Here's to the Experts.

As my Facebook pals have seen, I have been having some car issues. Now, there was once a time in my youth, where I could be considered a "car guy". It's still true to a greater degree: I love cars, I love classic cars, and hot rods and all those wonderful things. I have a great appreciation for classic Detroit steel, yet at the tender age of about 23 I abandoned my good ol' 1978 hooptie Cadillac in favor of an Isuzu Rodeo. Though I will say, it has served me admirably as long as I've had it.

That is, until about two weeks ago. It started overheating, acting all weird, and leaking coolant like hell. But therein lies the problem: I am generally handy with a lot of things, but there's no fix-all like "unplug it and plug it back in again" with a car. I did what I could: I re-filled the coolant reservoir, checked the oil, topped it off, and walked around the car while scratching my chin. Then I gazed deeply into the depths of my engine, much like the gentleman to the right. Then I wiped my hands and got back in the car and kept on driving.

So what did I do when the problems persisted? What any reasonable guy my age would do: I asked my dad to look at it.

See, unlike me, my dad is from that generation. You know, the generation of guys who change their own oil, who know how to snake a drain (and own a snake to do it with), the guys who know metric-to-standard conversions off the top of their head. The generation of guys who build, measure, draft, re-wire, and repair, all without the aid of our good pal, the google machine. It's not necessarily a knock on our generation; we just have different skill sets, and I guess that's indicative of the change in times. Yeah, we know html, we can work in Photoshop, and we can even assemble Ikea furniture when necessity dictates, many of us just have no idea how to gap spark plugs.

It is an interesting generational chat I had with my folks just today that brought this all together. We were discussing cooking, and my pops made the offhand remark that more males in my generation, and his to an extent, cook for themselves. My grandfather, who was a true man's man of the previous generation (he was a logger, a longshoreman, and for a time a demolitions worker) would never set foot in the kitchen unless it was to eat or to get a fresh beer. Anything else was women's work. But I think it really speaks volumes to the differences in generations, with different skill sets, different knowledge, and really different talents. And while I may not have been able to discern that one of my spark plugs in my poor car had gone kaputski, and that my radiator was leaking, I was able to go on Facebook, ask everyone if they knew a good mechanic, and find a friend who I went to high school with who was an amazing help, and saved me a trip to the auto shop. So sometimes my skills can pay off too. Yes, it was pops who replaced the radiator and the plugs, but it was a high school pal two years younger than myself who identified the issue in the first place.

If You Didn't Blog It...

Hey all, I'm back yet again. It's been too long yet again. Let's move forward from there. Recently I read a rather fascinating blog written by Anil Dash, who is kind of famous to a lot of us interwebby folks. In it he claims "If You Didn't Blog It, It Didn't Happen", and that title alone really got me thinking; I have been so lax in my blogging in the past year or so. I often attribute it to being busy or just plain not having much in life to blog about. Plus, I figure a lot of the folks who read this probably either check my Twitter or Facebook or Foursquare or something to that effect, or else you just see me in real life. But that's not blogging. That's "having a blog that stagnates while you don't write on it." Still, I have to constantly remind myself that pithy quips or check-ins at local drinking establishments does not online content make. (well, it kind of does, but it ain't great reading) I have prized myself for quite some time now on my ability as a wordsmith; I like to think that I have a certain pizzaz when it comes to writing interesting stuff that most of the general public, or more importantly you folks who read this blog, find both readable and enjoyable. Yes, I get a bit verbose at times, and I also have a rather undesirable habit of dropping a few f-bombs here and there when I get worked up, but all in all, I like to think I spin a good yarn about whatever it is I happen to be writing about.

So, let's get this train back on the tracks and steaming towards something fun and interesting for both myself and for you. The biggest news that has transpired since I last sat in front of this composition window is that I will soon be re-locating from my beloved basement hovel to a posh (posh for yours truly at least) and swanky new bachelor pad by the beach. I am finally laying down stakes (rented stakes at that) in the Outer Sunset. The good news is that I will be a mere five or six blocks from my beloved coffee shop, rather than like two miles, so I should be back on my home turf for classic blogging. The down side, if any, is that I will be sharing this swank bachelor pad with two of my good friends. That will be an ongoing adventure which shall unfold and I'm sure much of it will end up on this fine blog.

On a somewhat more philosophical note, I had a fascinating discussion with a friend tonight about happiness, and more importantly, my own personal happiness. Those of you who know me or have met me all would consider me a fairly happy-go-lucky guy, and you would be absolutely right. By and large I am a very upbeat and cheery gent. Still, overall, I tend to find myself being dissatisfied with various aspects of my life, whether it be the basement hovel, the lack of a sweet young thing to call my own, or the current lack of gainful employ. None of them completely set the ship off course, but overall, and when added together, they can cause for the occasional rough patch in what is usually a pretty smooth sail. I had to admit that the last time I felt completely satisfied with my life, and felt like everything was really coming up Bill was back at the tender age of seventeen or thereabouts. I was finishing up high school, doing well in classes, enjoying playing music as well as playing sports, and I had a fantastic group of friends as well as the general good wishes of most all of my classmates. In other words, I had the world by the balls and the future looked bright and sunny for me. Since then, I can't say that anything major has changed. I am blessed to be healthy still, I still pride myself on the wonderful friends I am surrounded with day in and day out, I still get to play music that makes me feel invincible. None of these things have gone unrealized or unnoticed. Still, there are a lot of nagging thoughts about potential realized and all that jazz. Maybe I was just brought up in a nature of a lot of positive support or something, but I felt (and still feel) that there's something great that I'm meant to do, and I feel like I've spent a number of years searching to find that thing. I have to remain optimistic that it is still possible, but in the meantime I need to also think about paying bills and all that fun stuff.

Plus, the more I thought about this question, I began to realize the other, perhaps more positive, interpretation of why I am seldom completely happy and content: I love challenging myself to live up to my expectations. Yeah, I beat myself up at times or get down on myself when things don't go my way, but by constantly challenging myself do to something bigger or better with my life, I can make sure that I don't get caught up in the day-to-day mundanity that people sometimes get stuck in. Clearly I'm not knocking a regular 9-5. If someone offered me something that would pay the bills that I found even moderately interesting, I'd swoop it up in a heartbeat. But I think a little dissatisfaction goes a long way in challenging yourself to be better at whatever it is you do, whether it's work or school or music or writing or anything else.

I don't really know where I was going with all this, and it's late, so I'm sure I'll re-read this when I wake up in the morning (afternoon) and scratch my head and wonder what in the hell got in to me, but it was somewhat cathartic to get all this out. Sorry if I've rambled a bit, but the mere act of sitting here and writing has been wonderful. Hopefully this is a harbinger of things to come, and I get back on the ol' blogging pony on the regular.

No Flow

A caveat before you read this: I'm kind of irrationally cranky these days. This may be tinting my perception of the world around me the last few days. I'm also listening to my playlist which I call "Old Sad Bastard Music" so that may also have a little bearing on my current mood. Having said that, I will do my best to put this in a comedic light...

Arright, so I was out buying bread tonight to bring to dinner at my friends' place, and (as those of you who follow my Twitter, Tumblr, or FB already know) Trader Joe's, the universe's standby for bread, was completely tapped out. I am not exaggerating or doing anything for effect. There wasn't a damn piece of bread to be had in the whole store. I'm talking like end of days Y2k stocking up kind of lack of bread. From the right side of the entire aisle of bread to the area where the muffins and cookies are sold, there was not a single item to be purchased.

So, I came up with the brilliant thought to try the Boudin bakery just down the way in the mall. If you are from SF, and have been to Stonestown Galleria, you probably know the geography of this story well, and if you don't, let it suffice to say that I had to trapse the entire distance of a moderately sized mall in order to get from point A to point B. As I made this journey, I decided to make the whole experience a little more interesting by seeing if I could walk the entire distance without breaking stride. It's these little challenges I do from time to time to attempt to restore my faith in the common sense of humanity, and oh what a mistake that was.

If there is one thing I came to realize from this trek through the mall was that the heads of my fellow man are so deeply embedded into their own rectums (recti?) that I might as well have been walking around a herd of misguided cattle. Sadly, I can't count on my fingers the number of people who were just wandering slack-jawed, completely content to meander their way through the evening. (see image at right) Yes, I know people window shop, and I know that not everyone places the value on ambulation that I do, but I can't help but get a little frustrated at families walking four abreast who have to stop to examine spots on the ground, what kind of mannequins are in the window, or how it is that the little garage door-style grates come down to close off stores at closing time. They might as well be like monkeys picking nits from each others' fur for an early evening snack. Even worse is the people who stop to answer their cell phones as if walking and talking were a herculean task that just shouldn't be attempted in public. I damn near ran over two separate people whom I happened to end up behind because they came to an immediate halt to stand stock still, check their phones to see who was calling, and then begin a conversation as if they were the only people within a hundred yards.

Yes, I'm an old coot. I think that there are conversations that can wait. I think that yelling into your phone in a public place to try to carry on a conversation over the general humdrum of the mall is dumb. Still, my bigger gripe is not having the slightest concern for those around you and the fact that they might actually want to walk at a normal pace or not have to constantly side step these odd techno-zombies. I can't help it; I'm a man of decorum - I still look behind me whenever walking through a door that might need to be held open for someone behind me. That happened too tonight - I was entering the mall maybe two strides behind this couple, and I almost caught a faceful of door because I mistakenly assumed that when the guy turned around and almost flicked his cigarette into my chest, he might have realized there was someone right behind them headed in the same direction.

Sorry, I digress. The world is not a sad and terrible place. There are still plenty of things that uphold my faith in humanity, like kitties that wear people clothes, free Tetris, good music, olympic weightlifters who look like they might explode at any moment, Star Wars rock and roll motivational posters, 90210 reruns, and finally, this video of a Corgi doing bellyflops.