darekaaron

He's gone

2009-10-29T12:30:00.000-07:00

Sebastian

1991-2009

You will be missed, my alien cat friend

Not for nothin'

2009-07-29T06:03:00.000-07:00

After spending the night in the hospital... No, not as a patient, but instead to offer love and support, I came to realize two distinct revelations. First, while listening to the click-clock...whooosh of the saline pump, one can actually observe the passing of time. And second, if you're in the mood to experience more fucking discomfort then can barely be endured by a human being, please do so on the God Damn 1942 metal-springed cots offered to guests here at the Northwest Hospital and Clinic. I may have gotten 50 sweaty minutes of painful sleep.

There's beauty in the breakdown

2008-09-05T20:02:00.000-07:00

My belly is full. I got home about an hour ago. I poured myself a large drink and began cooking vegetable fried rice. The house is extremely quiet. The normal chatter and energy I'm so fond of is temporarily gone. I turned on music and began to cook. After driving for over six hours in my car today, I discovered I was in my head way too long. Also, Jaimie has persistently reminded me of the lack of posts, so I figured I'd sit down and type.

I hate to sound so cliche, but life today hasn't required the same outlet I used to desperately depend on to deal with the hauntings in my soul. Not to say I haven't undergone struggles. When you tip toe to the edge, peer over, then slowly back the fuck off, it's never easy. The point is, falling off hasn't been an option as of late. The only thing that kept me from completely crumbling before was this blog. Now, I just use the lessons I learned from life, from AA, ('scuse me whilst I take another sip from my beer) and from being beaten, barely able to stand up, dust off, and take another bash on the head. I've come to the conclusion that nothing is easy. That being said, regardless of the struggles, I love to come home to someone that fucking adores me. I love playing a huge part in my children's lives and watching them thrive. I love the fact I drove home tonight listening to Pink Floyd and thinking about my brother. I loved finishing my drive with an Eels song that makes me cry for my dead Mother every time I listen to it alone.

I've lost some spark in my writings. I'm out of practice. I may not sit down to do this often enough, but I'm extremely grateful that I don't have to.

I'm still around. In spirit. But my spirit is sometimes flying too high to reach the keys on the computer.

I'm right here. Right where I've always been, and not at all.

I just don't know anything

2008-06-01T21:50:00.000-07:00

Okay... I'm a little lost.

Is there really a God? I've been praying for the lottery win for roughly 20 years now. I recall there was a time I even made a desperate plea. "God," I said, "I either want to win the lottery tomorrow or I want you to kill me." I was 22 years old. I was so far in debt from collecting every credit card offered to every college student willing to sign their name that I couldn't accept entry level positions.

Funny, I feel the same way today. I have made more money than I ever have. And I spent more than I ever have. $117K earned and I still managed to rack up more debt. The only thing that keeps me from asking God to either grant me the lottery winnings or kill me is the loml and my girls. If they weren't around, I would totally jump off the Space Needle.

How does this happen?

Oh, by the way... If anyone happens to read this, I really appreciate the fact a couple of you still check in every once in awhile. This blog, as well as you were a very important part of my life at one time. Thanks.

So... Anyone got some spare cash laying around?

I'll pay you back. I promise.

I had a nightmare that Blogspot eliminated my blog.

2008-03-23T15:46:00.000-07:00

A bit fuzzy

2007-10-25T14:36:00.000-07:00

I had no intention of doing this. I'm beginning, very slowly mind you, to chronicle things about me and my experiences. And what is below is very rough. I just figured it may begin to take flight if I threw it out there.

I’m on an airplane. I can see the sun rising from the East out my window. Business. I’m on this plane for business. A little over five years ago, I was in a holding cell at the Fountain Valley Police Department awaiting an offer I couldn’t refuse from the Narcotics Division. I had just 45 minutes prior been hauled away in a police cruiser. I was arrested, cuffed, and lead away from a restaurant I was paid to manage. My employees watched me through the windows. Some cried; some laughed. They all new why, and I’m sure it wasn’t nearly as big of a surprise to them as it was to me. I remember the arresting detective saying to me, “I have a son like you. He’s good-looking, smart, charming as Hell. That boy gets away with everything and he needs to get caught. And you needed to get caught today.” He was right. I did need to get caught. I needed to learn the definition of consequences. I needed to learn the value of ethics, morality, humility. Lessons every young man should have a grasp of. I needed to get caught, get help, and rebuild my life. And I needed to make one more attempt, (I had made many. Usually after watching Opra) to quit using methamphetamine. But not quite yet.

**tiny granules of illegal white powder and a white shag carpet

I had to be about the age of three. I was a happy child. I have many very early memories. I remember when I had just learned to swim. I’m told I swam before I walked. It’s interesting, once you are an experienced swimmer, it’s hard to imagine struggling to stay afloat. Beating your arms into the water. Kicking your tiny legs as you try to reach the other side. By the age of three I had experienced things that some grownups haven’t had the chance to. I need to get something out of the way right now. My parents always loved me. They wanted the best for me just like any other parent. My Dad has always supported me in everything I’ve done. He used rush out of work to be at my football practices. I remember playing “Joe” with him as a little boy. It was a make believe role playing game where I was always the new guy in town. I would roll in, and my Dad and Snoopy would be the town bullies. They would try to pick a fight with me, though I warned them more than once they were messing with the wrong guy. When push came to shove, we would end up fighting and I would always beat them into submission. At some point in the game, my Dad and Snoopy would inevitably find themselves in great peril. There would be some unfortunate turn of events throwing them overboard into shark infested waters, or trapped in building that was on fire. No one else would offer help because, as I said, they were the town bullies and were unwelcome residents. Out of the kindness in my heart, I would lend my skills to get them out of whatever life-threatening situation they were in. After the rescue, they would see the errors of their ways, thank me for helping them even though they had been so vile, turn over a new leaf and become model citizens. I’m not sure who Joe was. Maybe I was Joe. My point is, Dad would do that every night when he got home from work. I felt like he never missed a football practice. I have always known he did the very best he could. And my Mom, who unfortunately is no longer with us, approached supporting me much like my Dad. She was the taxi for my friends and I. She used to give me advice that amazed me. She loved me, supported me, protected me. The reason I say these things is, before getting into other stories that made me the person I am today, I wanted to make it clear that my parents were the best parents they could be. That said, many of the lessons I apply to my parenting today are lessons in what not to do as a parent.

So I had to be about the age of three. A year or so after I unknowingly smuggled cocaine through the Miami airport in my Snoopy because Mom tore off the head, stuffed cocaine into the body, and sewed the head back on. And I remember constructing something like a ladder. I may have just brought a chair into my parents’ room and placed it by the dresser. Regardless, I climbed up to the top of the dresser, opened the vile of coke I had seen my parents using earlier that evening, poured it out, lined it up, and tried to snort it. Fortunately for me, I blew out of my nose rather than snort in, so I blew the pile of coke onto the white shag carpet below. My parents woke up to see what I had done, obviously relieved I hadn’t ingested pure cocaine, but somewhat distraught because the drug was pretty hard to spot on a white shag carpet. I’m pretty sure as the story goes, they had their friends over later that day to snort the floor.

I will remember to remember to forget you forgot me

2007-03-26T14:33:00.000-07:00

Truly, it's been quite some time. There's really no reason for it. Life. It happens. And it's good. Full, round, and fat. I'm a committed employee. A devoted father. A loyal lover. I'm making some money and spending a lot.

I've been offered the opportunity to relocate to Seattle. We're moving in late June.

The only thing I don't understand is why spam emails have writing like this attached to it:

since. Not a bird craps, not a polpettone fruit falls that we dont No longer a musical fan, Ljotur? I said, climbing slowly to my A big fat red slob! I shouted. A hairy conman! Which elicited a round of applause from the spectators and a broader My pleasure, I said. My friend here knows nothing about the Then overplayed its role by lifting its hind leg on my pack. Though was unharmed. He had many questions but , did not know how to speak sat down cross-legged and motioned to me. Sit. We must talk. Gallant warriors of Paradise-we are overwhelmed by your greeting. What are banks? My face was buried in his rank red fur as I tightened hard, harder Leave. propaganda for the troops. If we cant believe him about that-how can we have been keeping. Svinjar and his loathsome lads. Weve shot Youre right. It got to me-and I dont know why . . . groped for them. Yours if you answer some simple questions. You will

Earthlink Must Die

2007-01-04T10:51:00.000-08:00

Hello, I recently cancelled my account and was released from my contract. Earthlink withdrew $149.95 from my account without my consent even though I was released from my contract. When I spoke to a representative, (confrimattion # 119875103) they informed me I had to send the modem back to receive a refund. I sent the modem back via UPS, Tracking Information:

Tracking Number: 1Z V88 769 06 0054 548 9
Type: Package
Status: Delivered
Delivered on: 12/22/2006
10:00 A.M.
Delivered to: ROUND ROCK, TX, US
Signed by: SHEDD
Service Type: GROUND ARS

The package was delivered on 12/22/2006. I still have not been refunded. I'm very unhappy. I wish to have this issue resolved as soon as possible.

'Aaron K' says: Thank you for contacting EarthLink LiveChat, how may I help you today?

darekaaron@earthlink.net: Hello,
I recently cancelled my account and was released from my contract. Earthlink withdrew $149.95 from my account without my consent even though I was released from my contract. When I spoke to a representative, (confrimattion # 119875103) they informed me I had to send the modem back to receive a refund. I sent the modem back via UPS

Tracking Information:

Tracking Number: 1Z V88 769 06 0054 548 9
Type: Package Status: Delivered
Delivered on: 12/22/2006 10:00 A.M.
Delivered to: ROUND ROCK, TX, US
Signed by: SHEDD
Service Type: GROUND ARS

As you can see, the package was delivered on 12/22/2006. I still have not been refunded. I'm very unhappy. I wish to have this issue resolved as soon as possible.

Aaron K: Hello. I am sorry for the inconvenience caused. Let me pull up your account details to assist you in this regard.

darekaaron@earthlink.net: Thank you

Aaron K: You are welcome.
Aaron K: I see that you have signed up for this service on 12/09/06.
Aaron K: This was in commitment till 12/08/07.
Aaron K: There is a charge of $149.95 as Early termination fee.

darekaaron@earthlink.net: I spoke to two different representatives on two separate occasions and was given the exact runaround you're giving me right now. I was released from my contract because I wasn't close enough to a call center to receive adequate service. But I already said that in the initial explanation. Did you read that? I also have a letter sitting in front of me that says my request for early termination was approved and that all I had to do is send back the equipment, WHICH I DID. DID YOU READ MY FIRST COMMENTS? I'm sure you didn't. Please go back, actually READ what I originally wrote to you, and look up the confirmation number from my last call that I already provided.

Aaron K: I am checking the records for you.

darekaaron@earthlink.net: You should have checked the records the first time

Aaron K: I am with you. I will not be long.

darekaaron@earthlink.net: Confirmation email from Earthlink:

Dear darek, Thank you for your recent call on date: 12/11/2006 to us and 119875103 is the conformation number for the call you made.
darekaaron@earthlink.net: From:

Sincerely,
john.i Earth Link Customer Support

Aaron K: Thank you for the time. I see that you were promised that it will be waived off.

darekaaron@earthlink.net: Right.

Aaron K: I will process the refund as promised and it will reflect in 7 to 10 business days.

darekaaron@earthlink.net: Will you please email confirmation to darekaaron@gmail.com stating your commitment?

darekaaron@earthlink.net: Hello?

I'm never gonna get my money.

Margaritas and Felonies

2006-12-28T22:57:00.000-08:00

It's funny... I start way too many sentences that way. Maybe a good thing. If I think a majority of the examples in my life are funny, it must mean I have a fantastic sense of humor. And if I have a fantastic sense of humor, then I must be funny.

So, once again, it's funny, I can't believe this Goddamn blog is still here to play with occasionally. Um, yeah, I guess that's not really funny.

Anyhoo, I'm still here. I'm living. I'm loving. I'm doing. I'm working out fairly consistently again, I'm still one of the greatest fathers that's ever lived, I still have the same job I happen to love, and I'm still just a little fucked up. Look, I wouldn't be me if I wasn't just a little fucked up. I'm currently on the edge of introducing a million dollar idea to a company that may be interested in taking my million dollar idea to press. I've also been getting in contact with friends from the past. I share scars with more than one of these friends.

I just thought maybe I should say that.

Fuck Foley and North Korea, how is Barbaro doing?

2006-10-12T21:58:00.000-07:00

Shhhhh... The Shamu Show is about to start

2006-10-09T18:50:00.000-07:00

Take it black

2006-09-19T21:15:00.000-07:00

I enjoy a Starbucks Coffee roughly six times a week. I know, I know... That's about thirty dollars a week or one-hundred and twenty dollars a month or, you get the picture. When I enjoy my five dollar cup of coffee, I often times go to the same Starbucks to place my order. You know, sometimes you want to go "where everybody knows your name..." Anyhoo, the Starbucks I choose to deposit my funds is very busy. So much that there are usually three or four patrons making their way towards the door at any moment, all intent on procuring a speedy order to accommodate their speedy day. I watch them. And they watch me. Each watching each other as we step out of our company vehicles to begin the dash to the door. Oh sure, we try not to make it look too obvious, but what we're really thinking as we half casually sprint towards the door is, "by God, I WILL get my five dollar cup of coffee before you!" And I must say, most of the time, I lose. You see, I like to park on the end spot across the parking lot from the Starbucks. Creature of habit I suppose. So most of the time, I give my opponents an ample head start. They get to the door and slightly glance back at me over their shoulder, half a smirk hidden from my view.

The great part is, what these poor little dumb-asses don't know is the fact that the girls working the counter, or the "baristas," all know what I order. By the time I reach the register, my drink is consistently waiting for me immediately after I pay and say thank you.

I politely remove my beverage from the counter whilst I throw a slight but noticable fuck you in their direction.

One more day I get to begin as if I was somebody.

Do you think it will fly?

2006-08-01T22:29:00.000-07:00

Every Tuesday, I take the girls out for fast food. I figure once a week they shouldn't get too hefty if I try to feed them right every other day. Have you taken a look at kids these days? Sonofabitch. They're HUGE. I can't wait until they age. And grow. That's it... I need to brush up on garage liposuction. A dollar a pound. I'll live like Bill Gates. But I digress. So we're at Burger King. (For the record, it's not even close to burger royalty in my opinion) But we're there. And we're eating. The girls finish and scream their way towards the big fuckin' thing kids play on when they're at fast food places. And I sit and finish my burger. I begin to take note of the scenery. (Besides the HUGE children attempting to climb the stairs in the big fuckin' thing) I begin bird watching. And they begin watching me. And they don't look like healthy birds. I decide I'll put them out of their misery and feed them more fries. And they eat them. Then something happens. I take a half eaten chicken nugget or strip or tender, and I throw it, (chicken) to the birds. I swear to God they attacked that little piece of chicken like it was the best Goddamn thing they had ever eaten. And they stole it from each other. And fought over it. I guess any Goddamn thing tastes good when it's fried.

2006-07-26T22:03:00.000-07:00

Did you know you can take a fucking cell phone, plug it into you're fucking laptop, switch some little fucking setting, and actually hook up and be on the internet?

Yeah... I didn't either. Seriously. How can I not have a flying car yet?

2006-06-19T16:24:00.000-07:00

I wonder if the cat knows I'm insane?

I wish I may I wish I might

2006-06-14T22:01:00.000-07:00

Geeez.

It would be so great if I could throw some new pics up. I just wish Blogger would have made it easy to do so. I mean it would be so cool if I could just find some random icon of like a picture or something that would allow me to just click on it and add whatever Goddamn picture I wanted to.

Um. Wait a minute, what's this do?

Okay... So now that my Blogger prayers have been answered, (thanks Hepcat) I just thought I would post three quick pics of the three women I'm in love with.

Maybe not incredibly entertaining. But sonofabitch, I'm really happy to be able to post some pics without hitting up Picassa.

Opening up

2006-06-08T12:12:00.000-07:00

I began to write today. Who knows how far it can go. My attention span is lacking. As well as my motivation.

But damn, when I think about what I hope to share through my story may end up to be entertaining. Or insightful. Or not.

I may occasionally post where I'm at. Only if I can keep it up.

An Auto Bliography
by darekaaron

Standing naked, bent over, arms on sink. I’m looking into my own eyes. My back really hurts. Right in the spot, (upwards and slightly right mid-back). The spot that began hurting years ago when I’d partake in numbing quantities of speed, stay up for a night, or three, then it would feel like a knife was jutting out from my shoulder. “You haven’t had an ordinary life so far,” I say, bent over the sink searching for the knife. “Your blog says a little about you.” And it does. “But why not write a blog in a book?” Sounds interesting when I talk about it. I tell friends the stories. Not made up stories. Not a million little pieces to gather and pick up. Maybe more. And they always say, “JESUS, you should write a book!”

So here I am.

The belief these words could ever get published is not a belief at all in my own personal opinion. Even if I actually finished something like this, I have a hard time buying the fact it would be interesting enough to read. Not unless I spilled all of it. And all of it would involve naming names and outing secrets. I could care less about my secrets. But what about my family? Friends? Who would get hurt?

I don't really know what I hope to accomplish. I just want some peace.

2006-05-30T22:10:00.000-07:00

Yeah... So I tried to post several pics. A "pictoral history" so to speak. And this, the Christmas Pussy, is the only one Picassa didn't fuck up. Or maybe I did something wrong. Anyhoo, I'll figure it out. FYI - The girls are still fucking adorable and I'm still in love. You can paint the pictures with your imagination for now.

Three questions:

2006-05-30T08:46:00.000-07:00

Why is it that if you leave cereal stuck to the side of the sink bowl in the morning, it turns into a cemented piece of sticky rock by the afternoon?

Why is it that in scary movies, the character who is about to be killed in a dark room always has a flashlight that only produces a tiny pinhole of light instead of lighting a larger area?

Why do people who are home during the day get so excited when the mail comes? (Then always look a little sad when every day it's the same - bill, junk mail, bill, supermarket flier, personalized labels attempting to con you into donating to a charity.)

Lost in the Translation

2006-05-26T11:31:00.000-07:00

There's no plane flight. No travels for work or pleasure. I haven't left my heart. Or lost a loved one. I haven't switched jobs, gone to jail, won the lottery or anything else of any consequence. I'm just writing. To myself. Quietly. With nothing to complain about or anyone to complain to.

I've really got it made right now. (but don't tell anyone)

I left my heart

2006-03-07T09:42:00.000-08:00

Why is it that I always feel like writing when traveling?

Why am I asking you?

And who in the Hell are you anyway?

I’m flying home from San Francisco. I can barely compress my arms together to type in this tiny little seat built for a man with scoliosis. Leaving behind some work, very little play, and one fantastic fucking city. I always feel a little sad when I fly out of a different city. I was incredibly happy to leave Tulsa, and yet, the excitement was accompanied with sorrow. I suppose I don’t like to leave things behind.

I didn’t spend enough time there. It’s truly a spectacular city. The colors. The wind. The water. If only I had more money than God. I would leave my heart in San Francisco. I would still move to Seattle, mind you. A “weekend” pad would be a treat though.

Isn’t it odd how 2oo plus people can crowd into incredibly close quarters, in a tube with wings. And an engine. Go up to 35,000 feet for about an hour, then set down again in a different place?

I’m just sayin’

I've been looking so long at these pictures of you

2006-02-19T18:15:00.000-08:00

Ever looked so long at pictures of you? Or them. In this world of stored pics, downloaded videos, songs, letters, (can one download letters?) I think it's overwhelming sometimes to look "long" at anything. Can I actually digress if I never began a topic? And I digress. I sat down to work. At a bar. In a restaurant. Yes, I do work well out amongst the people. Sonofabitch this soup is hot.

So I sat down to work. And I promptly clicked favorites, found darekaaron, logged in and began to write. What if work was writing? How would one procrastinate? Not that procrastinating is an incredibly bad thing at present. I've got lotsa time. The love of my life is home, in San Francisco. The girls are with Grandpa. The house is a mess, which is another item falling under the procrastination umbrella.

And I'm here. "Working."

I've been told on several occasions to write a book. A book about my life. Now granted, I'm not a war hero, or a financial success story or mogul of any sort, or psychotic, (I don't think I'm psychotic) or a representation of anything that would seem bookworthy to me. But I thought a book might be fun. I could highlight it with unknowingly smuggling cocaine through the Miami Airport in my favorite Snoopy at 2 years of age, drug use before my age reached double digits, falling out of a jeep driven by my parents on a highway in St. John, cracking my head open on a dock, drug busts, horses, skiing in Steamboat, surfing in Hawaii, playing football, 5150'ing my suicidal Mother, finding methamphetamine, robbing the restaurant I managed, getting arrested, snitching, acquiring Christopher Darden as my attorney, serving time, going to rehab, digging out, divorcing, finding Mom dead, finding love, and living. Living the entire ride.

I don't know. "Bookworthy?" What is bookworthy these days. God, I hope I don't ever find my way onto Oprah's book club.

And yes, once again, that's not even close to what I came to write.

I don't think that means what you think it means

2006-01-23T22:04:00.000-08:00

Shiny happy moments. I sit in the grass. The little ones frolic in a community yard I pretend is my own. For a moment, everything is perfect. It feels easy. Like there's really nothing to worry about. And I believe it. For a moment. And I stand and pretend like I don't have problems with my stomach every Monday. I loath the end of the weekend. When she leaves. And I pretend I have it all goin' my way, then why am I such a fucking mess? It's not a complaint, just lyrics. And it's not a long term issue. But it's here. It's now. And it's where I'm at. I am happy. I am good. But I keep thinking about calling my Mom. And I can't. And I almost wish no one would read this because it would be nice if it made more sense.

Whatcha whatcha whatcha want?

2006-01-11T22:18:00.000-08:00

So what the hell? Where have I been? What, what, why and how and where and who. What is a funny word. Looks like it should be pronounced "wat". Just a pointless observation.

I don't know where to start. Or how to finish. I'm living. Breathing. I find things silly. Morose. And boring. Well, me anyway. I'm boring. If I was to submit a post, and good God, I don't post a fucking thing these days, it would read something like this: "Oh things are just peachie. I'm still in love, I have a great job, (though I still wouldn't work if it were up to me, which it's not) I wake up, I fill my day with tasks, quotas, love, and children, and I slumber." Yeah. Read that day after day. It's been a year since the split of my marriage. Almost a year since I've found the love of my life. And almost a year since Mom died. Shit, I'm a little weird right now. And really good. And crazy, unstable, in a completely together kinda way.

The girls are growing into fantastic little people. The youngest is entering kindergarten early. The oldest is an "accelerated" student. I was never an accelerated student. I threw rocks and made friends. And I beat up bullies. I hated when those motherfuckers picked on the little guy.

And my name is Darek. And I'm happy.

That'll do little Donkey, that'll do.

2005-12-17T09:02:00.000-08:00

We bank left. I look down to observe shades of brown as far as the eye can see. Tulsa. I’ve heard songs about Tulsa. They didn’t sound like Tulsa looks. I never considered the fact that this part of the country could be the home base for my career. But it is. And now I’m going home. Home to two little girls and a woman. All three I happen to love dearly. Deeply. Desperately. The Seven year old lost one of her front teeth. Her left central incisor, the number nine tooth. (Thanks to Tulsa Dental for educating me on incisors and such) The four year old asked me why I always ask if they’re getting ready for bed when I already know they are because I’m on the phone to sing them a lullaby. And the woman. Well, the woman may have missed me as much as I missed her.

I’ve gained a few pounds. I can just feel the weight. Three square meals a day will do that. And I played quite a bit of racquetball. And I’ve become aware of my age. Accompanying my graying hair is a swollen knee from too much running and jumping and running again on a hard wood floor. I may have pushed it a little too hard.

I made new friends. Paul from Albany and Chris from San Francisco and Tom from Tennessee. They made me laugh when I was homesick. We joked and spoke about kids and significant others. I feel like a grown up. I’m not sure why that even applies here, but it does.

I’m on my way; I’m on my way… Home sweet home.

Yes, I just quoted Motley Cruë.
Yes I did.