Amtrak and Charger Bill.

I love trains (except when they are 4 hours late and put in home at 2:30am, like this one did). By why love trains? Trains are arguably the least efficient way to travel, minus riding a horse. They take longer than cars and are more expensive then most planes and turn a two-hour jump from San Francisco to Los Angeles into a ten-hour expedition. So why love them? It’s simple: The freedom to meet people. In a car you are surround by steel and you probably interact more with your car stereo than the people around you. On a plane you might interact with the person sitting next to you or – if your bold – the person sitting across the isle. However, on a not only is meeting people easy, it’s encouraged. You don’t have to stay in one seat, there are lounge cars, cafe cars and game rooms. So the opportunity to meet a new person and hear a new story is as easy as finding porn on the internet.

Most of the people are people trying to get from point A to point B and had no other choice than to go by train. There are others who ride trains just for the sake of riding trains, who love the novelty of them, and more than likely have read one to many beat novels. Then there are those people do don’t care about the wondering writers. The ones who ride to get from point A to point “somewhere between J&P” or no point at all. People like Charger Bill.

Charger Bill was obviously not his name. He simply told me his name was Bill and wouldn’t give me his last. But every man should have a first and last name, even if they feel they’re not deserving of one, they are. I gave him the name Charger Bill because of the sweatshirt he was wearing, A San Diego Chargers sweatshirt that looked as if it had never seen a washing machine. Charger Bill’s appearance was less than appealing. He probably wouldn’t have made it ten paces past homeland security before someone tazered him. He had thick Glasses, a sunburned face and scraggly blond beard. He ate a lowly bag of M&M’s and had a bottle of Jim beam near by. I sat in front of him, reading a book that I will probably never finish, when he asked if I cared to join him for drink. I obliged. We riffled through the vitals (where are you from, where are going, etc.), and while my answers were quick and precise, his were long and ambiguous.  He was originally from San Diego County, Escondido to be exact. He was born and raised there until the age of 18 when he was drafted. He made it through two tours in Vietnam being shot in the chest. He told me that he never felt like he fit in anywhere after “the war.” So Charger Bill stayed home, working jobs in construction and welding (Bill LOVED welding) and saved money till his parents passed away. After that He sold the home and hit the road (or rails) and working welding jobs in every town he passed through, only to pack up and leave once he had the means too. He had lived this way for 22 years.

Charger Bill missed the early years of his life. He never explicitly said it, but you just knew.  Whenever he spoke of the future, he made sure the M&M’s and Whiskey were nearby. However, when he spoke of home, his family  he became more animated and you could see the light in his eyes.

He departed the train in San Jose. I pray he finds his home again, but most importantly, I pray Bill knows what to do once he finds it. And in some ways I have the same prayer for myself.

Peace Be the Journey.

2010: The Examined Year.

So this is the new…decade? Shit! Believe it or not, if you are in your mid-twenties, you just said goodbye to the most formative decade of your life. Think about it, in the years between 2000-2009 we’ve been through a lot.  We went to high school (which if you have seen any John Hughes movie, is an accomplishment in itself) , most of us went to college , we started our first jobs. We’ve learned how to drive and balance a check book. We’ve learned how to say hello, and we’ve learned how to say goodbye. We’ve cried more than we needed too and hopefully laughed just as much. And through have developed a code of conduct that will guide us into the next decade and beyond.

But how will this past decade influence those to come? That is entirely up to you to decide. For me, there is a shift from the big dreams to small actions. In High School and College I was definitely a dreamer. I dreamed of traveling the world, curing cancer, stopping human trafficking, singlehandedly developing sound economic foundations for developing countries in Eastern Europe, you name it I probably dreamed about it. However, after graduation I was hit in the head by the preverbal 2×4, held by none other than Sallie Mae. I had student loans due, rent to pay, and all big plans I had ultimately fell apart.  Reality set in, and like most idealists I felt defeated.

And then I realized something. I am small.  This realization did not come from some epic conversation with a wise grandparent, pastor, or while listening to Radiohead and/or Miley Cyrus in a dark room. I want say it happened while sitting in Starbucks, watching the people come and go. I realized that these same actions were happening in 20 other Starbucks in the same neighborhood and thousands more across the country, world, etc.  In the grand scheme, I am very minor player and my actions should probably start with that in mind.

This leads me to 2010: The examined year. I want to make sure that my small actions have a big purpose. To help those around me and better the world I live in.  Be it buying food from a local shop, to reducing the amount of plastic and water I use, to giving someone a dollar to ride the bus, and, my favorite, just saying hello to someone new.  Because it’s the little things that add up into big change. Given these actions are not solving the world food crisis, but it’s a start. And you never know what they can turn into. So this year, rather than just dreaming, I plan on acting and maybe those big dreams will begin to materialize.

Peace Be The Journey & Happy 2010.

The Adventures of Bunk: Take 1

So how do I start this thing?

A couple months ago, I decided to jump into the “blogosphere”. But, like most of my half-brained ideas, have lagged on actually following through. People would ask “ Have you started you’re blog yet? I really want to read it!” Or “Bo, what’s the deal? Why haven’t you posted anything” or (best yet) “ Bo, you’re not doing s**t with your time, you might as well blog something!”

The problem was, I didn’t know HOW to start it. What do you Blog about in your first ever post? Do you try to construct a delightful story? Write about yourself? Write about that crazy asian man who lives down the street? Then I realized that it doesn’t matter. Because most people won’t even read this, so just do whatever the hell you want. Just post something, get it over with and move on.

So here is that something. The popping of the preverbal blog cherry.  What is this blog going to be about? I’m not really all that sure and for those of you who know me that makes perfect sense.  It will probably included, grossly exaggerated stories, thoughts on life, Bo’s riveting (and ever changing) personal philosophies, and (most importantly) Muni crushes.

A word of warning: I have absolutely NO literary expertise what so ever. I once got a B on an English Literature paper and I was stoked! I’m not sure how a sentence is supposed to be structured and proper grammar and I don’t get along.

I love stories. And these are mine…