Dumped by the Masquerade Girl

Just after a short month (give or take a few days) from meeting "Sophia" (fake name, remember? =3), we have decided that the timing of our meeting was off. Or rather, she decided all of this and relayed her decision to me. It come out of nowhere, but I'm surprisingly fine with this decision. I knew that this was it was bound to happen, though much later than what I had anticipated. We simply didn't have time for each other. Our messages, phone calls, and pretty much any attempt to communicate with each other were far and few in between. 

In fact, because of our demanding schedules, we didn't see each other since the masquerade party! So this is why I'm not at all bothered by the decision to not try to see each other. Oh well - life moves on, though I've some great news: there's actually another lovely lady that I've begun to see consistently! She's actually the real reason why I'm more happy than bummed than Sophia - it's because I've already on a several dates with her already ;-) 

Things are looking up, people!

The Girl At The Masquerade

First off, let me just say I've had a difficult time writing (and rewriting) this post through out the past few days. Most of the problem was just simply finding a way to tell you (the reader) what had transpired at the masquerade without revealing much sensitive information. Also, I am highly suspicious that certain people will eventually discover this blog post (unless by the time they found this post, I will have written at least another 50 to 100 more, I hope) and will be upset (or not, depending on who it is) at how I have worded all of this. Life, my digital friends, is complicated. Moving on!

The masquerade was, overall, an exciting, new experience for me. At times, I felt uncomfortable, due to wearing wearing a suit and tie (it was a very formal event, though I think all masquerades are. I'm just more of a jeans-and-Tshirt kind of guy). Also, the plague mask (what I wore for the event - pretty much had to be hand-made so I could wear my glasses over the mask) got me too much attention (or at least it felt that way to me). 

Anyhow, as the night went on, talked to people, getting a brief picture of who they are. Many, like myself, are upper-classmen, though many attended different universities not my own. Furthermore, I was intrigued by other's academic interests/studies, and I found the exchange of ideas to be fascinating, even if the discussion itself wasn't comprehensible at times. Also, there was dancing (which you already know, isn't my thing), but I didn't mind too much this time around. The night, overall, was an amazing blend of intelligent discussions couple with brief dances with beautiful women. 

At the end of my stay, as my time there drew to a close, I bid farewell to those I had the pleasure to speaking with in conversation. I had also removed the plague mask - it felt nice to see again. After that, as I was heading out the main entrance, I was stopped. I turned around and saw that it was a lone woman, wearing an elegant beige and black dress. She was petite, short, and (perhaps it was her jewelry and headress) beautiful. Her mask accentuated her blue eyes all the more, and her outfit allowed her pale complexion to be that much more outstanding. She smiled, and I saw glints of metal attached to her teeth - braces. 

"I've been stalking you, Sebastian..." she says playfully. "I've noticed you since the moment I saw you...I've been keeping an eye in you."

With that, she extends a delicate hand towards me. She expected a handshake, but instead (in a gentleman-like fashion), I kiss the back of her hand softly. "I'm (for the sake of anonymity, let's call her Sophia - her real name is just as lovely though). It's nice to meet you, Sebastian." But there I was, dumbfounded and speechless. How do I respond to that?! It was strange being told that I was being watched, especially from a pretty lady like her. I stupidly told her it was nice to meet her also and we went our separate paths - I went out the main door and she returned to the party. My friends, who were with me when all this transpired, told me to go back to her - a girl that hot (their words, not mine) does not tell you that just to say hello. She wants the "D" (again, their words).

They had a point. There was an opportunity and I, like an Oakland Raiders wide receiver, completely fumbled the chance to get her phone number. So I rushed back, hoping to find Sophia quickly before I'd lose sight of her.

It didn't take much time to find her and exchanged our phone numbers. We briefly discussed a day and time to call each other, and with that, I returned to my friends, ready to go home. Exhausted, but happy.

"Life in Technicolor II"

The other day, I was listening to Coldplay's Viva La Vida or Death & All His Friends (and no I'm not gay - more on that later), though it was on shuffle. When Life in Technicolor began to play, my friend at the time told me that there was a second version - WITH WORDS!!! Then he explained that the can be found in the Prospekt's March EP (which I never looked into that EP). Of course I looked it up in YouTube, and sure enough, there were words. Surprisingly, there was also a music video and, in short, I found it amusing and clever. Instead of me telling you what it is, you should see it for yourself!

Stuck In An 80's Bar

Last night my brother, his girlfriend, and myself (among others) traveled out to Pomona (where the Glasshouse and Fox Theater can be found) to celebrate a friend's 24th birthday. In an ideal situation, we wouldn't travel so far to celebrate, but instead have a BBQ party of sorts closer to home. Since that wasn't possible, Birthday Boy found a bar-club hybrid out in Pomona that was hosting an 80's themed night (hence the title of this post). The club promised free admission (before 10pm), cheap drinks ($3 domestic, $5 not-so-domestic), and a good time. How could we say no?

Upon entering, my ears were bombarded by the sounds of Blondie, Depeche Mode, Animotion, and their friends; my eyes struggled to see in the darkness, for the only sources of light were the dimly lit dance floor and faint lighting emanating from two projectors simultaneously broadcasting various clips from 80's pop culture (Transformers, The Terminator, Voltron, and Star Wars were among the many clips I recognized). Like any other club, as the night grew older, the venue become boisterous with the lives of our young, modern society. 

Although the dance club scene isn't really my atmosphere, I did my best to take it all in - the people, the music, the recognizable video clips - sometimes, with a beer in my hand. I did my best to mingle with others, to dance with my friends, and just have, overall, a good time like the flyer promised. Almost immediately, however, that promise went out the window, only to be trampled by passers by and streetcars (it's overdramatic but you know what I mean, right?). My brother had inadvertently almost got into a fight with a drunken fool all to eager to prove himself to the two beautiful women he was with (I would later realize his intentions with the reassurance of my brother and our friend). 

He was a white male, approximately 5'6" in height, 265lbs., about 26 years of age, with a goatee for facial hair. He wore a black T-shirt, cream colored khakis, and black Chucks (Converse). I know because I ingrained the image of him in my mind's eye. I wanted to knock off his stupid peddler's hat and punch his drunk face in. Though, this isn't about me; this is about my brother. Even now, we don't know what exactly happened that provoked the guy. All we know was that we (our group) were navigating the dance floor to find space to for us to dance. Then, he happened. He kept shouting at my brother, trying to intimidate him, but my brother knew he was drunk. In fact, my brother's exact words were,"Go away, you're drunk." But instead, he edged closer to my brother. It was then that his two ladies, myself, and my brother's girlfriend got involved to split them up. Though my brother walked away, the other was still looking for a fight. We go our separate ways and we evaporate within the crowd. 

That incident tarnished the remainder of my stay at the dance club. I couldn't shake off the incident, and I kept replaying the whole thing in my mind. It had all happened too quickly - how did it all begin? What could I have done, if anything? I couldn't let go, and I began to withdraw from the environment. I couldn't enjoy the music and I didn't want to dance anymore, so all I could was just watch the clips. I soon realized that the clips repeat themselves every 45 minutes, I just didn't notice the pattern sooner. My night was tarnished, shot to hell. 

Some time after it had happened, my brother and I managed to have some time to ourselves, while the others were off dancing or socializing. Through my phone's built-in notepad, I expressed my anger, concern, and dissatisfaction of how it all went down, killing my feel-good feelings I had built up until then. I told him how I would have lost my temper on that poor fool had he tried to throw a punch, swearing to make sure that the copious amount of alcohol he consumed wouldn't be the real reason why he will black out. My brother, in turn, reassured me that nothing had, in fact, happened. And if something had occurred, he would finish the fight before it even really begins. My brother had already sized up the guy, and realized that the guy didn't truly have what it takes to fight ("for survival," as he put it). Lastly, he knew that he was drunk, stupidly fighting under the power of "beer balls," or as I call it, "liquid courage." He couldn't win. He wouldn't be able to. At the end of our messages, he simply asked for me to forget about him and enjoy the rest of our stay at the club. Truth is, I couldn't let it go. 

Sometime later, we all went home, with exhausted bodies and for some (mainly me), exhausted minds. After driving home by myself, I cautiously open the two doors that lead me to the living room, careful not to make too much noise. I couldn't help but to play some music on the stereo. With that in the background, I collapse upon the living room sofa. My mind revisits the night - the good, the ugly, the aftermath. I reflect on the incident one last time. Then, I let go. My breathing became heavy, eyes marred with tears, and mucus runs down my nose. Now I know what had bothered me - it was the feeling of powerlessness, of physical weakness, and the reality that I can't defend those around me when they need protection. I felt that let my brother down, but it was really me. I let myself down. I ended up crying myself to sleep. It's been a while since that's happened. 

"True Facts About The Dung Beetle"

A friend share this video with me. Thought I'd do the same for you ;-)

Unrewarding Workdays

The past few work days, as the title suggests, have been very unrewarding. What I mean by this is that work has been busy (thanks to everybody trying to cash in on the lottery for the most part) and I've been on my feet for almost 8 hours at time. What bothers me is that, after the day is done (paperwork and at all), it seems like the revenue I've earned that day didn't really justify the amount of work that I've had for that said day. For example:

A slow, leisurely shift = A lower amount of revenue

A busy, fast-paced shift = A higher amount of revenue

Unfortunately, the past few business days have been more like this:

A busy, fast-paced shift = A lower amount of revenue

I'm hoping this trend at work will end soon. I like having good work days - makes me feel like I've truly earned my wages there.

"Dude, Where's My Car?"

Six days ago (last Tuesday on Sept. 10, 2013), my car was stolen approximately between 12:55 to 4:15 in the afternoon. I say this because I was at work at that time (luckily for me, it was only a half day, as opposed to working a full shift), and it wasn't until 4:15 in the afternoon that I realized that my car was missing! "Just up and gone," as my coworker had phrased it. 

After the initial shock of realizing this, I immediately searched the area where my car was at, desperately looking for shattered glass. There wasn't any. Then, because I had parked in a public lot, I had contacted the towing company in charge of that specific, hoping that my car was towed rather than stolen. Unfortunately, they didn't tow my car. Next, I contacted the city police department, again hoping that my car was in their possession rather than stolen. Again, no such luck, so I had to fill out a stolen vehicle report. Filling out the report wasn't that difficult at all (not that it should be, but the stress and shock of losing a car can interfere with the report), since I was very detailed on how my car looked like (describing pre-existing damages, stickers and decals, and such), as well as giving other pertinent information.

For almost a whole day, my car was missing. I was informed by a sheriff in San Dimas (should give you an idea of the area where I live) that my car was found in that city. Which I thought as bizarre, since a car like mine (it's an Acura Integra LS - without the V-Tec) usually ends up in Pomona, El Monte, or even in Los Angeles! But it was found in the whitebread town of San Dimas (again, bizarre). I spoke to the sheriff on the condition of the car (usually cars like mine and Honda Civics are stolen only to be scrapped for parts) and all he could tell me that my car was in "fair condition." Crap. I thanked him for the news and the following day, I picked up my car.

When I reclaimed my car, my heart was pounding. What will be there? What will be missing? were some of the thoughts running in my mind. I was lucky to realize that most of my engine parts and all my tires were all there! However, what was stolen were all of my personal belongings and such, and as far as my engine goes, only my intake valve (and air filter) were stolen! I sound happy, but it's more like surprised. After all, if the jerks who my car paid more attention, they should have seen that my distributor and gas filter were in excellent condition, as well as some small parts such as spark plugs, some tubing/hoses and electrical wiring. All they saw was that flashy intake valve. So that's the reason I was surprised that my car was in excellent shape: It was still drivable! My mechanic later told me that I was lucky to have my car back in this condition. Lucky, indeed.

So, here is a list of what has been stolen (more or less from what I remember):

Car-Related:

• The Intake Valve (as well as its Air Filter)
• Oil, Filter, and even the cardboard for the oil change! (They were some desperate dudes.)
• Jumper Cables
• Hydrolic Jack
• Fluids (Brake, Transmission, Power Steering)
• Surprisingly, not the Radiator Fluid

Personal Stuff (Materialistically Speaking):

• Car Radio and the sound system (such as the amp, though speakers weren't taken)
• My CD collection
• She & Him - Vol. 1,2,3
• Nine Inch Nails - Hesitation Marks (Deluxe Edition, too...)
• Sara Bareilles - The Blessed Unrest
• Fuel - Something Like Human
• The Strokes - Comedown Machine 
• Rob Zombie - Hellbilly Deluxe
• Julien-K - We're Here With You
• DragonForce - Valley of the Damned
• Ender's Game (the book, though this was for a friend)
• Paperwork (Registration, Insurance, misc.)

Personal Stuff (Sentimentally Speaking):

• My Spirit Ghost (it's a little good-luck charm - I called him Frederick)
• My Rubber Band Ball (and I worked so hard on it, too...)
• My Piggy Bank (no coins yet, so that's good)
• My Las Vegas Keychain (I never went to Vegas, but it came with the car's keys)