Money, 11:11, Earth Chakras, And Stuff.

Do you ever get so busy but you are clearly only spinning your wheels in one place?

I feel like I’m making so much use of my time lately. Unfortunately I’m making use of it in a million places.

You want to know a secret about me?

Of course, only if it relates to you, but if you’ve come this far to be on ibelieveinhumans.com, there’s got to be something to relate to me about.

I run in a circle from Art, The Human Condition, Metaphysical Ideas, Self-Analysis, and Money Money Money.

Money has ways of creating freedom for exploring the other four. Unfortunately when you have a brain that is wired to be interested in those first four things, it sort of runs out of room for the wirings of the Business-Mind.

I’ve had moderate success in my life with money. But I am by far in the worst position I’ve ever been in, financially.

So today I resorted to looking at the one last stock I’m invested in to see about, you know, cashing out.

11:11 taunts me. I planned on writing everything that I experience relating to that number. Some of it is super personal. Most of it is insanely synchronistic. Other times its just me seeking meaning within the banality of reality.

I tried to explain 11:11 to Tommy at some mini-party he had at his house. Then I realized that he was trying to be convinced of my theory through all of my wine-soaked slurring.

On 11:11 days (for example, July 11, 2009: numerology makes this July 11 2+0+0+9 = 11, 11:11), I wake up to a text message from somebody at 11:11 a.m. When I find that person later, he mentions that he also sees the clock at the most random moments reading “11:11″, while I’ve only listened and minimally ever hinted at looking at the clock at that time.

The entire day happens like clockwork, there’s a sense of being locked into something. Deep connections that I have with people can sort of come out on those days… meaning a sort of semi-psychic connection/experience. The very thought of a person can have them calling your phone. There’s a wave that if you let take you away, precognitions unfold. And most every conversation I have on those days are rooted in, “It’s so funny that you mentioned that, because I just heard the same thing from blah blah blah blah…”

I had a girl from Finland write me recently about experiencing the same thing, having found my blog talking about 11:11. Here’s another thing that’s interesting if you allow me to crack open a semi-hippy part of your brain (could be a good thing)…

There is a theory that the Earth, just like the human body in acupuncture, has meridian points, a.k.a., energy vortex points. Very significant things on these energy points happen on the planet, for example Glastonbury, England is known for its paranormal activity, ufo sightings, and unique crop circle phenomena. Another point is located on the sacred site of the Egyptian Pyramids. Others are highly geologically active, such as the volcanoes in Hawaii.

If you look at the photo, the chakra points are joined by “ley artery” lines which carry an energetic flow from one energy center to the next. Interestingly, there’s one that is in Northern California, passes through Sedona, AZ (A well-known “vortex point”), through New Mexico. The other ley line carries through eventually very close to Helsinki, Finland.

11:11 seems to always relate to a what-is-reality type question. When I first read this article about the Hadron Particle Collider (creates black holes, could destroy our very existence, etc. Read it, you might see how crazy this particle collider really is).  So, I sent it to three friends through email. I went back to it, and looked at the date it was written: November, 11 2009… 11/11.

I went back to the email… Sent Time, 11:11 p.m.

I’d be curious to find out how synchronicities relate to planetary location. Post a comment if this is not just hippy bollocks to you anymore, and say where you’re from.

The Dead Weather

Finally, a Sunshine show I was stoked to see.

I didn’t go to Coachella after all. Of course, William let me know about how enlightening, inspiring, and beautiful the 3-day festival was. I tried to ignore the fact that I spent most of the weekend focusing on non-enlightening things. I also got a temp staging job setting up lighting rigs, unloading ungodily heavy equipment from a truck.

The Dead Weather is Jack White’s newest project with chanteur de femme exquis, Allison Mosshart of the kills; Guitarist/keyboardist of Queens of the Stoneage; Eccentrically fat-toned bassist of the Raconteurs.

The best part was the sound check, involving them practicing jams from the new record, plus not-yet-recorded jams.

And just because I’m pompous and music-righteous, I’d like to add that this is the first show where I didn’t have to deal with the low-intelligent results of drunk humans who spew fluids from both ends, putting the cherry on the top of their night, as well as mine. So, my egotisticality likes to point out the inverse relationship to the amounts of bodily evacuations with the level of intelligence to be found in the demographic, and hence, the intelligence of the music.

Cheerio, mates!

Riley Guy Video Shoot

Over the last five days, I’ve been using Dustin’s house to shoot a music video for Will’s solo electro project called Riley Guy.

Day 1 was simple because I only needed to take photos of a series of eyes and mouth positions at the park with Will and Allison.

Day 2 was by far the biggest headache. I hadn’t planned so much of what kind of props and set we would be using, only the visual tricks I wanted to pull off.

Day 3, we began to hit a little more of a stride.

Day 4, we got nothing done as Will’s body gave up while his liver was trying to process half a fifth of rum.

Day 5… I hope to St. Pete that we got enough footage.

So now editing begins. I haven’t looked yet, but I think it will involve going through 1,500-2,000 photographs (it’s a stop motion video), which actually isn’t too bad, considering that normally every video is between 24-30 frames per second; 1,800 frames/minute.

I’m also thinking I need to go to Coachella. Tickets are sold out, and they’re selling circa $700 on ebay right now. Where do these kids get the money? I hope to get mine for $150. Crossing proverbial fingers…

Mortuaries and Film Sets

So the last couple of weeks have been wild and exciting.

Here it goes.

I finally landed a job interview at a place that agreed to pay decently for design/video work.  I went through a couple interview sessions, graduating along until I was neck ‘n neck with one other person for the spot. Long story short, I didn’t get the job. But that’s okay, because the interview process made me realize that my true life-dreams can happen apart from working there; a mortuary.

“Graphic design and video work at a mortuary? Where death, sorrow, and sad families reside twenty-four seven?!,” you ask.

Yes. The job requirements involved the following:

• Designing memorial cards with photos of the deceased
• Help design marketing materials for billboards
• Video tape/edit memorial services

I didn’t know there was a market for such things, specifically creating DVDs of funerals.

Sidenote: I feel unusually careful about using usual dry/dark remarks about this situation, because the people who interviewed me seemed like rad down-to-earth people, and I risk this blog being discovered. How? They asked me for the URLs of sites I created.

I’d like to keep it real, however. Allow me to proceed with as much tact as possible.

A sad, yet rather pleasant, truth is, I’ve never been to a funeral service. I have a good-size extended family, and in all my 27 years, I’ve only had one family death; my Mom’s dad, when I was 8. My life has been relatively free of tragedy. It’s quite a thing to be grateful for. The strange irony is this: In the past I’ve been surrounded by dead bodies in the school cadaver lab, handling entrails and dismembered limbs, even a severed head cut straight down the middle like a cantaloupe, all for the sake of art.

It’s not that I don’t have death experience, just a lack of funeral experience. So, the job requirements were going to be quite a new adventure for me. I would have had to get used to consulting families about which super-hero should be photoshopped onto their deceased child’s memorial program. While I was up for it, because hey-it-was-a-job, the interviewers must have smelled something on me that revealed I was a little bit more interested in an autonomous approach to creative endeavors.

They used an interview technique to dig out my true values. So it was like psycho-therapy. At least that’s how I imagine successful psychotherapy to be; a system of questions that require you to look at the answers you already have for yourself. They pulled out what I really want to be doing in five years, and absolutely none of it had to do with working a 9-to-5 job in the funeral industry.

The day I got the email that said they gave the job to the other guy, I was as accepting as a Hindu monk. I contemplated the 5-year question, and started to obsessively write down some goals for myself. Immediately I began to see action-packed results and take steps toward the new groove. This was in complete opposition to the familiar, “I need job now, so I go git one.” Instead, it was “I am going to get a job THERE.”

As of now, I don’t have a steady job. Still work at the concert venue sometimes. But… more recently, as Albuquerque is gradually becoming a little Hollywood, I got to work on set for a day as an extra for a T.V. show. Coincidentally, I was also invited to a party with the cast/crew of the same show. Despite the new-guy awkwardness that happens in these situations, the whole experience and unfolding of events was an eye opener. And it all has to do with this little quote I discovered:

Fifty percent of the battle ends when you make up your mind.

Jamming with the Alien Baby

Tonight I jammed with Joel and his new/temporary side project, Holy Shit! Alien Baby.

It consists of musicians who practice, and who don’t, who decide to rehearse, or who decide to just plain ol’ hop onstage on impulse during shows.

Joel told me about it, as they are playing during Flood The Sun’s last two shows before he moves to Los Angeles with his lady, Ashley.

I came up with the brilliant idea to bring my saxophone to practice and play through this harmonizer called a voice box to see if I’d be down to play a show with them, reverting to my unfledged high-school roots as a jazz saxophonist.

Joel is rather more fledged than I, and it was the first time I got to see him put the sexy vibes through my not-so-sexy student alto horn. We missed each other by one year from being in the same jazz band class. Too bad, so sad.

They play two shows. I didn’t know there was one so soon, so I’m bailing on tomorrow night. Maybe I’ll play the next show, just maybe… that is, if my 10-years-out-of-practice mouth, and ego, can handle it.

There’s a load of vomit, and we’re all out of shovels.

My mom once told me that my Grandpa was trying to become a boxer until the traumatic day he punched an opponent in the stomach, causing him to vomit spaghetti all over the place.

The story was told to me when I was probably 8 years old, but it came back to my memory with such vivid splendor tonight as I was told to clean up a full stomachs-worth of spaghetti on the balcony at Sunshine Theater.

The smell of stomach acid, although consistent in aroma from person to person, is a smell that I’ll never get used to. This wasn’t a simple pile to be sopped up by a mop and bucket, but a series of massive splashes that started on a table top, slapped to the floor, and lubricated the foot steps that had trafficked through it, leaving a slippery 10-foot radius of fun and fragrance.

Tonight would have been the first night working at Sunshine that I didn’t have to deal with bodily ejections, and I almost got away with it.

Sidenote: Killswitch Engage played. I care about that kind of music as much as I care about seeing McDonald’s on roadtrips… but the drums sounded super good.

C’est la vie

I took a massive break. One can only type tales about oneself so much.

I’m feeling a shift in priorities. But hopefully that will bring better future blog content.

We all like to talk about ourselves.

You think too much.

Lots of contemplation happening these days. Life-long friends seem to be asking the same questions and running into similar confusions, experiencing similar epiphanies.

If there really is something dramatic happening in the collective, it’s not enough for anybody to freely talk about. I also doubt the importance of advertising it here. Then I often question whether I am a victim of my own subjectivity, taking my mental filter of reality too seriously.

TV and movies are talking about the similar subject matter… secrets revealed, the mayans exposed, what 2012 means, the paranormal, the unexplainable, doomsday.

Does nobody else think this is strange?

Does anybody else think this should have been on the news more than Tiger Woods?

It blows my mind what the media brushes aside, what they fixate on, and what the mass is okay with absorbing every single night on the tube.

It also blows my mind that we still play the game of following or voting for politicians, pastors, or school faculty who often make a valiant effort to hide anything human about themselves.

Why don’t we think rituals like church communion or even the opening ceremonies for the Olympics are a little strange (i.e., people in white robes zombie-flocking to the speech-master)? Do we ignore original ideas or questions in our mind relating to why we do things the way we do?

Why do priests wear conical hats and peculiar robes, and carry that staff around? Why does the clergy stick to the same structure that breeds child molesters? What is psychological reason for it, despite its self-declared connection to God? What if God doesn’t like religion? What if God doesn’t “like”?

Why does a graduating class wear a square hat at graduation, move the tassel to the side, and throw it up in the air? Why do we agree to participate in rituals without asking or knowing what it all means?

Why does the newspaper blatantly insist that we drink fluoridated water? Is it really good for us? If so, why did the Nazis immediately add fluoride to their prisoners’ water supply?

Why do so many relationships end with break-up lines from movies or t.v. shows? Why does anybody think “The Bachelor” is reality/real? Why are extremo-masculine and extremo-feminine themes in movies something enjoyed and sought after in real life? See: The Transporter or The Time Travelers Wife.

Why are we okay with repeating empty catch-phrases when giving somebody advice?

Why Bill O’Reilly? Why not Marilyn Manson?

Why are we okay with presidents hiring speech-writers instead of saying their own words?

Why do we try to find security or salvation in other people or things?

Why do sunsets make sense?

Bike Time

Kevin called, and I went straight to my bike instead of taking a look at craigslist. We rode around town for 90 minutes and saw some cool views that I normally see through the awe-sucking filter of windshields. I ate like a hungry obese child before the ride, and because of that I still didn’t need to eat much for dinner despite the vigorous uphill battles.

On another note, I had forgotten about a bill that was due tomorrow and miraculously got a check in the mail from an online casino company I promoted years ago during my days as a torrent spammer. I hope karma isn’t residual like internet downloads. Today, however, there seemed to be a universal forgiving quality amongst depositing that check. I just hope the other guy is okay.

Give me a call if you want to make big money on the internet: 555-555-5555