tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-131242912024-03-07T15:57:57.954-06:00I Rant Therefore I RaveCrazy? Yes. Angry? Often. Determined To Break It Down? Damn Right.IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.comBlogger126125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-47912572800260341682011-05-01T04:38:00.000-05:002011-05-01T04:38:09.253-05:00Sorry, Farrell, but you're no Douglas Quaid.<div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I heard recently that the sci-fi classic (yes, I said 'classic') 'Total Recall' (1990), was going to get one of these 'reboots' or 're-imaginings' or whatever the current turn of phrase is. They've got Len Wiseman, the helmer of the 'Underwrold' franchise and husband to ultra fox Kate Beckinsale. So far, the only not-quite-solid confirmation is that Coin Farrell is to re-imagine the character originally crafted by the former governor of California, Arnold Schwarzenegger. Oh, Arnold, it sounds pretty much like it's spelled CALIFORNIA. I'm pretty sure you can gather how to say it right BY PRONOUNCING THE LETTERS CORRECTLY. And don't gimme any crap, Arnold. I can't ever be president either. </div><div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The rumor mill says Beckinsale is in talks to play one of the two key, female roles in 'Recall'. And while I'm all for Beckinsale in anything, except perhaps an Adam Sandler movie as his love interest. Seriously, dude, I know you're rich and famous and you got clout, but IT'S NOT BELIEVABLE. Anyhow, this talk about reboot got me thinking about the original and I remembered that I had picked up a $10 Blu-ray copy from Target a few months back. It was still wrapped and organized (by my wife) in alphabetical order in our movie library. So I excitedly grabbed it and announced to my wife that we were about to watch "a cinematic classic". Being a film buff, Denna was looking forward to it, but apprehensive since she knows my eclectic taste in films (from Cannibal Holocaust to Casablaca). And much to her dismay, I presented 'Total Recall'. I did my best to pitch it to her, but no dice. So, maybe I can pitch it to you. Let me give you a little background on the film.</div><div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Considered by many to be one of the most prolific and influential writers of the cyber-punk movement of the early to mid 80's, the film is based on the work of author Philip K. Dick. His subject matter, which has always been a topic I've come to explore in my own writing, tackles the struggle with duality. Dick's characters are intelligent and flawed and torn, but silently hopeful and always snarky. He paints with a dark palette, often causing things to come into glaring relief. And they aren't always things even we, as the viewer, can ignore about who we are.</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRP99ycOmfvTATWhmGVK_klCiNLjp_9Ft5dCkvEu-VZqGV8GplXErTeI_e1QX7Ib3AIsmtdTcPgv_C34O4bLYISC3x275igXJfH4b5HmMJLUCX8fJq2X5xjTaZ0vZU9mbK5VUbcg/s1600/total_recall.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRP99ycOmfvTATWhmGVK_klCiNLjp_9Ft5dCkvEu-VZqGV8GplXErTeI_e1QX7Ib3AIsmtdTcPgv_C34O4bLYISC3x275igXJfH4b5HmMJLUCX8fJq2X5xjTaZ0vZU9mbK5VUbcg/s320/total_recall.jpeg" width="241" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Get Yeh Azz To Mahz.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Based on a short story called 'We can Remember It for You Wholesale', the movie deals with construction worker Douglas Quaid (Arnold Schwarzenegger), who toils at the job site, by day, but dreams of a life on Mars at night. His wife, Lori (Sharon Stone), can't understand why he dreams of being on Mars, when he's never been. And she quietly chuckles at hearing that each time Quaid visits Mars, in his dreams, he is side by side with a mysterious brunette (Rachel Ticotin). But each time he dreams of Mars, Quaid wakes up screaming and in a cold sweat.</div><div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">After watching a commercial for an outfit named 'Rekall', a wholesale memory dealer- yes, as in "I remember when…" kind of memories -where you can go and get memories of a vacation you'd otherwise not be able to afford. He makes an appointment, shows up and buys an extra special package. He's not just gonna take vacation; he's gonna take an adventure.</div><div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The fast-talking memory salesman (Ray Baker) talks Quaid into a special perk: you don't go on vacation as yourself; you go as someone else. Among the assorted identities you can pick, the salesman pitches 'secret agent'. "You're a 007-type who's in deep cover in the Mars resistance. You'll fight your way through their ranks, quell the rebellion and get the girl." Its not word for word, granted, but you get the gist.</div><div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Excited about his "trip", Quaid sits in the chair waiting for the procedure. Several minutes later, the salesman is in the middle of a pitch when the attending technician calls screaming about a botched procedure, they come to find out that he's already had one. Before long, Quaid finds himself in an automated taxi, one of the film's great gimmicks ('Welcome to Johnny Cab'). He has no clue how he got there and the robot driver ain't much help either. Soon, he discovers that he's not who he thinks he is. In fact, he's actually a secret agent named Hauser and he's on a mission to liberate Mars. As with any work by Philip K. Dick, this is where you turn the story on its ear. And this is where what was real meets what was just a…memory. And by the end of the movie, you're not sure if Quaid was lobotomized or if he truly is the secret agent he thinks he is.</div><div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I could have gone on and revealed the entire plot, but even though I know this is a film that millions of people have seen on cable and bought at the discount rack at Wal-Mart, I'm gonna spare the few who have yet to enjoy this film. That's just my policy.</div><div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Anyhow, the movie has stood the test of time, considering it comes from a period in film that was mix of late 70's B-movie action mixed with a slasher film mixed with something out of a Troma movie (geek reference). A cleaner, more stylized grindhouse movie. And while many might dispute my next statement, I think its very true, for this film: 'Total Recall' is among modern science fiction's most important classic & cult films. While it solidified Schwarzenegger's status as action star, it also highlighted a period in sci-fi films where they weren't afraid to tell the story, even if they had to break a few eggs or kill a few hundred people. Sort of reminiscent of the films of the late 60's and early 70's. </div><div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I had to get rid of a bunch of discs a while back and sadly, my tin, special edition, so I was looking forward to taking this home and popping it in the BD player. The picture doesn't pop like I remember. Maybe it was a transfer issue. And the audio doesn't have much snap either. Its almost tinny sometimes. I expected way more from the ultimate movie format than what this disc delivered.</div><div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><b>EXTRAS on BD</b></i></div><div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><i>It was frustrating enough to play this movie on my plasma and not feel like it was the best possible transfer or remastering of this film. Then I discover that there's only one special feature on the disc. It's called 'Visions of Mars' and it has nothing to do with the movie. Rather, it gives you some history on our quest to understand and, someday, conquer Mars.</i></div><div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I'm really upset that they've decided to "update" this movie. I'm not particularly happy about their directing choice. Although, it would bring the ever hot Kate Beckinsale into the fold since she's married to Wiseman. And I'm not unhappy with the choice of Colin Farrell either. I like him. He can be over the top sometimes, he could pull off the Quaid/Hauser thing. And I'd loooooove to see what they're gonna do with Kuato. That's one of the best things about the original. Its the kitch in the action, the incredibly obvious animatronics (head to YouTube.com and look up 'Total Recall' clips, then find the one with the fake head) and the always unintelligible dialogue delivered by a younger, grittier Schwarzenegger. And I guess I shouldn't complain about the quality of the DVD since I only paid $10 for it, but I think this is a great movie and there should be a good, quality restoration available with a mine full of terrific features. Okay, Ah-nold. You're not governor of Ka-lee-four-knee-ah anymore. Why don't you see what you can do about this otherwise kon-zidah-diz-ah-divouuz (consider this a divorce).</div><div class="p2" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br />
</div><div class="p1" style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">-30-</div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-12891479660068481872011-03-30T18:06:00.000-05:002011-03-30T18:06:49.534-05:00Full CircleOddly enough, Full Circle use to be the company name I'd given my fledgeling graphics business. That was many, many moons ago.<br />
<br />
I won't tell you the Jack/Flores "Go Get Him" story cause, well, that story has gotten a lot of mileage. Jack? Yes. Jack Waldhelm. Jack was the advertising manager/production manager for the Del Mar College student publication, The Foghorn, which I was a member of for many, many, way too many years.<br />
<br />
Jack was an old school newspaper man from way back. Manuel Flores, my journalism advisor, knew him from his days back at the Caller-Times, I think. Anyhow, without bogging you down with too much back story, Jack is responsible for the work I do today.<br />
<br />
Jack use to measure things on the computer screen– with a ruler. First rule of pagination, don't trust anything you see on the screen. And never- NEVER -measure anything on the screen with a ruler! Jack ignored such rules. The man could measure off the screen with a ruler and get it right- EVERY TIME.<br />
<br />
Jack gave me an education. He schooled me on design and digital pagination. He taught me to believe in myself. To be creative. To be bold. And in the process, he saved my life.<br />
<br />
I knew, from everything that Jack taught me, that I'd be in this business for life. And after I was laid-off from the Express-News, I really thought my time in papers was done. But now, sitting in my chair as the Production Manager for the San Antonio Current, I realize just where I've been. And I also know where I need to go. I look at the two designers that work for me and I see myself. They're both young and hungry and they love the work.<br />
<br />
Thanks, Jack. Thank you for everything.<br />
<br />
-30-IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-80439067792834422462011-03-03T09:20:00.000-06:002011-03-03T09:20:59.933-06:00KeysThe previous blog posts, the ones about Sawyer, were the first in a very long time. I was once commended by a coworker in Arkansas about how diligent I was with my writing.<br />
"Just a sentence." I said. "Just a couple of words. But do it everyday."<br />
Well. Since uttering those fateful words, I have written very few sentences in even fewer days. These days, everything and anything can wedge itself between me and the keyboard. And I have a blog app on my phone, mind you.<br />
Typing has been replaced by sleeping and laying about when I should be working on the edit to my last film and finishing the one that's been dodging me since late 2007.<br />
Its like when I lose my keys. I feel lost and pissed off for losing them and then suddenly they re-appear (well, they were always there, I just finally saw them). After I find them, a feeling of satisfaction and security because you know all your shit is safe. That's how it feels to be back on the keyboard. And I'm happy.<br />
I've been feeling the stirrings to come back and write, but I made it all to complicated. I made too many excuses. I turned my back on, well, me.<br />
I wanted to sit down in Vegas and blog something, but I decided against it. Instead, I took photos. I guess I got thousands of words in, huh?<br />
I've got scripts to complete, films to finish, edit and score.<br />
I've got a lot to do. And some of it, I'll share with you.<br />
Later.<br />
<br />
-30-IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-48642317122629452132011-02-24T22:37:00.001-06:002011-02-24T22:37:00.800-06:00@Unholyleek introduced me to this.<div class="pp_items"><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/47fd50b9-dd91-4e27-b24c-3c26ea83d4d2_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /><p>While this says it's "the end of the world", but this is just the beginning. </p></div></div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-51625825833279075882011-02-24T16:54:00.000-06:002011-02-24T16:54:39.864-06:00Did You See The 'Apollo 18' Trailer?Holy crap. I was at work the other day and I happened upon a trailer for a movie called 'Apollo 18'. Its what 'Cloverfield' and 'Blair Witch' should have been. I was a little bit scared watching the trailer. Seriously. I mean, I'm not one to be grossed out or at all frightened of the horror movies around today, but this one kinda got me.<br />
I don't tend to watch many horror movies these days just cause I know how bad they are. I reviewed Rob Zombie's 'Halloween' & H2. They were okay. Very viceral, but hardly scary. Same goes for 'Human Centepied' and any of the 'Saw' movies.<br />
If you get a chance to check it out, its available at Apple trailers. Here's the link:<br />
<a href="http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/weinstein/apollo18/">Apple Trailers: Apollo 18</a><br />
<br />
-30-IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-12789703369260389382011-02-23T09:30:00.000-06:002011-02-23T09:30:48.994-06:00LifeGood morning.<br />
Its been a rough few days. I don't see that changing for a few more weeks. It'll be a while before I can close my eyes and not see Sawyer meowing or standing someplace in the house. I won't confuse noises for him at night. And this pain that seems to well up at the most inopportune times will subside, eventually fading away.<br />
But right now, I can't stop blaming myself for what happened. Denna has been steadfast: "Its not your fault. There's nothing we could have done. We didn't know." And I know this to be a 100% true fact. We didn't know. But when I'm crying and missing my kitty so viciously as I have missed him, I can't see that. All I want to do is apologize to him and tell him I love him and let him know that one day we'll be together again.<br />
And in my pain, things around me have come into glaring relief.<br />
My wife and my son and the rest of our pets are still needing me to be there for them. That's who I live for. For my clan. My wife, son, dogs, rabbit, my parents, my brother and my friends. I would give up my talents and dreams and wants in this life to be able to return Sawyer to us. But that's not how it works and he certainly wouldn't want me to change. He would want me like I am. Always.<br />
So, I've told my wife: we dedicate ourselves and this year, to Sawyer. We will dedicate ourselves to living the life we are meant to live. No more laying about. No more waiting for things to happen to us. We're going to affect change in our lives and make them better.<br />
I think about Sawyer almost every minute of my day since he's been gone. And when I start to fade back to that morning, to see him slipping away from us, I quickly change the image to him purring and being loving and being, well, Sawyer. And that's when I realize that we've got to stop doing what we have to do and start doing what we're meant to do.<br />
"And I just can't keep living this way<br />
So starting today I'm breaking outta these chains" - Eminem, 'Not Afraid'<br />
<br />
Right now, the hardest things about being without Sawyer are the things that we so closely associate with him. All those little tasks that he would involve himself in or that we'd seek him our for. Like going into the kitchen. No matter where you were in the house, if you were going into the kitchen, you were sure to trip over him on the way. He'd RUN to get in front of you. Then he'd meow when you got to the kitchen. He knew that's where his bowl was. So he wanted food, but there was always food in his bowl. Anytime he heard a water faucet on, he'd RUN to find it and then meow till he got a taste.<br />
Walking through the front door has been the hardest. Yesterday, after getting home, I walked into the bedroom and Denna was quietly making friendship bracelets for Thomas' Thursday craft fair. Her expression was sullen and she worked without looking at me. I asked her what was wrong and she said nothing. I asked again and again and again until she told me. And then, part of me wished I hadn't asked. She said, "When Thomas and I got home and walked through the front door, he said, 'Where's my pretty kitty...'" With that, she began to cry. And so did I. I cried for quite some time, walking myself from room to room trying to contain the tears and the pain. I wanted to just choke it down, like I know how to do, but there was no silencing it. The tears were gonna come whether I liked it or not. And frankly, after the last few hours of holding it all in, I was glad to feel the pain. Its been a pain, however, that strikes me to the core. My wails and tears feel like they're never going to end. And all I can say is, "I'm sorry" or "I love you".<br />
But everyday the pain is a little less. And I remember more of the great times we had than any of the few bad times. I have so many pictures of him being a goofy, loony, one-eyed cat. Pictures of him with Denna. Pictures of him with Thomas and me. We have so many great memories. And I think back to when we lost our other kitten, the very young Marion. Marion never got to do or see the things Sawyer did. Sawyer even came with my brother-in-law, Tony, to pick us up at the airport when we got back from Vegas. For a four month old kitten, Sawyer got to see a lot of the world. He knew we loved him and he loved us right back.<br />
So, for the rest of this year, the Cordero Clan has a plan: to live life as well as we can for those we've lost. For Bun Bun. For Marion. For our sweet boy, Sawyer. And most of all, for ourselves.<br />
<br />
-30-IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-28696528275033675432011-02-20T16:30:00.000-06:002011-02-20T16:30:23.783-06:00For SawyerThey told us he was born Sept. 12th. Course, we didn't know that until after we'd made the trek to the 24hr animal hospital to get him looked at. That's how Sawyer started his life with us.<br />
<br />
Actually, he started his life with us with gunk on his eyes in a ratty, old box. He was little and dirty, but he was friendly and talkative.<br />
<br />
Back to the animal hospital. When we left there with him, everything seemed like it was gonna be okay. Denna was a little hesitant to fully embrace Sawyer, especially after Marion's passing. When we got home, Sawyer had taken a turn for the worst. His mouth was open and he couldn't hold his head up. Thankfully, I called the vet we'd just seen and they told us to rush him over. 12 hours later, Sawyer was as good as new. In fact, he was better than new. He was walking, talking and playing.<br />
<br />
Sawyer was one of the most original animals I'd ever owned. He loved giving kisses. He wasn't weened properly, so he would always suck the toes on his left, back foot. That's how you knew he was going to sleep. After suckling for about 20 minutes, he was usually out.<br />
<br />
We were always fearful that something would happen to him. Especially with that one eye of his: kinda washed over, with a growth on one side that would flare up and spew puss from it. But once we'd hit him with the eye medicine, it would clear up and you could almost see his eye. Almost.<br />
<br />
For the most part, Sawyer was a sweet, sweet boy. He had his times when he'd just be on a tear through the house. Bounding from the couch to the chairs, next to it, along the wall. At night, when I'd come out to get a glass of water, he'd hear the door open and jump to the chair closest to the entrance to the hallway. He'd poke his head around the corner and give me a crazy look before he'd leap from the chair and run into the kitchen where he'd wait for me and meow.<br />
<br />
He meowed a lot. He meowed when you'd be in the kitchen washing dishes. He could have a full bowl of water and food and he'd still sit there and whine at you until you pretended to put more water or food in his bowl. Then he'd be happy. For a few minutes. Then back to the meowing. He always crossed your path when you'd walk through the house. Good goddamnit I hated that. I once picked him up with my foot as I took a step and I flung him across the linoleum and onto the runner in the kitchen.<br />
<br />
And when we'd get home, he'd be perched on the edge of the couch to give you a kiss and to get some love from us as we all walked through the door. Denna taught him to give kisses and you could always tell when he was feeling particularly loving. When we did have to discipline him, he would come to me after and be loving and lick me and kiss me. Like he was apologizing for something. Now, I'm not trying to martyr the boy cause that cat was an asshole too. I have the scars to prove it.<br />
<br />
He was particular on who he let pick him up. My brother, Mom and a close family friend all tried and he'd just get mad. He was very much a Cordero. His personality was very much like Denna's and very much my own with healthy, generous splashes of Sawyer. Even his name was unique: James Sawyer Ford Cordero. Although his tag only said "Sawyer C".<br />
<br />
I won't lie to you. I've been crying all damn day long. Every time I stop to think of him and something goofy he did, I smile and it is soon followed by the quivering lip and promptly by a river of tears. In the car, I screamed for him not to die. I cried and screamed and Denna forced me to pull over and get my shit together. But I couldn't. My Mom was the one who woke up and found him having trouble.<br />
<br />
Denna tells me not to feel responsible. And I know that there was nothing either one of us could have done to save him. But I think about if we could have gotten him to the vet in time and I feel like I didn't do all I could. I know that's wrong, but when the tears start, it just feels like I didn't protect my furry, loony little son. If only's have been examined all day long, but there's no use. None of it matters now. What matters is picking up the pieces and moving on with our lives. This time, though, we won't be filling that void both Sawyer and Marion left behind. And until we can all feel more sane and not so sad, I'm going to temporarily remove his pictures from all the places they reside. It's not cause I don't love him. I just cry every fucking time. Like now. I'm sitting in the living room typing and crying because the house is so quiet without him. No more coming home to find him waiting for us. No more meowing in the kitchen. That goofy bastard followed us into the bathroom when we showered he'd stand outside the shower, meowing to be let in. He'd get between the shower curtain and the liner and walk back and forth along the bathtub trying to figure out a way to lick you or drink the water. Sometimes we'd just grab him and put him in the shower with us, protecting him from the water stream. He'd drink some and then jump out, but stand outside again to meow.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He would have died had we not answered that Craigslist ad for the kitten. The two little dimwit's who found him didn't know how to take care of him. He would have died that same day. He crew up strong and funny and proud and loving. Sometimes we think about all the things that Marion never got to do and we are sad. And given how much time we had with Sawyer, he got to do a lot. He got to experience Thanksgiving and Christmas and to feel love from the entire family. Maybe he didn't get along with everyone, but he loved Denna, Thomas and I. We're going to tell Thomas that my parents adopted him because Denna's allergies were getting to bad for us to keep him.<br />
<br />
Denna spoke to a friend of ours, Cheryl, and she has had similar luck with baby kittens. Cheryl had told Denna she had sworn off adopting babies because they have all died on her. I don't want to adopt a cat anymore. No one will ever compare to Sawyer.<br />
<br />
I don't have a doubt this entire week will test my ability to keep my shit together when thoughts of Sawyer pop into my head. I'm struggling to not break into tears right now. Denna said something that made me both smile and cry: "You know, wherever he is now, he can see with both his little eyes." I know he's in a better place now. But it doesn't change the fact that I wish he was here now. With me. With us.<br />
<br />
Sawyer, my baby boy, my sweet, sweet kitten. I miss you so much and I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I was your, daddy and that was my job. I won't blame myself cause you won't let me. But I still want to say that I'm sorry. And I hope that you'll wait for us to be together again someday.<br />
<br />
We love you so much, Sawyer and we're so sad that you're gone. Good night, my sweet angel.<br />
<br />
-30-IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-51883816677609501972011-01-25T21:55:00.001-06:002011-01-25T21:55:52.173-06:00Loony, Oned-Eyed Cat watches TLC.<div class="pp_items"><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/36d78415-1c97-4ac6-bb39-0b9107d5a4f1_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /><p>This cat is so weird. The wife adds that he's also got a very similar personality to ours. Just strange. </p></div></div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-91704225349820720822011-01-08T23:52:00.001-06:002011-01-08T23:52:55.566-06:00When Graphic Design Attacks<div class="pp_items"><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/ff31b165-2607-4f7e-b22c-20e602689530_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /><p>Look at this carefully. Can you see what's off?</p></div></div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-7574553315717845482010-12-23T19:47:00.001-06:002010-12-23T19:47:50.608-06:00Merry Christmas, Part 1<div class="pp_items"><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/2a706203-2130-43fe-9ac6-61a9f8fc20ca_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /><p>The Wife said she remembered hearing me talk about these. I fucking love this woman. </p></div></div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-24571183206068355722010-11-17T14:48:00.001-06:002010-11-17T14:48:03.582-06:00Gettin' Outta Hand<div class="pp_items"><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/45dcbdf0-c9d2-4c26-b087-6e4086fd2fc2_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /><p>Xray of my right hand. I feel so exposed. </p></div></div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-3249077789670501782010-10-31T01:30:00.001-05:002010-10-31T01:30:19.757-05:00All the cat toys & he plays with a folding chair leg<div class="pp_items"><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/28e3260a-1b82-438f-8e3f-8b5afcefee73_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /></div></div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-4702232781536386772010-10-27T22:21:00.001-05:002010-10-27T22:21:24.728-05:00Pacers go home losers.<div class="pp_items"><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/2b22685a-76e5-40e6-9b00-bbfda384383b_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /></div></div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-73387804047269194932010-10-27T11:55:00.001-05:002010-10-27T11:55:40.040-05:00Guess who's going to the game tonight?<div class="pp_items"><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/2403a559-c5e8-480f-b79c-e8b77d2c5684_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /></div></div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-65385841032857015922010-10-20T21:01:00.001-05:002010-10-20T21:01:28.750-05:00Cat-chin a ride<div class="pp_items"><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/1ea836ee-0686-4e26-8bf1-78171ea8c931_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /><p>Call us cat whisperers. We've adopted a young stray who we have yet to name. </p></div></div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-39250138014631161402010-10-16T19:49:00.001-05:002010-10-16T19:49:47.412-05:00She's back!<div class="pp_items"><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/fc633350-1266-4fee-b112-980ab22a974a_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /><p>Father-in-law helped me get my Infinity running! Now for tags & inspection. </p></div></div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-2218486250662918102010-10-14T09:20:00.001-05:002010-10-14T09:20:21.307-05:00Burger Boy<div class="pp_items"><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/e6d4485d-8e02-4bb0-b22b-ba8887783978_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /><p>Live this place. Quick & tasty. </p></div></div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-1495247811582663832010-10-14T09:10:00.001-05:002010-10-14T09:10:38.074-05:00Parking Lot on I-10<div class="pp_items"><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/db5a99fe-87b6-4ba2-b3af-0c78fb1e29d9_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /><p>I hate SA drivers. </p></div></div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-46907554849478509932010-09-17T14:44:00.001-05:002010-09-17T14:44:19.766-05:00<div class="pp_items"><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/7c98e43c-54ed-437a-b48f-e8b48e7e2143_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /></div><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/83f7a7a2-b07f-4d51-94f1-cb9332ac4c7b_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /></div></div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-63376262088352108972010-09-15T23:15:00.001-05:002010-09-15T23:15:27.224-05:00<div class="pp_items"><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/d1e8b5ea-028e-4ac8-96aa-06a2def951bb_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /></div><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/2a7d74ff-2648-43fb-9c70-ada442c73688_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /></div><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/1633e4e4-92e3-4bc3-bf7f-71a4eecd28cd_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /></div><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/eb8f4a72-3886-4714-982e-4c1a4fa1fb4c_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /></div><div class="pp_item" align="center"><img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/7bf0344d-6703-4163-9973-6da3994cefd3_b.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /></div></div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-76181715662087963172010-06-11T02:40:00.001-05:002010-06-11T02:40:59.557-05:00My Lonely Little BlogI couldn't sleep so I figured I'd add something to my blog. I feel sleep coming now. I promise I'll be back with more and more frequently. Night!<br /><br />-30-<br />IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-36024136000421335332009-10-09T15:59:00.000-05:002009-10-09T16:03:13.284-05:00WTF?!<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLlsB7-7jMy48bbnR819YFdAbQgc5DMwnUXH5VwItdxG_LK7nGSy2mvrkbyWt1rosvI3fTzyrxkKiQvtzbo5O2cjOEeK1EE4cmBRnBLvvfUsJyPTIvedgGnHY72mw6lgasMHjdMw/s1600-h/photo-793286.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLlsB7-7jMy48bbnR819YFdAbQgc5DMwnUXH5VwItdxG_LK7nGSy2mvrkbyWt1rosvI3fTzyrxkKiQvtzbo5O2cjOEeK1EE4cmBRnBLvvfUsJyPTIvedgGnHY72mw6lgasMHjdMw/s320/photo-793286.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390708771824930082" /></a></p>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-64831895864866188062009-10-05T21:41:00.000-05:002009-10-05T21:41:24.148-05:00Evolution<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJhKt1vu6wS6eXolRd0BLrsBKvH63xRMzsne_XR_gn9DwNH7zvd03rxvbsB9ymowLylIRQf3aw2LQpkcfKG5mz6v3Uot9sXriRfZ37m4NP8Y6jm8Uh-os83sEaHJiEcwwyvV7ng/s1600-h/Dorian+Evolved+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJhKt1vu6wS6eXolRd0BLrsBKvH63xRMzsne_XR_gn9DwNH7zvd03rxvbsB9ymowLylIRQf3aw2LQpkcfKG5mz6v3Uot9sXriRfZ37m4NP8Y6jm8Uh-os83sEaHJiEcwwyvV7ng/s400/Dorian+Evolved+003.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I remember the day that my little brother came over to my place just before he was to leave for New York state. This was back when we both still lived in Corpus Christi. He wasn't even 20 yet. My parents were still in shock and pissed that he had decided to go to college away from home. My Mom didn't agree with his decision, especially since he was going away with his girlfriend. My father understood, but he wasn't happy either.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He had decided to go to school for veterinary medicine. Dee always loved animals. Young and idealistic, he packed his bags and moved to Buffalo to study. His girlfriend had relatives there who could lend a hand, should the need arise. It would make them both feel less alone.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I knew why he was leaving. And I was glad that he was. Corpus Christi drains a person's will to leave. And before long, if you're not careful, you become part of the scenery. People seem content to stay there and see the same things everyday. Dee wanted to see as much as he could and there was no way he could do it from his bedroom at my parents' house.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I never told him that the day he left, I cried. I cried both tears of joy and sadness. My brother and I had never been apart for very long. In fact, my brother was as much one of "the guys" as all my other friends. I remember him wanting to hang around with me and Bob and Ariel and LeRoy, my closest friends from high school. We'd break his balls and often that courtesy was extended to his friends, Austen, Tim & Miguel. He grew up listening to the music I listened to and watched the movies I watched.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We didn't always get along given the age difference. Ten years between us kept him from going out with me and my friends. But he was always around when I had them over to my parents' house.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dee was always a good kid. Smart. Crafty. Funny. Passionate. Kind. Slowly, the young, chubby kid who followed me around started to grow up. Little by little he turned the things I gave him into things of his own. He explored books and music and movies developing his own tastes and expanding his individuality.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One year, I used my income tax money to buy him a Super Nintendo. He used to play Street Fighter so often that he eventually could kick someone's ass with just one button. He used to torture a college buddy of mine, Mike, with that trick. Mike would come by to pick me up and head to the bar and Dee would purposely play SF when he'd show up. Mike couldn't resist playing. Dee would taunt him.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Wanna play?" he'd ask Mike.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Okay." Mike would reply picking up a controller.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Pick a button." Dee would say holding up his controller.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"What?"<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dee would repeat it. "Pick a button."<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Why?"<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Cause I'm gonna kick your ass with just one button." Dee would giggle.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mike was locked in. He couldn't play games worth a shit and the fact that this high school kid was teasing him just made him want to play more. And no matter what button Mike picked- kicking or punching -Dee would always kick his ass and send my into a huff and out the door.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One of the loves we both shared was our love for Apple computers. My Dad had gotten us an Apple IIc. It had a whopping 512k and a crappy little green screen. We owned that computer for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually, we had to upgrade to the Mac Classic II. Then the iMac. In college, I used the LC and the Performa. An outfit in town called Computer Command Corporation was the only authorized service center and retail outlet. The original Apple Store. Dee made friends with Rene, one of the service techs who's brain I'd often pick. I knew Apple computers backwards and forwards. Dee wasn't far behind. He ended up working for Computer Command. That's where his love for Mac's began.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When he was in Buffalo, he had decided against veterinary medicine and wandered from career to career trying to find his niche. He always loved Apple, but there was no place for him to explore job opportunities. He worked for Pottery Barn, Toys R Us and Blockbuster successfully moving up corporate ladder at each place. And then he found out the new incarnation of the Mac retail shops, the Apple Store, was going to build a branch in Buffalo. His first attempt to get into the store was unsuccessful. But that didn't deter him. Eventually, he was able to get his foot in the door and he realized his ultimate dream. He was working for Apple Computers. I remember when he told me that he had been hired. He was ecstatic. He left most of the other jobs, save one, I think, and started on the road to his dream career.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now, maybe this is where his idealism served him well. Anyone who knows the story of Apple knows that it was the idealistic dreams of Steve Jobs that made the company what it has become. His knowledge of the products and his devotion to the brand made him the perfect salesman. He was charismatic and handsome and well spoken and that didn't hurt him either. <br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He had already grown to know more than I EVER knew about Apples. And after I had left Fort Smith, AR, to take the job at Rumbo, he had begun to make plans to transfer himself to the new store that was opening here in San Antonio. Moving here would afford him the chance to start to make his charge towards bigger and better things. And it allowed him to be closer to me and to Mom & Dad.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Today, Dee is a Genius. In all senses of the word. He bleeds Apple. I dare ANYONE to love, honor and respect the silver fruit like he does. For Christ's sake, he's got Mac logos tattooed on his arms. A gift from me. He has traveled to the Mother Ship, the company headquarters in Cupertino, CA. He repairs machines with lightning speed and knows the layout of his store like no one's business.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But more importantly, my little brother has, well, ceased to be little. He is a giant among men. He still has the same fire for his job that he had when he was a chubby little kid punching the noisy keys of the IIc. His tastes in music and film have evolved. But the core of the boy who loved playing video games and basketball and grilling in the backyard haven't changed. It has only gotten better with age.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Its hard for me to be mad at him when I can't get him to answer my calls or text messages. I know what his life must be like because I was there once too. He hasn't quite found himself yet, not completely. In a few more years, things will be clearer to him because I know they were clear to me. So I write this now to tell my little brother how much I love him and that I'll always be here for him. I write this to tell him, if he doesn't already know or refuses to believe, that Dad is just as proud of him as he ever was of me. That Mom champions his every move, no matter how crazy it may seem.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Happy Birthday, kid. You got me in your corner now and always. I love you.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-30-<br />
</div>IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-4432914833356817702009-09-22T14:21:00.001-05:002009-09-22T14:21:37.231-05:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFVKZQafg9Zi894Y1FgwxoOY8eTTNaRBVm2k0TVpNIBAagCkZENlHkI2JJiYfj4pWsSlR2LB5nbNXEXstid3G9tr_0e7w4BpJ1GHz2aENuN1AEcZb5zHg5Jqw4nuhvI9rpzWLBg/s1600-h/photo-797232.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFVKZQafg9Zi894Y1FgwxoOY8eTTNaRBVm2k0TVpNIBAagCkZENlHkI2JJiYfj4pWsSlR2LB5nbNXEXstid3G9tr_0e7w4BpJ1GHz2aENuN1AEcZb5zHg5Jqw4nuhvI9rpzWLBg/s320/photo-797232.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384374145620906098" /></a></p>This is Jack Waldhelm. He was one of my journalism mentors. A great man.IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124291.post-81287905827333355022009-09-18T23:48:00.000-05:002009-09-18T23:54:00.583-05:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVs-nmniGTzghcMBGCn98D-DmhbW5B2AMAFc20JZG6EuhtnqGYWpM7HNLtD8czU2je2QOKLS8uphaBjibgLiI0heCNGt87Tflpe2c54h3Cp2NoWWwj7kBgilDAQNkhXB22DpG_mA/s1600-h/photo-740585.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVs-nmniGTzghcMBGCn98D-DmhbW5B2AMAFc20JZG6EuhtnqGYWpM7HNLtD8czU2je2QOKLS8uphaBjibgLiI0heCNGt87Tflpe2c54h3Cp2NoWWwj7kBgilDAQNkhXB22DpG_mA/s320/photo-740585.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383037306935908978" /></a></p>Now, maybe it's just me, but these cotton swabs can't be that good.IAmLegend1623http://www.blogger.com/profile/15475378288036519629noreply@blogger.com0