Liberate Tutame Ex Inferis

Catching Up With Jon Losey - A Two Part Series (Part Une)

2008-08-19T23:40:00.000-07:00

Where to start? I haven't updated this damn thing in way too long. So much stuff has happened in my life since February. Beware though, this is only part 1 of a legendary 2 part series.

This city is perfect for me. The weather is amazing (from my perspective), at a general temperature between 60 and 70 degrees Fahrenheit. If it gets really warm here, it will cool down to a nice temperature within a couple days as the sweet sweet mysterious fog blankets the city in its cotton candy goodness. The air is fresh (well maybe just fresher than Vegas). The people are generally sustainable. The shops are independent. You get my point. It's something that I continually find myself in love with.

In no particular order, I thought you might like to know what is going on in my life. Why do I forget to call people back now, when I never really did that in Las Vegas? Here are my reasons and I apologize profusely if you have been a victim of this forgetfulness.

Couchsurfing - After my experiences couchsurfing in Jerusalem and Cairo, I found a new love for the gift of couchsurfing. If you are unaware what this activity is, it has nothing to do with tides. It is a site that connects hosts (or people that will allow other people that they do not know to stay on their couch for free) to surfers (or people that are looking to travel to meet new people and experience cities from a local's perspective – and yes maybe stay on a couch for free). So far I have had surfers from Sweden, Canada, France, Austria, the Netherlands, Japan, Denmark, and even the United States. It is an amazing thing to exchange culture or just plain friendship on such a simplistic level.

Rock climbing at Consumnes – For any of y'all that know me even the slightest amount, you'd know that I'm not the most athletic of individuals. I'm fine with that scenic painting, even though I wish I was a better candidate for 'Greek God of the Year'. Well, I've decided that I'm never going to let that hold me back from trying my best at athletic activities. Let's give you a visual. Imagine all 160-something pounds of Jon Losey muscle working at pulling himself up a cliff. Not that ridiculous right? Do you remember the one-handed push-ups during Cyndi Lauper covers? Then imagine that he has wimpy pseudo-legs and has to use his howitzer-like arms to climb up the face of a rock. Even howitzers can't exude that much energy! Ok. So maybe the Cyndi Lauper days are over, but I really enjoyed rock climbing and will continue to mooch off of my roommate Libby and her excitement for the sport.

Opera at AT&T park – YES! What could fit me better than sitting on a picnic blanket drinking alcohol and swooning to the vocal stylings of Lucia di Lammermoor? Add the fact that it was in a baseball stadium and I was in the front row on the grass and ... it was free. Okay, it was simulcast on to a HD screen that was filming it at the San Francisco Opera House and the sound was dubbing a tad bit off, but whatev.

Man-fest Destiny Boston – So this has nothing to do with San Francisco, but I count it as one of those generic love clichés about absence making the heart grow fonder. It is always great when friends meet up, especially in a foreign city. Our goal going into this trip was to calm down on the gayness a small amount. We failed miserably. In fact, Lowell and I are apparently a couple. Not to mention that even Bryan was classified as a probable homosexual. I must've been wearing a scarf or something like that. *shrugs* Also, a couple quick notes, 1) don't talk to Bostonians about dogs in bathtubs, it ruins parties 2) No means no, please don't' sleep in my sleeping bag and/or drag me across the room for sexy time.

Public Open Spaces – I went around San Francisco one day with Vogel and we played city sleuth wandering around buildings downtown and in SOMA looking for public open spaces. It is a law in San Francisco that any new building that is of a certain size needs to have an area dedicated as a public open space. These gardens are veiled in secrecy. Through a combination of secret handshakes, back-alley shank-ings, and scratching of heads, we were able to sleuth our way through the city and locate some of these hidden gems.

The Saloon – Since I've moved here, I've grown fonder of this thing called dancing. Now mind you that having any thoughts about skills that you might assume I have in this endeavor would do two things. They would make an ass out of you AND most importantly they would make an ass out of me. So let's cut to the chase and say I'm shit at it. But more importantly, my favorite place to dance is this dive Blues bar in North Beach called the Saloon. It is said to be the oldest bar in San Francisco. Generally, I will be the only one under 50 dancing, but that makes it all the more enticing for me. I have never EVER had that much fun dancing in my life. If you come to San Francisco and you want to put on your jiving jumpers, let a brotha know.

Japantown – The cleaner, more organized Chinatown in San Francisco, Japantown is a great place to go to enjoy some of Japan's finer things. First off it has crazy-amazing photobooths, sushi boats, karaoke, and cherry blossoms in April. But most importantly, they sell toilet add-ons with a bidet. If you believe in magic, well I hope you do.

Biking to work – San Francisco has done a lot to change my view point on energy consumption, and as a result of that, and the fact that my commute is about 2 hours a day; I have grown fond of biking to the train station and then riding the train to work. It gives me a good amount of time to read interesting books and just plain think. Plus all the food and alcohol I consume here is not helping me in keeping my girlish figure. I currently am only doing it 1 or 2 days a week, but I guess one step forward is a good step.

Cabbie Experience coming back from North Beach – Just recently I had the best cab ride ever! So there we were leaving a bar in North Beach as I gently frolicked over to a cab that would take Jordan and a couchsurfer from the Netherlands back to our neck of the woods. The first thing I heard from the cabbie as I sauntered into the cab was, "that guy just called you a fag", as he gestured to a car right next to his (it was an understandably questionable saunter). The cab driver then proceeded to take us on our merry way, as he offered us 3 ice cold tall cans that he seemed to have pulled out of his jacket. As we all sloshed down this situational Nirvana of beer, he decided to us show us pictures of his sketchy girlfriend and one picture of him in the middle of a group of models, which invariably improved his standing with every party within the vehicle. As the suckling of beer continued, he asked us if we'd like to jump the slope on Gough, to which we all dutifully replied, "Hell Yes!" As he accelerated two lights before the slope, we all exchanged looks of glee. A frothy ice-cold molten volcano of beer spewed from each of our beers as we suddenly flew into the air. The amount of laughter and happiness that ensued still brings a smile to my face.

Alamo Square Movie Night – As if the "Full House" park being right next to my house wasn't enough, they've started to do movie nights where they bring a big projector into the park and neighbors will come and lie in the park and watch movies. A slight benefit to the layout is that you have the hill-ridden lit up city in the background. We've seen Back to the Future and local Independent movies there. Libby has this tiny little Ikea couch that we carried up to the park last time, which turned out to be a perfect complement to Irish coffee and cookies. Who knew?

Luxor Girl – When I was traveling in Egypt recently, a girl asked me to take a picture of her in front of the Tutankhamen tomb in Luxor. We both split up from that point only to run into each other at the Sheraton Luxor's pool (I snuck in on my last day to get some rays before I returned back to the States.) I was heading down to take a Sunset ride in a Felucca (small sail boat) on the Nile so I decided to invite her along. After the Sun had set we walked to the center of the city to smoke sheesha (hookah) and talk until I had to leave to the Airport. It was one of those truly great traveling experiences where you connect with someone amid all the babble. We ended up staying in touch and she recently visited San Francisco.

BYOBW – This acronym stands for "Bring Your Own Big Wheel" and is a yearly race where hundreds of people careen down the extremely steep curvy hills (this year was Valencia and in years prior it was Lombard St.) in San Francisco. Libby and I really wanted to partake in this activity, but we were stupid and didn't realize that all the big wheels in the city would be sold out. However, watching this amazing debacle proved to be just as fun. You saw people from all walks of life dressed in full ridiculous regalia. It was Halloween on wheels. My favorite groups were the Jamaican Bob Sled team (made out of plastic trash cans), the "Pedal Files", and the guy that took a picture of this thong under his skirt instead of taking our picture in front of the event sign.

Kenny Garrett at Fillmore Jazz – A good group of friends accompanied me to an amazing Jazz concert at Yoshi's. This place is a premier jazz venue that just happens to serve sushi. I got mighty drunk and rocked the hell out. You should've seen the grin on my face.

Whiskey and Beer – You'd be surprised, but I actually quite enjoy beer and whiskey now. It had to happen sooner or later. My preference seems to move towards dark beers and whiskey on the rocks.

Bay to Breakers – What had started as a genial and plain old marathon has, in typical SF fashion, turned into one of the largest parties of the year. Of course the people that start the marathon are serious about it and compete for record time, but as the thousands turn into tens of thousands, the crowd moves from runners to joggers to walkers to just plain stumblers. Highlights of this years Bay to Breakers include keg-shopping-carts, the spawning salmon (people that run the race upstream), 8 port-a-potties with 8 people peeing inside and 8 people peeing on the back of them, four girls backs-to-the-tree on each side of the tree squatting and peeing in the middle of the park, and finally all the naked runners.

First Solitary Exclusive Singular Lone Travel Adventure

2008-03-12T18:30:00.001-07:00

I recently traveled by myself (did you get that from the title?) to Israel and Egypt. It was a brilliant opportunity that was set upon a golden platter, much like the deliverance of John the Baptist's head to Herod Antipas, by the slave driver of the day (see Check Point Software Technologies Ltd.).

Actually, I am being facetious. My work kindly gave me a roundtrip ticket to Tel Aviv and back from Cairo. The ticket was meant for new hire orientation in Tel Aviv, but I was able to extend the ticket by a week and a half to include personal travels in Israel and Egypt.As such, I am enclosing photography of this experience with appropriate commentary juxtaposed together with love. As this journal may carry on in length, it is only advised for people that have time to dedicate to a full appreciation of this post.

For those of you brave enough to continue, I have 3 questions you must answer before you are allowed to pass.

1) What... is your name?
2) What... is your quest?
3) What... is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?

What say you?

Anyways ... here goes ...The total trip encompassed Tel Aviv, the Dead Sea, Masada, Jerusalem, Cairo, Saqqara, and Luxor.

Israel

Israel is a land of beauty filled with a tragic history. Even today there are many competing factions that vie to be heard amongst the swell of voices, each carrying their own ideology on their backs with blinders on their eyes. This is not to say that all Israelis have this same demeanor, but there is definitely a stubborness that I saw and even talked about at my work through cultural sensitivity training.

There are many groups that build out society in Israel ...
Israeli, Palestinian, Israeli Jew, Israeli Arab, Bedouins, Islam, Judaism, Christianity, Hamas, Fatah, Hezbollah, Sunni Muslims, Shi'a Muslims, Ashkenazi, Sephardi, Religious Jews, Secular Jews, Orthodox Jews, Conservative Jews, Reform Jews, Eastern Orthodox, Armenian Apostolic, Roman Catholic, Coptic Orthodox, Ethiopian Orthodox, and Syriac Orthodox.

Well you get my point. The country and more specifically Jerusalem have so many competing factions, that politics wreak of it. Not to say that most other countries don't have feuds or competing groups. Every country has that. However, it seemed more tangible to me while I was there. Of course all this is merely my opinion and keep in mind that this does not mean that everyone is feuding in Israel, it just is meant to say that the competition between groups is extremely palpable.

This is the view of the beach in Tel Aviv from my hotel balcony. The beach there was marvelous and I can only imagine how it would've been during summer. I stayed in Tel Aviv for about a week for my work's new hire orientation (the original purpose of my visit).

We arrived on Friday evening or Shabbat. Because many Orthodox Jews do not operate electronics on the Sabbath, they had this button in my hotel room to turn off electronic devices during the Sabbath. Another interesting thing I saw was a sign upon entering through a metal detector going to the Western Wall (Judaism's most religious site). It basically read that it was agreed that going through the metal detector on Shabbat did not violate any rules against using electronics on that day.

On this day I took a tour to Masada and to the Dead Sea. While it was relatively cheap, it made me never want to take another organized tour again in my life. We spent about 30 minutes at the top (missing Herod's Palace and the ramp the Roman's built to overthrow this fortress on a hill) only to come down to spend another 30 minutes at the souvenir shop where we were force-fed Dead Sea products and cheeky Israeli memorabilia. Yippee.

Fresh oranges and orange juice are a staple in Israel. We had a fresh juice squeezer in my hotel, at my work, and juice stands were all over the country. This photo was taken right below Masada, a castle built by King Herod. At the top of his hill around 70 CE, 900 Jews killed themselves rather then be forced into servitude for the Roman Empire.

Floating by the Dead Sea was by far one of the coolest things I was able to do while in Israel. The interesting thing about walking into the sea is that the ground is crystallized (it really hurt to walk on it) from the high mineral content of the water. There were wooden posts sticking out of the water that looked like those crystallized sugar sticks you get at a candy store. If you think normal salt water tastes bad, boy howdy are you in for a treat. I can top that though. If you get this water in your eye, it burns as if you had jalapeno juice squirted into an open wound. Now that's one hot tamale!

However, you shouldn't get turned off by the previous description. Once you set sail things change. You are your own boat. You are the captain and the crew. You start floating like a man-schooner with the warm sun tantalizing your deck and a cool breeze blowing across your bow. The sea is a bright tropical blue, with the backdrop on land reminding you of the Grand Canyon. The huge plateaued cliffs adding the perfect backdrop to this voyage you charted. You realize that you could do this all day. If only floating in here for 10 minutes didn't raise your blood pressure by a large percentage that is.

I'm sure that if you've heard about the Dead Sea, you've heard about those crazy mud baths. Well I always thought this occurred in some fancy-shmancy 5-star hotel. Well here at Ein Gedi, you have a wooden crate full of thick chocolate-pudding-esque cream that you rub on your buddy. As I always dreamed of having perfect soft skin (har har), I really did a number on myself. I do have a couple of uncovered spots. Namely under my shorts and a dab here or there otherwise. But covering that surface area could've taken days or weeks. So this is a picture of me settling. Is this a good look or what?

This is a view of the Old City and the Dome of the Rock from the Mount of Olives. No, there aren't any olives there anymore! Yes, it still is a mount. Towards the bottom of the picture is the oldest Jewish cemetary in the world (if not the galaxy!). Do you like my hair do? It was windy that day, shut up!

Luckily it was cold as balls this day. For clarification, it was cold as balls of ice cream. There was no one out there and I was able to score this bad-ass picture of me at the Western (Wailing) Wall. It is considered the most religious Jewish site due to its proximity to the Jewish temples that at one time existed there as well as the place in which the Holy of Holies was placed.

There is a male and female side for the Wailing Wall. On the male side you will see Abe Lincoln-looking dudes rockin' out. Well kinda. While I would generally rock out by banging my head, these guys will rock out by praying with their heads and their bodies. Imagine their upper torso like a flipper in pinball and imagine that they are singing from the Torah (first 5 books of the Bible) in Hebrew. It's a completely natural way to express your fervor in prayer. It was really interesting to watch and in fact I took a nap when I came back to Jerusalem another day. It was strangely therapeutic.

On my last night in Tel Aviv, I ended up going out with some of the Israeli counterparts I had met that work at CheckPoint. Two of the girls took me out for THE BEST falafel I've ever had in my life. The place was called Hakosem, but you'll need someone to direct you towards it because the sign is in Hebrew. It was crazy delicious. The next time I visit Israel this will be a daily staple. *drools*

Also on my last night in Tel Aviv, I went out for drinks with more coworkers (most of them are from Tel Aviv). I got into a great conversation with one of the girls about politics in Israel (which I was dying to talk to someone about). In order to get to this bar you had to follow a maze with just about every preposition you can think of included in the directions. It was right above a gas station and right below an overpass. Luck for me they had good drinks and good times were had.

These are two great hosts that I stayed with in Jerusalem. Yuval and Maor were both very hospitable to me. I ended up going to a market on Friday (right before everything closes in Jerusalem for Shabbat). It was crazy hectic there. For Shabbat, they even have a siren that goes off in the city to let everyone know it is Shabbat.

Yuval ended up taking me to eat with some of his family who were Ultra-Orthodox. The father was a Rabbi and the family had 10 kids. It was a truly interesting experience to have Shabbat dinner with their family, even if my yarmulke kept on falling off. Maor ended up taking me to a Jerusalem indie dance party, which funnily enough was just like an indie dance party in the states.

This show was at a kibbutz near Jerusalem. If you don't know what a kibbutz is, it is a self-sustaining collective community. The Hebrew band was very good. I did recognize one song they played and it was in English. They played Van Morrison's Moondance.

I thought this picture was interesting and in a way was a microcosm of the sites I saw in Jerusalem. It was a combination of the modern and the historical with the religious and the playful. Or in other words, the playground and the Islamic minaret.

This sign was interesting for me. In talking to multiple people in Israel, they all wanted to give Palestine their own autonomous state. And it seemed like all the young people thought that the way Palestinians are treated in Israeli society is despicable. However, from what I read in popular media, the country of Israel seems to be opposed to giving Palestine a completely autonomous state. I think the issue of allowing Palestinians to move back into Israel was a little bit more of an issue however.

This is a group of posters, usually called pashkevilim in the ultra-Orthodox neighborhood called Mea Shearim. They cover the whole neighborhood. I found this quote that pretty much sums it up.

“One of Mea Shearim’s prominent features are the posters affixed to walls, fences and doors. Posters are the neighborhood’s common form of social communication. And some say the quarter’s decrepit walls would have collapsed long ago were it not for the posters holding them together. The posters convey a variety of messages. Some warn of proper dress for women: ‘Jewish daughters, the holy Torah obligates you to dress modestly at all times, with long sleeves and closed necklines.’ Others decry watching television or a Jerusalem pool that allows mixed-sex swimming. Still others denounce another ultra-Orthodox sect for its treason, wickedness or godlessness.”

I liked the look of this street in the Old City of Jerusalem and I was about to take a picture, when this young man turned the corner. Well he saw me taking a picture so he started to almost run to get out of the picture. Many Orthodox Jews hate getting their picture taken. Anyways, I thought the picture turned out well. The Old City has streets like this twisting all throughout the Old City.

This was taken on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. The door was left open to this room and I hurriedly snapped a picture while someone stirred in the next room. I thought the color contrast and the set up of the room made for an interesting shot.

This door led out to the Old City from the Temple Mount. This a Muslim entrance to the mosques on the Temple Mount. There is only one non-Muslim entrance to this area, unfortunately.

This is the debate that everyone with a camera makes. When you see something that would utterly capture emotion in passing, what are you to do? Do you treat everyone as a person with feelings, or do you try and capture something arresting or beautiful for the sake of beauty. The close-up of this man is what I wanted so badly. His eyes were shut in this look that expressed the depths of sadness and experience. I found my self thinking, if only I could see what this man has seen in his long life.

I thought this was another interesting shot I had taken in the back alley shops of the Old City. There is an old lady on the ground selling all sorts of vegetables while onlookers pass-by.

One of my goals in traveling was to sit down with a bunch of old men and smoke sheesha. At the point in time that I came to this shop in Jerusalem, there were only a handful of men in the establishment. I drank mint tea and smoked sheesha (unflavored) which I was not too partial to.
Egypt

Egypt was a dichotomy of enjoyment for me. I think the best way to describe this country is the feeling that I got on the top of Al Azher park (the only park in Cairo). There I was sitting on the grass, traffic of Al Azher Street to my right and the expanse of haze, minarets, and distant Nile greeted me on the left. I was waiting for something. I was waiting for the time when the constant honking of traffic on my right collided with the prayers bouncing off of every minaret in the whole city on my left. This sound blended together to create a vision of cacophony and tradition. Where you are yelled at and kicked off a train because you were unknowingly sitting in a women only car. Where you are constantly approached and harassed because of the color of your skin. Where a taxi cab ride could be the last thing you experience before you die. Where there is a cliché that holds true for the most part regarding “Egypt time” (everyone being late). And finally where one of the greatest civilizations that ever existed planted its seeds and grew along the Nile.

I can still hear it now. *In Egyptian accent* Hey! Welcome. Where you from? (As I continue walking trying to ignore) Welcome. Where you from? America? Good Place. You want felucca? You want galesh (horse-drawn carriage)? Come come. All I need is one second. I have a business card for you in my shop. See this? This is a picture of my father with *fill in the blank historical figure*. This shop has been in my family for 10 generations. Nice perfumes. You have girlfriend? No? You have mother? No? You have sister? No? Sit down. Have some tea. *Yells at some unseen person for tea* Sign my guestbook. I have people from all over the world coming here. That bottle is 200 Egyptian Pounds (40 dollars). I tell him I'll give him 50 Egyptian Pounds. He says, my friend I have a family to feed. I can't sell it to you for that amount. Back and forth. I threaten to leave. Sold for 70 Egyptian Pounds. You don't know how often these situations occurred. It was taxing on me and probably my least favorite thing about Egypt.

But you realize that it makes sense. In this country income is derived off of tourism. Out of the 80 million people living here, around 43.9% make less than $2 a day. I ask myself if I wouldn't do whatever I could to make a good living for myself. Your thoughts of anyone in the west are that they are far better off than you. What does it hurt to charge them extra or to try and be aggressive in sales? It feeds your family and it helps you to provide for your life. Things are cheaper in Egypt anyways. So a bargain to you is a bargain to them right?

Despite my annoyances with the heckling and sales pitches and the constant trials to rip you off, I really enjoyed Egypt. I would compare the country to a brand new pair of hiking boots. The hike is much better when you know those boots; when you have worn them in and you are comfortable with the travels you have in them. But if you don't wear them in, you can end up blistering your foot and you can end up never walking in them in the first place. You would never be able to see all of the history and culture that lies beneath the hustle and bustle of modern Egypt. The pyramids, the tombs, the temples, the Nile, and yes eventually even the people of Egypt start to become that much more appealing.

What is this picture about? Oh yeah! The pyramids of Giza!!!!! This is Chephren, the most beautiful pyramid in my opinion, but it is only the 2nd largest at Giza. The man who took my photo was a security guard. Because of the small amount of money these guards make, he asked for baksheesh (tips). An old man began to yell at me that I shouldn't give him any money. They then proceeded to stare at each other with hatred while I hastily left the area.

Trash everywhere! This is from the taxi down to Saqqara. It was utterly sad to see the state of this canal. Trash and human waste were everywhere. To make matters worse, this is the drinking water for the people that live in the area. There were pumps lined up all along this waterway where the locals would stock up on water.

This man is another adherent of baksheesh. He tried so desperately to point out some of the oldest graffiti known to man (behind the glass casing in the picture). When I set up my camera to take a picture he was already in the photo so I rested my hand on his shoulder to bring him into the camera. When the photo was about to take he kissed me on my cheek. Keep in mind that there is a 10 second timer so he kissed me twice more to make the photo. I definitely wasn’t expecting that at all and to add to the situation the photo came out beautifully.

I want a count of the amount of girls that see this photo and don't say "how cute" or some derivation thereof. This is the step pyramid in Saqqara. It is the oldest known pyramid in Egypt. After taking this photo I'm sure that a deluge of tourists followed my lead.

As you can see in the photo, there is an Islamic minaret in the background. There are megaphones at the top that broadcast the call of prayer 5 times throughout the day. At that point all Muslims are supposed to stop what they are doing and pray to Mecca. Even in a religion as devout as Islam, you would find that the majority of Muslims did not in fact bow for prayer (from what I saw).

Shot of a poor neighborhood in Cairo near the Khan-al-Khalili bazaar.

Aish (bread) is a staple in Egyptian society. Its translation in Arabic means life. This type of bread goes back to the ancient Egyptians. Currently there have been many issues with this bread because it was at some point subsidized by the Egyptian government, but costs have been rising for bread and violence in bread queues has increased because of it. If you saw a crowd tightly packed together in front of a building, it was usually a crowd that was trying to get bread.

At one of these crowds, I went up to the front because I wanted some fresh bread (not knowing about the violence that can occur in these lines at this point in time). Some young kids (11 or 12 year olds) came out with a huge tray of this bread and it was piping hot. I asked if I could purchase a piece of it and the kid holding the tray just gave it to me. That was I believe one of the only times that an Egyptian ever gave me something without expecting compensation. I was really happy about that and I thanked the kid profusely for it (Shukran Gazeelan - pronounced SHOO KRAN GAH ZEE LAN - means thank you very much)

This was taken on a side street in Cairo. This man is making souvenirs. I got up enough courage to ask him if I could take this photograph. I wish I would've got up enough courage to ask other
people the same.

The bazaar of Khan-al-Khalili was humongous. There were touristy areas and there were non-touristy areas. You could get just about anything you were looking for in this expansive market. This picture was of the spice market area. It smelled so damn lovely there; I couldn't get over it. I would float through as if my nose were a puppeteer intent on painting the ground with my footsteps.

The Egyptians had a tradition of building houses next to their dead so that their families could sleep next to them and remember them throughout time. The poor of Cairo that were pushed out of housing due to cost, ended up moving into these vast graveyards and taking up residence in these houses that were built for the dead. Currently, this City of the Dead (otherwise known as the Northern Cemetery) has a post office and other such services provided to it by the Egyptian government.

It was a completely moving experience to see these cities in person. I was told that bringing the children in these cities pens would bring a smile to their faces and so I bought about 15 pens to bring to the children. Within about 10 seconds of entering this necropolis, I had curious children coming out to look at me. I had put the majority of the pens in my back pocket before entering. So I started to hand them out to the children. Pretty soon 2 or 3 children jumped to 5 or 6 children all requesting pens for their little brother and the older brother and their little sister and their older sister. I ran out of the pens in my pocket within another 10 seconds and they were still asking. So I opened up my backpack and was taking out the pen box from it and as soon as I had lifted the pen box out they ripped it from my hands and started to fight for who got the last pen.

I started to notice that all of the children had large sores around their mouths and had this fierce disposition that can only come from a life of lacking. It was then that the mother (I supposed) of these children came out and signed to me that she wanted to food. I had happened to purchase a large bag of Egyptian bread (Aish) and gave it to the mother. After which the children continued to follow me and ask for everything that was visible. They asked for my watch, my beanie, my wallet, baksheesh, baksheesh, and more baksheesh.

To see the differences between socio-economic factions within this small community in Cairo was utterly depressing. I assume most humans that are well off, understand that the world has problems and I assume that they have empathy for those are less fortunate. But I think that experiencing what it is to be around these unfortunate children, even for a couple minutes helps to transfer something more tangible into your being.

This is of a couple that had invited me over for grub and conversation at the top of the only park in Cairo. The wife's eyes were a deep sea blue, which makes me think that she was wearing contacts. To move from the dissonance of the city to the quiet of the park was a welcome transition. As my mental camera snapped photographs of the landscape through which I passed, it became altogether clear that this was the place to go if you were courting a lady. There were couples everywhere! I think I only saw one or two groups that were not comprised of a suave looking young male and a hair-covered young girl.

This is Dave, the guy that I couchsurfed with in Cairo. He is from San Diego going to the American University of Cairo. He was a very hospitable guy that had an awesome shitty apartment in downtown Cairo. We had a couple of long conversations (where I think my lack of company while traveling might have caused me to talk a bit much) and he took me to a Sudanese refugee English learning center.

I was recommended this place by someone I met on my travels and I am not too sure why they had a business card for the place and most of all why they would try to get someone to stay there. I had sent emails to a few places in Luxor trying to secure a spot to stay and none of them got back to me. So when the guy that owned the place told me that he would pick me up from the airport free of charge, I was totally bought into it. Well in my need to find a place and my assumption that whoever gave me this card would not be promoting a place that would try and rip me off, I went along with this whole charade.

When I got out of the Luxor airport, sure enough there he was waiting for me. I had arrived very late in the night and that was another reason for my acceptance of the offer. I got into the car and was very grateful to both him and the driver. When we arrived I then asked what the room rate would be, his first response was 85 Egyptian Pounds. I gave him a look of incredulity. He then said something about a special discount of 70 Egyptian Pounds, which he then explained included breakfast (2 really small breadsticks). The look of incredulity continued. I hadn't looked in my guidebook, where the price was at 20 Egyptian Pounds ($4).

The room had no hot water. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a century. All throughout the night some place was playing loud Arabic music. For the first time in my travels, I had to sleep with ear plugs in. To top it off, in the morning he mentioned that the cab from the airport cost 50 Egyptian Pounds (remember earlier he had told me it would be free). So I argued with him, told him that I'd write to all the guidebooks about this charade, threw 100 Egyptian Pounds at him and left.

Look closely.

There were some amazing tombs fit within this valley. When you spent just a short amount of time in these chambers, it made you realize just how large the task was. Not to mention that the temperature can be treacherous during the summer.

Bad ass inscriptions. Check out the detail of this “Nubian’s” hair.

Some of the detail that went into these paintings was eye-dropping. Not to mention that these paintings were and are some of the oldest paintings that exist to this day.

This last picture sums up the way I felt about my travels. I felt satisfied. I felt accomplished. I felt like I learned a lot. I still have a ton of things that I want to see and do in Israel and Egypt, but I certainly accomplished all of my goals for the trip.

I feel that everything I see while traveling helps to build out the person I want to be. The person that is able to appreciate the simple things in life. I’m not trying to over-use clichés, but I do really feel bettered by the whole experience.

I also discovered a fond appreciation of couchsurfing. It was the exchange of culture and the ability to discover a city from the local’s perspective that drew me so much to this pursuit. I now am revved to try and return this magnanimous experience to other travelers.

Next stop India.

Rear-ended a Dude in San Francisco

2008-02-05T22:43:00.001-08:00

No I'm not kidding. In fact, I'm quite serious. Aghast at the repercussions of a split-second decision, I feel a twinge of bitterness. A coffee that needs cream. Chocolate predating sugar. At this point you should start to question where this train of thought is being derailed.

I was in an accident. Yes, I am OK. The accident was definitely my fault. You know how I drive. You could see it happening to me. I've done it before.

CAVEAT!

Human thought is but a pinprick on the canvas of the grandiose. I am the never-ending fractal that is exuding from this pinprick.

"I'd like insurance in California"

"Please transfer over my insurance from Nevada"

"All seems in order"

"I'm only paying that much, that's a deal"

"Research finished"

CAVEAT EMPTOR!

Learn from my mistakes my friends. My contract with the car I once drove and the man excluded one important bullet point; Am I covered for damages to my vehicle? Nay.

Daft! Bollocks! Sod-all! Pillock! Prat! Drongo! Dunny! I surely must be a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Nong! Seppo! Up a gum tree! I think I might be a wally.

But enough cursing, I done what I done. I've made my mistake and I'll have to pay the price. The reaper has his hands open. He's beckoning to me. He isn't asking for a quarter to pass the time with the great equalizer.

My mind was racing a mile-a-minute. This isn't the Get Up Kids and it certainly isn't 4 minutes long. But what am I complaining for? I'm starting to think more clearly. Could this be the guiding hand? Is this chocolate bittersweet? I should become a true San Franciscan! I should, with bike in hand, join the Bike Coalition. I can raise my hand, nay my fist to the sky to show the world I care. I can ride monthly, not to socialize, but to represent a cause. I can find employment that does not require transportation in this great city. I can dodge the commute. I can sell my ghost of a car. I can live without fear of pollution and/or pestilence. I can make a difference.

Poetics aside, I'm not sure what I am going to do in the future. I'm pretty sure I'm going to sell my once nice fancy Mazda 3. I may buy a junker (I don't need a nice car). I may quit my job and get a new one in the city. I may do the hour-and-a-half commute on the Caltrain. One thing I have decided on is that I make mistakes and I will now allow those mistakes to make my life any less of an adventure than it currently is.

Now wish me luck in Israel and Egypt. I leave Thursday morning.

The Road Not Taken

2008-01-27T01:37:00.001-08:00

I think push has come to shove and I'm finally disappointed with my job. It makes me wonder if I am not made for my line of work. Or maybe I just haven't found the right job yet. To move even further from those points, I have been thinking if I do want/have to move on from the job I have, what would I want to do?

Become a musician?
Get a law degree, become a politician?
Become a writer?
Get a finance job in a foreign country?
Sell worldly possessions and move to a foreign country to help other people in a genuine life-changing pursuit?

Of all these things, the most attractive option to me seems to be the last one. How great would it be to say that I changed lives for the better? Shit, I guess that's self-serving anyways. But you get my point, right? I'd love to make a difference in someone else's life for the better, but that's risky to me. That kind of risky pursuit starts to corrupt futures that could have been. It makes these futures into hazy pictures attached to a fishing pole. Except the fisherman attached to this pole is malevolently yanking the pole away from me right when I get close to chomping down on this picture or rather this future that could come into existence.

So what should this man do? He wants to take risks. He wants to guide his life by a directional wind with one finger in the air and two feet off the ground. Saying it like that makes the person more determined to have change in his life. Maybe not now, maybe not ever, but soon. There is still a string attached to his shoe-lace keeping him grounded. He's not sure what this string might be. Is it San Francisco? Is it the idea of finding love and settling down? Is it the fear of commitment or instability?

He's still happy where he is. He's just thinking ahead, because he can. Because he's young and unsettled. He's still searching for something. He hasn't found it and doesn't know what it is. It is somehow vampiric in its entirety. It can't be satisfied this hunger for change no matter how many souls I drain.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

- Robert Frost "The Road Not Taken"

Do I Really Need A New Years Blog?

2008-01-06T11:36:00.000-08:00

I would say that it might be beneficial or at least illuminating to write a New Years blog. If not for you, I think it would help me to realize how far I've come and what I've experienced.

2006 ended on a down note. I would say that if it were a chord, it would be the most dischordant melancholy minor chord that has ever been played. While I broke up with my ex in July of 2006, our relationship continued in a "she's lost that loving feeling" format (sans the Top Gun version). I knew that I had made a mistake by breaking up with her on a short-term basis, but after all was said and done I know that it was the best thing for both of us.

So the end of 2006 described the filter that I saw the world in for the first part of 2007. I was an addict without my means to be an addict. You never realize how many things you take for granted in a relationship until it's all over. I felt almost deaf and mute to the world during that first part of the year. I could read lips, but I couldn't interact with the world around me through conversation. Don't get me wrong, I still lived and loved life. I didn't shut myself off from the world, but I couldn't shift my life past 2nd gear.

At this point, my job had become a means to indifference. Annum Ford was faltering as a band. I think the turning point for me came when the Nicks and I visited Boston and New York. It felt great to be in a city that had so much character and so many things to do. It felt great to use public transportation. It felt great to have something different in my life. While at that point, I was not extremely serious about moving to another city, the idea started to build momentum after I returned to Las Vegas. Now don't get me wrong, I enjoyed Las Vegas. But I only enjoyed Las Vegas because of the great friends I had made there and my family that lived there. It was an enormous comfortable blanket with a deathly cold outside its exterior.

In May of 2007, I started looking at Seattle and San Francisco. San Francisco won out (while Seattle was a very close 2nd). I found a job and ended up moving to San Francisco on the 20th of August. I was immediately happy with my decision and while I've had my share of missing Las Vegas and my friends and family that live there, I've discovered the beauty that is San Francisco. The smallest things that I do here seem somehow so much more epic in comparison.

In December of 2007, things took a turn for the ridictastic stage. My friend that I haight so much (Libby) and I moved into an abode together. We then signed up two other roommates (Bryan and Meredith) to join in at the Fill Home (Full House (We live next to that picnic park) ---> Fill House (We live on Fillmore) ---> Fill Home (Home is so much more Homely)). We are 5-7 blocks from 4 awesome areas of town and a short bus ride away to most others. The house itself is awesome and while we all are way different in so many different aspects, we are all left-handed. We also have other things in common of course.

So right now I'd have to say that I'm way stoked on life. The filter that had begun 2007 is no more, although I tend to think about it and its ramifications from time to time.

2008 Goals:

1) Find a mad-fly honey who digs Jon
2) Go to Israel and Egypt in February (tickets are already bought)
3) Go to India with Nick and Lowell in December (You best not back down kids)
4) Keep on Keeping On

Why I hate Ron Paul supporters??

2007-12-17T15:40:00.000-08:00

Why I hate Ron Paul supporters. They are making me less apathetic towards politics. I didn't want this. I just wanted to continue to believe that the people we call "politicians" would always work for the public interest. I envisioned the perfect life of being a lemming led to whatever end by “the guiding hand”. But now, I’m afraid this utopian dream is fading like a good pair of blue jeans. Actually – you know – after I think about it a little bit more I like a good pair of faded blue jeans.

You may ask me why I am supporting Ron Paul. Is it because I ‘m jumping on the “bandwagon”? Well yes and no. Let me explain. The bandwagon that you speak of is part of the reason I support Ron Paul. Without said bandwagon, the apathy of stale politics would probably continue. He is one of the only candidates who seems to not be put on layaway by Corporate interest groups. He is for limiting government and increasing the freedoms that exist. Also, he wants to cut away at bad governmental spending that has expanded under the Bush presidency.

However, I am not jumping on this bandwagon without researching what defines Ron Paul. I don’t like his isolationist stance on foreign policy. I think that his programs for border security and immigration are definitely hard-line. I think his stance on abortion might be a little too black and white. But I do think that he would be a president that would listen to the pros and cons before jumping headlong into any decision. Hell, if I had to align my views with a particular presidential candidate, it would be Kucinich. It seems, however, that Kucinich is a side-note in the democratic presidential primary.

If you think what I am saying might make some sense, research Ron Paul and see if he makes sense for you. If you think as I think and feel as I feel, see if you can change your political affiliation to vote for him in the primary. Act quickly though, the deadline for changing your party affiliation for Nevada is December 19^th and many other states are (have) coming upon deadlines as well.

An American that wants to see change,

Jon Losey

Raison D'etre

2007-11-29T13:26:00.000-08:00

As it seems I am needing more of something nowadays, a life of change seems to be my raison d'etre. I am really enjoying life, but I still feel like I am missing something. Part of me wants to think it's the absence of good friends in Las Vegas, but I have been less sure of this lately. This appears to be the tried and true subject of my bloggings, but it is also seems to hint at being a pivotal subject in my life. In other words, a point at which changes occur that will shape the entirety of my life. However, whatever this feeling is, I'm sure everything will work out in the end.

To further describe my raison d'etre, I have recently moved in with my good friend Libby. Thus far, this arrangement is so much better then the previous living situation (if not a large amount more stressful). Things were just not working out with my girl roommates from my old place. I didn't get along with them as well as I wanted to and they were definitely not as hospitable as I wanted them to be. They ended up treating my other male roommate and his friends poorly and they would not consult us regarding house matters. They threw a couple of large parties at our place and had the cops called on them 3 times. I had to learn from my male roommate and not from the female roommates that if that happened again, we would be evicted by our landlord. Long story short, I wanted to get out of there and Libby wanted to move up to the city so we found a place together.

Only problem is that I had to give a 30-day notice before I was out of the contract. Because Libby and I had found the place in mid-November and we had to move in almost immediately to take it up, we both are probably going to have to end up paying for a month of rent where we are not living in our old places of residence. I told my female roommates not to worry and that I would pay my rent up to the 15th of December (30 days after I told them I was moving). The kicker being that my old female roommates will most likely be breaking their lease on the 15th of December. They have not looked for a new roommate to fill my empty spot and I will have to pay for the first 15 days of December in rent. When I moved out I thought that paying all the way to the 15th was a slim possibility, but it seems that the possibility gained a little bit of weight. Actually, I'm sorry that last one wasn't the kicker. Hypocrisy rules the day and my old female roommates just told my male roommate that they would probably be breaking the lease with about 15 days notice (once again the contract we signed was for 30 days). So they are screwing him up in their "bad decision" as well. He is such a great guy that he just wants to get it over with and move on from it, but if I were him I would've had a fit.

Lesson learned:

Some people need to live with their parents until they are responsible enough to be respectful and caring members of society.

Luck Is Not A Lady Tonight

2007-11-07T17:28:00.000-08:00

What happened to probability? Statisticians are playing a game with my head. I thought that my theorem below held true and not false.

if(and(SFGay%Pop>LVGay%Pop,(SFGay%Pop-LVGay%Prop)/LVGay%Prop>(SFLesbian%Prop-LVLesbian%Prop)/LVLesbian%Prop),"Ladies Love Cool Jon","Ladies Want To Be Friends with Cool Jon")

I would assume here that I would be a marketable commodity if above theorem held true. However, it seems that ladies merely "like spending time with [me]" on a friendship level and they think that "[I'm] so cool". I have not met one person here who seemed like they were genuinely interested in me on something more than a friendship basis.

On the plus side, at least most people don't think of me as a schmuck (I hope).

Flap Your Wings and Say Yeah!

2007-10-24T23:47:00.000-07:00

Time is a miraculous thing. So poetic, yet so cliche. When I had a stint at trying to write my own music, my lyrics always seemed to revolve around time (like a clock maybe? D'oh!). Plus if you are going to make a rhyme using the word rhyme, why would you not use time as the couplet?

But I digress, the purpose of this written word can be traced to my want, nay my duty, to inform. I want to inform you what has happened in my life for the last couple of weeks. Welcome and please make yourself at home in my thoughts. I apologize in advance for the mess.

*REWIND*
Oh! I am really sorry. Errr... Embarrassed. You weren't supposed to see that!

*REWIND*
Today I went to get my FAVORITE coffee ever at the Bittersweet Cafe on Fremont and California. I was looking backward to reading my book that I have previously mentioned in the future of this blog. For future reference, it is entitled The Israel Lobby and U.S. Foreign Policy. I have really only read the introduction and the first portion of the 1st Chapter, but it seems to be a "fair and balanced" book (not to be confused with certain organizations that share the same tag line). The implications with what I have read thus far, suggest that the war in Iraq would not have been a war at all without the pressure of the "Israel Lobby". While this is a bold statement, it does seem plausible. Unfortunately for me the coffee place closed at 8pm.

*REWIND*
Work has been a bit more stressful lately. There has been a deluge of assignments that has bogged me down and made me less efficient than I wish to be. I will not underestimate my workload anymore.

*REWIND*
It was great seeing all my friends in Las Vegas last weekend. I had breakfast and played card games (sans Jay) with my family on Sunday. Saturday was a party at Tony's place and Friday was a Love Pentagon/JASL show followed (preceded) by drinkage at The Griffin (who would've thunk?).

*REWIND*
As I feel that my blogs might carry on in length, I shall skip over some of the more minute activities (like discussing gardening techniques with Ghandi or like winning Mr. Universe only to have the title revoked because of some scandalous pictures of me sucking down some yay in the nude) and go to the prior weekend. Saturday evening was spent in glorious conversation with my new friend Janelle. I had spent the previous 8 hours with her and a bunch of new acquaintances/friends on the beach drinking wine and socializing. Friday night was EPIC. The "cosby sweater" party started out innocent enough, but soon conversation started. Enough said. (To get the real story, please see my autobiography on page 4 ((a little further down right after Middle School)) there you go!)

*RECORD*
Recent Lessons Learned:

The Darjeeling Limited taught me that life can be a bit more exciting with a little bit of awkardness.

Life can still be glorious without a symbiotic male-female relationship.

Things you hold constant in your life can change in the blink of an eye. The universe is a rugby game in a kiddie pool.

And finally, a 50-minute commute can help you to put your thoughts in order. I'll file this thought under "D" for Donut.

America: The Land of the Blind

2007-09-27T15:08:00.000-07:00

Indignation. Consternation. In this nation it is so easy to get lost in our daily lives. It is so easy to be lost in selfish pursuit. How many nations in this world are having problems tantamount to human rights violations? How many nations carry on with tendency towards genocide or overt political corruption? I read every other day about problems that exist in other countries. I read about problems that incense me to no end. I want to get up out of my executive thatched high-back chair, put down my Peet's Cafe Americano, and quit my life of being an American Lemming. I am a 2-dimensional American. I am the building block to continued isolationist behaviors. How easy it is for me to plan out my life and rely on the stability that I take for granted. I am Jack's ranting hypocrisy.

Maybe some day I will look left or right and see that there is more to this 2-dimensional life. But for now, I am going to continue putting money into my 401k and continue forgetting about Burma, Cuba, Libya, North Korea, Somalia, Sudan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Chechnya, Tibet, Belarus, China, Cote d'Ivoire, Equitorial Guinea, Eritrea, Laos, Saudi Arabia, Syria, Zimbabwe, Timor-Leste, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Tanzania, Yemen, Burundi, Afghanistan, Guinea-Bissau, Niger, Liberia, Sierra Leone, Madagascar, Zambia, Burkina Faso, Mali, Mozambique, the Central African Republic, Chad, Angola, Benin, Senegal, Iran, Nepal, Vietnam, Iraq, Uzbekistan, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Maldives, Tunisia, and of course we should not forget Oceania.

The Economist

2007-09-24T12:17:00.000-07:00

In my weekend of delight, I had a lot of interesting experiences. I had pasta with friends, got plastered in the mission, went skydiving at an altitude of between 0 feet to upwards of 15 feet (indoor skydiving), watched 3:10 to Yuma and realized that Westerns really are dead (nobody can compete with Tombstone it seems), went to my company BBQ at Six Flags Discovery Kingdom and won a PS3 in a company raffle, and had a tremendous family-style meal with some friends on Sunday night to top it off. However, those experiences play no large part in this post. Rather, as the title suggests, this post is about economics. WAIT! Before you stop reading this post, let me be frank. This is not about traditional economics.

In walking around on Sunday night, a friend and I were on a mission. A mission of grave importance. We were trying to find the oldest bar in San Francisco. While I was skeptical about whether or not this was the oldest bar in San Francisco, in doing research on the Internet, most people seem to suggest that The Saloon in North Beach is the oldest.

While sipping on my traditional gin and tonic, I realized that there was a ten-dollar bill laying on the floor of the bar. Right above the ten-dollar bill, there sat an old-grizzled man whose pockets seemed to be at the right angle to present the possibility that money could separate itself from his pocket. I debated for a split-second. The greed that I felt ebbed in my blood. The decision was quick. There was only one thing to do.

I picked up the money and tapped the old man on the shoulder. He turned to me and the smell of alcohol and cigarettes hit me like cold fog rolling over San Francisco. I explained to him that I had found this money under his chair and that he should take it. He said something briefly, but it was barely intelligible over the drunken slur that he called speech. You could tell that this man was accustomed to the drink. You could tell that he was a consistent consumer to this bar. After receiving the money, he stumbled out of the bar and he put a dollar bill on the ground. I assumed that this was some kind of tithe that he felt obligated to give. It was exactly 10% of the original gift that he had received. A monument to religious taxation of yore. A small testament to what little luck this man has had in his long life.

At this point he came up to me and made me a bet. He slurred that the dollar would be picked up in a minute and a half. Being the consummate carouser, his bet amounted to a beer. I accepted the wager and the sociological experiment began. I was deeply intrigued by both his actions and the current entertainment that was afoot. As San Francisco is notoriously windy, the dollar would not stay in place. So a member of the crowd outside that I will mention as the outside smokers, attempted to add his own legacy to this game. With gum in hand he stuck the dollar back down to the ground and with a triumphant grin, walked back to the group that was now gathered to watch. We soon realized that a group of people intently watching a dollar bill on the ground provided very little encouragement for a bystander to pick up said dollar. The drunken old man even tried his own brand of encouragement by pointing at the dollar like an accuser of a murderer in a line-up. The church finally came for its tithe in the form of a bum. The flood gates have now opened. It was like a horse race with one horse. Or possibly a governmental executive decision. I laughed to myself deeply and while it had certainly been more than a minute and a half, I bought the leathered drunk his fix and my friend and I left with alcohol in our stomachs and a grin on our faces.

Cheers to the Economist. For he, my friends, is still sitting on that same stool at The Saloon.

What is the delta in your life?

2007-09-17T17:44:00.000-07:00

When did change suddenly become a prerequisite for happiness? Is life really that boring? I say absolutely not. Life is merely what you make of it. Have you ever seen a small child find the greatest amusement in the simplest thing?

For that same reason:

Shouldn't I be happy that I can open and close my hand?
Shouldn't I be happy that I can afford to feed myself?
Shouldn't I be happy that I have friends and family that love me?

Why shouldn't these things make me satisfied and appreciative of my life? Everyone doesn't have these "gifts" in life. And yet I take these things for granted constantly.

I get depressed because every girl doesn't think I am attractive.
I get unpatient and unhappy when things don't fall into place exactly as I hoped they would.

To get back the title of this blog, I need to learn to be able to be happy in the small deltas that occur in my life. I need to open my eyes to the perspective of a child and realize that going to get an ice cream cone truly is an exceptional and amazing thing. I should take pride in where I am in life and learn to see the bigger picture when it comes to my happiness.

Jon expressing his thoughts is like Ann Coulter and Al Franken having a sword battle in the nude.

2007-09-14T18:21:00.000-07:00

I feel like there has been an absence in my life ever since I moved to San Francisco a month ago. Of course that can be explained by the fact that I am starting over with friends again, but it still feels very strange. In that I know other friends are blogging and that I have no real outlet for some of my more abstract and/or deeper thoughts, I think that a blog would be a great thing for me to start.

One of my biggest problems here is not finding things to do, it is having a friend that I know I can consistently count on. Between the people I know in the city and my roommates, I have been able to keep a busy schedule. There is still an occasional table for one, but I feel that I am past the point of not having something to do or someone to hang out with. I think that a huge part of that comes from the large amount of things going on in the bay area. Having friends that I can count on is an obstacle that has proven to be a little bit more difficult. I know that truly great friends don't grow in trees, but my truly great friends should know that my impatience helps in prodding myself into feeling this unease. It can probably be summed up by the feeling as if I am an outsider looking into my own life.

That thought is not to say that I am unhappy. I think I can be more happy in San Francisco than I ever could in Las Vegas. What that does say is that leaving Las Vegas was one of the best things for me to do. However, leaving my friends is one of the worst things I could have done. In Las Vegas, I was at a loss for thread, but it now becomes clear that my friends were the fabric of my life. You just can't make a warm quilt without fabric.