Love Doesn’t Discriminate

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine was attacked when a burglary was botched and the bugler panicked. She sustained severe injuries and was hospitalized. Her husband recently sent out an amazing email about how they are dealing with the emotions that arise from an experience like this.

I asked him if it was okay for me to publish it here on Intrepid Flame, as I feel the message is an important one, and he said okay. Here it is in its entirety- names and places edited to protect privacy:

By now many of you know that a little over 2-weeks ago someone broke into my house and severely beat my wife. It was horrible, unimaginable and a shock to us all in the community, friends and family all over the world.

It left many of us asking why? and why did this happen to her? I am not sure we’ll ever know the answer to that.

It happened mid-day and she was locked presumably safely in our hose.

If you have ever been a victim of a crime then you know that you feel violated, angry, and vulnerable when someone invades your private ‘space’ like that.

Compound that with the brutal beating of someone you love and you also feel rage, guilt, sadness and finally relief when you know that everything will be OK in the long run. Trust me, you feel almost every imaginable human emotion.

Yes, you feel guilty for not being there to help. You feel rage and want to find the guy and make him pay for his actions. You feel grief and sadness when you see someone you care so much for in that physical and emotional state.

All of those are viable emotions and from my perspective quite natural and healthy to feel. But you can’t dwell on them, focus on them or let them consume you.

I can tell you why.

Those negative emotions and feelings aren’t constructive. They don’t build anything new. They don’t replace the loss. They don’t help the healing process that must take place. And ultimately those negative emotions are counterproductive and destructive.

The only truly worthwhile emotion is love. It is the only way to rebuild what was destroyed or lost. Love is constructive. It helps everything heal.

Of course, you already know that. This is just a reminder.

Whether you know it or not you are part of an incredible community that extends from the ____ community outward and encompasses all of humanity. Everyone from the students, parents, maintenance staff, colleagues, and administrators at ____ to friends and family around the entire world reached out to us quickly and lovingly. Total strangers offered their sympathies and help.

People around the world cried for us. People all over the planet have been praying for us and sending positive energy and thoughts. Everyone gave us the best thing they could…. their love, positive thoughts and support.

And here’s the catch. Some of those people aren’t necessarily our best friends. Some are strangers. And… how to say this… some are the very ones that get on our nerves at times or annoy us the most. Some of the people that responded with the most love are the very same ones that give us the most trouble.

That is astounding.

You know these people. We all have them in our life. Perhaps they are the student that is naughty or misbehaving in class. Or the colleague or parent that doesn’t necessarily get along with you very well. Or the acquaintance in the community that you never really had time to get to know. Or someone that just puts you off for some reason or another.

And countless well wishes and prayers from so many different types of people: Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Christians, Jews, Atheists, Indians, Indonesians, Malays, Americans, Australians, Africans, Brits, Thai, Canadians, Filipinos… and the list goes on and on.

Not to mention from every layer of society: students, maids, maintenance guys, parents, police, managers, workers, rich people, poor people… their station in life didn’t matter. They all rushed to our side.

You name it… we got it and accepted their love and caring with open arms. Love doesn’t discriminate or know those boundaries and definitions.

I hope you know what I mean. I find it truly amazing. I can’t stop thinking about it.

So what does that teach us and help us remember?

What it reminds me to remember is that all those differences are superficial. They really don’t matter. The minor differences. The annoying quirks and idiosyncrasies. They aren’t what we should focus on. They don’t define the essence of the person.

Race, religion, socio-economic status and beliefs don’t erase or mask what we truly are or can be at the core of it all: loving, caring human beings who struggle through this existence with one another, side by side, trying to make sense of it all.

As I’ve journeyed through this life I’ve learned, forgotten and relearned many times over this simple fact: as we swim through this ocean of experience we try not to drown. We teach each other to stay afloat. We support each other and we build life rafts out of community, friendship and love because we know deep down inside that we are all stronger when we work together. We are not alone in our confusion and struggle.

It is indeed our greatest commonality and asset. This life. This collective struggle. This shared existence.

In our time of need all of those superficial things dropped away like the petals of dried flowers and exposed this fact. Everyone that responded did so in the same exact way. With kindness, love, respect and gave what they could. Because in our hearts we all know we are in this together. Although sometimes we tend to forget that basic tenet.

Of course, you already know that. This is just a reminder.

So here is my challenge to you and what I have learned, forgotten and relearned through this experience:

Cherish these moments you have on this Earth, especially with loved ones. Don’t dwell on the emotions that aren’t worthwhile. And next time someone is getting on your nerves or causing you problems, look beyond the thin veneer of their quirks and idiosyncrasies and gaze deeply into the core of their humanity.

Look at them through the lens of our common human experience and you’ll see yourself reflected there. And if you do this, I promise you will recognize that they are indeed just like you in their essence. You will recognize yourself in them.

Because one of the most profound things I have heard lately came from my wife when she said ‘I stopped being a victim the moment he stopped hitting and kicking me. Now I am a survivor.’

This makes sense to me because I truly believe and feel in my heart we are all surviving together in this existence and experience day-by-day in our own way, collectively.

Platoon Mashup

After watching the Jungle episode of the BBC series Planet Earth, in which they show a patrol of chimps who attack a neighboring community, I couldn't help but be reminded of how similar we really are to our ape cousins:

Lost Our Way

I hope Renegade Eye doesn't mind that I am copying his blog post verbatim, but the message of this clip and speech is so powerful and prefect that I wanted it archived on my blog as well. Who would have thought that a silent film actor would have such amazing words to say.

This speech epitomizes much of my philosophy, and I hope that whom ever reads this will share it with as many people as they can as well. Cut and Paste the text, embed the Youtube clip, get it out there. Share the vibe, spread the hope and Peace to you....



I'm sorry but I don't want to be an Emperor, that's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible, Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another, human beings are like that. We all want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone and the earth is rich and can provide for everyone.
The way of life can be free and beautiful. But we have lost the way.

Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate;
has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed.

We have developed speed but we have shut ourselves in:
machinery that gives abundance has left us in want.
Our knowledge has made us cynical,
our cleverness hard and unkind.
We think too much and feel too little:
More than machinery we need humanity;
More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness.

Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost.

The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me I say "Do not despair".

The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress: the hate of men will pass and dictators die and the power they took from the people, will return to the people and so long as men die [now] liberty will never perish. . .

Soldiers: don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you and enslave you, who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel, who drill you, diet you, treat you as cattle, as cannon fodder.

Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts. You are not machines. You are not cattle. You are men. You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate, only the unloved hate. Only the unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers: don't fight for slavery, fight for liberty.

In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written:
"The kingdom of God is within man"
Not one man, nor a group of men, but in all men; in you, the people.

You the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy let's use that power, let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give you the future and old age and security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie. They do not fulfil their promise, they never will. Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfil that promise. Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men's happiness.

Soldiers! In the name of democracy, let us all unite!

Somethings That Meant The World To Me

I am very excited to be writing about a book just released by a good friend of mine. Josh and I worked together in several restaurants in San Francisco in the late 1990's. It is enough to say that we had some great times and that we that got into our share of trouble. It is also important to say that Josh is one of the most talented people I have ever met. Please support a fresh, young new voice in literature and read Somethings That Meant The World To Me. You will not be disappointed!

My review:

In his brutally candid debut novel, Joshua Mohr creates a hauntingly detailed, beautiful yet wretched world familiar to every loser/saint trying to escape his or her downward spiral.

The carefully crafted prose leaves the reading hanging on every word, allowing the narrative to read like a series of tight flash fiction pieces, rather than a novel which can so often get bogged down by the weight of its plot. The short chapters, like snapshots, ultimately come together to create the complete story. Even while the characters wallow in their pain, shame, and darkness, Mohr’s voice maintains a stubborn perseverance that forces the reader to care about each of them.

In the spirit of downtrodden heroes ala Elliott Smith and Charles Bukowski, we follow the main character, Rhonda, down his path of near misses and ultimate failures. At every turn we are left hoping that he will succeed, knowing that his self-destructive behavior will never allow him redemption.



Flip-flopping between the present and flashbacks to Rhonda’s childhood abuse and subsequent therapy, Mohr painstakingly creates scene after scene where even, “emptiness can suffocate you,“ while a series of seemingly shallow characters, slowly gain depth as the plot unfolds.

Although Mohr confesses that, “sometimes things are so black they are more than a color; they are a place, a lonely solar system,” there is an element of hope hidden in his words, literally buried at the bottom of a dumpster, which forces the reader not to give up on Rhonda. By the time Rhonda confesses to being, “tired of being obliterated,” the reader is left to ponder whether or not Rhonda will find happiness.

Read Josh's article at The Rumpus about being published.

Bat Cave

A friend of mine had been to this cave out in the desert in Qatar a few weeks ago and I had asked him to take me the next time he went. As luck would have it, there was a sandstorm that day, but that didn't affect life beneath ground, so we went anyway.

Had a great time...

Dream of the Next

It was bound to happen- that in a project of this magnitude, writing about every song in the exhaustive Pearl Jam catalog, I would come across a few songs that I either:

• Have no connection to
• I don’t really like.

I am faced with a few options on how to handle the dilemma in this situation. I could:

• Strain myself trying to find some connection
• Strain myself trying to creating some profound meaning that is not there
• Listen to the song and allow it to inspire some sort of tangential art project
• Admit that song is not my cup of tea and move on.

While I like options three and four, and may choose to employ them at a later time, I am choosing to go with option five for the song Oceans. The wikipedia page makes for a good read, with fascinating trivia like the fact that the song was the fourth official release off Ten, complete with a video, but I don't have much more to say on the song.

For a band that kept their videos close to their chest, I cannot believe this video was released at all. It is a bit on the embarrassing side. I don’t know about you, but I like my brooding, angst ridden rock stars who have martyr-complexes not to be frolicking and smiling on the beach in Hawaii. They can smile and be happy, but not like this. I cannot find an embeddable version. That may be for the best. View at your own discretion.

Having said that, I will admit that it was a nice touch opening the Unplugged session with the song, and it does have a quiet intimidate feel here:



It is funny, I seem to find myself reverting to option three. I guess I just never felt that the song belonged on Ten, especially with songs like State of Love and Trust and Breath left off. Listening to it now, however, I can see it as a pre-cursor to many of the songs that would come later, as the band released some tension and started to find that tribal rhythm section that Jack Irons perfected.

Ament went so far as to say:

"When we were picking songs for Ten we thought it was important to pick the weirder moments, like "Oceans", because we wanted to be able to explore those areas down the line."

I will leave it at that. Oceans is not one of my favorites. What are your thoughts? Have I missed something? Is there something more to the song in your view?

Photo by Slightlynorth

Try To Erase This

Jeremy was always one of my least favorite songs on Ten. Being the most commercial and over played songs, I felt it my duty to disregard the song “every knew.” For years, I didn’t even listen to it, and while I thought the video was one the most artistic to ever be played on MTV, the very fact that it was on MTV made it less Pearl Jam for me.


Pearl Jam - Jeremy (Official Music Video) - Watch a funny movie here

Jump 17 years…I have been having a hard time deciding on what to do for this project in regards to Jeremy, until I tapped into the main message of the song. I decide to write what I thought Jeremy actually said in class that day (along with raw emotions I have been dealing with ). I usually do not like to write when I am emotional, but I have been stewing in a reoccurring and bubbling emotional whirlpool these days, so I thought I would blast Jeremy over and over again and just type.


Jeremy spoke in class today:

There is anger in me.
A seething fury.
A black hole into which I disappeared long ago.
A furnace burning in my core, pulsating,
An effervescent abyss demanding self-destruction.
It is not important who planted this anger here or if I will rid myself of it,
Bred in hypocrisy, deceit, and empty disregard, it fuels me.
This anger.

Directed at everything, everyone:
Teacher, president, priest, businessman, weatherman, counselor, warden.
Saint.
I am not the end of the line.
a mirror reflecting back every derelict decision
you have planted.
Nothing ends or starts here,
I am only the vehicle to recycle this ache.
Beware. It hurts.
Nothing disappears.
Did you think that it would?
That it could?

Fading fantasy everywhere. Buried in television sets.
Billboards. Monuments to disease.
Sprawling neighborhoods. Cancer. cul de sacs.
The world is rotting and I will rise above it by pulling you down.
Arms raised in a V
Smearing your face in it.
Anger in pools of maroon below.

No longer ignored.
Ridiculed. Rejected. Redundant. Reborn.

I was here. I am here. I was here.
I mattered.
I am gone except where I entered you.
There I grow...

… nothing changes.

The world goes on and I am gone.

Photo by pinkiedahlia

Pirates and Emperors

What more can I really say? This video so perfectly and simply says, what I have been trying to say here at Intrepid Flame for almost three years now. Watch it. Enjoy it. Share it.



From the website:

While critics decry the United States' current brand of military and economic imperialism as dangerously unprecedented, great powers have been throwing their weight around like schoolyard bullies since St. Augustine's time. This playful but pdsjakointed cartoon shows that while Uncle Sam has been an especially bad apple of late, he's following a patxnaskjtern of bad behavior which goes back decades.

Who Do Stories Belong To?

After my last post and podcast, I received an email from my dad, which expressed his displeasure with my account of not only that night, but also with how I express my childhood at large. I think part of his complaint is with the fact that I am publicly discussing these very personal and tender life experiences.

I hope he doesn’t mind that I also posted my response, so that this mysterious public who may or may not being reading these words can get a more balanced picture of our relationship. I love my father and do not want to paint a lopsided image of him here on this blog or anywhere else.

I thank him for bringing this to my attention and forcing me to keep his feelings in mind. I hope this helps.

Dear Dad,

I can’t say that I didn’t expect your email. In the back of my mind, I knew it was coming and even while I was creating the piece I kept you in mind. Having said that I also tried to stay true to my vision. I am sorry that it made you feel sad, that was not my intention. You said something interesting in your email:

I listened to my tragic death story still there are some errors in that story, can you please not write any stories about my life again cause you don't know the details.

You asked me not to write stories about your life because I don’t know the details, and this really got me thinking. Do stories really belong to any one person, because I saw this as my story? The story of how I dealt with your near death experience and the time in my life where I was about to leave home. This was my story about how I dealt with my childhood and how I came or am coming to terms with my childhood experience.

So in reality this is my story and you are but one character in it. So ultimately the details I write about are true, at least for me, because they are the way I remember them. Reality is a tricky thing and when you cloak it in memory and perspective and it becomes even more complicated.

I am sorry if you feel uncomfortable with the way I remember that night, my childhood and the role you played in it. We have had this talk many times, and I have told you that I love you very much and do not blame you for anything. I have blamed you in the past, but I am over that now. I have grown. I write these stories and rehash experiences, because by reliving and giving them expression, I am learning to see the past more clearly.

I know you tried your best, and as a father myself, I know how difficult it can be. I appreciate the things you taught me, and as I have said many times you helped shape the person I am for better or for worse, so if you are proud of me, than you should be proud of yourself as well, because no matter how much I whine and complain and dredge up the past, obviously some things worked. I turned out okay. You played a big part in that.

You also asked:

I have a big question "How many people do you know that their lives are or were perfect through their lives?"

I don’t know anyone who has a perfect life and that is not what I am after. I share my stories because I appreciate the imperfection of our lives. It is through our pain and scars where we learn about who we are and learn to grow. I am sure you have many stories about your childhood to explore, and I am sure that your perceptive would differ from your fathers as well.

I know it must be difficult to have your son constantly say how terrible his childhood was, and in public no less. I would be crushed if Kaia did that to me, and for this I am truly sorry. My childhood was what it was and compared to many other people’s it was damn near perfect. I know you both loved me and it was that love that carried me through all the mistakes and hard times. Perhaps I spend too much time dwelling on the mistakes and hard times. I promise soon that I will share some stories from the good memories I have from my childhood and there will be many I promise.

I was a shy, lonely kid, and nothing you did or didn’t do would have changed that. For as long as I can remember, I have been an introspective person who dwells on pain and suffering. I don’t know why. I am learning to move away from that and free myself to be truly happy, and believe me I am.

You have seen me, you have seen my life, you have seen my art, and in all of those things you should see yourself reflected. I spent so much of my life drunk and trying to escape and erase my past, because hurt me. I am now trying to look it dead on and deal with it, so I can move on and not force Kaia to carry any of that baggage. I want to be free from the haunting memories and see that it really wasn’t that bad. My stories start from the viewpoint of a child, I want them to end with me as a man.

This is happening slowly. But children create fantastic images of the past that adults cling to, I am trying to free myself from that.

I am sorry for publicly airing our family laundry. I love you. I am proud of you. I thank you for being my father.

I hope this email helps. (ps there is a Pearl Jam song coming up that connects with a lot of what I respect about you and it is coming up soon. So be patient. )

Do Not Harm

In this post, I want to return to highlighting and discussing the lines and ideas I found useful from The Engaged Spiritual Life, tonight I want to talk a bit about the precepts. For someone like me who is not a fan of rules, and who finds the idea of dogmatic sermons and commandments stifling, the precepts are a challenging facet of Buddhism. I often say that I love Zen, because of the freedom it allows me to explore my state of self and its interdependence with the rest of the world, so then how do I reconcile following a set of rules. This rigidity does not mesh with my philosophy.

But as Rothenberg says, the precepts are not a set Do’s and Don’t’s. He says it like this:

I like to think of the ethical precepts as providing training guidelines in another way as well, as establishing the very condition of safety that make training and learning possible. It is very hard to learn when feeling unsafe or threatened.

Following the precepts thus helps us not go down certain paths that typically lead to behavior that harms.

In other words, they are not saying Thou Shall Not Kill or face the consequences, but rather if you want to reach a state of awareness and understating, if you want a safe environment to further your learning that you should follow the precepts to the best of your ability.

Honestly, I don’t spend enough, or any time, contemplating the precepts and perhaps I should. That is why I am excited to work my way through some of the points he raises in the book.

The precepts are often open to a certain degree of interpretation, but most would agree that the first precept looks something like this:

I will be mindful and reverential with all life,
I will not be violent nor will I kill.

Avoid killing or harming any living being.
I undertake the precept to refrain from destroying living creatures.
I shall endeavor to protect and take care of all living creatures.

In short, do not do harm to other beings. The idea of not passing on pain and harm is where Rothenberg focuses his attention:

The inner work with the first precept is to cultivate mindfulness and wisdom in relation to tendencies to harm ourselves and others and to cultivate lovingkindness as an antidote to hatred and aversion. We especially study the tendency to “pass on” the pain when we are in emotional or physical pain ourselves. As we shall explore, this compulsive and often unconscious reaction to pain constitutes “suffering.” We therefore examine, over and over again how, when we are in pain, we react with fear, anger, or blame and act in ways that we think will somehow alleviate pain.

One way to understand the precept’s centrality is to see how it guides us to respond to pain of any kind, (our own and others)- even if the pain was born of injustice and oppression- as much as possible without inflicting further pain on others or ourselves.

Reaction to pain causes suffering. When we are in pain, we react with fear, anger, or blame. The first precept says we should not harm others, so when we are in pain we should work on not passing it on.

I have to say it again: Respond to pain of any kind, our own and others, even if the pain was born of injustice and oppression without inflicting further pain on others or ourselves.

Simple right? Not for me. I have a tendency to lash out against opposing view points and thus cause myself to get more frustrated and thus suffer more. Whether it is corporate capitalism, right-wing conservatives, or religious zealot, I have a hard time not rehashing the pain they cause me back onto them or myself.

I see this precept as a way for me to try and not regurgitate the pain they cause, by lashing out at them, but rather trying to step back and recognize how they make me feel and react, and trying to stop the cycle of pain.

Photo by Hdptcar

Bitter Hands

For my latest Pearl Jam song, Black, I decided to try my hand at a Podcast.

Autumn Story

I have a tendency to write about a lot of depressing topics. I know this. I feel guilty about it at times. People must think I am a dower old grump, who spends all his time worrying about the state of the planet, the collapsing social order, the end of times etc…

The irony is that I see myself as an idealist, and like most idealist I think of myself as an optimist. Every once in a while something comes along that just makes me smile, makes me feel pride in being a human being, and proves to me once and for all that humanity isn’t destined to some terrible fate, because we are base, ignorant, creatures, but rather we are amazing, insightful, beautiful animals who are working our way through a complicated karmic/evolutionary maze. We are able to communicate the most complicated and yet simple emotions and ideas through are ability to create art.

By simple self-expression and our imaginations, we constantly prove to each other what we are all capable of if we only take the time to look inward, outward, share, connect, and create.

The video below is a beautiful example of what the human spirit was meant to do. I find it simply stunning. I recommend you watch it in full screen.

Firekites - AUTUMN STORY - chalk animation from Lucinda Schreiber on Vimeo.

It's Not Going To Be Okay

The article, It's Not Going To Be Okay, by Chris Hedges is not saying any thing new, but it is saying it well. I suggest you read the article in full, but for those of you who are attention span deficient, here is a recap:

... the corporate state has successfully blocked any real debate about alternative forms of power. Corporations determine who gets heard and who does not, he said. And those who critique corporate power are given no place in the national dialogue.

They have to begin structural changes that involve a very different approach from a market economy. I don't think this will happen."

The American left, he said, has crumbled. It sold out to a bankrupt Democratic Party, abandoned the working class and has no ability to organize. Unions are a spent force. The universities are mills for corporate employees. The press churns out info-entertainment or fatuous pundits. The left, he said, no longer has the capacity to be a counterweight to the corporate state. He said that if an extreme right gains momentum there will probably be very little organized resistance.

While you're at it, you might as well read Buying Brand Obama by Hedges as well:

President Obama does one thing and Brand Obama gets you to believe another. This is the essence of successful advertising. You buy or do what the advertiser wants because of how they can make you feel.

A public that can no longer distinguish between truth and fiction is left to interpret reality through illusion

So what's next? Where do we go? How do we start to make meaningful change on a large scale. I know that we start with ourselves and all that, but it looks like we may need more. Ideas? Thoughts?

Topsider

A series of pictures from Middle School have surfaced on Facebook that have forced me to start writing a few tales about those days. They will be in random order and very raw. I have categorized them as Davidson. If you are reading this and went to Davidson, I would love your comments and insight. I am sure I have built that time as much worse than it was, so it would be cool to have your help in flushing out that time in my life.

The first thing I remember about entering middle school was my best friend’s brother’s advice, “You must have Sperry Topsiders or don’t even think about showing up.” Up till then, growing up in what was called The Canal, I had never even thought that there could be some outside source that could dictate how I should or should not dress.

The Canal is an anomaly. A blot on the perfect face of the small Marin town, which calls itself San Rafael. Nestled at the foot of beautiful Mt. Tamalpais, San Rafael is a strange meld of leftover of hippiedom and upstart yuppie wealth. Priding itself as one of the richest counties in California, Marin is utopia of sorts. Except of course if you were unlucky enough to be one of the immigrant refugee families living in The Canal.

I am still not sure how Marin allows a large section of its water front property to be squatted upon by gangs of Mexicans, El Salvadorians, Vietnamese boat people, exiled Iranians, Haitians, and a slew of other non-desirable third world refugees who some how found themselves riding the bus alongside the Lexus SUVs and Mercedes Benzes.

Throughout my Elementary School days at Bahia Vista, I never knew I was different. Tucked away and secluded on the edge of town, San Francisco Bay wetlands, and the dump, I don’t remember hanging out with more than two or three white kids, I later learned they were all at Glenwood and Sun Valley. We were a motley crew at Bahia Vista. No one wore Sperry Topsiders and more importantly no one really noticed what anyone else wore, because we were all dressed in the most affordable clothes our parents could find.

I remember walking to Barney’s shoes on Sir Francis Drake Blvd to find the mandatory footwear for my new school, Davidson Middle School. We took Gonzalo’s brother’s word as gospel, for he was an eight grader. I had somehow convinced my parents that I was not allowed to start school with out a pair of Sperry Topsiders. Little did they know that for the next three years there would be a litany of must have items: Koala soda, New York Seltzer, Gotcha, Jimmy Z’s, and other over priced surf wear, Nike shoes, and Swatch watches were just a few of the things that poor kids from the Canal had a hard time acquiring while other kids at Davidson seemed to interchange at will. Pre-pubescent consumerism was pumping just as strong as our errant hormones at Davidson.

The Sperry Topsider was my first lesson in class awareness and conformity. Pablo had failed to mention that there were a few different colors to choose from. I figured that since he hadn’t mentioned it, than at least the need to fit in would allow for some wiggle room. I looked at all the shoes and was not impressed with the style or the fit, but if I had to have them than god damn it, I would not fail my first test. I chose the light beige ones hoping that I had made the right choice.


I had not. The style everyone seemed to be wearing was the brown ones.

There I was on day one looking at the gaggle of beautiful girls, all blond and soft, being picked up in their Mercedes wearing the wrong shoe. I didn’t realize that at that moment my life had become a John Hughes film. A film I would be unable to escape until my sophomore year in high school, when I would stop giving a shit and start being myself.

To be conintued…