A Shitty Day in Mexico, Part III

After two hours of car-sickness, we finally arrive in Ensenada, which has a harbor and a HUGE Mexican flag which, according to "C," takes eight people to raise.

"C" knows some people with a little restaurant in Ensenada (and I mean little), which is right next to the fish market.

There are also four other little restaurants, all serving the same menu, right next to the fish market, and any time someone walks by, they are simultaneously accosted by five waitresses begging them to come to their little restaurant for some fish tacos (instead of any of the other four.) I was accosted at least eight times even after I'd eaten.

We went to the fifth restaurant, which had a unique selling proposition the others didn't: They were friends of "C." But the fried fish, the holy grail we were seaking, was awesome. Very tasty. And so was the shrimp a la diablo. And the siete mares ("seven seas") soup Alba ordered. Arguably, it was worth the trouble, but I wonder if we couldn't have gotten the same thing in Tijuana, or any of the coastal towns close by.

We (Alba and I) bought lunch for everyone (the least we could do for "C," who we felt kind of sorry for, him taking the day off work, spending his day driving around people he doesn't know--except "M").

While we were in Ensenada, we took a 45 minute boat ride into the harbor (which we also paid for.) It was fun, though. We fed the seals (and a few crafty seagulls). We looked around at the fish market. I can't believe how cheap the seafood was. But it's illegal to take uncooked seafood back in the states, and we didn't come prepared with an ice chest, anyway. We did get some smoked marlin, though.

Next, we went to a place called La Bufadora, which was supposedly just half an hour away. At this point, I'm getting concerned, because I didn't expect to be traipsing all over Mexico. I was just planning on a quick trip into Tijuana. I didn't bring a lot of cash, and neither did Alba...and it's not like there are ATM machines on every corner. But "M" says she will lend us cash if we need it, and since La Bufadora was just half an hour away, I figured what the hell. Might as well, since we're already down here.

But La Bufadora isn't a half hour away.

Try an hour and a half further south. Through curving, winding roads. Meanwhile, getting even more carsick, with a headache creeping on.

La Bufadora is beautiful. It's on a cliff on the edge of the ocean in the middle of nowhere. There is a crevice in the rocks where a cave blows out air at high pressure. When the water rises into the cave and starts to plug the hole, it acts like a crimped water hose, shooting the water high up into the air several dozen feet, sounding like some giant blowhole of the largest whale you could imagine. It's thunderous.

The observation platform is right above the cave, so a particularly high "geyser" will saturate the platform and anyone on it.

This moment and the time in Ensenada were the highlights of an otherwise shitty trip. But both the time here, and the time in Ensenada were short-lived. It was mostly a lot of driving for just a few minutes of fun. After La Bufadora, we started heading back to Tijuana.

And this is where the trip starts getting shitty again.

To be continued...

A Shitty Day in Mexico, Part II

So I'm stuck on the freeway, having missed the last exit before Mexico. I HAVE to drive into Mexico. Right as we were crossing the border, we're "lucky" enough to spot "M," and she hopped the freeway barrier to get in the car. Well at this point, I was committed. I would just have to drive my car in Mexico instead of renting cabs, or walking, or whatever.

But neither Alba, nor "M" know how to get around in Tijuana. And I didn't have a map because I wasn't expecting to be driving there.

So "M" directs me to get off at a certain exit, which she is hoping will take us to where "C" is supposed to meet us. But it's not an exit...it's an exchange to another highway. And there's no exit for miles.

Finally, we spot an exit, and I turn around to head back the way we came.

Then, out of nowhere, materialized this HUGE pothole! On the highway! It's over three feet in diameter and almost a foot deep. I can't believe how big it is. I still...can't...believe there is such a GIGANTIC pothole right on the highway.

I didn't have time to react. I didn't have time to brake. There is a car right behind me. I can't swerve because there is a car right next to me in the other lane. On the other side of the pothole is no shoulder whatsoever. So I have no choice but to run over it.

WHACK WHACK!!!!! WSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I could hear the air rushing out of the tire. But with no shoulder, I couldn't pull over.

Finally, after about a mile, a spot a place to pull over and check the tires. Sure enough, the right rear tire was flat.

Luckily, there happened to be a mechanic close by and he helped us change the tire. And it's lucky, because the car jack in the trunk didn't go high enough to change the tire. AND...I've broken those cheap little tire irons before, when I tried to loosen up lug nuts. (A few years ago, I completely broke the head off the lug-nut wrench that came with my car because the lug nuts were so tight. Had to wait a couple of hours for a tow truck.)

Meanwhile, "M" finds a pay phone and calls "C," who gets a taxi to meet us.

When we got the tire off, you could see that the tire AND the rim were ruined. The rim had a big dent in it. (And the car is now badly out of alignment.)

Unfortunately, the spare is almost worn bald in places, so we had to drive around to three different tire places (which are surprisingly abundant in Tijuana...actually not so surprising anymore) looking for a tire to fit the rim.

Finally, we're ready to go to Ensenada, which is where "M" said the good fried fish was. Supposedly, Ensenada is not far. So I hand the keys to "C" who is to be our local guide.

Let me tell you about "C:" "C" is cool. Humble, personable, friendly, willing to help. But somehow, "M" coaxed him into being our guide that day. But "C" had been up all night at a cock-fight (popular in Mexico). And he was supposed to work that day. But he took the day off to drive us around. No idea how he got talked into that--maybe how Alba and I got "talked into" taking "M" along with us.

Anyway, "C" used to be a taxi driver. A taxi driver in Mexico is ten times more aggressive than those LAX taxi drivers in L.A. I'm usually pretty calm when I'm riding with someone, but there were a few moments where I was getting kind of nervous.

But what the hell.

I didn't say anything...mostly because I was getting carsick.

I hate riding in cars. I have to be driving. When I'm driving, I enjoy it. But when I'm riding, I get carsick and can't enjoy the scenery as much as I'd like to. I certainly don't want to be holding any conversations. So, not only was "C" roped into ferrying us around Mexico, I couldn't even keep him entertained with a good conversation. It was definitely awkward. But "C" was cool.

As it turns out, Ensenada is NOT the 40-45 minutes away it was supposed to be. Try two hours.

Two hours of swerving roads with spectacular ocean views I was trying really hard to enjoy.

To be continued...

A Shitty Day in Mexico, Part I

Yesterday was Memorial Day. Alba managed to get a day off yesterday, so for the first time in almost two months we'd have a day off together. She always works during the weekend, when I have off. And her "weekend" is during the week when I have to work. Consequently, we rarely get to actually do anything together.

So, here was the plan:

I rented a night at the Hilton in San Diego (a 5-Star resort), so we could drive down on Sunday as soon as she got off work and got cleaned up. We'd spend a relaxing evening there, perhaps heading to downtown San Diego to walk along the waterfront, go shopping, or whatever (if time). Then, we'd have a lazy morning before heading down to Tijuana to maybe eat some delicious Mexican food, browse the little shops, whatever. Then come back home early Monday evening. In other words, just a nice little overnight trip before going back to work on Teusday.

That's what was SUPPOSED to happen. Here's what ACTUALLY happened:

On Saturday night, Alba called her sister "M," (name has been changed to protect the not-so-innocent) to ask her where is the best place is to eat fried fish in Tijuana. "M" goes there all the time and should know. Well...turns out "M" was planning on going to Tijuana on Monday, too! (That's a sarcastic "!") So guess what?

Yep...we pick up a third wheel.

Suddenly, it becomes "M"s little trip. I don't want "M" to stay with us in the hotel...I'd already reserved a room...it was expensive...and I had other things in mind. So we drop her off at the border, where she is to meet and stay with a friend of her's in Tijuana. We're supposed to meet up with her the next morning at 9:00 am. (Not the lazy morning I had planned.)

Nor, did we get to the hotel early evening either. I had to wait forever for Alba to get ready. Then, we had to eat dinner at "M"s house, instead of someplace nice in San Diego. Then we had to wait for "M" to get ready. Then we had to drive her an extra half an hour down to the border, then the half an hour back to the hotel. Consequently, it wasn't the "relaxing evening" I had planned, either. We didn't get to the hotel until around 10:00 pm.

So...expensive hotel. Quick, overnight stay. Let me tell you about it: I had managed to secure a room with Priceline for $125. With taxes, it came to $150. Starting to stretch my budget a little, but what the hell. I'd rather pay a few bucks more for someplace nice than $90 for a shitty hotel. (Hotel prices have skyrocketed lately!)

But...where other hotels will nickle and dime you for everything, this hotel 10 and 20 dollared me for everything! Overnight parking in their parking lot? $20. Connection to the internet? $12. Breakfast in the morning for ONE person? $22. That sick-to-my-stomach feeling, knowing it's just a place to sleep for a night and nothing else? Priceless.

Now, it's Monday morning. "M" calls and says this guy who is supposed to meet us and be our "guide" (who I don't know and had no idea we were supposed to meet) has been waiting for us since 6:30 am! So instead of being there at 9:00 am, we need to hurry it up and get going. We get to the border at 8:30.

And I happen to miss the last exit off the 5 freeway before Mexico. I'm committed...I must drive into Mexico.

To be continued...

It's Towel Day!!

For those who haven't heard, it's Towel Day. Here's what you do: you get a big towel, fling it over your shoulder. And you just walk around with it all day long just like that.

And if anyone asks you why you've got a big towel flung over your shoulder, just tell 'em it's Towel Day!

Actually, it's an homage to the "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," one of the greatest sci-fi books ever written. (If you judge "greatest" to mean "most hilarious," that is.) In this universe, a towel is one of the most important and useful things to carry with you when you're hitchhiking it.

On another note (or perhaps the same one), I've really been descending into Geek-dom lately. And I mean seriously.

For the record, though:

1. I've never played a role-playing game in my life.
2. I've never really been into video games.
3. I've never been to a Star Trek convention.
4. I've never dressed up as a Star Trek character.
5. I've never worn a cape, or cloak, or robe, or anything of the sort. (Except once. One year I dressed up as a monk for Halloween.)
6. I've never discussed the intricacies of any fictional universe.
7. And finally, I've never created my own universe.

Until now.

For some reason, I've been really getting off on creating a fantasy universe with the intention of writing a book (eventually a series of books) based on it. Think of Lord of the Rings, or Star Wars, or whatever. It's a collaborative effort with a good friend of mine and we've both been having the time of our lives. It's more fun than I've had in years.

So that can only mean one thing:

I'm really a geek after all. But that probably comes as no surprise to any of you. All you gotta do is see my glasses, which are so strong, I look like I'm perpetually impersonating the monster from the 1958 Classic "The Crawling Eye."

The Stan

Buzz Cut

I got a buzz cut today. My hair was beginning to look like Albert Einstein's bed hair. My hair seriously starts fro-ing (how the heck do you spell that?) when it gets long. The slightest wind and I look like a fat Einstein.

So Alba ran the razor through my hair this morning.

And now I look like an out of shape marine sergeant. At least I don't have to worry about my hair and concentrate on more important things...like my blog!

(Be patient, dear readers. The Big Move Saga will commence this weekend!)

The Stan

Finger Lengthen Good!

Apparently, I'm good at math and science because my ring finger is longer than my index finger and the ratio of their lengths is greater than normal.

Weird, huh?

That's what it says in this article at Live Science. It has to do with exposure to testosterone levels in the womb.

Interesting.

I took the ACT, not the SAT, but my math score was perfect. My science score was near perfect. But my reading and English scores were lower. (Which could have been predicted by measuring my finger lengths!)

I just want to know one thing: what does the length of the middle finger tell you?

The Stan

A Culinary Adventure

What you see to the left is a Tlayuda. (The "T" and "L" are pronounced very quickly, almost like saying "Clayuda" but with a "T." In fact, for a long time, that's what I thought it was.)

It's a traditional food from the natives of Oaxaca, Mexico, which is where Alba, my fiancee, is from.

Oaxaca is known for its cuisine. It's nothing like what you'd eat in Texas or California. It's true Mexican food, often dating back to the days before Spanish colonization.

The tlayuda is kind of like a big chalupa…sort of. It's over a foot in diameter and made of white corn, then baked to a crisp. Over this, you put black bean paste, which is AMAZING, especially when flavored with toasted avocado leaves. Then you add meat such as carne asada, salchichon (a very tasty type of sausage) or chicken. Then add shredded cabbage, avocado, and queso de patate (a type of cheese).

Pure heaven.

Each element has a unique flavor. The tortilla. The black bean paste. The meat. The cheese. It's become one of my favorite dishes.

Here are some other foods Alba has introduced me to (or introduced me to a different variant):

Queso de Patate: Or “cheese of basket.” A crumbly type of cheese that’s cured in a weaved basket. It’s very good and has a unique flavor.

Quesillo: Like a string cheese, but much more tasty than American string cheese. It’s wound up in a ball.

Frijoles sabor Avocate: toasted avocado leaves which are ground up and mixed with refried black beans. Very unique and wonderful flavor. Excellent with queso de patate. This is the black bean paste I was referring to earlier.

Salchichon: a type of sausage that is very tasty.

Chorizo: much different than the store-bought variety here in the states. This stuff is hard, like other sausage, spicy, and very tasty.

Wonderful salsas and salads…with plenty of cilantro.

Tortas: Like a sandwich…made from a bolillo (a piece of bread). You can put beans, cheese, whatever on it.

Tapatío and Cholula. I’ve really developed a taste for these sauces since being with Alba. She uses them on EVERYTHING!

Teas made from all kinds of strange herbs and spices.

The most wonderfully tasty black beans cooked with onion, cilantro, and ham.

Homemade tamales! Awesome!!

Papas rellenos: stuffed mashed potatoes (with meat), flattened, then fried.

Chile rellenos: very different from the typical Mexican restaurant. These were large chiles stuffed with vegetables, or meat, or fish. Then baked. Very tasty.

But not everything was a hit...

Salsa de Gusanito: Or, “worm salsa.” Literally made from worms. I thought it was quite good until I found out what “gusanito” meant.

Salsa de Chapulín: Or, “locust salsa.” Literally made from locusts. I thought it wasn’t that great both before and after I found out what “chapulín” meant.

Other than those two notable exceptions, the last three years has been VERY good to my stomach!

(Actually, a little too good, but not because of Alba. Most of her food is very healthy, or she prefers a more healthy variant. Like baking instead of frying those chile rellenos. Plus, she's practically a vegetarian. So I can't blame her for my spare tire!)

The Stan

Battlestar Galactica

Battlestar Galactica is the best show I've ever seen. That's not to say it's the best show ever created. I never did watch a lot of TV. But as far as what I've seen (and I've seen at least a few episodes of a lot of sci-fi shows), it's by far the best.

I just watched the last episode of season 3 last night. (I didn't get to bed until 2:00 am because I HAD to watch the rest of the third season.) It got a little wierd in that last episode, but I MUST KNOW what happens in the upcoming season 4. Some very surprising plot developments there.

Here's why I think this show is deserving of "Best Sci-Fi Show of All Time."

1. The actors are terrific. This is some of the best acting ever to appear in the sci-fi genre.
2. Some of the actors are really hot like Boomer/Athena, Caprica 6, and Number 3 (Lucy Lawless) and you get plenty of gratuitous lingerie shots.
3. The scripts are awesome. Every character is a real person--with flaws and everything. So you actually care about these characters. They're real--not some one-dimensional cardboard character. Contrast that with Star Trek.
4. The action is nonstop. Every episode is full of drama, excitement, and action. Contrast THAT with Star Trek. As much as I used to like Star Trek, many episodes were downright boring.
5. It presents a realistic portrayal of humans in the future. They're not a more "evolved" noble race. They're every bit as flawed as we are today, and deal with many of the same issues.
6. It deals with contemporary philosophical issues and moral dilemmas. What morals and values would you hold on to if our entire civilation were destoyed and you were relentlessly pursued by an enemy with overwhelming forces? Would that change your ideas about freedom, due process, rules of war?
7. The story line is unpredictable. You never know when a major character is going to die off, or change roles, or undergo life-changing events. Good stuff.

In short, it's just damn good story-telling and damn good TV. I love it! And if you haven't seen it, go out and rent the miniseries and seasons 1 & 2. Season 3 comes out on DVD in August, I think. (I happened to catch a sci-fi channel marathon.)

The only downside is, I've got to wait a few months to find out what happens!

The Stan

Good Times

I was looking over some of Matt & Shelley's old blog posts when I found this picture of me:


I think this was a New Years Eve party from the dawn of 2006. I'm showing off my ultra-powerful mega-micro lenses. As you can see, I'm blind as a bat...particularly in my left eye!

Anyway, feeling nolstalgic, I discovered that I had NOT, if fact, deleted my old blog (as I had thought) and I still have some posts which might be worthy of updating and reposting...particularly the story of my move to California.

So....to those who are familiar with the Big Move Saga, look for a re-telling sometime soon. I know you're dying for it.

The Stan

The Miracle Drug

I get these terrible headaches sometimes. And today was one of those sometimes. By 10:00 am, I already had a headache worthy of Zeus.

If I get a little dehydrated, or I eat too much sugar, or too much salt, I suffer for it.

I have to stay very-well hydrated, so I drink LOTS of water everyday. In fact, that's about all I drink. Rarely do I drink soda, or milk, or juice, or anything other than water. Because even a little dehydration brings the predictable headache.

Fortunately, for those times when it feels like Athena is poking around in my skull, there's Excedrin Migraine.

Usually, all it takes is one pill. Today was a two-pill day.

But since I rarely drink soda or coffee, I'm pretty sensitive to the caffeine. So here I am, eyes dilated, wired on caffeine just like I've drunk three cups of coffee on an empty stomach.

I hate drugs. I don't trust drug companies. But this drug is awesome. Two pills and I'm back to work--even if a little "twitchy"--when otherwise I'd be in bed in pain for the rest of the day.

So in this case, it's totally worth it. Thank God for the Miracle Drug, Excedrin Migraine.

(Side effects may vary. If you consume 3 or more alcoholic drinks every day, ask your doctor whether you should take acetaminophen and aspirin or other pain relievers/fever reducers. Acetaminophen and aspirin may cause liver damage and stomach bleeding. The recommended dose of this product contains about as much caffeine as a cup of coffee. Limit the use of caffeine-containing medications, foods, or beverages while taking this product because too much caffeine may cause nervousness, irritability, sleeplessness, and, occasionally, rapid heartbeat. Do not use if you have ever had an allergic reaction to any other pain reliever/fever reducer, with any other products containing acetaminophen. Taking more than directed may cause liver damage. Ask a doctor before use if you have never had migraines diagnosed by a health professional, a headache that is different from your usual migraines, the worst headache of your life, fever and stiff neck, headaches beginning after or caused by head injury, exertion, coughing or bending, experienced your first headache after the age of 50, daily headaches, a migraine so severe as to require bed rest, asthma, bleeding problems, ulcers, stomach problems such as heartburn, upset stomach, or stomach pain that do not go away or recur, problems or serious side effects from taking pain relievers or fever reducers, vomiting with your migraine headache, taking a prescription drug for anticoagulation (thinning of the blood), diabetes, gout, arthritis; under a doctor's care for any serious condition, taking any other drug, taking any other product that contains aspirin, acetaminophen, or any other pain reliever/fever reducer. Stop use and ask your doctor if an allergic reaction occurs (seek medical help right away), your migraine is not relieved or worsens after first dose, new or unexpected symptoms occur, stomach pain or upset gets worse or lasts, ringing in the ears or loss of hearing occurs. If pregnant or breast-feeding, ask a health professional before use. It is especially important not to use aspirin during the last 3 months of pregnancy unless definitely directed to do so by a doctor because it may cause problems in the unborn child or complications during delivery. Taking more than the recommended dose can cause serious health problems. In case of overdose, get medical help or contact a Poison Control Center right away. Quick medical attention is critical for adults as well as for children even if you do not notice any signs or symptoms.)

The Big "Secret"

Everyone's talking about "The Secret," the movie and companion book about "manifesting" just about anything with your mind.

I'll be the first to admit that the human brain is a very powerful and mysterious thing. I believe it is capable of much more than is generally given credit for. And I believe that we are manifestations of our thoughts. In other words, we are what we think...and we are what we think we are.

The "Secret," the book teaches, is about manifesting anything you desire with the power of your mind. That your thinking "attracts" good and bad things depending on whether your thoughts are good or bad.

On the one hand, I think this touches on a profound truth. But on the other, I think it's a load of horseshit.

Here's the thing: our mind is a powerful thing, yes. What we think determines just about everything in our lives, because we are what we think and we are who we think we are.

But to attribute all success (whether in wealth, status, health, wisdom, talent, learning, relationships, etc.) to the thinking of "positive thoughts" ignores one very powerful element to achieving success in anything:

Action.

I don't give a rat's ass how much "positive energy" you've been conjuring up for that big physics exam. If you haven't taken action and actually studied for it, you just ain't gonna pass!

You can think all the positive thoughts and generate all the manifestation energy you can drum up to conjure up wads of cash...but if you don't actually do something to earn that money (say, by starting a business that meets a need and marketing it successfully), then you're still gonna be a poor broke SOB.

Thoughts are important, yes. I believe it is the foundation to achieving anything. But that's not the end of it. New action and behavior must spring forth from your thoughts.

For example, the book teaches that people are fat because they think of themselves as fat. And that all they've got to do is start thinking themselves as thin and they'll magically start becoming thin. After all, there are thin people who can eat anything they want and still stay thin. (Matt Bingham comes to mind.)

But for anyone with an inkling of respect for science, this is hogwash. Thoughts are important. But they're important because they determine behavior. If you truly want to be thin, start thinking of yourself as thin and fit...and it will change your behavior to reflect your new self-image. If you think of yourself as thin and fit, you're going to start exercising more, you'll start eating healthier. You'll start paying more attention to your body.

But it's the behavior, the action, that gets it done.

But just as thoughts alone don't make things happen, behavior cannot change independent of thoughts.

So in the end, everything starts with the mind. And that's the truth of the secret. I just wish they hadn't dressed it up in a bunch of bullshit.

For a better book on this subject, I recommend "Psycho Cybernetics" by Maxwell Malz. I think it has particular relevance to musicians (but to anyone, really)...and actually was the inspiration for the "Inner Game" series of books, including "Inner Game of Music."

If you want to cut through the bullshit and get to the real meat of the matter, Maxwell Malz is the guy to read.

The Stan

The Stan Plays Marketing Director

Not much to write about today. I hit the "New Post" button before I even knew what I was going to write about. I still have my "Culinary Adventure" post I promised but haven't gotten around to posting yet. But it's on my computer at home, and I'm sitting in my office at work, so...

What to write about?

The only thing I'm looking forward to at the moment is the Battlestar Gallactica Season 3 Marathon on the Sci-Fi channel this week. I'm recording in on my DVR (Time Warner's pathetic version of the Tivo), so I can watch it when I'm actually at home--and not sitting in my office at work.

Speaking of work, things are finally starting to move along. I started as marketing director way back in October. Developed a new marketing plan. Recommended new software. Picked out the software. Bought the software (finally) in late December.

And here we are in May finally about to implement the new software. Not much marketing stuff will happen until we get into the new software, so my salary is still an anemic 40,000 a year or so before taxes. (I get a small percentage of sales, so naturally I've been really eager to keep things moving along, but NOTHING happens fast around here.)

Soon, I'll be starting a new business. I'll talk more about it later. Actually, I have two businesses I want to start. Part of my overall plan for world domination. (Actually, my plan is to just gain economic freedom.)

I know I can't really afford the time to watch Battlestar Gallactica, but I need a reprieve. For almost a year, I've been studying marketing and copywriting nonstop. Everyday. Several hours a day. No movies. Very little TV. No books but marketing books and newsletters. I really wanted to master the subject.

But you can only become a master by doing. Not reading. And FINALLY, I'm about to do.

Marketing as a career is an odd choice for me. For someone who started out in college to be a nuclear engineer, marketing is about as different as you can get. But I have a history of pursuing wildly different career paths. Keeps things interesting.

But it also means I've never become financially successful because I never stuck with one thing long enough to make the big bucks. A Chinese proverb goes "Man who chases two rabbits catches neither." Well, I've chased at least a dozen.

I've just been interested in too many things. Everything sounds interesting. I wish I could clone myself and command each clone to pursue a different career. Maybe then, I could accomplish great things.

But who knows? The only thing I know for sure right now is I'm starving and it's time to go home.

Sayonara.

The Stan

Nostalgic About Composing

I'm feeling nostalgic about composing today. I haven't written a damn note for almost a year and a half. And I miss it.

I've had some of my most cathartic moments writing music. There's nothing like the feeling of creating a great theme with a perfect countertheme, then combining them in one grand finale! Or creating an interesting atmospheric effect. Or combining two or more sounds for an interesting orchestral effect.

I love it. I love writing music, especially orchestral music. What can I say?

But writing music right now would violate two of my new Philosophies About Composing:

1. Don't write anything unless it's actually going to get played. (I have enough "bottom drawer" compositions already.)

2. Don't write anything unless you're getting paid...OR you're already independently wealthy. It occurs to me that I'll be 32 years old next month and I have nothing to my name: no house, no decent car...not even a video ipod. Therefore, I just can't afford to spend countless hours writing music that I will never be compensated for. It might as well be a time-sucking hobby.

But I'm not giving up on music forever. In my "Philosophy About Composing #2," I mentioned that I can't spend time writing unless I'm getting paid or am independently wealthy.

So there's my new goal: become independently wealthy so I can write again. AND...being independently wealthy means I'll be able to hire an orchestra to record anything I write!

Interaction with a live orchestra is crucial to mastering orchestration. You need feedback in order to experiment. Studying scores can only go so far. (And it's so damn tedious!) Without feedback, you can't have experimentation. Only mimicry...or speculation. But not experimentation.

So, alas. Just like the longing for a lost lover I pine for the day to write music again. But not yet...not just yet. I've got work to do.

The Stan

An Encounter With Molesto-Man

Inquiring reader wants to know about my encounter with molesto-man, so here goes.

It was a dark and stormy night...

Actually, it was a hot and sunny day in Houston, TX where my good friend Seth now lives.

But at the time, he was a PK (Pastor's Kid) in Springfield, MO and I was a 14-year-old freshman at Taft High School in San Antonio. I played Tenor Saxophone in the high school band and it was because of a band trip that I was in Houston.

One of our stops (besides Six Flags, where I would later loose my glasses on the Raptor ride) was this ginormous (see def. 4 in the Urban Dictionary) mall complete with a built-in hotel, ice rink, the works.

Even the bathrooms were huge. We're talking well over a dozen stalls.

But there was one thing about those bathrooms I will never understand: the stalls only had walls about 4 ft. high...and there was no door. So you could look down toward the back of the bathroom and see a row of a dozen men sitting on the john, taking a dump.

Well, I had to take a dump, too. And I couldn't wait for a more private opportunity. So despite my ambivalence, I joined the row of shitters.

So there I was taking care of some private business when this dude (I don't know, maybe he was about 30ish) stands RIGHT in front of me and just stares at me while I'm busy. (Keep in mind I'm 14 years old at the time.)

Well, I don't want this guy staring at me while I wipe myself, so I wait. And while I'm waiting, the stalls on either side of me become available. But this guy doesn't move in to take one of those stalls, he just keeps standing there, staring at me.

Finally, I decided to just get it over with and get the hell out of there because the place is suddenly starting to look a lot less populated than when I walked in and I sure as hell didn't want to be in there alone with this guy.

So I finish up my business and before I'm even out of the stall completely, this guy starts toward the toilet. I just keep walking past him and up to the sink to wash my hands. As I'm drying my hands, I look back down the row of stalls when I see this man looking straight at me.

Then he gives me this nod that says "Come over here." But I jet out of there and try my best to get lost in the crowded mall.

Fortunately, I never saw the guy again. And fortunately, I was never molested. But in my opinion, men who molest boys (or very young girls, for that matter) are the worst kind of sicko sexual offenders.

Those kind of offenders should never be allowed to roam free in society. Imagine what this man could have been capable of in a different setting. If he was so bold in a crowded restroom, what would have happened in a more private setting? Think God I never had to find out.

So the moral of the story is, my ass is still a virgin and I intend to keep it that way.

The Stan

Why "The Stan," The Stan?

Those who don't know me may think I made up "The Stan" to sound cool...sort of like "The Shermanator" in American Pie.

But actually, I've been called "The Stan" all my life. I guess with a last name like Stanley, you just can't avoid it.

I'm glad my parents didn't name me "Stanley." Some parents with first names as last names actually get a kick out of naming their kid the same as their last name. But fate was kind to me and I avoided being called "The Stan The Stan" and possibly getting beat up after school three times as often as I did.

Actually, I never got beat up in school. I got in fights. But I never got beat up. It's a benefit of being big. Even most bullies would leave me alone. It was usually the little ones who would run up and hit me, or flick my ear, or something. And then run away before I could do anything about it.

That lasted until I caught one of them and threw him against the lockers. I got in big trouble for that, but it was worth it. Nobody messed with me after that for a long time. At least until eighth grade when another "hit and run" kid sat behind me in history class. He was actually about my size and was kind of a dork.

Every day, he would flick my ears, poke me in the back with a pencil, or otherwise harrass me. Usually I'm a pretty amicable fellow. But after weeks of enduring his torments, I'd finally had enough. So I turned around, flipped this kid's desk over with him still sitting in it, and was on top of him at once, pounding his face in.

To the teacher, I just suddenly "exploded" for no reason and obviously needed counseling. For "no reason" I just started kicking this poor innocent kid's ass right in front of everyone.

Well, my parents knew what was going on and my dad was furious at the suggestion I go into counseling. So I never had to.

But no one ever messed with me after that.

Anyway, "The Stan" has always been a nickname no matter where I go or who I meet. I guess it's part of the cultural phenomenon, or something. Sort of like every William is called Bill. Or anyone from Texas with an obviously Texan accent is called "Tex."

(I happen to be from Texas, but for some reason I never picked up a strong accent. Maybe I'd be called "Tex" if I had. Or maybe I'd be called "Stan Tex," or something. And that's fortunate because "Stan Tex" sounds like a tampon. Yep...I'd have been beat up for that one, for sure.)

But although I've been called "The Stan" for most of my life, I never met anyone who insisted on using the definite article like Matt Bingham. For example, instead of saying "Hi, Stan," dropping the article like everyone else, Matt insists on using it. So for Matt, it's "Hi, The Stan."

It does put an original twist on an otherwise unoriginal moniker. And it stuck. It caught on with everyone I know in California. And so I became not just "Stan," but "THE Stan." And always "THE Stan."

And that's how The Stan became The Stan.

The Stan

Ode To Turkey Jerky

Turkey Jerky may be murky.
Turkey Jerky may taste quirky.
But Turkey Jerky makes me perky!

Hmmmm...What do you know! I'm a poet and don't knows it. But my "D" sure shows it...cause it's a Loooongfellow.

I know, I know. IME SOFA KING WE TALL DID.

The Stan

Updates

I'm in a much better mood today. All is well that ends well. (In other words, we've had our make-up sex and are no longer arguing at the moment.)

In other news, I bought a green 1996 Toyota Corolla that's in fair shape cosmetically, but excellent shape mechanically. In fact, it was owned by a mechanic who kept up the maintenance and even rebuilt the engine. The rebuilt engine has less than 10,000 miles. The car as a whole, 144,000.

It runs very smooth, too. (I know it's supposed to be "smoothly" but that form just sounds too stilted to me.) He went on and on about how he aligned the valves and such. And you can feel it. Very smooth running engine. The mechanic assured me I should have no major maintenance issues for the next 50,000 miles.

All in all, $2700. Great value...even better than blue book. Car fax report showed a couple of minor accidents--nothing major. I couldn't pass it up, even though it didn't fit our original criteria.

Meanwhile, I've been taking Alba to the chiropractor. She'd been pretty sore since the accident and he's been snapping her back into place. It sounds just like stepping on a bunch of packing bubbles when he straightens her out.

Every time we go, Alba complains she has to fart. (Lying flat on your stomach is a great way to alleviate gas, by the way.) But I tell her that if she just times it for when he's cracking her back, he'll just think her back is really out of place! (Won't account for the smell, though.)

On another front, I'm organizing the brass band again. We'll be doing a concert on July 29. Further details to come.

And on yet another front, I can't wait to get the last disk from season 2 of Battlestar Galactica in the mail from Blockbuster. I think that is the best sci-fi show ever to air on television period. To Star Trek or SG1 fans, it might be sacrilege to say that. But there's a very good reason why I feel that way and I'll talk about it in a future post.

In the meantime, sayonara my friends.

The Stan

Henpecked

I'm not really in a mood to write today, and I haven't been for the last few days. I consider myself a positive person. I like to keep in good humor. That's why when I feel down, I'd rather not dwell on it by writing about it...even if that mood pervades all my thoughts.

But on the other hand, if I'm any kind of writer, I should write everyday. So here I am writing even though I don't really feel like it.

Ever since Alba got in the accident last week, she's been EXTREMELY irritable and argumentative. I hate arguing. I hate getting in verbal fights.

So when I'm forced into it, it makes me very irritable and frustrated and a lot more argumentative than I otherwise am.

Well, that only escalates the issue.

It sort of came to a head yesterday when unlike my ordinary behavior, I yelled at her in anger to just shut up, I don't want to hear another word.

I don't want to justify what I did. Even if I was extremely angry and frustrated. I should be more understanding. She's obviously traumatized from the accident and suffering some kind of depression, maybe PTSD.

But I'm only human. So when I should be patient and understanding, I'm impatient and self-centered.

I admit it.

But she's still irritable and I'm still very frustrated. I don't even feel like going home tonight. I just want to hang out with some guy friends and have a couple of beers. Guys don't yell at each other and say things like "if you really cared about me, you'd..."

But then if she found out I drank a couple of beers, she'd start riding my ass about how I shouldn't be wasting money on alcohol, that it's bad for me, that I smell like a homeless man, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

And then I'd get even more frustrated because she'd STILL be irritable and I'd probably yell at her again to shut her trap that I don't want to hear another word.

I don't know any other way to describe it, I feel henpecked! To be honest, it didn't just start last week. It's just that it suddenly got a lot WORSE.

It's the sort of thing a guy can only take so much of. So I'm hoping she starts getting in a better disposition sometime soon. It's already enough to make me seriously reconsider this relationship thing.

I really care about Alba. But there's a limit to my patience.

The Stan

Used Car Shopping Sucks!

What a pain in the ass! I hate looking for cars. I’ve just spent the whole day searching for a decent sedan for $5000 or less. If a car looked like a good deal, it was either already sold…or involved in an accident.

I even took the day off work to look for a car, and we came up with nothing.

I suppose I can only blame our narrow search criteria: a Honda, Toyota, or Nissan sedan with no cosmetic issues, a clean carfax report, 150K miles or less, and nothing white, red, blue, green, yellow, or any color other than silver, black, grey, tan or gold…and preferably from a private seller rather than a dealer. (I just chafe at the idea of paying a premium to a used car salesman.)

There were actually quite a few possibilities that came up. But without exception, the best deals were already taken. And on the two occasions when I found what at first appeared to be a good deal, I took time to drive to see the cars and they were in awful shape.

So…back to square one. And the clock is ticking on the rental car.

Today was a busy day, but that culinary adventure post I promised is coming soon. Also, I’ve been requested to write about my encounter with molesto-man, so look for that sometime within the next few days or so.

Oh! I just remembered! I’ve actually had two molesto-man encounters, but the second was when I was much older and in college, so it was less traumatic. Just disgusting.

The Stan

A Scrape With Death

Alba totaled the Honda today. She's okay and so are the people who hit her. Thank God for that.

It was Alba's faught...mostly. She was driving west into the late afternoon sun. As she was approaching the intersection, she saw the light was green. But because of the sun, she couldn't see the light as she got closer to the intersection. She assumed that it would stay green...but as lights are wont to do, it switched to yellow...then red...then Alba flies into the intersection not realizing it had changed.

Unfortunately, the cross traffic was already moving through the intersection and she got hit on the driver's side. Both doors were severely smashed in. The back tire's flat. The car's a total loss.

But fortunately, Alba's okay. Unharmed. A bit shaken up, though. I think I would be, too. Imagine looking out your left window at a car fast approaching you. It's like looking into the face of death.

I almost died once. (Well, more than once, but I'm telling about this one incident.) I was in college in Springfield, MO at the time. I lived in a neighborhood with a railroad crossing, and I'd always cross over it on my way to school. There were no lights at this particular crossing--it was a small neighborhood street--and there was almost never a train that passed through there.

Except one day there was a train.

And it just so happened to be crossing my road the moment I was planning to cross its tracks. I usually slowed down to check that all was clear, but on this particular morning, I was late...and in a hurry. There was a building that obscured the view to the south. You had to get real close to the tracks to see around it.

Well I did get close to the tracks that day...going almost 40 mph on a residential street. And just as I cleared the building and could see to the south, there was a train RIGHT THERE!!

I slammed on my brakes and skidded about 20 feet or so and stopped about 20 feet or so in front of the tracks...just as the train passed right in front of me.

I looked into the face of death that day. I also looked into the face of the train engineer who was shaking his head and wagging his finger at me.

I don't know what it is with me and close calls. But every time they happen...once the initial moment of absolute terror has coursed through my veins...I think it's funny! I was cracking up all the way to the music store where I was scheduled to give a lesson. I almost died so I could trim five minutes off my trip to a lesson...and I was busting a gut!

This has happened several times. I won't go into all the close calls on L.A.'s freeways. There's just too many of them, and most of them are forgotten. When I was working as a computer tech, it was almost a daily occurance. I had to drive so much, there was always a car changing lanes, clipping me off. Or the traffic unexpectedly stopped. Or the big piece of debris in the road. One time this bucket few out of the back of a truck, bounced on the road in front of me, and headed straight for my windsheild. I swerved to miss it without even checking the other lane. Fortunately, no one was there.

After a while, it stopped being funny. But then I stopped getting the shots of adrenaline, too. Just like it was a daily automatic reaction to whatever potentially deadly thing the road threw at me. I didn't even react emotionally, I just reacted.

And over the course of four years driving the L.A. freeways, I never got into an accident...accept once...and it wasn't my faught...and ironically, I was at a dead stop on the freeway. I had been stopped for almost a minute when this truck plows into my rear bumper. I didn't even know what happened. Suddenly I'm thrust forward, my head rolls back and I'm looking straight up at the ceiling of my car wondering why I'm doing that, then I'm looking straight down at my crotch, then straight ahead again--all in less than a second.

I won't go into all the details of this story. I'll just point out that the bastard took off and I was stuck with a totaled car I had to replace. And a sore neck for the next few days.

One more story before I sign off: (This one I remember because I definitely had an emotional reaction!)

I was driving on the 210 in Pasadena, during the late afternoon a few years ago. I was cruising about 80 when suddenly, the whole freeway started slowing to a craw. The 18 wheeler in the lane next to me slams on his brakes and he starts skidding down the freeway. His trailer starts jackknifing--and moving into my lane! So I slam on my brakes harder to get behind this guy. He has a lot more momentum than I do.

Meanwhile, black acrid smoke is screaching off his tires right into my windshield and obscuring the whole scene. Fortunately, he doesn't hit anyone...and I stay well behind. Apparently, an accident has just happened up ahead, and that's why the traffic slowed down so suddenly. I don't don't know for sure because I couldn't see it. But I move over and get off at the next exit to bypass whatever stopped the traffic.

All it takes is a split second to separate your spirit from your body. Everyday, people are killed on L.A.'s freeways. But I'm still here because of the grace of God. I almost died at birth because the umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck. I almost died as a child from a severe allergic reaction to a red wasp sting--another few minutes getting to the hospital and I'd have been a goner. And as an adult, I've had more close calls than I care to remember.

But I'm still here.

And thank God Alba is, too.

Let's hope we're both around for a long time to come!

The Stan

P.S. I'll post my culinary adventure tomorrow!

How To Get a Hard-On From a Spider

Lurking in the Brazilian rainforests...

awaits a terrifying eight-legged creature...

a spider with such terrible venom...

it gives you a massive hard-on that lasts for hours!

http://www.livescience.com/humanbiology/070501_spider_venom.html

What if Spiderman would have been bitten by this guy. I suppose he'd have an entirely different set of powers...

Seriously, though. I'm sure there are many men impatiently awaiting the commercial development of this discovery. I hear the new drug will be given the scientific name "mycoxafailin."

Dr. Hardstan

How To Destroy The Earth

I found this interesting article on Live Science today, featuring the top ten ways to destroy the Earth. Check it out:

http://www.livescience.com/technology/destroy_earth_mp.html

My favorite, and the most intriquing method, is the light bulb one. I'm going to have to look into that.

Mwahahahahaaaaaaaa.....

Dr. Evilstan

The Stan and His Wo-man...

Well, that’s me. And that’s my fiancée. This photo was taken, oh, almost three years and 60 pounds ago. We’re standing at the kitchen bar in our apartment.

Alba is a Oaxacan native and descended from the Mayans. Ever since watching Apocalypto, I’ve been living in fear that she may be harboring some long-dormant head-lopping genes that could express themselves at any moment…particularly during certain periods of the lunar cycle.

Now is one of those times.

Since Alba doesn’t like taking medications of any kind, she just suffers through it…and I along with her.

Still…I always forgive her for her grouchiness. Who can’t forgive such a beautiful face?

Perhaps the most remarkable thing about Alba’s appearance (besides being short) are her eyes. They can’t be called brown…they’re almost solid black. You have to get really close to distinguish the iris from the pupil…which means you have no idea if her eyes are dilating or contracting.

So to judge her frame of mind, you must look for other clues…like the furrow in her brow, or the shape of her mouth.

That may be a bit disconcerting for some people, but to me it makes her even more beautiful and alluring.

In a lot of ways, we really are an odd couple. I’m much taller than she is. I weigh well over twice as much as she. Even once I get back to my lean-mean-sexy machine self (I believe I was around 220 at the time this photo was taken), I’ll still weigh twice as much as she.

I suppose you don’t really appreciate the cultural difference until you live with someone for a while. Since English is Alba’s second language, communication can be maddening at times.

But also humorous.

For example, she occasionally says, “See you later agulator!”

To which I can only respond, “After while, crodocile!”

She often gets “he” and “she” confused and it makes it almost impossible to follow a story if more than one person and one gender is involved.

And on one occasion, she said, “Let’s finish watching this tomaña,” a mix between the English “tomorrow” and the Spanish “mañana.”

Being the occasionally quick-witted person I am, I said “Okay, but I’m really in need of a glass of aguater!” (Spanish “agua” and English “water.” I guess you had to have been there.)

Anyway, you never know what Alba’s going to say…and when she says it, it often makes little sense.

But I still love her.

She’s also introduced me to some very tasty foods I’d never heard of and would likely have gone my whole life never eating were it not for her. I’ll talk more about those tomorrow...

That is, of course, if my head is still firmly attached to my shoulders! Let’s hope it stays there for a very long time…

The Stan