Mid-summer blahs

It's the play Shakespeare had failed to follow up with. The same blahs that are preventing me from writing really good, lengthy updates with are the same blahs that are making me want to go on vacation or just sleep in for really long periods of time.

It's the apex of summer. That's what it is. Its the knowledge that you've (should've) done everything you said you were going to do this summer and are now gearing up for the coming winter. It's hitting me like a fat woman running for the buffet in Vegas. Large, unimposing, like a lava lamp that just keeps moving and moving and moving and moving and moving and moving and mov...

IM bored. That's what it boils down to. My summer has rendered itself into this gelatinous heap of absolute blah that is indistinguishable from other years. With the exception of 2003 when I saw Fleetwood Mac in concert, its the same thing, year after year.

Woo- hoo.

I want to go on vacation. Down south. Corpus Christi. That is such a beautiful town. Beaches, small town mentality, friends up the wazzu, warm sunshine, humidity, high crime rate - the advantages go on forever. I can feel myself on the beach right now, sidestepping jellyfish that die and beach themselves, avoiding the sea gulls shitting on your car for a scrap of food, the pot holes from the torrential rains that plague the area.

That's why I drive 690 miles for vacation.

And to see Evelyn.

Cause she doesn't like to drive to El Paso.

To see me.

;-)

I need to break away from these blahs. I haven't tried to take the Neon out for a long distance trek, I might as well start now! It's got the amenities IM used to now, like the XM Radio & cruise control. I think I need to start planning some serious vacation time soon.

As an opinion, where should I vacation? I'm open to suggestions.

Writers Block

Sorry guys, I haven't been updating Blank Media because Im suffering from writers block. I don't know how long this will last, but Im trying to relax and let the natural juices flow.

9 Years

Today marks my 9th year working for Clearchannel radio. I signed the papers back in 1997 and who'd have thought I'd still be here?

Visuals from Chicago

When I returned from Chicago, I had to reload my operating system without backing up my video files from Chicago. This is one of them that was saved on the camera I never deleted.



Its short and simple, but I watch it every day or so and remember how humid that damn day was.

The rain was pretty damn nice.

So I'm trying to stay awake...

...when I walk into the production room and my waning attention span leads me to the three model cars perched on top of the machines on the table. I pick up the Nissan Z and spin the wheels, open the doors, look under it. I put it down and roll it back and forth for a moment, then return it perfectly back into its original spot and start walking out when Eddie meets me at the door and is laughing at me.

"I have never wanted kids more in my life, watching you play with those cars was funny!"

Thanks Eddie.

There is no God

I get into work under the cover of darkness. Usually, I have the stereo on the Neon turned low to hear conversation between me and Mike D. Mike D is on vacation. I had the stereo up pretty loud. XM channel 26, Top Flight. 3rd Eye Blind was playing. That's the last song I remember before turning off the car and putting the sun shade in the windshield.

iPod in tow, I did my obligatory edits and then jumped into one of the production rooms to check out some internet sites I love. I tried to tie the iPod into the production studio and wasn't able to. Its a shame. I had recently loaded the iPod with some Sting, Prince, Tool & Beatles and really wanted to listen to them on the ginormous speakers we have at our studios. So I opened up our music library.

The Clearchannel database is pretty huge, but its not complete, and it certainly doesn't have everything anyone would ever want. Its a good database of songs. I started up one of the computers we use to do editing to surf the internet and got started listening to the catalog at our disposal.

People say I'm the life of the party
Because I tell a joke or two
Although I might be laughing loud and hearty
Deep inside I'm blue...

Ah, Linda Ronstadt.

So take a good look at my face
You'll see my smile looks out of place
If you look closer, it's easy to trace
The tracks of my tears...

I had closed my eyes. The mind is a powerful tool that can build images and music videos that play as vivid as you can imagine. I had pictured a gorgeous 20 something woman in Stevie Nicks garb running in slow motion through a crowded soiree right at the climax of the song we see mascara running down her face and the hear-

My smile is my make up
I wear since my break up with you..

-then I get the rudest awakening I've had in too long. JD, the new lickspittle from Power 102 beckons down the hallway with the words that still haunt me 7 hours after he uttered them: "Who in the hell is that?".

There is no God.

Vehicle Profiling?

What do you drive? Is it an indicator of how you can potentially drive? Does it stand out from the crowd? Is it a unique, eye catching color that draws attention? Is it sporty or agile?

What if it was unassuming. What if it is a popular car for modifiers, but unmodified for street use? What if it's a stock car with an abnormal paint color?

Confusing?

I am guilty. Before I go any further, I am guilty for the offense of Improper Lane Change while driving. Its $150 for the fine. I admit it. I am guilty because I did do it. I can't deny it, the cops saw me do it and certainly everyone around me saw me do it.

While I was stopped along the side of the road, I noticed the cop looking up and checking on the other cars as they passed. The correlation of head turning and possible perpetrator vehicle was uncanny, almost as if he were looking especially hard for the "import tuner" style cars, both modified and unmodified.

My Neon is a stock SXT model. Stock wheels, tires, body kit, you name it. The only thing it has is a K&N air filter. I was wearing at the time my Cubs hat backwards and the stereo blasting really really loud (stock Daimler Chrysler stereo).

Now, again, I don't deny I was breaking the law, but is it right for the police to look for these cars and keep a closer eye on them more than the rest of the cars? What about the car that was in front of me that I was trying (in a pathetic and illegal sort of way) to tell that they were driving way to damn slow in the fast lane? It was a Honda Civic.

Maybe its the sort of thing that gets me irritated that the people who cause us to drive the way we do get away with the smug satisfaction that their irritating driving caused someone else to get a ticket for their own bad habit (albeit the ticket recipient was also in the wrong).

I used to get paranoid driving the Mustang that I would get pulled over for no apparent reason. It was bright red, fast and sleek -- a real head turner. Now, my paranoia is to my own little tiny sedan. Agile and nimble as it is, its got a bad rap on the streets, all with its wild paint scheme and stock appearance.

It just struck me as strange.

(re)discovering music

For as long as I can remember, music has always been something that I can escape into. Whether it be a Fleetwood Mac album or Eminem, there's something that I can listen to that's perfect for my mood or situation. A few bands I try to listen to but often times can never find usually appear on XM, but more times than I care to count I can never find them.

So when I was at Circuit City yesterday, I found a few albums that I bought sight on scene.



TOOL, LATERALUS



TOOL, UNDERTOW

The only one I didn't buy, but I definitely recommend is from Queensryche.



Queensryche, Promised Land

This one was lost at the bottom of my CD tower in my room. Turned sideways and upside down and collecting a lot of dust. I need to do something better with the storage in my room and I also need to update my sidebar playlist to reflect my current play list and new songs.

Expect those soon.

After the thrill is gone

I left work on Friday and thought to myself that the week coming up would be a strenuous one, longer days, somewhat stressed worrying about two jobs instead of one. I unlocked the car, took it out of gear, pushed the clutch and started up the Neon en route back home for some needed rest.

I talk about rest as if I am worked to death. The hours are the only things that make me so tired. My job doesn't involve heavy lifting or strenuous activity, and thankfully my job isn't the sort of environment where I have to watch my step or keep hydrated after being in the hot sun or exposed to the elements needlessly. Matter of fact, it's been the same job I have had for almost 9 years now.

July 27th, 1997 I walked into the KTSM Newschannel 9 studios as wide eyed as anyone could get. Fresh out of high school, no college experience and suntanned from working summers at the local amusement park, I met with my then boss and signed paperwork hiring me on as a full time employee of a radio station. My heart pounded from anticipation (and the beginnings of high blood pressure) and my mind raced with the millions of thoughts about how working in the news and radio industry would be.

I would grab the keys to the cruiser, a 1996 Chevrolet Lumina minivan emblazoned with the radio station call letters on the side and take the sucker out for its daily washing and fueling. I stayed for hours at my house on days where the vehicle wasn't needed and detail it, vacuum out the carpets, organize the shelves, make it just that much more presentable. As I sit here and write about it, I laugh to myself how eager I was to please my superiors and show how much I appreciated my job. Then as I went higher in the company, I saw how others had taken the keys to the cruiser and didn't show the compassion and care I did.

As the years went on, I noticed that I too started to change. I had money. I had spare money and time to spend with friends. Everyone remembers climbing into my 1999 Cavalier and just driving for hours on end enjoying our company and the roads. My priorities changed and so did my outlook for my job. I saw my job as defining who I am. I am in this radio station because 18 years prior I was in the car with my parents and while passing by the KTSM Channel 9 studios, I leaned forward from the back seat and proclaimed "I'm going to work there".

My parents didn't say anything to me. I don't think they took me too serious when I said it.

It was around the epiphany of that foreshadowing that things started to change. All of my life I had devoted myself to my craft, my industry that I have nothing else to show for it. What I thought would give me money and fame, just gave me mediocrity and debt. I used to tell people that working at the radio station was just like any other nine to five job. It was a job. A task you alone are hired to perform to the best of your abilities based off of the information given to management off of your resume. A resume that only had one other radio job on it. It's a linear profession, not progression.

Do I care that I am not the most famous name in town?

No.

Do I care that I could have done more with myself doing something else?

Yes.

I've had so many friends tell me I am too smart for what I am doing at the radio station. It got really fucking annoying being told that. The question was always the same "What are you doing, you're smarter than this, you should be doing something other than this". I used to counter by telling people that I was doing what I wanted to do, not what others expected me to do. The sad part is it was what I didn't want to do that I ended up doing and regret not taking the advice my friends tried to hammer into my head years ago.

I also have the opposite view based on what my friends talked me out of doing back when I had a better chance at pursuing it. Then one day, I started to feel differently about my job, my career. Years of telling everyone that it was merely a nine to five job started to sink in. Working at the radio station has been just like working at any other nine to five job, I got there, did my work, did whatever extra needed to be done and then got the hell out of there as soon as I could.

Putting the car into first gear made me realize up until buying the Neon, I had been doing the same thing for the past 10 years, 9 at this job. It was just another day at work. Another day at my job, a place where menial tasks are performed day in and day out. The passion I once used to have for my work is slowly starting to disappear and the feeling I used to have isn't there anymore.

The thrill is gone.

So where do I go from here?

Well, things are changing at work. I don't know for certain that I am included in these changes, but I know for certain that change will come my way soon.

When that happens, I will make my change.

I am not Eddie Ita

No matter how hard I try, I am not Eddie Ita.

Who is Eddie Ita?

I don't know. IM getting a lot of collection agents calling my Cingular GoPhone just convinced I am Eddie Ita. Apparently, Mr. Ita hasn't paid his bills.

A lot of bills.

I thought I had taken care of the few phone calls I had been receiving last month from a collections agency asking for this person. Well, apparently he didn't pay off a lot of his bills.

Once again, if you are a creditor, if you are dialing 915-867-5309 and asking for Eddie, you're out of luck.

SO STOP CALLING ME.

What is it about the smell of charcoal lighting?

It's unmistakable. The instant you smell those first few coals ignite, you start anticipating what the food is going to taste like. Waiting with anticipation for the rest of the briquettes to light and then set to a nice charred white color, indicating they're ready to accept meat. Ribs, chicken, hotdogs, hamburger patties, steaks & grilled onions and garlic, all makes the mouth water with the remembrance of barbecues past and how great they all tasted.

Hopefully, if you are reading this on this July 4th in America, you are also lighting up your grill and cooking out with friends and family celebrating the Declaration of Independence.

Sorry England,



Not yours.