The Truth

To everybody who's friends with me real life, and on Facebook and Google+,
This isn't my usual witty blog entry. This is basically something that I need to get out in the open. Some of you know the story, others are going to be very surprised to see such a dark side of me. I promise you one thing, there is a happy ending, but sometimes things get bad before they get happy.

On February 3, 1999, my sister woke me up and told me that my dad was dead. I was awake, but I rolled over in bed, pretended that I was asleep, and had the biggest smile on face. The guy who had beat the crap out of me and called me names and talked crap about me behind my back was now gone. Woo-hoo. I guess I should have cried or consoled my mother, but instead, I walked outside, sat on the porch and told God, "thank you". Truth be told, I wanted to party.

My dad was a tyrant.
He's the only person that has ever given me a nervous breakdown.
He beat me for not paying attention to conversations that I wasn't a part of.
While all of us ate day-old spaghetti, he'd come home and make himself a steak dinner with all the fixings.
I would get grounded if I was 10 minutes late getting home from school.
I once got an F on a paper, so he made me sleep outside with nothing but a pillow and a thin sheet.
I even attempted to commit suicide because of him.
His nickname for me was half-wit.
He never let me have a real childhood.

In January of 1999, I had a conversation with my grandpa (my dad's dad). I told him that I hated and wanted nothing to do with my dad anymore. We were in my grandpa's car  in front of my house for more than an hour. When I came into the house, my dad asked me (just being curious), "why were you in the car for so long, what did you and Grandpa talk about?". Instead of saying nothing, I told him the truth. I said that I hated him and I didn't want any thing to do with him anymore. I then went to bed. I heard my dad crying in the next room. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel sorry for him. I walked over, closed my bedroom door, put a pillow over my head to drown out the noise and went to sleep.

The next day, I woke up and saw my dad asleep in his chair. I was still mad and didn't want to accidentally wake him, so I went back to my room and hung out in there for the day. A few hours had passed. I went back to the living room and he was still asleep. At this point, it was mid-afternoon (probably around 3:00). I called my mom because I was worried. She told me to try to wake him. As I shook him, his eyes opened but were glazed and didn't wake up. I kept shaking him and shaking him. Well, it got to the point where I thought it was just his meds (he had so many things wrong with him), so I let him sleep some more. 5:00 came around. I called my mom again. She raced home and called 911 right away. The ambulance came and took him to the hospital.

While in the hospital, I never wanted to see him. I guess I felt guilty for saying what I said. I didn't know how it was going to be between us. I saw him the week before he died and he told me that he loved me. In fact, that was the last time that I saw him. A week later we got the call.

Towards the end of his life, I found God. God helped me to learn how to forgive. After he died, God helped me focus on the good that was deep down inside of my father. I truly hated that man, but I overcame so much and have become a better person because of that. I should also mention that probably a month before he passed, he started talking to my pastor and said that he wished he could have been a better father. I didn't know that until after he died.

When I was a little kid, he was the world to me. I'd pretend that he was a mountain and I'd climb on him. When there were monsters in the house, he'd get rid of them. We'd watch the Goonies, Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Conan, The Sword in the stone, Robin Hood, and Superman. He'd pick me up when I fell down. When I was little, the only thing I remember him getting mad at me was for watching Gilligan's Island instead of He-Man.

That was the dad that I loved.

Rest in Peace.

Sundancin'

Well, the Sundance Film Festival is here and it's almost over. It's a weird time of year in here in Park City. For ten days, the town becomes an insane place to be. If you live here, it's a pain because of the traffic.You also can't just park on the street or in the parking garage, because you have to pay to park. It's even hard to walk on the sidewalk or to cross the street. It sounds miserable, but I love it.

The atmosphere is something magical (but you can also love to hate it). You walk down Main St. and you'll see street performers. Vendors are always giving out free stuff, from water bottles to gloves to dinners. You might even get to see someone famous. As I said earlier, you can love to hate it. You can't just get into an event. If you want to get into a Sundance event (I'm not talking about a movie), you have to have credentials.

I can make a big deal about seeing the celebrities around town. I think it's because my life can be boring sometimes, and I need something to spice it up a bit. I work at a rental shop at a ski resort, and some famous people will come in during the festival and rent from us. Dave Grohl and his family came in and it was the thrill of a lifetime helping them out. He and his wife were some of the nicest people I've ever met, and his kids were so well behaved. Casey Wilson from the show, "Happy Endings" came in and rented skis from me and invited me to her movie, "Ass Backwards".

Celebrities can also be real jerks. I walked down the street and bumped into Michael Cera. He went off and told me to watch where I was going. Then he called me a tourist. I had a similar experience with Casey Affleck. They're visiting my town and  they call me a tourist. What's up with that? I saw Peter Fonda and told him how cool it was to meet him, and he said that I was too young to even know who he was and he assumed that the only movie that I had seen him in was, "Ghost Rider".

Funny story, I was looking for a place called, "The Sundance House". I asked a guy if he knew where it was. The guy turned around, and it was Josh Randor. I just said, "Dude, you're Ted Mosby." I asked if I could take a picture with him, but he was tired and really just wanted to go back to his condo.

There's about three more days left of the festival. Who knows, maybe I'll meet Tom Hanks and he'll get a restraining order against me. Caio!

What A Day

I realized on my drive home from Salt Lake, that it's been a while since I've blogged. I had an interesting day, so I thought I'd share it with you.

A few weeks ago, I got a call from my buddy, Jason saying that he was going to be in town for only a few hours on  December 20th. I got excited. It's not everyday that someone says that they are going to be in town. Now today is the 20th, but let's go back in time...

I had mentioned in previous postings that I had my bike stolen. The day that my bike was reported "found", my car decided to take a poop and stop working properly. Ever since that day, it would be hit and miss. One day it would work, the next it wouldn't.

I wanted to take it to Salt Lake to get it fixed, but I'd fear that it wouldn't make it. Yesterday, I decided to take it in to see what was wrong with it. I found out that it was the fuel pump and it was going to cost two arms and three legs to get it fixed. I don't have a third leg, so I thought I was screwed. It did make it to Salt Lake and back without any problems, though.

Let's fast forward to today, shall we? Since the car did, indeed make it to Salt Lake and back, I thought that I would take a chance and drive it out to meet up with Jason. I drove to his hotel with no problems. Then, we went to a restaurant and some thrift stores (big surprise) with no problems. I was so relieved.

It was good hanging out with him. Last time I saw him, was when I was getting on a flight to San Francisco. He's a flight attendant and his flight was about to take off just before mine. I think the last time I saw him before that was at his wedding in 2010.

The Case of the Missing Bike Part 3

I know, I told you that the last post was, "the conclusion", but all great things end in trilogies. This is actually the conclusion. Let's go back a little bit, shall we. In the first installment of , "The Case of the Missing Bike", I had told you that I lost my bike and I had no idea where it was. I looked all around town looking for it. In Part 2, I figured out that it was actually stolen. Get ready for the third part. It's actually quite the adventure.

Today, I was sitting at church and I my phone went off. I looked at the number and it was very similar to my work number. I thought that we had gotten uber busy at work and they needed me to come in and save the day. I checked the voicemail. It wasn't work at all. Turns out, it was a lady from the radio station. Sadly, I didn't win tickets to a concert. It was something better. Something that brought me some relief.

Earlier in the week I had placed an ad on the website explaining that I had lost my bike. The dj's at the station would then read off all the lost and found items every morning. This lady from the station got tired of hearing about my bike every morning. It was driving her nuts. She noticed that there was a bike laying on the side of her neighbor's house for about three weeks now, and realized that the bike looked very similar to the bike I put in the ad.

Fast forward to today: She called me and I described the bike and told me to come by. I got very excited that I left the church forgetting my jacket. I went over and sure enough, that was my bike. The best part was that the house was just a block away from mine.

Case Closed!

The Case of the Missing Bike: Part 2 - The Conclusion

I'm not going crazy! I found out just now that I didn't leave my bike anywhere. It was stolen from my house. I found out because my uncle had his flat-screen tv stored in the garage and it was nowhere to be found. Yes, I'm upset, but I am so relieved. I got tired of combing the streets. I got tired of going to locations that I don't remember going to just with hope that my bike would be there. I'm just bummed out that I have to get a new bike. Well, bike season doesn't start until May, so I have a while to get one.

Sweet Relief!

The Case of the Missing Bike

If you're reading this and you know me really well, you know that before last year, I was terrified to drive. You also know that I used a bike to get me from point A to point B. My bike has been a part of me. I'd ride it everywhere.

About a week ago, the ice had melted from the streets, so I thought i'd be nice to go out for a ride. The problem was that when I went to go get my bike, IT WAS MISSING! I felt just like Pee-Wee Herman. I looked all over for it.

The last time I took the bike out was just a couple of weeks prior to that day. I started thinking that I may have rode it somewhere and forgot that I took the bike with me and walked home. So, I thought to myself, where could I have taken the bike a couple of weeks ago? I then took to the streets. Park City is pretty small, so I thought it would be easy to locate. I went to work, the library, every market and nothing. I checked Main Street and my favorite Japanese food restaurant. Still nothing. 7-11, the park...

Wait, there's another park in town and I remember riding it to use the restroom and I may have walked back home. I walk to that park all the time. It's not far from my house. I gotta go.

Peace

All my life people have been telling me to take pride in my work. Years ago, someone told me that no matter how much work may suck, you need to find joy in your work.

When I take pride in my work, I tend to go, "Look at me. Look what I did". I'd say it in a bragging way. When I was finding joy in my work, I'd be cleaning up the house, I couldn't find any joy, and my mom would have The View on, and I'd be like, "There's Joy Behar, is that the "joy" I've been looking for"?

Lately, I'd be working. Raking leaves and shoveling snow for my uncle. Doing these things here in Park City can be an all day task. I try to find things that tend to keep my mind busy while I'm working. When I work, I start talking to God. When I do that, he gives me peace of mind. I call it, "finding peace while in my work".

Who knew hard work could be so peaceful?