December 31: The End

Today is the last day of 2010. People all over the world will be counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds before their time zone flips to the new year. It's a time to start over. There is no rule that demands resolutions be made at the beginning of the calendar year, but January 1st has always been a nice solid, point in which goals and aspirations are declared. No more smoking. No more negativity. Healthier eating. More exercising and compassion toward others.

As millions of people begin planning for their New Year's resolutions, I am officially ending mine. 365 days ago, I made a promise (to myself more than anyone) that I would attempt to improve my writing by posting one entry to this blog every day for the duration of the year. As some of you might have discovered, I had dabbled with blogging before my project began. I enjoyed writing my thoughts and observations, but felt I had a lot of room for growth as a writer. Being a subscriber to the "Practice makes perfect" idea, I decided this was what I needed. 365 days. 365 posts.

There were times when my creative juices were flowing and I was extremely proud of the day's entry and then there were those nights that I literally sat and stared at the blinking, vertical cursor on the blank screen. On my creative nights I would read and re-read the article before posting to make sure my thoughts flowed, but for those other nights, sometimes I wouldn't even read through them once; I just wanted to be done with them.

As January turned to February turned to May turned to November, friends would tell me their thoughts about my posts and each mention of my work inspired me to continue. If it weren't for my readers, I don't know if I would have had the strength to make it the entire year. Many of you have left comments in response to a particular post that caught your attention and I'm truly thankful for each one.

The last thing I wanted this blog to be was a journal of my feelings and petty encounters I had with acquaintances. Occasionally the mood I was in while writing got the best of me and expressed itself within my writing, but I did the best I could to be as vague as possible and I tried to leave any names out of my posts. For those of you that I might have offended in anyway, please know that was never my intention.

Once talk of the holiday season began, friends started asking if I was going to continue my writing into the new year. Maybe. My daily writings will definitely end with today's post, but I may feel inclined to add a post in the future if the subject is intriguing enough. Instead of writing every day, I'm going back to the basics of resolutions. I will be combining a few of my past resolutions by going without soda or ice cream for the year and adding a daily dose of flossing and ab wheeling.

I will always remember 2010 for this project and the people that helped inspire me to fight until the end. Below, is a list of my most loyal readers and an individual thank you to each one. Their names are exactly as they appear in my list of followers on Blogger. For every one else, again, I thank you for all of your support and I wish you a very prosperous, healthy, and happy New Year.

Accebertink - I've always enjoyed sitting at my computer when your comments are emailed to me because I can expect three or four more in a row. Thank you.

Brian - Reading your daily Facebook posts inspired me to be funnier with my own writing and I thank you for that push.

Adam Brucker - Seeing that you joined my group of followers just days after you found me on Facebook was very rewarding. Thanks, Adam.

Darren - Always on the go and always sharing your stories of travel and adventure. Thank you, Darren for all of your tales.

Nicole Fraga - Other than my mom, I'm convinced you're the most loyal of my readers. I enjoyed reading your comments throughout the year. Thanks, Nicole.

Nicole Gasque - At one point in the year, I tried to call or text you to catch up and your response was that you felt like you were caught up by reading my blog. Hopefully now that it's over, I can hear about what you've been up to this past year!

Greg - Every so often a person will cross my path and laugh at everything I say or do. These people brighten my days and make me feel better about myself. You are one of those people, Greg. Thank you.

David Ireland - I haven't seen a post from you in a while. I want to read more of your thoughts!

Sara Jimerson-Giglio - One of the most caring and genuine people I know. 2010 was a rough one for you, but I know you will come out stronger and I hope 2011 will be your best. Thanks for everything, Sara.

Laura - You're at the edge of making a big step and I wish you all the luck in the world. I will miss your laughter and grammatical guidance.

Lindsay - The last I heard, you were in August of my blog. You still have a ways to go, but I'm glad that my writing will live on through the new year. You're the best, Lindsay!

Lizz - If it weren't for you, Lizz, I don't know if my mom would have ever known about this blog. Thanks for being one of my first readers.

Max - Almost every post this year that dealt with college memories was inspired by you. We had good times in college.

Megan Truett - I really think you should start writing. I've never read anything you've done, but I have a feeling you would be really good. Thanks for the support all year, Megan.

Molly McDevittCole - I don't know how much of this you actually read, but it was a real honor when you signed up to be a follower. Thanks, Molly!

Pat - Those college memories I mentioned for Max? You were right there with him! Thanks for the good times.

Adrian Pinon - I went into the restaurant and a mutual friend told me that you told her about my blog. I don't know if she ever read it, but I'm glad that they were good enough for you to recommend. Thanks for the shout-out, Adrian.

RJ - I have to be honest here. I don't know who you are, but I'm still extremely thankful for your readership. Thank you.

Steve - I really enjoyed reading the Three Muskets, so do me a favor and start writing again. You're much better and more entertaining than I am.

Verna - I didn't receive any comments from you, but I did receive a few thumbs-up likes on Facebook so I'm glad you found some of the posts enjoyable. Thank you for reading, Verna!

Kristen Wurtz - The latest person to join the group of followers. Thank you, Kristen for your support and I hope you're doing well.

December 30: Declined

Throughout my twenty-seven years of living on this planet, I've been rejected, denied, and declined in every way imaginable. My grade-school crush never returned the favor and I missed the fifth grade presidency by a mere two votes. I follow one professional sports team religiously and another half-heartedly and neither one of them has ever won a championship. I wasn't cast in You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown and I didn't get the one role that I'm still convinced I was born to play in Little Shop of Horrors. Out of all the heartbreaks in my life, however, the most humiliating of them all is when the cash register attendant informs me that my credit card has been declined.

Like I wrote in my November 17th entry, I take my credit very seriously. I always pay my bills in full, still maintain a balanced checkbook, and just recently forked over my entire savings to expunge my college loans. I even keep a spreadsheet of every penny spent and earned that dates back a few years. So yeah, I don't mess around with the finances of my life which makes it that much more embarrassing when the attendant judges my personal habits as I scramble to retrieve my backup credit card.

The irony of it all is that I know exactly what he's thinking. Because I work in the service industry, I run credit cards every day. It's part of the job, but that doesn't make having to inform a guest that his card was declined any easier. Although I'm well aware there are a myriad of reasons why the card was denied, my first human instinct is to think that the guy maxed it out. Irresponsible spending.

I never use the word decline when returning the card because it's embarrassing enough to get the news in front of friends and/or family. I hope that by putting the blame on the restaurant's computers, it softens the blow a bit. "For some reason, our computers aren't reading this card. Do you have another form of payment?" Although I'm confident the guest knows what I'm really trying to say, my hope is that by phrasing it a little differently, the news will be easier to take.

Enough about him, though. Why was my card denied? How could a card belonging to someone as financially responsible and mature as me ever be denied? Apparently, it's just the bank doing their part to ensure my safety. Thanks. I get it. If someone had actually stolen my identity and went on a mad spending spree, I would have been genuinely grateful for the bank's procedures, but I would hope that they would treat the situation differently than they had with me earlier this week. If you see unusual activity with my account, please do me the favor of informing me before I go to the store without any cash.

Having a credit card denied is one of the most embarrassing moments a person can go through; especially if he knows he didn't do anything wrong. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that when it happens, you are definitely being judged, but if you're the informer, try to break the news in the most pleasant manner you can. Thank you.

December 29: Neil's Mission Part III

Continued from December 28, 2010
Chapter 3 of 3

The night transformed into the early moments of morning. Neil's once dark hiding spot was now illuminated in the sun's warm glow. Too excited to sleep during the late hours, his lack thereof had caught up to him. He was just about to let the blanket of exhaustion encompass him when the faint sound of jingling keys followed by the soft, yet high-pitched, bell on the door threw it off of him. The store was open.

Mr. Shipley propped the door open with the copper bucket holding the umbrellas and let the warm air in to start the day. Neil watched him as he made his way behind the counter, bent down out of sight to open the safe, and reappeared with the drawer of money. From his corner by the door's frame, he watched Mr. Shipley recount the drawer, yawn, stretch, lose his count, and start over before placing it into the register. Before the store's owner had finished with his daily routine, Shipley's Family Hardware had its first visitor and so began the observation period of Neil's escape.

Throughout the day, he remained in his spot of hiding and took note of every visitor's walking pattern. He noticed that only the children stepped on the threshold and every adult landed his or her last step approximately six inches from its raised surface before exiting into the daylight. He was amazed to discover that when a customer paid for his or her items with the right hand, it was the right foot that made this last step and vice versa if the person paid using the left hand. By mid-afternoon, Neil had all he needed to achieve his goal.

When the silver pickup came to a stop in the dirt lot, Neil watched the overweight man slide out and slam the door with his right arm. He felt the ground tremble as the man stepped onto the first step with his right foot. He looked up as the man walked in, waved to Mr. Shipley with his right hand, and made his way to the framing hammers before testing their weight in his hand; the right.

Repeating the process he used to get to his hiding spot, Neil swung his point away from the floor-to-ceiling window and rolled himself around. Within minutes, he was precisely at the estimated location of contact in front of the open door. He could feel the warm breeze of the outside world as he raised his point over his head and balanced upside down. Carefully, he swiveled himself around to gauge the progress of the overweight man that was now standing on the ceiling and handing money under the top of the upside-down counter.

As Neil verified the man was paying with his right hand, a movement on the counter caught his attention. Allowing himself to glance toward the upside-down cardboard miscellaneous bin, Neil saw a familiar aluminum and heartbreaking face. He had not expected this last moment and his heart swelled with pain by the idea of goodbye but the feeling of triumph overshadowed and he waved his point proudly at his brother just before the overweight man's left foot landed directly beside him. As the man swung his right foot to land just before the threshold of the store, his shoe's toe made perfectly calculated contact with Neil's slender and weightless body.

The spinning world that Neil was introduced to the previous evening was nothing compared to this revolving feeling. Head over point over head over point he flew through the store's door and into the afternoon. He soared through the air for what seemed like eternity before finally landing with a soft thud in the hot powdery dirt. No crashing or banging like the night before; just one painless flop as the ground absorbed everything before sending a tiny cloud of dust around his body.

It was in this very spot that Neil remained until he heard the jingling keys from the morning. It was here that he watched a tired Mr. Shipley slowly descend the steps of Shipley's Family Hardware and climb into the dusty station wagon before its taillights made their way over the horizon and toward Mrs. Shipley's home-cooked beef stew.

The dust, dirt, rocks, and sticks made his travel a bit more difficult than the night before, but a few hours later he was there. He had made it. The journey was over. After all of his planning and after his hours of watching the habits of people in the store. After the months of having his family taken from him by careless people, Neil was on the precipice of revenge.

He watched as one last car flew by a mere few inches from where he waited before rolling himself on to the dark asphalt and over the white, reflective paint. The road was vacant and quiet as he positioned himself on the still-warm road, raised his point over his head, and waited.

December 28: Neil's Mission Part II

Continued from December 27, 2010

Chapter 2 of 3

That night, Neil scratched and clawed his way through the rusty bolts that had been residents of the miscellaneous bin since before his own arrival. He climbed past the requests to stay from his sisters and continued through the cheers of support from his brothers. This was the night of his great escape and nothing was going stop him.

The cries from his sisters tugged at his heart and part of him wanted to stay, but he knew the truth behind their future together. Sooner or later, every member of his scattered family would be gone. Gone into different homes across the old town. If he didn't act now, he would soon find himself alone and behind a picture frame regretting his failure to avenge his family.

From the top of the pile of nuts, screws, washers, bolts, and family, Neil peered over the edge of the cardboard and into the dark expanse that was the store's floor. He had taken the fall before, but he had done so unexpectedly. The fall had been a surprise and he was within the company of his brothers and sisters. Now he had to voluntarily jump; alone. The box was filled to capacity and it was just a matter of rolling over the edge. It was just a matter of psyching himself out for the inevitable. As his brothers cheered and his sisters wailed, Neil took a deep breath, pushed his head over the edge and let its weight do the rest.

With a metallic ping, his round, flat head smacked against the cold Formica counter and his pointed rear flipped him upside down as he continued his silent journey to the ground. His second landing was more violent as his point made contact with the floor at an angle forcing it to slide out from beneath him but slamming his head into the (figuratively) soft floorboard. As violent as the fall was, however, it was still quiet enough not to rouse the tools in the early evening. When he came to a halt and the room had ceased its spin, Neil let out an exhausted breath. He had done it. His mission was underway.


The brooms had not started their sweeping so he had some time to recover from the fall. In the stillness of the night, Neil rolled over and around his planted point. It only took four rotations before he had made a 90-degree turn. Now that he thought about it, he never had the freedom to move like this before. As far back as he could remember, he was always wedged between a sibling or a foreign nut. In the few moments of his traumatic inventory accident, he had been too stunned to experiment with the idea of rolling and moving. To his surprise, it was much easier than he would have guessed.

After doing a 360-degree turn, he effortlessly raised his point from the ground and stood on his head before lowering it back to the ground. Because his head outweighed the rest of his body by so much and there was an overall lack of friction between his point and the floor, he was unable to stand upright, but he had no problem raising, lowering, and swinging his point over his head. His mission, he realized, was going to be a lot easier than he had planned and he couldn't wait to get started.

Within the duration of his experimental movements he had maneuvered himself a good twelve to fifteen inches from his original landing spot. By focusing more on the task at hand, Neil aimed his point at the exit of the store and made a 180-degree roll. With the point now facing the opposite direction of his target, he raised it and swung it around before repeating the process. An hour was all it took. He didn't need the brooms. He didn't need to explain why he wanted to be swept toward the door or why he didn't want to be a part of a home renovation.

With a feeling of pure adrenaline, Neil rolled himself into the darkest shadow just to the right of the door's frame and waited for the remainder of the night. He watched the brooms do their thing. He listened to the hacksaws and box cutters. He heard the songs of the dancing ceiling fans in the back and he smiled to himself when he remembered the gossiping toilet seats that were housed two aisles away from their soft breeze.

December 27: Neil's Mission

Chapter 1 of 3

Just off the old state highway right outside of the eastern borders of town is a dirt lot. On that lot there is an old and tired one-story building; Shipley's Family Hardware. The malnourished hinges of the heavy door creak loudly with every visitor that pushes through and steps on to the dusty wood floor. As they browse the aisles, every tool and item holds its breath.

The straw-bristle brooms lean in their cubbies and yearn for the store to close so they can sweep the floors. The lubricants long to put an end to the noise coming from the hinges. Each aisle houses a different member of the hardware family that craves to be put to good use. The snow shovels and weather stripping both become antsy every winter. The leaf blowers can't wait for autumn and the hoses wait patiently for summer. The flashlight is king after hours, and if you listen carefully, you just might be able to hear the hacksaws arguing with the box cutters over who reigns supreme.

Every day while waiting to be that one item needed for a home improvement project, the tools and various parts make the best of their time by visiting with each other. The Allen wrenches and screwdrivers discuss tightening methods while the electric heaters flirt with the thermostats. The spackle and putty knives are all business all the time. Just like the other items in Shipley's they know that every visitor's project is a team effort, but their every thought and conversation topic revolves around the future job at hand. Although the items have their fun, each knows where his or her place in the world is; every item, that is, except for Neil.

Ever since inventory day when he and the rest of the 190-pack of his 6D Aluminum Sinker Nail brothers and sisters were dropped and scattered by an inexperienced employee, Neil has been hungry for revenge. Most of his family was reunited in the miscellaneous bin with the various nuts, bolts, and screws that can be purchased individually, but it wasn't the relocation that bothered him. What irritated Neil more than anything was knowing that his family would never work on a project together. Some were lost forever under the shelves of tools and others were wedged between the dusty floorboards. Along with the "saved" family members, Neil sat in the crowded cardboard box on the counter at the front of the store and watched as one by one his brothers and sisters were being taken away from him on a daily basis to replace other lost nails.

In his mind, the only thing that could make up for his loss was causing pain to the humans that did this to him and his family. From the moment his first sister was taken out of the box and out of his life, he vowed to make his way to the state highway anyway possible and wait for an unsuspecting driver's tire to "pick him up."

It was tough though. Not only did he have to take that terrifying fall again, but he had to convince the brooms to sweep him toward the closed and locked door; otherwise his flat head made it impossible to do anything but roll in circles. On top of that, the door opened inward which meant he would have to rest outside of its swing if he wanted any unobstructed chance at escape. From this resting point, Mr. Shipley was sure to find him the next morning when he opened the store and would simply return him to the box. Neil had a lot to consider.

December 26: PS3 Recommendation

Christmas is over and if your relatives are anything like mine, you might find yourself with a little extra spending money. What do you buy? Do you put it away for a rainy day? Do you throw it at your student loans? Or do you go on a post-holiday sale shopping spree? If you're into movies and technology, let me give you my two cents.

In November of 2009, I splurged a bit and bought a 120 GB Playstation 3 and I could not be happier with my decision. Their slogan is "It Only Does Everything" and I have found that to be more accurate as time goes by. It really does seem to do everything and it has become just as intrical a part of my home theatre set up as the TV and speakers.

I've never been a big gamer. Sure, I had the 32-Bit Super Nintendo and the Nintendo 64. I still have my Nintendo Gamecube, but I rarely play it. The reason I don't consider myself a "gamer" is because I'll get the consoles at the height of their popularity, buy a few games and then sell it for less than half of what I paid for years after I stop playing. I don't play World of Warcraft or Defense of the Ancients. I've never played Halo and if you ask me to join your Call of Duty league, you'll be extremely disappointed in my lack of marksmanship skills. I was more into games like the Donkey Kong Country series and Mario Kart, but even then I'm not terrific.

The reason for my PS3 purchase was not necessarily for the gaming aspect of the console. It was based more on the reviews of the system as a Blu-Ray player. Consistently rated as one of the top performers in its price range, for me, the gaming was just a cool add-on. I have since purchased a few games (the Uncharted series is by far my favorite) and have been very satisfied with the gameplay within a surround sound environment, but that was just the tip of the iceberg.

When I was out of work for my first surgery in August, I was able to instantly stream the first two seasons of Dexter through my Playstation and watch them on my TV. For whatever reason, though, Netflix didn't have the next two seasons available for streaming and I found myself downloading the episodes and watching them on my computer. After a little tinkering, I discovered that the PS3 could act as a media server which meant that I could download an episode on to my computer, wirelessly connect the gaming console and stream the downloaded content to my TV. Now it was just like I was streaming from Netflix. But wait, there's more!

I bought my TV in 2007 and my speakers and receiver the next year. The following year (after I had forked over nearly $2,000 on audio equipment alone) high definition movies were making their entrance into the realm of home theatre. My equipment was suddenly obsolete. Dolby Digital-HD and DTS-HD were being introduced, but the best I could get with my receiver was Dolby Digital-EX.

Fast forward to my days of PS3 ownership and now I have it all. With the same receiver and speakers I had a few years ago, I'm able to open the lines of communication between my components and let my Playstation do the decoding straight from the Blu-Ray disc. In layman's terms, this simply means that if a disc can deliver a specific signal, I can receive it without any new equipment; and Avatar on a 50" in Blu-Ray with DTS-HD Master Audio is glorious.

Although my outdated equipment was saved by the powers of Sony, getting involved with technology can be a dangerous hobby. When I purchased the console, I was afraid that a Playstation 4 was just around the corner. I know one is in the works, but another fantastic feature of the 3 is that it has the ability to be updated for free. Gone is the streaming disc Netflix used to require when watching their instant content and as of October of this year, Playstation is the only console with the ability to stream in 5.1 surround sound. Other upgrades have included new audio formats and have even converted my PS3 into a 3D-DVD player! I don't anticipate getting a 3D TV any time soon, but it's cool to know I have the player.

When Sony says the Playstation 3 only does everything, they're not jerkin' your chain. Games, movies, upgrades, decoding, Internet, and more. I discover something new and amazing about my system every few months and I can't wait to find out what else it can do. If you're looking for a new toy to spend your hard-earned Christmas money on, let me recommend the Playstation 3. It only does everything.

December 25: Christmas Traditions

Movies and television shows traditionally have children waking up before sunrise on Christmas morning, yelling for Mom and Dad to wake up, and tearing through their gifts in mass hysteria. In their onesie pajamas, they crouch by the toy train making laps around the tree and search desperately for the next gift addressed to them. Still in his robes and slippers, Dad holds Mom in his arms on the couch as the mugs of hot chocolate warm their hands and they both admire the little ones. I always liked to think of my neighbors going through this same routine every December 25th while my family did things a little differently.

Christmas morning always started the same way for my sister and me. We would be tucked warmly away in our beds as sugar plums danced in our heads when from out of nowhere, my mom would start shouting, "Ho ho ho!" at seven in the morning. It wasn't a jolly "Ho ho ho" that one might hear Santa chanting, but more like the sound of a drunken vagabond impersonating a screeching alley cat. Of course, my mom was never actually intoxicated first thing in the morning, but for whatever reason, she tried to make her "Ho ho ho"s as obnoxious as possible. They were great.

After taking inventory of what Santa had left, we would get dressed, Dad would mix hot chocolate in the thermos and Mom would be putting together a satchel of pistachios and homegrown tangerines. We would then tie Sport (our Yellow Labrador) in the back of the truck before getting in ourselves. As the neighboring families were ripping through their Christmases, we were on our way to the mountains for a quiet Christmas morning hike.

Being from San Diego, we didn't get snow very often, but we drove far enough east to occasionally catch glimpses of white patches and on a very rare occasion, we would actually get quite a bit of snow. Even though we didn't always see it, the air was always pretty cold nonetheless. We would hike for a couple hours, take a few breaks now and then and laugh as Sport would chase sticks and eat our tangerine peelings. When our hike was over, we would sit on the tailgate of the truck and sip the always over-chocolaty hot cocoa.

More times than not, we would come back home from our hikes and witness the neighbors in the cul-de-sac playing with their new remote-controlled cars and airplanes. We knew their Christmas was over and we hadn't even started yet; it was a good feeling.

After showers, our annual "Farmer's" breakfast, and phone calls to family, we would rearrange the furniture in the living room and slowly open our gifts; never all at once. My sister would open one, followed by me, followed by Mom, followed by Dad and it would continue until three or four in the afternoon when the last gift was unwrapped. Grandma and Grandpa would often make an appearance about halfway through and we would drink champagne, laugh and simply enjoy the company.

I think what I liked most about Christmas was the tradition in which we celebrated. It was unique and different from how our friends did it. Christmas is never just a one day affair. It's a build up that ends on the 25th and I loved how we never rushed the ending. There is so much buildup and if you aren't careful, it will fly by in the blink of an eye.

Some people celebrate Christmas the way the movies portray. Others open gifts the night before and go to the movies on Christmas morning. However you choose to celebrate, cherish it. Take pictures and soak it all in. Take time to reflect on the past year and count your blessings. Merry Christmas!