I thought I'd give a quick introduction of sorts. Well, semi quick anyway, as a means of helping others relate to who I am, where I came from, and how the heck I ended up here.
When I say here, I'm referring to my Blog. Which, if you knew my seemingly life long disdain for all things computer related, as my father was a computer programmer and he continually came home from work anything but happy, then you'd know just how strange it is that not only have I written every word presented here, but I've also created the entire Blog itself.
From the choice of domain, to the continually evolving work in progress you see presented here on your screen, I personally accept all responsibility. For better or worse. And crazy as it may seem, I've enjoyed nearly every minute of the seemingly never ending, sometimes extremely frustrating, but more often than not, highly rewarding, process. Who'd a thunk.
Speaking of my Blog, perhaps a bit of a synopsis behind the title itself would be helpful. I was in search of something that encompassed everything I was attempting to say, in as few words as possible. Which wasn't an easy task, as I'm not known as a 'typical' blogger. Matter of fact, anything but.
Beginning with Random, being basically how my mind works. I find that my thoughts run the gambit and for the most part, nothing is off limits. I can cover quite a bit of mental 'territory' in a relatively short amount of time. And since my mind never seems to shut off, that adds up to quite a bit of 'travel' time.
When it comes to Ramblings, as you'll soon see, I like to talk. A lot. The so called 'Blogging Basics', the 'rules' as it were, those being to keep ones posts between 500 and 750 words so as to keep your readers engaged in your content, obviously don't apply to me. I seem to be just getting started right around that time.
As far as Renegade goes, there's not much that's off limits for me. I do however tend to steer clear of the politics and religion side of things. Nobody wins in that world. Not to mention, I lean much more toward humor and depth of thought as opposed to confrontation and controversy.
And lastly, we have Raconteur, which basically translates to an anecdotal storyteller. A person that attempts to tell a story in an amusing and humorous way. So, when you add it all up, you end up with a person that enjoys talking. A lot. About a variety of things. Doesn't really know when to shut up, nor does he feel the need to, since the rules don't apply to him. Yeah, that's pretty much me in a nutshell.
Moving on, I was born in "The O.C.". Actually, Anaheim to be more exact. Way back when the only thing that stood out above the endless rows of orange trees was the Matterhorn.
Yes, I grew up a few miles from Disneyland and boy oh boy, were my sister and I ever grateful for Grandma and Grandpa. The priceless memories that I still carry with me to this day of all those wonderful trips to D-Land, irreplaceable to say the least.
Whether it be zooming down The Matterhorn. Shufflin' around through The Haunted Mansion. Perhaps floating around the Caribbean with a few Pirates. Even climbing the stairs to the Swiss Family Robinsons' pad.
Certainly can't leave out the awesomeness of the underwater Submarine Rides and of course, one of my all time faves, the cool cars of Autopia. All of these rides were amazing in their own right.
I'll tell ya one thing, Mario Andretti definitely had nothin' on me as that is where I most assuredly honed my driving skills. Even at 5 years old, I'm proud to say I never lost control of the car. A few bent bumpers, sure. Just making sure the kid in front of me was stayin' on his toes. But I never strayed off the track and most definitely never received a speeding ticket.
Matter of fact, no matter how hard I mashed down on the gas pedal, putting the pedal to the metal as it were, I simply couldn't fail. Without a doubt I was a natural.
With visions of drinking the milk during my many soon to come Indy 500 victories dancing around in my head, you can only imagine how my self confidence skyrocketed with each and every lap. And even though I got to know every curve and straightaway intimately, for some strange reason I still couldn't improve my lap times. And believe me, I tried. Oh boy, did I try.
It wasn't until a few years later that I came to realize that the cars were guided by a center rail and that the top speed was also governed (mechanically limited), therefore I was "maxed out" at a top speed of about 2mph. Dammit!
And all those years I thought I was a superior driver, yearning to take on A.J. Foyt, only to later learn that it was just some pimple faced kid in a light blue Polo shirt waiting for me at the Finish Line who was actually in control. Oh, how the disappointment of that discovery still lingers with me to this day.
Yet, that feeling of despair was nothing compared to opening up your Ticket Book, only to discover that you were out of 'E-Tickets'. In those days there were no mile long lines to wait in. You had to pay to play. Or in my case, my Grandparents had to pay in order for me to play. Thank you again Grandma and Grandpa.
Each ride was designated by a specific letter. There were A's, B's, C's, D's and E's and each book came with an assortment of various tickets. Unfortunately, all of the best rides required E-Tickets (from which the saying "E-Ticket Ride" was derived) and so you had to be very careful when choosing which rides you really wanted to go on. As well as when.
Of course, we always tried to save one E-Ticket for last because you knew darn well that when you ran out of E's, your day was pretty much done and you might as well pack it in because you're on your way down Main St. and out the gate, headin' home.
In fact, even to this day, when I reflect back on seeing that the E-Tickets had indeed run out, that empty feeling comes flooding back to the pit of my stomach. Time for the long walk back to the parking lot.
I'm sure by that point in the day both Grandma and Grandpa were pretty much done watching us having fun. And were more than ready to drop us off at home. Yet, they never showed it. Not that I can recall anyway.
Come to think of it, I wonder if they ever hid any E-Tickets from us, knowing that was the trigger for the day to end? Either way, I can never thank them enough for all those once in a lifetime, wonderfully memorable memories.
Through the years our family moved around Los Angeles but never left So. Cal. I spent most of my childhood racing Motocross. What a blast. That's me in the B & W photo below, tallest in back with the long hair @ about 8 or 9 years old.
Everybody had long hair back then. After all, you had to have your hair hanging out the back of your helmet when you raced or you just weren't cool. That's my sister to my left and a few of my cousins in the front row. We definitely had So. Cal in the 1970's written all over us.
Through High School my friends and I spent a lot of weekends at the beach, one of the best parts of growing up in So. Cal.. I graduated H.S. at sixteen, so I couldn't really take off at that point but when I FINALLY turned eighteen, I moved to San Diego along with a few of my friends.
Back then, San Diego was SO much different than it is now. While still incredibly beautiful, back then there was no traffic to speak of. At least not compared to L.A. anyway. Not to mention only a few TV Stations to choose from. And the beaches were in essence wide open.
For the most part you could park along the Pacific Coast Highway anywhere or anytime you desired. In fact, you could spend the night in your car if you wanted to. Which of course we did from time to time.
I had a few miscellaneous jobs here and there, basically whatever it took to get by, but mainly I was a beach bum. Yes, I admit it. I should have done so much more with my life and while I surely regret it now, there's simply nothing I can do about it other than to learn from those life lessons. And thankfully, life goes on.
I got involved with Boats and I stuck with that for quite a few years. I ended up discovering the wonderful game of golf in the mid to late 80's and really began to enjoy it. So much so that I left my boat related job and went to work at a local Country Club in hopes of pursuing a job as a Teaching Pro.
After a couple years of that I came to my senses, realizing there was no money to be made, and so I went back to Boats. At this point I was living in Mission Beach and with boats being such a big part of the San Diego lifestyle, I felt there would always be plenty of work.
I continued working with Boats until the end of '05. I have a little house up in the High Desert that I would visit on the weekends and tinker around with small projects. I absolutely love it up there. So much so in fact that some weekends I found myself not wanting to go back to San Diego. Well, to be honest, a lot of that was just not wanting to go back to work.
While still beautiful, San Diego had become so over crowded. And add to that the fact that I was basically fed up with my job as well as other aspects of my life. So after all those years spent in Americas Finest City, I decided to leave the town I loved so much and move out to the High Desert full time.
I had been involved with vintage cars for many years, more specifically Woodies (old wooden bodied station wagons) and the Woodie Clubs. So in June of '06 I loaded up the Woodie (Beverly Hillbillies style) and made the 150 mile trek north. North to the land of the Joshua Tree Cactus, endless starry nights and many, many rocks.
Talk about a change. I went from a bustling town of millions to a town of about 150 people. Or so it seemed anyway. And only one of 'em was a woman. And more than likely, she was married. To her brother. YIKES!
That's not a good sign for a single guy that spent most of his adult life living at the beach in San Diego, surrounded by endless women. Not to say I could pull any of 'em, but they were without a doubt nice to look at, that's for sure.
Now I found myself living in a place where there was nothing to look at but cactus, lots of beautiful rocks and oh yeah, the stars at night. And lots of rocks. Not quite the same thing.
Yeah, at first it was great. I loved the slower pace, wide open spaces and the peace and quiet.
Unfortunately, after about 8 months of this peace and quiet, I started to go a little (OK, a lot!) stir crazy. Add to that the fact that I had also decided to find sobriety right around this same time. Which wasn't helping matters either.
So I knew I better find something to keep myself occupied. I had to come up with a new career anyway, and that in itself would surely help keep me focused and staying busy.
Hmmm, what would it be? I didn't want to get involved in another basic '8 to 5' job, that much I knew for certain. I swore to myself that I'd never suffer through another eight to five sentence again. I'd always wanted to get my Real Estate License and so I decided what the heck, no better time to do it than now.
So I began studying. Passed the Agent Exam in October and finally received my R.E. License in December of '06. I had a few friends that were local Brokers and RE Agents, so I started working with them.
I soon began to realize that I was lousy at trying to promote properties that I myself wasn't passionate about, nor would I want to own myself. Therefore, it was extremely difficult for me to get excited about the possibility of selling it to someone else.
I have this weird thing where I feel a need to be honest and forthright. I think it's known as integrity. Something like that anyway. And to continually tell people that orange shag carpet was THE hot new trend just wasn't gonna work for me.
So I ended up signing with a Broker in the lower desert, near Palm Springs. I had always wanted to sell high end Golf Course properties and no better place to do that than in the Coachella Valley.
The land of endless swimming pools and over 130 Golf Courses. So I began commuting daily to my office in Rancho Mirage, some 75+ miles each way and believe me, it began to get old. In a hurry.
It quickly became apparent that it was time for another life changing decision. So I sold my Woodie (my last tie with San Diego, I cried when it left) and bought a Condo on the East end of the valley. I also changed offices at the same time, which cut down tremendously on my drive time.
Things were really lookin' up for me at that point. I was finally, after so many years of needless hesitation, beginning to live a life of my choosing. Which truly felt wonderful.
Unfortunately, as we all know, the economy began to unravel in 2008 and along with that, along went the Real Estate market. As it turns out, I bought my Condo basically the day before the RE Market came to a screeching halt. And as home values declined, so did any RE business to speak of and as such I had to come to the realization that it was time to let my dream PGA West Condo go.
And speaking of a screeching halt, it was also time to let my BMW M5 go as well. Talk about a MOJO killer, that was pretty much the last nail in the coffin for me. The end was near. The end of any reason to ever get out of bed again anyway.
So not only was I losing the roof over my head, I was losing my nearly life long dream car and to add the icing to this 'cruelty cake', my JOB as well. It basically signaled the end of a dream. A dream that I was oh so lucky to have had come true, even if only for a few short years. All my hopes and dreams washed away. Seemingly overnight nonetheless.
It wasn't just the huge amount of money I lost. It was a combo plate of sorts. I was losing my dream Condo (as well as a few other properties I had purchased). I was finally living in a place of my own choosing. A place that I loved and I couldn't wait to get going with my new career. In the blink of an eye (or damn close to it anyway), everything came tumbling down.
Needless to say, I ended up losing both my Condo as well as my career. Might as well throw my MOJO on the loss pile as well because that pretty much went right out the door with everything else.
Which left me searching for something else, anything else that I am truly passionate about. I know I'm most definitely not cut out to work a regular job. Nope, not for me. I did it long enough for me to know it's not who I am. Not even close.
So I ended up doing the couch surfin' thing for a while, from place to place, hoping to catch a glimpse of a spark along the way. Anything that might send me a signal of just where the hell my MOJO could be hidin' out.
As far back as I can remember I've wanted to be a writer. To put my imagination down on paper. Or, in the case of today's world, down on my monitor.
Even as far back as Elementary school, I always enjoyed writing short stories. So who knows, maybe all of this has happened to allow me the freedom to move on, to do something I'm truly passionate about. To become a published author. Hey, ya never know. I mean, crazier things have happened.
So, that's pretty much me in a (big) nutshell. I'm done with looking back and I never again want to wonder 'what if'. The past is the past, there's nothing I can do about it now and who knows what the future holds. I just have to move forward with a new goal, a new vision, a new dream.
Perhaps I'll finally be able to travel the world, see all the beautiful things it has to offer. And even better yet, maybe even figure out some way to be able to turn my life and my adventures in to my latest Novel.
The only thing I don't want to live with is the regret of wondering what might have happened had I given it a shot. After all, at this point I pretty much have nothing left to lose.
