PBDC Day 18/31: Five Years Ago

 In February of 2009, a bunch of rowdy theatre kids from Diablo Valley College and a few faculty and staff members traveled by caravan from Pleasant Hill, California to CSU Fullerton in Fullerton, California to present their production of Stephen Adly Guirgis' Jesus Hopped the 'A' Train at KCACTF XLI.

Growing up in California, we didn't see much snow, so when we drove over the Grapevine and saw some of this mysterious ground cover, we knew it was going to be quite a weekend.

Back when Facebook Notes were still a thing, I wrote a Note after we returned. I have since then imported it to this blog for easy access. Enjoy:

The Morning After

It's...not crazy, or amazing, or weird, but it's...____________ to realize that this amazing experience was only five years ago. I still lived in northern California. I had not received my acceptance letter to Long Beach, and actually at that point when the picture was taken, I had not yet met the adjudicator who would see the play I directed, share with me that she is adjunct faculty at The Beach, or knew for certain if I would be attending a university.

Man, how time flies.

Photo and Blog a Day Challenge-Day 27/28: In Love With

The first school play I was ever in was in the fifth grade, and it was a class play (meaning everyone in the class was in it). It had an educational theme to it, being set in a classroom and pertaining to much of the curriculum that year--states and capitals. Despite my enthusiasm for the production, I was not given the opportunity for a lead role since my teacher did not believe I could focus enough to learn all the lines. So I had one of the smallest roles in the show, a boy named Jimmy Johnson (maybe that's really why I don't like the Lowe's 48 #NASCAR #StandWithSmoke), and my first line in the play was, "I'll say!"

When I was in high school I landed my first lead role-with the church theatre group-and I later found out that I wasn't cast based on talent, but because I was the only male that fit the lead's character description. With my high school drama program I was cast in my first musical, Little Shop of Horrors, and although I felt my nerdiness made me a lock for the lead of Seymour, I was cast to appear onstage as an unnamed supporting role ("Wino) in the opening number, but then sat in the orchestra pit to be the voice of the plant, Audrey II. At five feet, two inches tall, and about 120 pounds soaking wet, most audiences didn't believe that such a little guy supplied the booming voice for the alien plant--but I did. Well.

Through my time at Diablo Valley College I was blessed with an array of works to perform with: Shakespeare's MacBeth, Moliere's The Imaginary Invalid, an original Greek work by Nicole Hess-Diestler and Zach Diestler called Iphigenia at Aulis. There were numerous scene studies, or Brown Bags as we'd call them, where I was given great opportunities to delve into pieces by John Patrick Shanley (Frankie and Johnny), Emily Mann (The Execution of Justice), David Rabe (Hurlyburly). And there were even a couple of musicals, Bat Boy, a contemporary rock musical, and Some Enchanted Evening, a Rodgers and Hammerstein revue.

At Cal State Long Beach I played a cholo (Los Lobos de la Noche), an Indian boy (A Chance, an original piece by Chetan Sanathara), a Shakespearean father (Gentlemen Redux), and a gay man (Our Lady of 121st Street).

With the shows that I have been fortunate enough to be in, I've been challenged and stretched and corraled and set free. And even with my tattoos (which are something many of my theatre classmates considered to be taboo or too cumbersome to have to work around), I didn't have to cover them up in as nearly many shows as I was asked to show them off. Actually, for my role in Los Lobos they actually added more tattoos. And through all of this: Shakespeare, Greek, Moliere, cholo, Indian, gay, original pieces, I never had to be naked onstage. In a piece I directed, The Big Funk, by Shanley, one of my actors had to be naked, and I mean fully naked, no socks, dance belts, or nothing, but I myself had never been naked on stage.

Being naked is a scary thing for many people. Taking a shower or bath is probably the one thing that most people can be comfortable doing naked. Yes, I omitted sex, because 1. you don't have to be completely naked (#socks #shirts) and 2. being this intimate with someone doesn't necessarily mean you're absolutely comfortable with being naked.

So that leaves showertime as the singular occasion of being comfortable with nakedness.

I write quite a bit about positivity, especially in regards to loving one's self, and although it probably won't come as a surprise, I feel it to be a strong gesture to say it explicitly. I'm not always happy with my body.

In more bathrooms than not, stepping out of the shower usually places me face to face with the mirror above the sink. Nothing like starting your day with a vigorously hot shower, reviving you from your slumber, only to be slapped in the face by, well, your face...above your naked body. This is typically not the best feeling. 

But recently, I've been better about accepting my awesomeness and being happy with who I am. How much better? I took a picture of myself after I got out of the shower today.

With my hair messy and still a little bit wet, unkempt eyebrows center stage, I took a picture of myself at a time when I would normally not want anyone to see me. But today I do. Because I love who I am and I'm in love with myself. Not in a narcissistic way, but in a way that is in reply to, "If you don't love yourself, why should anyone else be?"

I'm a pretty hairless guy. Have you ever seen me with a mustache? Or a goatee with some sweet chops to frame it? Nope. And my hairless back (which I'm not complaining about) pictured above is right in line with my unmanly (by stereotypical standards) hairless chest.

This commercial was a nice reminder that every style is ok. Thanks, Genesis. #CallMe

The tattooed cat is out of the bag, and my upper back tattoos are now for everyone to see in all its bloggy glory. Kanjis for "wisdom" (Connecticut) and "loyalty" (Virginia), an anchor-inspired Sagittarius symbol (NorCal), and a modification of the Alexander Pope quotation, "To err is human, to forgive divine." (Montana).

I used to think that tattoos helped to draw attention away from parts of my body that I did not wish to show off (especially in my beach bum days when all I wore was a hat and a pair of board shorts), but I have since then refocused my appreciation for my ink as I became a curator of my own gallery. The tattoos on my skin are like patches on a cruise jacket-symbolizing deployments, missions, and battle groups.

Being on stage naked was something that many of us talked about in school, mostly in a fearful light. Just thinking about all those people and making eye contact with them afterwards knowing that they saw you in such an adulterated manner without reciprocation. But with live theatre, after the moment it's gone. With photography, that moment is frozen in time forever. 

But what good is a moment unless it's shared with others. So I wanted to share it with everyone (thanks to body positioning and framing a tasteful shot).

I am in love with myself. That's the healthiest, most fulfilling love anyone can have, and everyone should.

Photo and Blog a Day Challenge-Day 16/28: Different

Little. Yellow. Different.

Those of us above a certain age may recognize those words as a slogan from a late 80s commercial for Nuprin. (Travel back in time here.) I can't decide if I'm amazed, weirded out, or slightly brainwashed, but that is what I thought of when I read the photo prompt for today.

There is some irony in the fact that I remember a commercial for ibuprofen years before I joined the Navy, injured my shoulders, and began a ridiculous regimen that occasionally surpassed several thousand milligrams of the painkiller per day. It's like this marketing bug stuck with me almost knowing I would have a long-term relationship with the medication.

Fortunately, it has been quite a while since I've had to turn to prescription strength ibuprofen, and I'd like to think that my reconstructive surgery in 2011 has helped that, but that still doesn't drive me in a direction for the day's photography.

Thinking to myself that I need to take a picture of something different was like trying to isolate my favorite droplet of water in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Virginia Beach. So I shifted my perspective and thought that, instead of taking a picture of something different, I should take today's picture differently.

With my trusty pocket pal, the Samsung Galaxy SII, I went for the special effects.

Deciding what to snap was easy. Selfies have been a hot topic of discussion in the last year or so. With Obama getting the cold shoulder from the FLOTUS at the Mandela memorial, to the horrible trend of funeral selfies, and extreme selfies, shooting my own just felt right.

Here's one with flash.

The filter? Negative.

I don't look at myself in a negative light as often as I used to twelve, fifteen years ago, but I can say with confidence that now, even in a negative light, I like what I see. I see the highlight of light in the corners of my mouth and I think about how my braces in my sophomore and junior years of high school helped me literally mold the smile I have today. I notice the frames that frame my eyes, and think about how grateful I am to see.

(sidebar: I just searched my blog for what I thought was a post about me getting my eyeglasses in the sixth grade, but to no avail. What I thought was a blog post was a section from my unfinished NaNoWriMo book Juliet's Window.)

I see my hair and I think that, nearly ten years after separating from the military, I still prefer to keep it pretty short. If it gets long enough to touch the inside of my earlobe, it freaks me out. I see my clean shaven face, and I think of all the bartenders and servers that look at my when they card me, telling my I've got a baby face.

Spring semester, 2006, I dove into my first acting class at DVC, Beginning Acting with Beth McBrien. On this particular day she led us through an exercise that had everything to do with seeing yourself. Scanning. In the Arena Theatre, we all got out of our seats and partnered up with someone else in the class. Standing less than two feet from Mario, someone that became one of my closest friends while at DVC, we took turns scanning.

I went first, speaking what I saw. Truthfully, honestly, and openly. I see two eyes. I see brown hair. I see a nose, I see you smiling. I see you blinking. It goes on for several minutes. Observing and speaking about it has never been difficult for me. I'm observant and I like to speak my mind truthfully. But then it was time to switch. And as he looked at me, I stood there, on the stage of the Arena Theatre, surrounded by the other pairs in the class, and was scanned. He spoke what he saw, and I stood there silently. I tried to smile through it. I probably started laughing at one point. But as he continued to look and kept commenting and observing and telling me exactly what he saw, I couldn't take it. I ran up the stairs into the hallway and the flood gates opened. In a ball, sitting on the cement in the cool hallway, I was a complete mess. At first I couldn't understand what had caused this emotional outburst. We were just participating in a simple beginning acting class exercise. I kept my head down, but as my classmates walked out at the end of class, they all knew I had been sobbing. Not crying. Not weeping. Sobbing.

After everyone had left, Beth had came outside, and she had invited me back inside to talk. I had told her I had no idea why this exercise had such a drastic affect on me, and without prodding, she assured me that if something as "simple" as scanning could evoke such a high level of emotion, I held in my person such a powerful fuel that actors covet. Later on, I realized what this exercise reminded me of--hearing what someone saw in me in such a brutal truth. But it wasn't in a classroom, and it wasn't in the name of art. It took me a while to be ok with scanning, but once I got past being so defensive (usually with laughter, which was--well, still is--a defense mechanism) I learned that the simple act of seeing, observing, and sharing in a truthful, honest manner, is the most direct connection you can share with someone. Over time I learned that that doesn't just apply in theatre. Sure, theatrical acting was the focus, but it's also an integral piece of professional acting (because, let's face it, even though we aren't all thespians, we're all acting to some extent on the stage we call the workplace), as well as social interacting (you don't talk to grandma the way you talk to your favorite bartender...or maybe you do).

So yeah. I see myself. I see myself in a different light because I've acknowledged that I see myself. And a lot of that has to do with what other people see. Not to say that how I feel about myself is based entirely on how people view me, there's a balance in consideration or ignoring those views, but how I see myself has so much to do with awareness. And what I do with that awareness has helped me see myself in a positive light, whether or not the filter through which I'm being viewed is negative.

So thank you, Beth McBrien, my partner Mario, and beginning acting class for detonating the first blast in the years of sedimentary insecurities. Thank you, art, for allowing me to see myself in a way that will go beyond the theatre doors. And thank you, childhood experience, for rooting yourself so deep within myself that a simple harmless act of someone telling me that I have brown eyes and freckles on my skin could force me to run out a classroom that simply encouraged us to embrace art within ourselves.

If it were not for all this, I would be exactly the same as I was years ago. Heavily guarded. But I'm not. I'm much smarter, or rather, aware, of who I am. And I love that I'm different.

Something old, Something new. A little red, and white, and blue.

I found this in an earlier Facebook Note, and I wanted to share it, being July 4^th. It’s something I had written for an online creative writing class one summer with DVC, and I’m posting it unedited:

“In the pen dance day”

these red and white bars behind which I sleep


represent feelings of war and peace,

they say


but if there is peace

there is no need for war



white stars hang high in the dark blue sky


parading their magnificence for all to see

but what good do they serve if they stay protected from the battle between red and white?





back and forth taking turns


like seasons of war and peace

the red and white bars alternate

but we start with war


and do not end in peace





now what does that say about US

maybe we should look at ourselves

and discover what we symbolize

24JUN08

The pictured ensign I received from the crew (I almost said “cast” hahaha) of the USS Hyman G Rickover, SSN-709, when I had re-enlisted in October of 2002. I still have it, and it currently sits shoddily folded on top of my shelf. It hasn’t touched the ground, and I have yet to get a shadow box for it.

Yes, if you didn’t know, I’m a US Navy veteran, ’99-’04, honorably discharged for medical reasons. No, I didn’t go to Iraq, or anywhere else in the Middle East, and to some ignorant civilians, my lack of participation in OIF/OEF completely negates my service in the US Armed Forces. This fact has raised a point of contention in more than a couple of instances, all of which, I wish it hadn’t.

In a complaint speech assignment for a speech class at DVC, I chose the “oh, you weren’t in Iraq” topic as my target. To my recollection, the outstanding statistic from that speech was that approximately 73% of the US Armed Forces would not be stationed/deployed to the Middle East. Seventy-three percent. But thanks to the media and narrow-minded scope of many, serving in Afghanistan is the only noble way to validate your time in the military. Not to say that those serving out there are negligible, far from, what I’m saying is the other side, don’t view the rest of us as negligible.

Obviously, I can only speak for myself, so please don’t take this as a generalization of veterans’ opinions. Luckily, my separation from the military means I won’t have to go east to serve, but that doesn’t change the fact that I served in a different way—a much different way—aboard a submarine. Not only that, but the Rickover was apart from any battle group.

It’s getting late, and I can always come back to this later, but I wanted to post this to share the free write poem from 2008 and to toss a little knowledge out there.

Happy Independence Day, USA. Everyone be safe and enjoy the day.

getting cast in life, and making the most of your duty station

originally written Monday, July 21, 2008 at 6:52pm

actor. sailor. I am both. and this week I realized that they are more similar than people may think. whether your duty station assigned by the Army, Air Force, Coast Guard, Marines, or Navy, you are assigned to a location, a team, and a job.
I was sent to Great Lakes, Illinois, onto Charleston, South Carolina, and then to Norfolk, Virginia. All three of those locations are Navy bases. I went to boot camp, I went through the Nuclear Powers Program, and I was stationed on my submarine. I make friends at each site. I have stories and memories that only those that were there will understand. People will hear about it, but it's only the truth for those of us that lived it.

I did plays in high school at Deer Valley High School and Holy Rosary Theatre. When I moved back in '05, I started doing shows at DVC, and now I'm in a show with Shotgun Players in Berkeley. Different groups of people, different shows, different chapters of my life. whether it was with my submarine, my church theatre group, my directing class, or at John Hinkel Park, I've made friends. I've learned, I've watched, and I've experienced. many times, integrating chapters of your life are difficult. my fellow submariners may never meet my friends from high school. some of my fellow actors from DVC may not meet my UBU castmates.

sailor, actor, or director, one idea rings true. when the objective is reached, whether it is for national security or public entertainment, when the curtain goes down, some of those people will never be seen again. you try and try to stay in touch. but at some point, 99% of the time, it fades. another chapter in your life has closed, and you're transferred to another duty station 3,000 miles away, or you're doing another show in a different part of the country. granted, the theatre community is much smaller, and staying in the Bay Area the term "mutual friend" is like taking a breath. in the military it isn't that common. Ubu for President opens in two weeks. seven weeks after that the show will be closed, we'll all be doing other shows, I'll be getting ready to direct a play at DVC, and you'll be off singing, dancing, and/or auditioning with your boyfriend, for somewhere else, maybe nearby, perhaps across the country.

everyone has chapters. I get that. but mine end quicker. and happen faster and more rapid succession than a lot a people I've met. maybe it's making up for lost time, or maybe it's just because, for some reason, I was built to handle it. or at least handle it, better than most.
I know another chapter is approaching soon, and well, that means this one will be closing. maybe this transition will be smoother, and maybe I'll bring more people with me from this chapter into the next. with Shotgun I've officially started to branch away from DVC, and with directing at DVC, I've opened up another side of myself that can be marketed and publicized just as much as I can acting, singing, dancing, and musicianing (?).
maybe I will go to Long Beach, or if I can afford it, perhaps I actually will be able to move home to the east coast. or maybe I'll stay around a little longer than I intended in the Bay Area and learn more from all the new people I have just met. who knows. I sure as hell don't, but as the fingers fly across the keyboard, and the pencil scribbles across the notebooks, the chapters will end and begin again. they've been doing that for almost 27 years, and well, I think I'm doing okay. we'll just have to see.

Don't suc. succeed

"What is success?" was a question that came up in my Theatre Today class last week. The same question was posed to me before I moved down here. A good friend suggested I find my own definition for it, and that's been rolling around in my head ever since. In class, the responses were very American, driven by consumerism: money, power, materialistic trophies and financial benchmarks. Meanwhile I'm sitting in my seat with my answer in my head, waiting, hoping that someone will be on the same wavelength and say that we should define "success" for ourselves. I felt that if I had offered my answer, I would want to continue the conversation in that direction, at which point we would be completely sidetracked; so for my own cowardly justification, I sat quietly and listened to my classmates' discussion contributions. 

I've heard many times that Theatre is a selfish industry, and that can be taken in many ways. It can be in the manner that you are "competing" against actors, designers, techs, and directors for the same position, and even though you're friends with them, you want that job and/or that paycheck as much as they do. In a more personal light, the theatre can steal your life away from your family, from your ability to even have a family, and even from your friends and social life in general. Those of us that are wholly dedicated are usually split in multiple directions: classes, rehearsals, multiple part-time jobs, relationships, children, the list goes on; but how selfish should you become to progress in the direction that you wish to? I've asked myself that question multiple times in the last few years, and my answer has developed in my work ethic-I belong in the theatre. There have been numerous relationships that have suffered because of my theatrical obligations, no, not obligations, determinations. "Obligations" sounds negative, and being in the theatre is far from negative, it's my choice, and I've been determined to move forward everyday. I digress. Relationships are sacrificed for my dedication to the theatre. If I try to put more time into the relationship, something else has to suffer…the non-theatre classes. Well, that wasn't a good idea either. Over the last couple years the relationships have fallen by the wayside and the Theatre has become my main squeeze. This has come to power through choices I have made, and I don't regret what I have done, nor have I ever, but I have learned from all of them. The more I have become involved in Theatre, the more I withdrew from my social life. There should be a balance, and I'm working at it every day. 

[my brain just stopped, and my thought train was AMTRAKed. if you were watching television you would currently be seeing static, perhaps a pixelated screen if you have a new plasmafantasticLCDmonitor, if you're used to regular tube TVs you would see the black strip across the bottom and the vertical color stripes across the screen.] 

I am not defining "success" as a destination, I am treating it as a journey. I have succeeded already, I am going to succeed in the future, and I am currently succeeding-right now, at this very moment. "Success" seems to be as complicated as love, and it also feels as if it has been as commercialized just that same. Lil' Kim had a song a few years ago entitled "Money, Power, Respect" and that, for some, is as good a definition of "success" as they need. According to <http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/success> 

• Main Entry: suc·cess 
• Pronunciation: \sək-ˈses\ 
• Function: noun 
• Etymology: Latin successus, from succedere 
• Date: 1537 
1 obsolete : outcome, result 
2 a : degree or measure of succeeding b : favorable or desired outcome; also : the attainment of wealth, favor, or eminence 
3 : one that succeeds 

and it seems that Merriam-Webster agrees with my idea of success as a journey at not a destination, as you'll notice that the first definition is obsolete, and the working definitions refer to the degree or "the attainment of" 

My definition of success has two parts, a concrete aspect that can be portrayed in examples and benchmarks, and an abstract side that will be just that, abstract and conceptual. Success has never been about money, having the newest gadgets, nicest car, or having a trophy wife. When I was 19 I transferred to the USS Hyman G Rickover, SSN-709 (Hoorah!) and, only two years in the Navy at that point, senior enlisted members were already plugging reenlistment packages and bonuses. My division chief, the late EMC(SS) Sean Bednarz had educated me on all the wonderful opportunities that would be available to me if I stayed in for "only" ten years-supervisory positions at power plants, paychecks upwards of $60,000 a year, moneymoneymoneymoneymoney. After he was done with his commercial I looked at him and told I'm rather make enough money to "just" get by and support my family teaching high school drama than to make an exorbitant amount in an industry that I have no desire to stay in for the rest of my life. Quality of life is more important to me than money. And he looked at me in amazement and after asking how old I was said, "kids like you don't talk like that anymore," and he's completely right. 

America is a consumer-driven populace, and there's no one party solely to blame, but younger people just become more focused on money as the years go by. Don't get me wrong, I like to have money available as much as the next person does, but, as I've stated in earlier FB Notes, being here in Long Beach with very little money (for now) has helped me recalibrate myself in many ways. There are too many luxuries that I took for granted, and living here has shown me that I don't need them. They're still nice every once in a while, but there really is no need to eat out for every meal, go to a bar every night, and aimlessly drive around when I can eat at home, not drink all the time, and take the bus or even walk somewhere. Just like I told my Chief, if I can provide for my family, or depending on how our family situation is coordinated with working parent or parents, I simply want my family to be provided for. I don't want to scrape by, and I don't really need six cars and a house in every state (although a private jet would be welcomed). If we're healthy, with food on the table, clothes on our backs, and comfortable living conditions, things are good. 

On the abstract side of success, if I can do what I love, and I mean truly enjoy what I'm doing for a living, then I am a success. Whether I'm teaching, working on Broadway, London, Oslo, or Kansas City, if I can head to work in the morning and know I'm going to enjoy what I'm doing, I'll call myself a success. This is where the selfishness comes in. I dedicate myself to the theatre, my passion, my craft, my art, and I need to achieve a balance with my family. That second part is what's been eluding me. This past week marked what would have been the fourth anniversary of matrimony had we stayed together. Stay with me, I'm not getting emo and regretting my "practice engagement." So, obviously I'm not married, and do not live in Virginia, and because of this separation and move back to California, I was able to get back into theatre, train at DVC, work with Shotgun and DTC (then DLOC) and arrive where I am now, CSULB, getting ready to start the third week of my junior year on track to achieve a major milestone with a BA in Theatre Arts. So yes, everything happens for a reason, I get it, and those reasons weren't apparent to me four years ago when I was leaving Virginia Beach, but they are now, and I can definitely say I've succeeded since then. 

I don't know what the future will bring, and I'm not going to plan too far out. There are things I want to do, but I know life happens, and sometimes it doesn't go the way you planned. As long as keep doing what I love, and am making progress towards what I want, I'm succeeding. It's not about the money, the fame, or the prestige. It's about doing what I want and enjoying every bit of it. A college dropout who went back to school later in life said that if he ever hears you say you're bored, he'll crush you (it may have been "pummel," but I'm not sure, that's why I paraphrased, but there will be life threatening danger). He's absolutely right, there's too much cool stuff to be bored, learn something, look back, reflect, regroup, create and recreate. There are plenty of ways to succeed at something, and if you don't, or say you can't, you just "suc." 

"free" time

(**originally written as a Facebook note, you know, back before Timeline, and when Bumper Stickers were the best things to share**)

by Marlon D Deleon on Thursday, June 12, 2008 at 4:55pm

that's a funny concept. not funny as in "am i clown, do i amuse you?" funny. but, "funny" (hee hee, i just said "buttfunny") as in...interesting, intruiging...reflective.

there's always more things i could be doing. reading. working out, job searching, researching colleges, writing poems, the list goes on.

if you really think about it, i'm already doing a lot right now. breathing, looking, listening, thinking, housesitting, and typing this note. now it doesn't stop there, i'm also preparing, relaxing, enjoying the summer, reflecting on myself.

that's where it gets complicated, but not really.

ok, so it isn't THAT complicated, there's just a lot going on (once again, but not really)

so i'm in college, DVC, now set to direct one of next season's major productions. cool. i'm also back in acting, just having got into a play with Shotgun Players in Berkeley. also cool. i'm on a weakly motivated job search as I am once again unemployed. not cool. i've been shut down, but if not that, simply disregarded without notification by other employers. so not cool.

i'm 26, almost 27. in community college. a year away from transfer. my peer group at school is average age 20 (that's being nice) many people my age, are either: 1) done with college (graduated or dropped out) and working towards settling, or 2) alcoholics.

this, of course is a very general statement. but really...

i am in neither circle. i'm not done with college, and i'm over being an alcoholic, tried it, had fun, moved on.

since i've been at dvc, it's been crazy-socially and professionally, but i finally got myself back to a decent level. i love my friends, don't get me wrong, i've met some people that i'll probably be friends with for the rest of my life, but it doesn't change the fact that I am considerably older, and there have been many instances in which that has played a factor, to the benefit of myself...NOT.

so here's the deal. i meet people at school, we kick it. fun times, beach, parks, playin around, fun stuff. but then there comes the point in conversations when i am reminded of my age, or more rather, my level of life experience, at this point, there is a minor rift in the interaction, and drama ensues. questions arise from my past and cause drama. parents and friends are wary of "the older guy" blah blah blah.

scenario number "B"

i meet someone my age (probably at a bar) we get along, we party well, we can have good discussion. but then i want to go to a park. or watch Cars, or Finding Nemo...or...Kung Fu Panda for the 20th time. that's when it starts to go downhill. who says that when you're older, you can't go to a park and play on the swings. why you can't just walk around the mall, get some ice cream, and lay in the grass at a park? and here is where said female my age tells me I'm not mature enough for her.

and thus, the very unique category that I am in. fun. work. an actual balance. (kind of) when it's time to work, i work. when it's time to play. i play, but the kind of play that can make me feel like i'm 21 one day, and 12 the next. fun is fun, work is work. i am me.

there's been a lot going on around me lately, just in general, not all bad, not all good, but not really stressing me out. last week i found a peace within myself that helps me smile. a peace that keeps me going everyday, and gets me to where i should be, and to hold me over until i arrive at that moment when i say to myself, "ok, i get it."

there's no monumental event or anniversary, life-changing song or film that i saw today. i just sat down at the keyboard, and started to type.

i just felt the need to let you know-about me.

--Marlon