Seaside Relics

It was the early hours of the morning when the rising sun would catch the tide pools at just the right angle and make the beach look like it was covered in diamonds.

It was her favorite part of the year. Summer. When she could wake up each morning and walk down to the shore. The world quiet around her. Still asleep. The air was chilly. Blowing through the dune grass, rustling the stalks as it went by - sometimes whistling if it caught the right blade. She'd always have to be bundled up, hiding her skin from the breeze. Trying her hardest to avoid an outbreak of goosebumps. Even though it was the same each morning, she was always amazed at the sky. How brilliantly beautiful it was. The pure blue of the sky directly overhead. How it slowly bled into the orangish yellow of the morning light as the sun began to make it's presence known. It looked like a painting. Colors blending together into a magnificent opus.

When her feet finally did touch the sand, she'd always stop for a moment. Letting her skin adjust to its temperature. It was cold. Numbing her toes. But it was a comfortable numb. Embracing her feet. She could feel herself sinking in. And it didn't bother her. It was welcoming. She felt like she was being held by mother nature - supported by the world around her.

It wasn't until she started moving forward, out over the still wet sand that she began looking. All around her were hundreds of tide pools. Left on shore by a fleeting tide. And in each one lay a hidden treasure. Various seas creatures - crabs, schools of fish, muscles, starfish. The possibilities were endless. And each one intrigued her. She could become transfixed watching a group of fish swim aimlessly around in the confinement of a pool. Sometimes if the pools yielded nothing, she'd dig down into the soft, wet sand, as deep as her arm would allow her to go - even up to her shoulder - rooting around for sand crabs. Pulling them to the surface to watch them squirm and wiggle as they tried to get back to their granulated homes. But most of the time she was looking for relics dropped by the ocean. Whole sea shells. Unblemished by rolling waves or strong currents. On the days she was lucky, she'd stumble upon a piece or two of sea glass. Perfectly smooth from years of tumbling along the sea floor. Sanded down to a cloudy gem. Back home she had quite the collection - ranging from browns and green, to the more rare yellow and blues.

But most of all, before the rest of the world woke up and joined her down on the beach, she felt alive. Like herself. Playing and wandering like she once had.

When she was just a girl growing up on the coast.

I want to taste the salt of your skin

Song of the Day (Jamming) 09.27.13

Can you feel it? Autumn is here, Halloween right around the corner. I'm sure for many of you out there, the leaves are even beginning to change. Not so much here in sunny Southern California, but there are a few trees starting to turn - heck, there are even a few that are jumping ahead and shedding their leaves already. While in no means is our fall as severe as your's may be - after living here a few years, it feels like fall to me already. The sun setting earlier, the different light of the day, the breeze - hopefully more rain.

It makes me miss the East.

And boy, do I ever this week. I'm glad it's Friday. I honestly don't think I could make it another day. All I want to do is curl up in a ball in my bed and not leave the house. I'd be content closing my eyes tonight and opening them to find it was Monday. It's been a really tough week and there are some major decisions I have to make soon.

So what kind of music fits this mood? Nothing depressing actually. Mellow sure, but something to lift the spirits. I've played some of his music before, but I've never given him the respect he deserves and this year, I've been listening to him a lot - finding that he can cheer me up pretty quickly. The smooth melodies, his calm voice, the messages in the lyrics. I can just turn him on and groove out, forgetting about everything else around me. So that's what I'm doing. Turning the volume up and letting go for a bit. This is Bob Marley's "Jamming."

Medicinal Miracle

Like I shared last week, I've been on a bit of a kick regarding documentaries. I find that I haven't had much time lately to sit down and read as much as I'd like - nothing compared to when I was still a school and plowing through books. So I've been trying to watch these different shorts at work, or when I have a couple free minutes to try and continue learning - even if the topics themselves are random and not necessarily applicable to my life.

But this next short that I'm going to show you hits a little close to home. It's about the drug Ambien. I myself have never dealt with it first hand, but I know many people who have, for whatever reason. Depression, insomnia, etc. All I ever knew about it was that it made you sleepy, kind of numb to the world - in your own bubble for a while. Not necessarily happy, but 'doped up' enough not to be bothered by your problems. Little did I know though, that the medical field is on the edge of a massive breakthrough. Somehow, something in the drug, some ingredient or combination of ingredients, is doing miraculous things in certain patients. Waking one from a coma, temporarily increasing the IQ in a patient who has severe brain damage, allowing damaged cells, muscles, and nerves to become active in another. Yet no one can put a finger on why. They're doing their best. But for now - they just know it works.

So what is it exactly? I don't know in the slightest, but I am super intrigued by this. That such a simple drug, meant for something as simple as making it easier for people to sleep, is revolutionizing how we look at other serious illnesses and ailments. By the end of the documentary, I found myself with more questions than when I started, but it didn't matter since I was so enamored by it. I truly hope they figure out what in the drug is causing these miracles and find a way to apply it to more people in need, but until then, I'm content with being amazed by modern medicine.

A Quick Buck

She had never been a fan of being the bad guy. She didn't think it suited her well.

Although, she would be the first to admit that she had her years of pouting when she was younger. Causing a stink in a public place, refusing to eat her vegetables. Coming home with mud stains on her paints when her mother had clearly said not to get dirty. Sometimes it was out of spite - not agreeing with what her parents had told her, wanting to go against the grain. Show them how dumb they were being. But most of the time, she was just acting her age. Stubborn. Not wanting to give in. No other reason than to argue for the sake of arguing. It never took long for her to snap out of it though. Her parents saw right through her charade and knew that the tiniest amount of pressure would cause her to break. A simple raise in tone of voice and her nerves would kick in. She was like an animal, ears folded back low, tail hanging between her legs. They knew how to make her feel wrong quickly. It never took long for the tears to well up around her eyes and her bottom lip to start quivering - followed by the obligatory "sorry."

But he. He was so different.

Over the years she had watched him grow. From a toddler, to a young boy - sprouting into the teen that he was today. It had never been too much work. Just an easy way to pick up some spending money while she was making her way through high school. When he was younger, he had been such a sweet boy. Innocent and harmless. He'd listen to her. Treat her well. But as the years went on and he continued to mature, his mind seemed to remain in the past while his body grew. He still argued about what he wanted to eat for dinner, when he'd have to go to bed, if he could have friends over. It never seemed to stop. It was always more, more, more, me, me, me.

And tonight had been no exception. It had begun with what they were going to eat. His parents had left her some money to go out and buy food with and cook at home. But he insisted that they should use it to buy pizza. As much as she declined his suggestion, citing what his parents wanted them to eat, he fought back. Raising his voice every time it was his turn to talk. Sometimes calling her names. A tactic he had always used - one that only made her roll her eyes since she had done the same to her parents. Eventually he gave up, seeing that she was not going to back down. So it was onto something else. Inviting friends over to hangout. Nope. Again - his parents had warned her not to let anyone visit. It was a school night and he had some work that needed to be done. Time for play could come later.

Before she had time to prepare, he was storming out the back door of the house and into the yard. As she followed him out, she was shocked to find him, plopped face down in the grass, kicking his legs and banging his arms - yelling into the perfectly cut grass. So she stood there for a few minutes, just soaking it in. Perplexed that even he, at that age, would be having such a tantrum. She had been bad when she was younger. But she had never resorted to anything so pathetic. And the more and more she thought about it, the less and less she cared. So she turned around and walked back inside. Happy to know that she only had a few more hours with the little turd before his parents came home and she'd be able to leave, money in hand.

And as she walked away, she felt a smile on her face. Maybe being the bad guy could occasionally feel good.

Happily Lost

He could hear it echoing out through the trees and into the valley below. Loud and proud. Her laughter. Standing out against the noises of mother nature. Over the birds calling to one another, the rushing water of distant falls, the wind skating over the top of the bluffs, just barely tickling the tops of the trees. Managing to demand attention. Rising above everything else.

It brought a smile to his face.

It was infectious. Boisterous. Had no desire to be held back. It was perfect.

When they had both started the hike, there was no plan. No end point. No particular path to follow. Just a spur of the moment decision to follow one of the trails up the hill. They were merely tourists to the area - there to soak in all the beauty. Absorb what they could from such a pristine place. And so they had. Beginning each day at sun up and only retiring back to their site when the last bit of light had disappeared - making the trails too dangerous to venture.

At the beginning of the trip, as he was loading the car and packing his things, he had a slight concern about camping with a woman. He had faith in her love of the outdoors - she had proven it before, but he was curious about what would transpire. How adventurous they could be, if the days would be filled with rigorous hiking or if they'd mosey around the campsite and take in most of the scenery from within the car - exploring on four wheels.

He couldn't have been more wrong. She was there to get dirty. Explore. Bask in the glory of the outdoors. She had been a complete bundle of joy. Eager to get out into the woods and start a new adventure each and every day. She disregarded trail signs, venturing off, determined to get closer to the waterfalls. She climbed up on large boulders to get a better view of the valley, even sitting on a overhang, letting her feet dangle off the edge - totally immersed. There were moments where he'd have to stop to catch his breath, only to look up and see her still bounding up the trail, as if the steep incline and sweltering heat somehow didn't affect her. He was impressed. Sometimes speechless.

She was a machine.

But most importantly - she did it all with a smile on her face. That large, welcoming grin. Not only that, but she'd make him laugh. Giving him a hard time whenever he stumbled on a root or needed to sit along the edge of the trail. Ribbing him the entire way. And throughout it all, he couldn't be more happy. It was balm for is soul. Out in the middle of the woods - the place he cherrished so much, with the person that meant the world to him. He felt at ease. That everything was finally alright. Because he didn't need to try. And neither did she. They just existed with one another.

When he did finally snap out of his reflection, he realized he was alone on the trail. She was nowhere to be seen. In front of behind. He wondered how long he must have been thinking, oblivious to her continuing along. For a split second he could feel the worry tingling deep down in his gut, but that was erased as soon as he heard her laughter off in the distance. And as he was pulling he backpack up over his shoulders, he saw here up ahead, standing on a rock, waving frantically for him to catch up.

Continuing on up the hill, he picked up his pace slightly, eager to make it to her - hoping that this adventure would never end.

Wading in Memories

As soon as she had opened the door to the car and the mountain air flooded her nostrils, it all came flooding back. All the memories. Each and every day. The laughter. The tears. The late night meals. The songs around the campfires. The over abundance of love.

There was nothing like those days.

She could remember each visit beginning much like it had today. With the car pulling up to the cabin after winding through the tall trees, curving back and forth along the unpaved road that led up the side of the mountain - gravel grinding beneath the tires. For as far back as she could remember, there had never been a cloudy day upon their arrival. The sun had always been shining brightly - ready to greet them as her father turned off the engine.

From the moment her sandaled feet hit the gravel, sinking in ever-so-slighty, her mind was racing. She couldn't wait to rush into the cabin and dump out her suitcase. Claiming the bigger drawers as her own. Followed by a quick change into her bathing suit. Even inside the walls of the cabin, the air was hot and muggy, tugging at her skin, pleading her for some sort of relief. But she knew that would have to wait. It was always part of their tradition to unpack the car and sit down at the table in the main room and eat a lunch of cold cuts and chips - bought at the little convenience store at the base of the mountain. Even though they had been doing it for years - she couldn't wait for her mother to stroll out of the kitchen, with the large pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade - looking picturesque in the sunlight coming in through the window - condensation glistening on its exterior. From the moment she saw it, her taste buds began to tingle, mouth watering.

Once the dishes had been stacked in the sink and the leftover food put away, she would bound out of the cabin and down one of the paths that branched away from the property. As she ran, she could feel the perspiration building. Even though she was in the shade of the trees, the humidity continued to collect on her skin - mixing with the sweat that was beginning to flow to the surface. It didn't matter though, for soon she'd be able to escape it all - reaching salvation. She swore she could make it down the path with her eyes closed, having run it multiple times everyday for years. Knowing where every bump was. Every unearthed root. Every jutting rock. All memorized.

When she did finally reach the shore, she didn't even bother to slow down - only making sure the path ahead of her was clear. She'd run down into the crystal clear water, further and further in until she couldn't drive her legs against it any longer - finally diving in. There was nothing like feeling the sweat being stripped away from her skin and hearing the whoosh of the water as it surrounded her ears. She'd continue kicking, gliding against the rocky bottom until her lungs asked for air - at which point she'd break the surface with a triumphant gulp. And there she'd stay. Just floating in the water. Hiding from the sun. Diving beneath the surface whenever its rays focused on the top of her head for too long. She felt at home in the lake. More comfortable then when she was back in the cabin. Embraced by the water. As if she could fly. But off in the distance, the raft taunted her - the older kids lounging in the sun on top of it, giggling and pushing one another off. Since she had been coming here, she had never been able to make it out. Her legs had always become too tired or she became too scared that she could no longer touch the bottom, turning back before she could reach out and grab its ladder.

But this year was different. The years had passed. She had matured. Her swimming had improved. Her lungs were larger. Her muscles stronger. It had been quite some time since she had last been here. Long enough that she was able to meet the man of her dreams. Even start a family. It had only seemed right to share the wonder of this place with her children. Allow them to witness the purity of the outdoors. But more importantly, it was time for her to conquer the raft.

Even though her body had matured, she was caught off guard by how chilly the water was as she first stepped in - surprised at how she had managed to somehow just barrel in when she was younger. As she continued to wade in and the water embraced her hips, she couldn't help but smile. It felt as if she had never left. She felt light - like she could fly again.

There was no way she wasn't making it out there today.

There is no combination of words I could say. But I will still tell you one thing. We're better together.

Song of the Day (Overexposed) 09.20.13

Happy Friday! The weekend is here! Hopefully you all have some fun plans for the next couple days before Monday rears its ugly head again.

Let's dive right into the tunes and not waste any time.

I'm going back to the same band I did a couple weeks ago - Matt and Kim. I only used to know them for their song "Daylight" but after seeing them this past weekend at the block party, I think I've fallen in love. For only being two people, the amount of sound they put out is staggering. During the concert - their energy levels were unparalleled. Bouncing all over the stage, constantly keeping the crowd involved - tossing balloons out to use to blow up and throw into the air during a certain point in a song. But the best part? Between songs, they play other music - from other bands. Since they only consist of drums and a keyboard, when they stopped playing, Matt hit a key to start playing some music while they talked to us. It's a wonderful concept that allowed the music to never stop. Without hesitation, I would recommend seeing them in concert to anyone. And with my over-pouring love above, it only seems right to share another one of their songs with you. Hopefully you enjoy Matt and Kim's "Overexposed."

The Collector

I don't know what happened recently, but I find myself becoming more and more enamored by documentaries. Of all sorts. Wine, drugs, land mines in Columbia. The list goes on and on. And it's all been thanks to Vice (the magazine).

They cover all sorts of topics. Almost nothing is safe. And just by chance, I stumbled upon their youtube channel late last week and the holy mecca was opened. They have hundreds of pieces.  but to be honest, the very first one I watched has been my favorite. I won't go into much detail describing it since I don't want to spoil the experience for you - but it's about a debt collector in the UK who used to work for the mob and decided to clean up his act. It's super interesting watching him go about his daily life, trying to avoid the violence and his old ways. Is he a scary guy? Absolutely. But at the same time, you can see a lot of good in him - that at certain moments you can see his remorse below his tough, callused exterior.

When I was done watching it, I couldn't get over how important morals and principals are to him.

This is significantly longer than anything else I've shown, but I think it is really worth it. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did and it prompts you to go out and check out some of Vice's other pieces.

Word to the wise though - there are a few graphics parts (self imposed injuries) and disturbing stories. But if you can make it through those few moments - I think you'll find yourself completely absorbed.

Autumn Stroll

For as far back as he could remember, the woods had always been a special place for him. He was completely enamored by all that surrounded him. The looming foliage above, the colors of the forest floor during the cooling months of autumn, the smell of decay lingering in the air, or the echoing call of the ducks as they flew somewhere warmer, announcing the approach of winter.

And today had been no different.

He had been wandering the entire day. Shuffling his feet along the paths that weaved behind his house. Kicking up dirt and loose pebbles as he went. Earlier in the day, when the sun had still been hanging high overhead, he darted in and out of the shadows, trying to avoid the channels of lights that had broken through the canopy - staying hidden from the blue sky above. Most of the time he could just walk between them, but sometimes he'd have to jump - running up to the very edge before launching himself over the gap, passing through the light for just a second - avoiding it the best he could. At other points, he forgot about his game and marched down the very center of the path, with a freshly picked fern leave draped over his shoulder - most times larger than himself - tip dragging along the ground. He walked with vibrato - with purpose. Pretending that it wasn't a mere leaf in his hands, but an ancient broad sword, handed down for generations, to fight off the beasts that lived in the woods. But of course, like many of his other games and adventures, this grew old after a while and he'd discard the large stalk of fern along the side of the path, where it'd eventually be embraced once again by mother nature.

As the sun continued to set, he made sure to stop by the river. Adding some stones to the dam he had slowly been building over the years - taking his time to find the exact right pieces and place them carefully along the structure. Sure it would hold strong. When he did find the perfect stone, smooth on both sides and flattened by years of flowing water, he'd wind up and let it go - skipping across the surface until it finally broke through and was swept away by the current. If he had the time, he'd also try to look under some rocks. It was a treat when he'd see a flash of orange as he turned them over. Darting his hand down hoping to catch the culprit - making sure to never hold the lizard for long if he was fast enough - remembering that the oils on his skin could hurt it.

By the time the sun had started to set, the forest had truly begun to come alive. All around him he could hear the scurrying of tiny feet throughout the dry leaves. They were beginning to come out of their dens, looking for food - eyes adjusting to the darkness as his own began to struggle against it. Up ahead along the path he could see the evening fog beginning to roll in - hiding the ground in a thick haze - even reaching up to the sky in some parts, tangling itself among the low-hanging branches. Deep down in his chest he could feel his nerves getting the better of him. He imagined creatures looking out from the dark. Ready to pounce when he wasn't paying attention. Or taking the the wrong path and venturing deeper into the woods. Becoming lost under the night sky - surrounded by a forrest teaming with activity.

But it only ever took him a simple squeeze of his hand to realize it was alright. For he'd feel the rough, callused skin of his father's palm in his own.

And he knew he was safe.

Healthier Options

So I'll admit - I'm still a bit exhausted from the weekend. I did about 18 hours of dancing on Saturday between the Mad Decent Block Party and going out that evening. Yeah, sure, I slept a lot on Sunday, but after two days of work, I'm definitely not caught up on sleep and boy is my body letting me know.

AKA I'm taking a bit of a break. At least it's not because of frisbee this time right?

Instead, I'll do the usual and present you with a video. Now, I may be a bit behind on sharing this, but I only finally saw it today. As you know, I try to post social political things when I can - at least things that I find important or relevant. And I think the next topic is. Ever since I was younger, around high school, I've tried to eat healthier. Organic when I can, less sugars and sodium, nothing "too" processed. But as we all know, a lot of this country doesn't follow my methods - leaving us to be the world's second most obese country, right behind Mexico. I don't think that's something to be proud of and I know we've made steps to try and combat this, but it only seems to be getting worse. And I think the next video hits the issue right on the head (even though it is a bit contradictory).

Yes - I do think Chipotle is healthier. Do I think it is a proper choice of food? Not always. But it certainly is when compared to hormone fed beef suppliers and other fast food restaurants - so I'll let this slide. Their new commercial addresses what I've mentioned above in a rather clever way - through a narrative story. It's creepy, touching, and at some points a bit disturbing - maybe to the level we need to see to snap out of our current food trance. It's been getting a lot of buzz lately - so hopefully this could be the start of something new. Maybe open the public's eyes. Don't get me wrong either - this isn't just a problem for America, but the world in general.

Regardless - it does make me want a burrito.

Break Through

As he stood on shore, watching the waves pound against each other, he couldn't help but feel a rise of nerves in his chest.

He was having second thoughts.

The seas was angry. Beating against itself. Thrashing more violently than he could remember in the last few years. He could barely hear himself think over their crashing. Roaring into the air - a static unlike anything he had ever heard. Like a thousand radios out of tune - clashing against each others' frequencies, screeching up towards the overcast sky. As the mist from the churning waves rose into the air, the strong gusts of wind blowing in from over the water swept it in towards the land. Whipping up the loose sand along the way and plastering it against his body. Stinging his skin wherever it wasn't protected. As if an angry swarm of bees flew by every couple seconds. It didn't take long for little welts to appear and his complexion to become a bright red. He had to hold a hand up to his eyes, straining against the particles - protecting himself from their wrath. In a matter of minutes he had become covered in a fine layer of silt - sticking to his clothing, digging into his hair, even finding its way into his mouth - gritting between his teeth.

When he was younger, he used to come down to the beach to escape the world around him. Losing himself amongst the dunes, letting the sand flow between his toes, the sound of the waves drowning out the thoughts in his head. But when things had gotten really bad, he used to run into the water. Diving beneath the surface, letting the ocean hold him tight. He cherished the feeling of floating. As if he was flying. Invincible from everything else. When he was floating amongst the waves, face to the sky, he'd let his ears drift below the surface - the churning of the water around him echoing into his brain, its white noise washing away anything that didn't need to be there.

But on certain days, residing on the surface just wasn't enough. So he'd take a few deep breaths and dive down, as far as he could. Until he'd hit the bottom or the pressure was too much for his ears to handle. Then he'd just float there. Free from everything. From the world above the waves. The noises. The bright sunlight. He could just close his eyes and drift in the void.

Yet today, he wasn't sure if he wanted to get into the water. Even go near it. They were the types of waves that looked as if they would never let go. Grab him by the ankles and drag him deeper and deeper, holding him down even when his lungs were burning, demanding for fresh air. Churning him along the bottom. He'd have to struggle to break through the surface. To breath again. But as he stood there, looking on, it struck him. Maybe thats what he needed. A fight.

To prove himself.

Awoke with a head full of songs. Every chorus was your name. 

Song of the Day (Girl I Wanna Lay You Down) 09.13.13

Knock another week down.

Halfway through September - you best be thinking about your Halloween costume.

But let's not waste anytime and jump into the tunes. I'm tired. It's been a long day. The sooner I'm done with this, the sooner I get to close my eyes.

So song one was actually on in a coffee shop earlier in the week and I haven't been able to get it out of my head since. Sure, it's catchy. The lyrics are cute, maybe even a little risque, but I love it. And yes, it's another one of those songs where it reminds me of someone and it always will. I know I've played some of his music before, but bear with me - this is Jack Johnson's "Girl I Wanna Lat You Down."




Song number two is totally different. Hell, I can't even remember the last time I had a second song. Anyway - this weekend I'm going to a block party hosted by producer/dj Diplo in downtown LA and I couldn't be more excited. While I'm pumped to be seeing Matt and Kim (from song of the day two weeks ago) - the headliner is Major Lazer - a group that plays electronic dance music mixed with Jamaican dance hall tunes. So, I thought I'd share a little bit of their music with you. It's a tad unique to say the least. I played one for you a while ago, but I figured I'd post another. This is Major Lazer's "Mashup the Dance."




Hope you all have a fantastic weekend!

Somewhere

I just got done working a double. My mind is friend. My eyes hurt. I really don't have much to offer.

But I did watch this video earlier today and immediately thought to share it. Not only a short documentation of a road trip (which you all know I'm a sucker for) but it is absolutely stunning. Everything about it is beautiful. The subtle desaturated hues, use of depth of field, the cutting, the mundane subjects. I also really love the lack of music. Somehow it just sucks you further into the piece. Forcing you to focus on the images more.

It just makes me itch to get back on the road for a while.

SOMEWHERE U.S.A. from Vitùc on Vimeo.

Morning Cleanse

It was the time of the day he cherished the most, but also the time he feared. Just standing there, letting the warm water pour over his shoulders - beating the grogginess out of his muscles, forcing the haze out from between his ears.

Each morning it was always the same routine. His alarm would startle him awake. Ripping him from a dream - pulling him away from a distant place and throwing him back into reality. He'd try his best, but he would never last long, succumbing to the comfort of the bed - the layered blankets and insulated heat - eventually falling back asleep. By the time the secondary alarm went off, his mind was dusted off enough to prompt him to pry himself away from his mattress. From there he'd make his way to the bathroom. Slowly. Dragging his feet across the carpet as he went, trying to will some feeling back into his extremities.

It wasn't until he placed his hand underneath the running water that he began to feel alive again. That first contact with the cold liquid always shook him deep down - regardless of how prepared he was. In less than a second he was covered in goosebumps, the hair along his arms and legs standing on end. Depending on the time of year, he'd either enter right away or let the water run for some time before there was thick layer of steam gathering along the ceiling.

When he did finally decide it was time, he didn't edge in - it was a full commitment. Letting the water wash over his head, across his face, and down the rest of his body. It only took a few minutes for the combination of pressure and heat to snap him back to life. He could feel the tiredness leave his body - stripped away by the water.

Once his mind was ready, it'd begin racing. Not in the sense of nervousness or excitement, but to catch up on the time it had lost while it was dormant - busy conducting dreams. Depending on the morning, it'd focus on happier things. What he had to look forward in the upcoming day. Who he was excited to see. What he wanted to eat for lunch. If there were any major events coming up. But then on certain days, it wound itself a little too tightly and began to think about the negatives. The darker aspects of life. Problems he was having. The people he missed. Issues he was having at work. Most of the time when his mind wandered down that path, it was like an avalanche. One thought began a chain reaction, slowing building throughout the rest of the morning - setting the tone for the rest of the day.

And on this particular morning, even though it had gone down that path, he was determined to stop it. To concentrate and get out of the grey.

So he tried something new - letting his worries wash down the drain, with the dirt from the previous day.

Foreign Morning

As he first opened his eyes, he was confused. As much as he tried - he couldn't remember going to bed the night before. The best he could do was pull out certain moments - throwing on sweatpants, brushing his teeth. Everything else was a blur.

Above him was a window he wasn't familiar with and on the other side of the glass was a swath of sky he had never seen. A radiant blue that stretched out in all directions - scattered with the occasional morning clouds that were in the process of dispersing under the rising sun. Even the birds that stood perched along the low-hanging power lines appeared different to him. How they cooed, the patterns of their feathers, their colorings.

And that wasn't all. As he continued to lay there in bed, the rest of the world began to seep into the room. He could hear the streets outside of the building already bustling with life. The occasional car driving by, hooves clacking against the cobblestones, children laughing and running on their way to school - merchants' voices echoing down the winding alleyways. It didn't take long for his nose to notice the aromatics of the city either. The spices that lingered. Different curries, cinnamon, cumin, paprika. All combining in a cornucopia within his nostrils. Pure bliss.

It wasn't until he heard the mixture of languages that he remembered where he was. He seemed to hear it all, arabic, spanish, french, berber. It was tough trying to distinguish one from another, especially when they were often used interchangeably. As much as his mind tried to pick them apart, it was too much work too fast and he quickly became lulled into a trance by the cadence and rhythm of the voices on the other side of the window.

As he continued to lay there, body slowing warming under the beams of light that were sneaking in through the window, he was startled by the slight groan next to him. He had completely forgotten he was not alone. She laid to his left, tightly wrapped in the hand sewn blankets, pulled just above her eyes, hair tussled about in clumps, falling in all directions over the bed. He couldn't help but smile in her attempt to stay warm in the night, He could only imagine how cold her feet were further down the bed, curled around one another - absolutely endearing.

Yet there was an issue at hand. How to wake her up. Outside the city was calling him, goading him to throw the warm layer of blankets off and venture out into the streets. To explore. Experience. Soak it all in. But the more he laid there, the less and less he wanted to disturb her. He could hear her breathing, deep and slow. That perfect state. Lost somewhere within a dream. So he nuzzled up and wrapped an arm around her ever so gently. Their adventures could wait a little longer.

After all - this moment was close to perfect.

Swing Away

Over the last couple of months, it had all come crashing down.

And he didn't know what to do. So he walked. Out the front door of his home, to the front of his yard, treading over the grass he had taken meticulous care of over the past couple months. When his shoes finally met the concrete of the sidewalk, he turned and continued on his way. Down the street, into the heart of the nieghborhood. As he went, the occasional neighbor would wave out to him, wish him a good morning, but he didn't reciprocate. He barely even noticed. Walking off into the distance.

Work had all but disappeared - a product of the economy. He didn't know where to go and who to turn to. It hadn't taken long for him to begin doubting himself. If he had made the right choices in life. Prepared properly for the real world. At first it had been amazing. Completely exhilarating. Everything was new. So vibrant. He was excited for each new day. But as time wore on, everything that had once shimmered began to fade. It all looked dull. Monotone. Each morning was harder than the last. He'd force himself out of bed and into the office. The time would crawl by. Sometimes seeming to stand still. Seconds dragging on for what felt like hours.

He wanted an escape. He needed an escape. He just didn't know how.

When he finally realized where he was, he was a bit started. He had walked through the heart of the town, down to the old playground where he and his friends used to spend every afternoon after school. Everything still stood proudly, only showing age through chipped paint and rust spots where the metal had been exposed. Remembering those afternoons brought a smile to his face. A feeling he had almost forgotten. As a kid, he had nothing to worry about aside from being home for curfew. He'd laugh with his friends, climbing along the monkey bars, rocketing down the slide, jumping on the cargo net. At that age he seemed invincible. Naive to what the real world would bring.

As he stood there, the loose sand embracing his shoes, he felt drawn toward it all again. Deep down he felt the need to relive those moments. So he walked toward the swings, running his fingertips along the rubber seats - remembering at one time that they had been smooth, now only to have become cracked and worn. But as he sat down and begun to sway, he felt the weight of the world begin to lift off his shoulders. It all didn't seem so bad. The more and more he swung back and forth, the lighter and lighter he felt. And thats when it finally struck him.

He didn't always need to have his feet planted on the ground.

I still see you when I close my eyes

Song of the Day (Steal My Kisses) 09.06.13

Hold on here. Let's pump the breaks a little bit. We're getting a bit out of control.

September already? How did this happen?

Even if I tried to act like it was still the summer months, the weather here in Southern California won't let me. We've officially hit the hottest month(s) and boy, has it come out firing. We've easily been in the triple digits each day and there are no sign of it slowing down. Might as well get used to it for another sixty days, apply that sun screen liberally, and continue on.

On a side note though - I realize this week was void of any stories. That I'd like to apologize for. It's just been a tad hectic and busy and I really haven't had the chance to sit down and write something worth while. I'm sure I could have forced something out, but I doubt the quality would have been acceptable - so look forward to next week. I'll get back to my old ways. I promise.

But onto the music shall we?

Again, I'm not going to dive into either selection this time - but rather let the songs do the talking for me. Each is a good summer tune (yes yes, I know summer is over, but I'm trying to keep the dream alive) that'll hopefully ease you into the weekend.

Song one is by an artist that I think is very under appreciated. He's been around for quite sometime and while he has a solid fan base, he just doesn't seem to have ever broken out into the mainstream. He's got the voice, the lyrics, and the musical ability. It just never panned out to what I think he was capable of. Heck, I even forgot about this song until I was listening to my itunes earlier today and it came on shuffle. And now I can't get it out of my head. This is Ben Harper's "Still My Kisses."




Song number two is a classic. Yes - it may be more of my generation, but I hope that when anyone hears it, they immediately think of the warm summer months. Cruising down the boulevard, towards the beach, windows down, sunglasses on, not a care in the world. Get it? The only sad thing about this song is that it makes me wish that the band was still around, with its original lineup. I would love to have had the chance to see them live. This is Sublime's "What I got."

Weathered Hands

There is something extremely gratifying about working with one's hands. Maybe it's because you actually get to feel the work. Touching it as it grows and morphs into a final product. Maybe it's the pain we feel - sore knuckles, paper cuts, or pinches - somehow justifying the time put in. I can't really put my finger on it, but I'm lucky that I get to work with my hands everyday.

Now - I know what you're thinking. I'm using a computer. All I use are keystrokes and a mouse, but I at least feel like I am actually building what is in front of me. Sure, maybe I'm really just fooling myself, but there is a certain level of pride inside of me. I'm in totally control, building each TV spot or trailer piece by piece - even if it is through a computer interface.

But I will admit I'm no where near the people in the next video. I never through making globes would be such a feat - but I'm amazed at the craftsmanship they produce. Each and every globe is absolutely stunning - better than the last. After watching this, it made me want to go out into the garage and building something. Pull out all my tools and just go to work. Feel some wood beneath my fingertips, strike in some nails, buff out any rough spots, sand down some corners. Hell, I don't care if it is even me just building a bird house. I want to create something again with my bare hands.

I want to get dirty.

Oh and after doing some research - as beautiful as they are, I would never pay what they are asking for one of those globes.

Sisters

Well, consider this a week of videos. I was planning on coming home tonight and writing a story, but by the time I got home from the art exhibit, I was too tired and it was too late to sit down and pump something out.

On a side note - the exhibit was awesome. It focused on the work of photographer Shane McCauley, who shoots a lot of urban environments - usually portraits. Ranging anywhere from Jamaica, Brazil, New York or South Africa. But I'll be honest with you - the man reason I went was one of my favorite music producers/DJs, Diplo, was there. He did a little Q & A and played for a bit before going back into the greenroom to hangout. And luckily, because of Jon Grado (who interned at the studio that was holding the exhibit), I had wristbands that let me go back and speak briefly with him. Super cool, down-to-earth guy from Philadelphia who just loves music and wants to share it with the world and expose everyone to the different styles out there.

What a great way to spend the night.

But I also have to keep you all happy. So I'm presenting you with a music video I have never seen until recently. You all know I'm a huge fan of Michel Gondry and his immense imagination, so when someone I currently work with told me their were a set PA on a music video he shot a couple years ago, I was floored to find out it was one I've never seen. So I went out and watched it and, per usual, was blown away. Not only by the creativity but by the sheer scope of it. Three different stories that somehow all come together at the end. Absolutely nuts. I tried at first to watch it all but found myself becoming lost too quickly, so I had to watch three separate times to soak it all in an appreciate it.

So how about you? Could you handle it all in one viewing? Or did you have to chop it up?

Back to the Desert

What a day back to work. Assembling a feature, learning a new editing system, lacking sleep. Not an easy day, not a fun day. But hey - at least tomorrow is already hump day.

Tonight is going to be brief. I'm tired and I have a few thing to do around the house before bed, so expect a story tomorrow (but I can't promise one - I'm going to be stopping by an art exhibit opening tomorrow and I'm not sure when it ends).

But you all know me - I won't leave you empty handed. So a video it is! And of course, I've spoken about it before, but I absolutely loved my time in Morocco - so when I saw the following piece, I fell in love with it. The video itself is absolutely stunning and should convince all of you of the country's beauty and character. I can easily pick out moments of Chefchaouen, Fez, Tangiers, and many other places I haven't yet been (but hopefully will soon). My heart honestly aches to return. And the more and more I see videos like this, it just makes me want to travel, document my adventures, and make a living off of them. See the world, experience cultures - make a life of it.

Who wants to join me?

In Morocco - 2013 from Vincent Urban on Vimeo.

Labor Day

I hope everyone had a fantastic Labor Day!

Sorry for the lack of a post - but there was a slurry of barbecue, alcohol, and fun today and quite frankly, it kinda got in the way.

We'll return to our usual posts tomorrow.

Cheers!