushfire of inspiration, not only around your close friends, but possibly, the community, maybe the country, posssibly the globe?

What is your inspiration factor?

Until next time…

where do you draw the line?

Synopsis:  An older brother tries to warn a younger brother about the perils of falling in love with a girl.  In the process of warning his younger brother, Caleb, played by Adam Scott, becomes increasingly obsessed with his younger brothers new girlfriend.

Opening line by Caleb Sinclaire (played by Adam Scott):

“You know they’re all whores, right? All of ‘em. I’m not just talking about the little skanks that hang out around your dorm, or frat, or whatever. But actually every woman you’ve ever known, and every woman you’ll ever meet – Mom, Grandma, Aunt Ellen. The fact that they’re related to us doesn’t make any difference. Cause at the end of the day, given the right set of events, they *will* fuck you over. For the sole reason that they have a vagina, and they can.”

I wasn’t sure if the movie would draw me in, or if I would spit it out, but as I got to watching, I found myself compelled to watch.  Its a simple premise of an estranged father to the eldest son, youngest son is naive and new girlfriend of youngest son, doesn’t know much about the family aside what the youngest son has detailed.

What is glaringly obvious is that Caleb has been dicked over by a girl and he has not fully allowed himself to recover from this disaster.  His hatred and loathing, although directed towards his father and towards women, is really a hatred of self.  It also may be that he doesn’t hate himself, but rather can’t understand why his important relationships, such as that with his father or his last significant other failed.  Rather than dealing with this situation, Caleb tries to warn his brother that he will only get hurt.

As we begin to wade into the water, we see that the relationship with his father became distanced because of a supposed event with his mother years prior.  Caleb’s protection mechanism is to avoid his father at all costs and protect himself by claiming that his father, played by J.K Simmons (Law and Order, Juno), is an asshole and responsible for the family falling apart.

Another interesting storyline that develops is the relationship between Caleb and Emma Gainsborough, played by Brittney Snow.  What starts as an obvious dislike between the two, becomes an elephant in the room as Caleb becomes more and more attracted to Emma.

The movie does a good job and keeping cohesion between the characters, although I must admit, Peter Sinclaire, played by Alex Frost, in my humbled opinion is miscast and not as strong an actor as I would have liked to have seen. I did like the confrontation scene between Caleb and his father outside Calebs room, just before Peter wakes up.  You begin to see the whole picture and how things began to take form.

Be ready for awkward moments and uncomfortable scenes throughout.  Once you get passed them, you will hopefully enjoy the story as it unfolds, as I did.  I give this move 3 out of 5 stars and well worth a netflix or redbox watch.

Jerry's Book

Jerry Yang at Pocket 8's

Barnes and Noble:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/all-in-jerry-yang/1100036593?ean=9781605421889&itm=2&usri=jerry+yang

Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/All-Refugee-Camp-Poker-Champ/dp/160542188X/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&qid=1328844253&sr=8-7

Synopsis: Jerry Yang grew up in Laos and at a young age was forced to leave the only life he had ever known.  It is a heartwarming and tragic story of what life was like in Vietnam.  Jerry’s family was Hmong and forced from the hills of their home to try and find refuge in Thailand across the Mekong.  It talked about the families journey from Vietnam, to Thailand, then on to Nashville, Kansas City and eventually Fresno.  The book also talks about Jerry becoming the World Series of Poker Champ in 2007 and how that whole idea came into being.

Here is the video of jerry winning: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mw3ZUqZvTHY&feature=related

I had the honor of meeting Jerry in Merced at his restaurant called “Pocket 8′s“.  He shook my hand and welcomed me to his restaurant and also signed my copy of his book.

Often times in life, you meet people that are game changers.  I had no expectations when I went into the restaurant and had no clue that I would actually meet such a nice guy, and buy a book that has made me reexamine how I look at life.   As I said in the intro, I connected with this book within 5 pages and the read, which was a combination of Jerry’s integration into our culture, as well as the struggles he faced trying to escape Laos.  As I read the final chapters in this book, I found myself breaking out in tears and really connecting with what was being said.  I often feel that we think our life is so hard, and that we can and will never get ahead.  After reading Jerry’s book, you will throw out conventional wisdom and realize that for some people every breath to stay alive is a fight.

When I got to the end of the book after I wiped the tears from my eyes, Its like Jerry spoke to me, in the last paragraph of the book:

“…to show the same kindness to others that I had recieved.  This is now my life’s mission.  It’s why I fulfilled my vow to use  my winnings for good and why I live the way I do today.  The highest calling is not to someday be the best or the brightest in your chosen field.  No, it is to use ones life for good.  Whatever you have, whether a lot or a little, use it for good.  That is the mark of a true champion”

I can say with cosmic certainty that there is no one more deserving of the winnings and after reading this book.  The reading has helped me to understand why people (myself included) don’t win such large fortunes.  Often times they have no appreciation of the value of money and what it can do for you.  I believe Jerry and his family were in a sense destined to win and honestly, I think if you give the book a read, you will see that no matter how big or small your contribution to the world, you are still contributing (Thanks Jen for stating that before I read this book)

A thought to leave you with:  You are not deserving of anything in this life.  Life was never promised to be fair.  Rather than expecting or thinking that you are owed something, be grateful for what you currently have.  Try doing this daily.

Until next time…

I am specifically talking about Bill Watterson.  I have always been a fan of his famous and poignant comic strip, Calvin and Hobbes.  Sometimes the message is serious, other times humorous and playful and then there are days when it is both.  I have attached todays edition that i get in my email daily.  I found this so funny as I was eating  sushi tonight that I couldn’t help but laugh out-loud, much to the amusement of the couple sitting next to me.  I shared the light and humorous reading with them and they too chuckled.  I have included the episode below.   I hope you enjoy it:

Sunday funny from Bill Watterson

After reading this post and truly “getting it” I decided to read a little bit about Bill.  I didn’t know that much and found some stuff about him that I truly connected with.  I am enclosing his commencement speech that he gave to Kenyon College in 1990.  It was about a year after I graduated high school and he pretty much retired from public life there after, but his speech truly resonated with me.  I ask you to please read it.  Whether you graduated college, or highschool, have a doctorate or masters degree, I am sure that you too will see the wisdom in his words.  I hope you enjoy as much as I did.  Thank you Bill for enlightening me twice on this day!

Taken from : http://www.kenyonhistory.net/kcpedia/Bill_Watterson

SOME THOUGHTS ON THE REAL WORLD BY ONE WHO GLIMPSED IT AND FLED
 
Bill Watterson
 
Kenyon College Commencement 

May 20, 1990

I have a recurring dream about Kenyon. In it, I’m walking to the post office on the way to my first class at the start of the school year. Suddenly it occurs to me that I don’t have my schedule memorized, and I’m not sure which classes I’m taking, or where exactly I’m supposed to be going. 
As I walk up the steps to the post office, I realize I don’t have my box key, and in fact, I can’t remember what my box number is. I’m certain that everyone I know has written me a letter, but I can’t get them. I get more flustered and annoyed by the minute. I head back to Middle Path, racking my brains and asking myself, “How many more years until I graduate? …Wait, didn’t I graduate already?? How old AM I?” Then I wake up.

Experience is food for the brain. And four years at Kenyon is a rich meal. I suppose it should be no surprise that your brains will probably burp up Kenyon for a long time. And I think the reason I keep having the dream is because its central image is a metaphor for a good part of life: that is, not knowing where you’re going or what you’re doing.

I graduated exactly ten years ago. That doesn’t give me a great deal of experience to speak from, but I’m emboldened by the fact that I can’t remember a bit of MY commencement, and I trust that in half an hour, you won’t remember yours either.

In the middle of my sophomore year at Kenyon, I decided to paint a copy of Michelangelo’s “Creation of Adam” from the Sistine Chapel on the ceiling of my dorm room. By standing on a chair, I could reach the ceiling, and I taped off a section, made a grid, and started to copy the picture from my art history book.

Working with your arm over your head is hard work, so a few of my more ingenious friends rigged up a scaffold for me by stacking two chairs on my bed, and laying the table from the hall lounge across the chairs and over to the top of my closet. By climbing up onto my bed and up the chairs, I could hoist myself onto the table, and lie in relative comfort two feet under my painting. My roommate would then hand up my paints, and I could work for several hours at a stretch.

The picture took me months to do, and in fact, I didn’t finish the work until very near the end of the school year. I wasn’t much of a painter then, but what the work lacked in color sense and technical flourish, it gained in the incongruity of having a High Renaissance masterpiece in a college dorm that had the unmistakable odor of old beer cans and older laundry. 
The painting lent an air of cosmic grandeur to my room, and it seemed to put life into a larger perspective. Those boring, flowery English poets didn’t seem quite so important, when right above my head God was transmitting the spark of life to man.
 My friends and I liked the finished painting so much in fact, that we decided I should ask permission to do it. As you might expect, the housing director was curious to know why I wanted to paint this elaborate picture on my ceiling a few weeks before school let out. Well, you don’t get to be a sophomore at Kenyon without learning how to fabricate ideas you never had, but I guess it was obvious that my idea was being proposed retroactively. It ended up that I was allowed to paint the picture, so long as I painted over it and returned the ceiling to normal at the end of the year. And that’s what I did.

Despite the futility of the whole episode, my fondest memories of college are times like these, where things were done out of some inexplicable inner imperative, rather than because the work was demanded. Clearly, I never spent as much time or work on any authorized art project, or any poli sci paper, as I spent on this one act of vandalism.

It’s surprising how hard we’ll work when the work is done just for ourselves. And with all due respect to John Stuart Mill, maybe utilitarianism is overrated. If I’ve learned one thing from being a cartoonist, it’s how important playing is to creativity and happiness. My job is essentially to come up with 365 ideas a year.
If you ever want to find out just how uninteresting you really are, get a job where the quality and frequency of your thoughts determine your livelihood. I’ve found that the only way I can keep writing every day, year after year, is to let my mind wander into new territories. To do that, I’ve had to cultivate a kind of mental playfulness. We’re not really taught how to recreate constructively. We need to do more than find diversions; we need to restore and expand ourselves. Our idea of relaxing is all too often to plop down in front of the television set and let its pandering idiocy liquefy our brains. Shutting off the thought process is not rejuvenating; the mind is like a car battery-it recharges by running.
 You may be surprised to find how quickly daily routine and the demands of “just getting by” absorb your waking hours. You may be surprised to find how quickly you start to see your politics and religion become matters of habit rather than thought and inquiry. You may be surprised to find how quickly you start to see your life in terms of other people’s expectations rather than issues. You may be surprised to find out how quickly reading a good book sounds like a luxury.

At school, new ideas are thrust at you every day. Out in the world, you’ll have to find the inner motivation to search for new ideas on your own. With any luck at all, you’ll never need to take an idea and squeeze a punchline out of it, but as bright, creative people, you’ll be called upon to generate ideas and solutions all your lives. Letting your mind play is the best way to solve problems.
 For me, it’s been liberating to put myself in the mind of a fictitious six year-old each day, and rediscover my own curiosity. I’ve been amazed at how one idea leads to others if I allow my mind to play and wander. I know a lot about dinosaurs now, and the information has helped me out of quite a few deadlines. 
A playful mind is inquisitive, and learning is fun. If you indulge your natural curiosity and retain a sense of fun in new experience, I think you’ll find it functions as a sort of shock absorber for the bumpy road ahead.

So, what’s it like in the real world? Well, the food is better, but beyond that, I don’t recommend it.

I don’t look back on my first few years out of school with much affection, and if I could have talked to you six months ago, I’d have encouraged you all to flunk some classes and postpone this moment as long as possible. But now it’s too late.
 Unfortunately, that was all the advice I really had. When I was sitting where you are, I was one of the lucky few who had a cushy job waiting for me. I’d drawn political cartoons for the Collegian for four years, and the Cincinnati Post had hired me as an editorial cartoonist. All my friends were either dreading the infamous first year of law school, or despondent about their chances of convincing anyone that a history degree had any real application outside of academia.

Boy, was I smug.

As it turned out, my editor instantly regretted his decision to hire me. By the end of the summer, I’d been given notice; by the beginning of winter, I was in an unemployment line; and by the end of my first year away from Kenyon, I was broke and living with my parents again. You can imagine how upset my dad was when he learned that Kenyon doesn’t give refunds.
 Watching my career explode on the lauchpad caused some soul searching. I eventually admitted that I didn’t have what it takes to be a good political cartoonist, that is, an interest in politics, and I returned to my first love, comic strips.
 For years I got nothing but rejection letters, and I was forced to accept a real job.

A REAL job is a job you hate. I designed car ads and grocery ads in the windowless basement of a convenience store, and I hated every single minute of the 4 1/2 million minutes I worked there. My fellow prisoners at work were basically concerned about how to punch the time clock at the perfect second where they would earn another 20 cents without doing any work for it. 
It was incredible: after every break, the entire staff would stand around in the garage where the time clock was, and wait for that last click. And after my used car needed the head gasket replaced twice, I waited in the garage too.

It’s funny how at Kenyon, you take for granted that the people around you think about more than the last episode of Dynasty. I guess that’s what it means to be in an ivory tower.

Anyway, after a few months at this job, I was starved for some life of the mind that, during my lunch break, I used to read those poli sci books that I’d somehow never quite finished when I was here. Some of those books were actually kind of interesting. It was a rude shock to see just how empty and robotic life can be when you don’t care about what you’re doing, and the only reason you’re there is to pay the bills.
 Thoreau said, “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”

That’s one of those dumb cocktail quotations that will strike fear in your heart as you get older. Actually, I was leading a life of loud desperation.

When it seemed I would be writing about “Midnite Madness Sale-abrations” for the rest of my life, a friend used to console me that cream always rises to the top. I used to think, so do people who throw themselves into the sea.


I tell you all this because it’s worth recognizing that there is no such thing as an overnight success. You will do well to cultivate the resources in yourself that bring you happiness outside of success or failure. The truth is, most of us discover where we are headed when we arrive. At that time, we turn around and say, yes, this is obviously where I was going all along. It’s a good idea to try to enjoy the scenery on the detours, because you’ll probably take a few.

I still haven’t drawn the strip as long as it took me to get the job. To endure five years of rejection to get a job requires either a faith in oneself that borders on delusion, or a love of the work. I loved the work.
 Drawing comic strips for five years without pay drove home the point that the fun of cartooning wasn’t in the money; it was in the work. This turned out to be an important realization when my break finally came.

Like many people, I found that what I was chasing wasn’t what I caught. I’ve wanted to be a cartoonist since I was old enough to read cartoons, and I never really thought about cartoons as being a business. It never occurred to me that a comic strip I created would be at the mercy of a bloodsucking corporate parasite called a syndicate, and that I’d be faced with countless ethical decisions masquerading as simple business decisions.
 To make a business decision, you don’t need much philosophy; all you need is greed, and maybe a little knowledge of how the game works.

As my comic strip became popular, the pressure to capitalize on that popularity increased to the point where I was spending almost as much time screaming at executives as drawing. Cartoon merchandising is a $12 billion dollar a year industry and the syndicate understandably wanted a piece of that pie. But the more I thought about what they wanted to do with my creation, the more inconsistent it seemed with the reasons I draw cartoons. 
Selling out is usually more a matter of buying in. Sell out, and you’re really buying into someone else’s system of values, rules and rewards.
 The so-called “opportunity” I faced would have meant giving up my individual voice for that of a money-grubbing corporation. It would have meant my purpose in writing was to sell things, not say things. My pride in craft would be sacrificed to the efficiency of mass production and the work of assistants. Authorship would become committee decision. Creativity would become work for pay. Art would turn into commerce. In short, money was supposed to supply all the meaning I’d need.
 What the syndicate wanted to do, in other words, was turn my comic strip into everything calculated, empty and robotic that I hated about my old job. They would turn my characters into television hucksters and T-shirt sloganeers and deprive me of characters that actually expressed my own thoughts.

On those terms, I found the offer easy to refuse. Unfortunately, the syndicate also found my refusal easy to refuse, and we’ve been fighting for over three years now. Such is American business, I guess, where the desire for obscene profit mutes any discussion of conscience.


You will find your own ethical dilemmas in all parts of your lives, both personal and professional. We all have different desires and needs, but if we don’t discover what we want from ourselves and what we stand for, we will live passively and unfulfilled. Sooner or later, we are all asked to compromise ourselves and the things we care about. We define ourselves by our actions. With each decision, we tell ourselves and the world who we are. Think about what you want out of this life, and recognize that there are many kinds of success. 
Many of you will be going on to law school, business school, medical school, or other graduate work, and you can expect the kind of starting salary that, with luck, will allow you to pay off your own tuition debts within your own lifetime.

But having an enviable career is one thing, and being a happy person is another.

Creating a life that reflects your values and satisfies your soul is a rare achievement. In a culture that relentlessly promotes avarice and excess as the good life, a person happy doing his own work is usually considered an eccentric, if not a subversive. Ambition is only understood if it’s to rise to the top of some imaginary ladder of success. Someone who takes an undemanding job because it affords him the time to pursue other interests and activities is considered a flake. A person who abandons a career in order to stay home and raise children is considered not to be living up to his potential–as if a job title and salary are the sole measure of human worth.
 You’ll be told in a hundred ways, some subtle and some not, to keep climbing, and never be satisfied with where you are, who you are, and what you’re doing. There are a million ways to sell yourself out, and I guarantee you’ll hear about them.

To invent your own life’s meaning is not easy, but it’s still allowed, and I think you’ll be happier for the trouble.
 Reading those turgid philosophers here in these remote stone buildings may not get you a job, but if those books have forced you to ask yourself questions about what makes life truthful, purposeful, meaningful, and redeeming, you have the Swiss Army Knife of mental tools, and it’s going to come in handy all the time.

I think you’ll find that Kenyon touched a deep part of you. These have been formative years. Chances are, at least one of your roommates has taught you everything ugly about human nature you ever wanted to know. 
With luck, you’ve also had a class that transmitted a spark of insight or interest you’d never had before. Cultivate that interest, and you may find a deeper meaning in your life that feeds your soul and spirit. Your preparation for the real world is not in the answers you’ve learned, but in the questions you’ve learned how to ask yourself.
 Graduating from Kenyon, I suspect you’ll find yourselves quite well prepared indeed.’


I wish you all fulfillment and happiness. Congratulations on your achievement

I will try and get the audio up soon.

I need some accomplice, to help me sort it out

I need the light to break the dark

I need to love to break the lies

My beliefs limit my abilities

My thoughts drown out my passion

devoid of ideas, yet full of doubt.

I wish i could remember who i am

Don’t try to find it for its not there, rather build it as fair as you see

dont listen to the haters, especially in your mind

ride your neon bmx bike and show them what you do

be that nurse or that gardner the best you can be

bum that cigarette light as if its your last

enjoy that sun as it beams on your face

text that message to the friend you love

use that youth as if it will never cease

be yourself and write your own

rhyme those lyrics like they are well known and feel the passion overflow

notice the clouds, see that tree

make sure you take the time to breathe…

My bottle is full

So I have been feeling very uninspired lately.  I can’t write, can’t focus, severe bouts of anger and resentment, pain in my back and an all around shitty attitude.  As many of you know, I was in Maui and before you go off on your “poor bastard” speech, let me tell you it was no walk in the park.  It was long hours and lots of tension, which I try to field and normally don’t let get into my psyche, but on this particular day it crept in like a fog off the pacific on a luke warm day.

I seemed to be running around like a mad witch in search of a newts eye on this particular program.  I couldn’t focus and found very little respite in spite of it all.  I did have an amazing view from the 18th hole and the 9th coming  up behind us, but something was off.  I met our first security officer, Steve, on Friday for the start of the tour.  Steve was a very soft spoken but nice guy.  He greeted all the participants with a smile and an “Aloha”.  His attitude started to rub off on me and I began to see things differently

The last two days of the tournament, I was blessed with the presence of Randy Gallegos, who used to live in the mainland as a mortgage broker.  This guy has a heart as big as IZ.  Welcoming smile, generous handshake and a very kind voice.  We began talking and I shared a little of my life and he shared the same with me as friendships go.  He pointed out something to me in my desire to become enlightened and that was the concept of “enough”.  Lately, I have been having struggles with buying into the whole system (many of you know this as you are invested in family, cars, mortgages etc) and just being content with what I have.

Randy shared with me his struggles on always wanting more and in that conquest for more, he began to drift away from what was really important to him, which was time.  Time with the family, time with friends and time to work on the things he really loved.  He shared with me that while in LA, he never seemed to have “enough”.  He was always looking for the next best thing.  He said since he has moved to Maui, that he continually has “enough”.  He has enough time, enough love and enough of everything he could ever need.

I realize that my cup is always full.  I always have enough.  I have enough love, enough time and just enough friends.  Its not to say that I don’t welcome more in any of those areas, however, I am slowly recognizing the abundance in my life and that I don’t have to always listen to the lingering, foreboding thoughts in my head that try to teach me otherwise.  It is with that thought that I wish you “enough” as you move forward into 2012 and the rest of your years.

Until next time…

Happy New Year to you and yours.

I just got this email from a friend.  I think it is a great way to start the new year.  I am always happy to get little reminders that I am on the right path and that I am affecting people in a good way.  I love you all and wish you a great 2012.  I am so thankful for all your support and love and really appreciate your friendship, readership and you as a person.

May 2012 shower you with blessings and love.  I look forward to updating my blogs and hearing back from you.  Your feedback is invaluable.

Sincerely

Chad

Introductions and laughter...

I figured since I was going to be there, I would stay in Hollywood for the night and I chose the Roosevelt and I am not sorry for one minute that i did.  The hotel has a lot of history and a lot of character associated with it.  Supposedly Marilyn Monroe’s ghost resides here, but it could just be speculation.  There are numerous restaurants and great night clubs at the Roosevelt, unfortunately because I was there for such a brief time, I wasn’t able to sample all of them.  The front desk and bell staff are super friendly and get the idea of customer service.

I do want to focus on the rooms, specifically, my room.  I was given an upgraded deluxe room since they couldn’t find my reservation.  The room is very bright and I truly enjoyed the color scheme.  The beds may be the most comfortable that I have ever slept on.  The pillows were the perfect firmness and the I woke up at 6:30 without the aid of an alarm.

The thing that stood out about my room and I will always remember is the shower.  It is a very large fountain head directly above you, but what i really like is the volume of water that runs when you turn the faucet on.  It was like being under a waterfall and when you wake up in the morning, nothing feels better than a hot shower that douses you completely.

I would definitely recommend this hotel to anyone coming to the LA area.  it is a bit pricey, but I think you will enjoy the accommodations.  Make sure to check out all the bars, including the rooftop lounge. Book your rooms in advance as they tend to book up fast on the weekends.  You will have fun, love the beds, the shower and the employees.  It may be the just the break you need, all the while making you feel like a celebrity.

Here are some pics of my room:

Until next time…

As many of you know, My mom recently passed from cancer, however, what you may not know was what I gave up to be with her and by her side.  As I have mentioned before, I have no regrets for my decisions, but there are ramifications with everything.  I was living in Encinitas at a great friends house right by the beach.   It was compound style living but it was good.  Everyone there was friendly and family like.  I had a very simple existence with a bed, a dresser and my clothes and my three cats.  I wasn’t a cat person, but somehow the three girls won their way into my heart.  I didn’t know what to do with them and after time, they grew on me and it turned out that we had a mutually loving relationship, I would feed, care and clean up their minimal mess, and they in return gave unconditional love and support to me.  They always greeted me at the door and would tell me about their day.  Often times I would find myself caught up in moments where, I would just stare at them, play with them or pet them for long periods of time.  It was very therapeutic.

In march my life was turned around with the diagnosis of my mom and her cancer.  I knew I had to be by her side and by the grace of Universal love, a friend offered to take care of the cats and hold on to them as long as she could.  About a month before my mom died , I got the call from my friend that the 3 cats, plus her two were too many and that we would need to find homes for them.  As Universal love would have it, another dear friend found them homes at a rescue that same day.  (There are no coincidences in life).  I felt like  a small weight was removed from my chest.  I was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Today, almost 2 months after my moms passing, I get a call from Animal Rescue in San Diego saying they raided a facility on the 17th and one of my cats turned up among 90 that were reclaimed.  My heart sank into my stomach.  There are moments in life that hit you with certain severity, and this was one of those moments.  I walked outside my office and began to cry.  There was a resounding echo that  had reverberated  back to me and that was, “nothing goes unaffected”

I did the best i could with the girls when I had them.  I loved them as much as I possibly could and gave them shelter for as long as I could.  In a small way, I feel like a shitty parent that couldn’t handle the responsibility of having kids, so I walked away.  Now I know that isn’t true, but in my heart, it is hard to separate that feeling.  Bottom line here:  Everything you do, everything you say,and how you live your life, has an affect on those around you.  I want to get in my car and go rescue tigher right now, but I don’t have a home to keep her in, unless I go find an apartment.  I am not sure that is in the cards right now and truthfully it sucks, because my girls were my kids.

Sometimes life goes exactly as we imagine it, other times, it goes exactly as it needs to.  In my case, there is something that I need to learn from all this.  Stop your life every so often and figure out what the universe is saying to you.  Don’t become a robot in the process.  Be good to your fellow man, love the animals and every so often, pick an apple off a tree and eat it.  Allow yourself to feel and most of all be loving.  Pepper , Tigher and Precious, I miss you daily and love you more than you will know and sorry I couldn’t do and be more for you.  Hope one day you will find it in your kitty hearts to know that I truly did and do love you.

Until next time…

tigher and pepper

precious in the planter

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