Worrisome? Worry-less…

Not in a materialistic way, but: what kind of life is the one where you cruise through with no worries, regrets, or habitual thoughts of “that’s too expensive, I can’t do it”? – A regular person’s life.

This weekend I realized that that lifestyle is pretty damn cool, comfy and easy to get used to. So, lucky those who relate to it, or live it, not me. The yachting world is packed with this sort of lifestyle.

I can’t handle uncertainty even though it gives life that extra spice (false, I still manage with it). I don’t think I regret anything I have done so far, but that is only because “I am a lucky guy”, as a Gumballer (participant in the Gumball3000 rally) says on his fun packed drive from San Francisco to Miami when he picks up two Hooter Girls that want to finish the race with him, probably in exchange for something not all of us can snap our fingers and get… Let’s keep the obvious aside.

It’s all about spinning your head thinking. I’m back into it, after many months of zip.

Hasta luego.

Who invited me to suffer like this?

I’m not talking about a party, get-together, or anything as fun as that. I’m talking about the recent adventurous job I signed onto until mid October.

It involves transporting a race boat from regatta to regatta around Spain’s coast, Portugal and all the way to the volcanic Canary Island of Lanzarote. And well, here is how I get to call it suffering.

The job consists of basically sailing and motoring the boat to the next destination where a regatta is going to be held. Only another guy and myself are on board the 42 footer, and trust me when I tell you that it gets small.

We pack a massive cooler with food, fruit and drinks for about 5 days, and hope that the melted ice doesn’t make its way where it’s not to, and that no salt water gets in as well. If it does, well tough shit.

When at sea, as long as the sun is out, times are good, generally. Now, when the sun sets, apart from it being a hypnotizing, beautiful sight, it’s when you get ready to feel the worst elements being thrown at you at the same time. Here come the showering and swallowing waves, the boat slams after hiking a 2-meter crest and reaches its trough, and you almost lose your teeth from the bang. The wind keeps blowing wet gusts onto your already wet suit. Your hair is drenched and the ice water trickles down your neck into your lukewarm chest and back giving you more and stronger shivers. You’re hands clenched to the safety cables, so strong that they’re now numb and stiff and useless. The same goes for your feet:. After only 30 minutes of this, you miss home. The best part is that you’re on 3-hour shifts with your partner, and they must be respected, except for imminent life-threatening situations, mechanical problems or other mishaps one cannot handle on his own.

The shift is over and you head down the humid and noticeably warmer cabin to tap your partner on the back. It’s time to try and fight for some sleep. What a struggle! It’s almost more frustrating when it’s your turn to sleep, than when you’re on a shift. The wet clothing is hanging from an improvised line not getting dry and dripping on your mattress. The mattress is already damp, and now your dry underclothes are absorbing that humidity. The cold comes again along with the shivers…Oh, hell! As the boat slams with the waves, you get thrown off your bed. At this stage the bed is not called a bed, but a “fu**ing piece of shit wet cushion”. On top of all this fun you’re pissed off. You (well, I) want to actually sink the piece of shit vessel and get rescued because of extreme desperation to see land, a shower, a toilet and a hotel bed. I would never sink a boat purposely, just for the record (at least I think I wouldn’t).

When your bladder tells you it’s time to go, you gotta go, and you really want to go in your pants because the warmth would do you good. But no, you first have to make your way to the stern of the boat (don’t slip or trip), clasp the backstay with one hand and unzip, and search around for your family jewels (remember it is very cold in the Atlantic). When you find them and manage to invite them into the cold breeze, relax just enough to pee, but literally hang on for your life. The boat does not stop for toilet visits.

After a brief description of on-board experiences here, I assume and understand that this wouldn’t be many peoples’ cup of tea, but it would of some others. I just know that I ain’t doing this shit again, even though you get a quick episode of amnesia once you reach port. I only think and write this, but I know I will be doing this more often in better, safer conditions because at the end of the run when you look back at it you think: “that was damn cool”.

Have a laugh. This one’s on me…

“What to do when you have nothing to do, or think so.”

I am doing this right now.

You think: “I am waiting on important news regarding a very possible job, but just incase, I better let others know how much I want to work, and that I am available”. Job done. Splat, splat.

I started taking running more seriously, and with the help and encouragement from Lysaira, I am now attending the track in the rio Turia religiously. I’ve quite a bit of time on my hands, so when I’m not on the phone checking out vacancies in my sector of work, cooking with TLC, or emailing about more work, I then lust for a workout. Just like pregnant women might lust for pickles and ice cream, among other food items. I feel a need for an endorphin shoot-up. That’s how I get it. Whoa, it’s an ass-kicking, but does it feel good!

You do know there are addictions, and usually to narcotics. Some, very strange indeed. But this is also categorized as an addiction. I am talking about exercising. It produces, in the vast majority of humans, such a great mix of sensations, among them pleasure, relief, accomplishment, serenity, and a general well-being, it is hard, once discovered, not to crave them. If you are kept away from these endorphin “fixes”, it is common to fall into depression, and feel that everything is boring, lack of enthusiasm… All in all, apathetic.

I don’t feel like that too much, but when I do…

Mental Health

Your state of mind will determine your success, in whichever aspect you care for. May it be professional, personal, or any other goals you have set out to achieve before “x”.

As of myself, I am a happy camper most of the time. And now at present, I am not feeling in best shape, even though I have a family, friends, and more friends that are like family who offer unconditional love. The job situation is the unpleasant part. And a little other thing that just won’t leave my head…

Happiness is determined by a balance of factors your life is influenced by. Do I need to repeat that again? We each specify those factors taking into consideration our own criteria. What’s your criteria? I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours. Really, don’t ask me, just read more thoroughly.

It is essential to surround yourself of positive. Positive in every aspect. And man is that difficult! Why is it that difficult? All you need to do is take a public transportation ride into the city, walk the city, walk in a supermarket, look at the people around you in the office. Almost everywhere. What is the common denominator? Long faces, and upside down smiles. Now there’s a bit of positive coming out of me, considering my personal situation…

The Homo Sapiens-Sapiens specie is set out to destroy itself. And that is a depressing reality check. Wars, holy wars, politicians fooling us, and whatever you want to add to the shit list (just post a comment).

Even if you set course to find happiness on your own, it is not going to be fully granted. Complete happiness will not be achieved. And that leaves me with the question: Does the complete form of happiness really exist? I here swear, I have been close to it. The possible solution to the equation can be simple: full happiness is only achieved when shared.

I have had all I needed to be happy, and it was when it was shared. Who do you share it with?

…And, what happens when you can’t, or aren’t able to share anymore, for whichever the reason?

(Dedicated to all the human beings who offer unconditional love. From here, with reciprocity)

“Summer of ’69”

Like the song says: ”Some of the best days of my life” were last summer of ’07. Starting off in Phoenix, Arizona, I joined Fischer-Sports for an internship. This is a clinic for therapy and conditioning of mainly professional sports players, where I learnt an immense amount regarding training and conditioning, as well as therapy-wise. Moving on East, towards Thatcher, Arizona. That is where I studied my senior year of High School, and conserve some of my closest friends and family. Let me recommend a hot summer vacation to the vast amount of wildlife and recreation in the Arizona deserts, and National Parks and lakes. What I feel for the state of AZ, cannot be expressed with mere words. So, I’ll show you a few images, in an attempt to transmit that special feeling, which not only goes for this particular and very special State, but for all of the West. Many of you might not know what sort of feeling shoots through your veins, floats around your head, or pumps in your heart when, for example, you jump off a 15 meter cliff into a dam without knowing what’s underneath the surface, shoot a semi-automatic gun, a shotgun that bangs you harder than you'd imagine, or when your hand is a few short centimeters away from a rattlesnake, and you are tempting the devil. But that’s nothing to worry about. If you’ve 900 Euros to spare, you can book a flight to Tucson, or Phoenix, and start walking once you land. In any direction. I won’t show you around, unless you pay my way, but I will very happily tell you where to get lost (for real, no sarcasm intended), and assure you an encounter with all of the above. Then, you could know what that feeling is. That is only if you are getting a tinge of interest from reading this, of course. In Thatcher, apart from soaking the desert sun, chase reptiles, and swimming in dams, there is much more to do. I enjoy passing time with my close friends the Curtis Family. Yes, there are many of them, but these are “the ones”. The ones who make this small town in the middle of the desert so important to me.

I had another internship at Eastern Arizona College that summer. I lent a hand with the Athletics Program sports, and athletes involved. After these internships, it was time to get wild and high on encounters with animals. So, I set off to San Diego, California, to visit my Uncle Bob, Aunt Marilyn, and cousin Katie. This side of the family is nuts. Wait! Don’t leave yet, man. Finish reading, and before you proceed, you must know that there is no greater animal lover than me. Perhaps my sister, and on top of that, the late Steve Irwin, because he made a living out of it.

A food chain is as it is, because nature set it that way. Now, imagine: I arrive to San Diego, and Uncle Bob says he’s got a couple rabbits for the “little boys”. I haven’t seen the “little boys” since I was a little boy myself. Slide the door open, there are two of the biggest Pythons I’ve seen outside a zoo. X is 54.5kgs, and Y is 40kgs. We each take a rabbit, walk into the cage through separate doors, and drop it immediately as the pythons approach us separately. Can you imagine the sensation right about now? Yeah, get the hell out! And within seconds, the snakes throw a lightning-quick attack to the rabbits, and suffocate them. Feeding an animal of that size and power is no game.

The visit to Dana, a friend of mine up the coast, in Los Angeles, was not short of thrills, either. One slow day near Hollywood, we decide to go to Santa Monica beach, and as we’re walking into the water, a man rushes towards us warning of the presence of sharks seen in the shallow waters of the wave break. Initially, it’s a big saliva gulp you swallow, but screw it, let’s see how close we can get. Since I had never in my life seen one in the wild, I went knee-deep, as I skimmed the wave break visually, in order to detect the shark. After a long half hour of walking up and down the shore in this cold Pacific water, the unexpected happened. I was swiped by the tail of what I have come to recognize as a Nurse Shark. A few seconds later, it bumped my leg from the side, with its head, and almost threw me off balance. I estimate the size of this fish that made me scream like a chica, at around 2 or 2.5 meters, because it was clearly bigger than me. After this most adrenaline rushing experience with a prehistoric animal, that is absolutely unpredictable and you are defenseless against, I come to realize how lucky I am to still be able to run, walk, and be here writing this. I have just now read, that the few Nurse Shark attacks reported have proceeded with the same sequencing as my encounter. Swipe, nudge or bump with the head, and attack. Beginners’ luck?

Fifty/Fifties, Rice, and Myself.

You’ve heard me speak about these, but what the hell, right?

I was born in Valencia, Spain, and my mama is from the U.S. of A. She married an Español, had my older sister Elisa, and myself.

Paella is my cities’ signature dish, and guess what the main ingredient is. This is my friend Ramon’s mother gourmet duck and rabbit paella.

I happen to have dual citizenship, and am happy about the liberty of movement factor. Liberty of movement, between two of the countries that can offer me the most possibilities of work, at this precise moment in time.

I have chosen my professional career path to run along high level sailing, especially, among others. You can now see why I am stalled. The legal dispute holding the America’s Cup back, is destroying hopes, team funding, professionals of all sorts, and most sadly family ties and relationships. Since I could involuntarily be throwing rocks on my own roof, I will abstain from digging deeper into the subject.

But I thought everyone had the constitutional right, at least in my country, to express themselves freely, no matter the subject?

Yeah, but hold it! I don’t want anyone reading this, that could jeopardize my future employment, wherever that may be, only by judging my honest expression of thought. You see, this is something that should be appreciated, and not deprecated. But one thing I am not, is stupid. Some, will try to argue that, as well. Probably someone who has always something to say, even when there is no request for his word. It is he, who should yap less, and listen more.

First Things First

This first piece of my mind is for those who think they know it all. To those who don’t like to listen to critiques, constructive criticism, progressive ideas, are intolerant and unacceptant to new input, tunnel vision and minded alike, etc; and on top of all this, coming from foreign mouths. Be ready to detect some small, but unavoidable for a fifty/fifty like me, grammatical errors.

Already, if you are of the sort of the above description, you will not be here reading anymore, listening to this “your adjective here” who thinks he is what more than me? Or, maybe you are of that sort, or not, and you’re still reading with a grin or smirk on your face, thinking: “I think I know this kid”. And probably we are strangers, but you hope I can catch your attention. I hope so, as well.

Yeah, yeah, I’m a “youngster” (is what a black man around his fifties called a young teen boy, as they played one-on-one meatball on a Venice Beach, Ca. basketball court, telling this black boy: “you ain’t got no game”, as the youngster could not avoid a frustrating, smashing loss, to the elder. The only conversation was a one-way flow of “you ain’t got no game, youngsta” down the generation hierarchy.)

I do think I have some kind of game, just to give myself some credit here. Some think I do not. But, I do have politeness, and that is something a grand majority lack. It could be ignorance, excessive pride in oneself, lack of education, or a simple combination of many, or even none of the above included factors, which make someone not polite.

Politeness is the base, along with straight forward honesty.

I don’t want to, and I’m not throwing flowers at myself, but I am an honest homo sapiens sapiens. And, I am momentarily stalled professionally, due to the ugliest legal battle, between two of the wealthiest men on planet Tierra, over the America’s Cup. That is why I have decided to publicly express myself, amigos. I enjoy being outspoken. Take it if you like it, or let it fly if you don’t.

Although I must say that, to the contrary of all this exposed above, I am the first to admit error and fault publicly, listen to criticism, in private and in public (but not about my privates), and use and promote fluent communication, for clear comprehension, all in order to achieve a desired goal, set by a team. And that team could be our family, group of friends, or co-workers.

So, this is the first grain of rice of what you will see become a rice field.