You would think I am crazy for if I told you the whole truth about Ivy. I can’t say I disagree. I’ve been fighting logic since I met her. Still I’m forever propelled forward by this invisible undeniable force to love her. I do get a strange comfort knowing I am not the only one that insists on chasing her illusive heart. From the moment we met I’ve been hopelessly, selflessly, and completely in love with her. She doubts this type of love can exist. She even once told me what I feel for her is not real. She feels I am lost and delusional. Maybe on some superficial level I could agree, but when I think deep on the truth of the matter I now she’s is wrong. Even now as I sit here lost, defeated without ever having a fair chance in the fight I still think she is wrong. It’s not out of desperation or denial I disagree. I wish this pursuit of her was fueled by something as simple as delusion. I’m sure I could get some pill from my doctor to dull my mind, and fade her away. I need an emotional lobotomy. Unfortunately, such a procedure has not been invented by modern medicine. Ivy would want me to move on. So would everyone else around me. If only they could understand moving on is not an option. It’s not that simple. Loving her was never a conscious effort, or even a deliberate choice. If I were to ask you to stop breathing could you? You’re probably thinking I am a stupid romantic who always insists and chasing the impossible dreams, always trying to reach the stars. Maybe your right on some levels, but we only have one life and I want mine to be great. I want to die with memories not dreams. I truly believe the definition of insanity is a matter of perspective. So let me back up to the beginning and give you perspective. My name is Gregory. I was born and raised in Los Angeles, growing up in the suburbs about 20 miles east of downtown Los Angeles. I love my city. Its diversity gives you an appreciation for a wide range of cultures. Sure it lacks one centralized soul and because of this it sometimes feels schizophrenic. Still its the only home I ever known and I love it, and really there is also the 360 plus days of sunshine and 75 degree weather. I work for the I.T. Department of a large Utility company. It is a unique entity. Because we a quasi-monopoly regulated by the state logical business decisions are undervalued. Let’s be honest common sense is undervalued. Its all about perception and saying things in a calm confident manner. Kind of like picking up women, it really doesn’t matter what you say, as long as you say it covered with a heavy layer of cool confidence. Maybe that’s why I have fallen behind in my career lately. I refuse to lie about being wrong or insists on being completely honest about the fucked up environment I work in. Primarily, take for example my monthly tasks of uploading software patches to our web server. Let me provide some background to our structure around here. This company likes to separate duties. So essentially I need 4 teams to accomplish what it would take one person to do in the normal world. Let me run you down the list of a basic install. Now I remind you the actually activity only take 30 minutes, but the preparation start at least 2-3 week prior. First I need to contact all teams list on the resource plan. Let me run you down the list. First there is a Server Engineer, this is the guy with all the access. All the access but no knowledge. I have to give him step by step instructions to something I have no access to complete. If it’s not my job and I have no access to do it, how am I supposed to know how to do it? Anyway lets move on. Next there are the network support guys. They are needed to put up an alert. This usually means redirecting network traffic to an outage page. This translate to a few mouse clicks for them, something I could easily do but I do not have access to perform these two mouse click. Next I need a developer to oversee the actual installation. They do not actually do anything, but Server Engineers usually insist they be present during the actual install because they have so little understanding of what they are doing. Finally I need some from what we call the District Operation Center. We call this department the DOC. They are responsible for tracking and reporting any outage. So back to my task of this monthly software update. I have to contact each one of these teams at least two weeks prior with complete instructions of their tasks and confirm their availability of the scheduled day. Then if they agree I need to book time on their calendars. Next is the really insane part I need to get multiple approvals from multiple approval committees. We call these Change Advisory Boards, or CABs for short. CABs are usually consist of a group of managers. Oh yeah did we mention I.T. loves aconyms. CAB is a boring one, but we have had some instresting ones, including S.T.D, S.H.I.T., and F.A.G. I don’t recall what they stood for but I swear these were real projects. So back to my CAB approvals. I need to get time on three different meeting for to get three different approvals. First there is local CAB. This is the approval from my department. Then there is approval from local CAB. Yes you heard me right there are two local CABs. I was never sure why there are two local CABs, but this one was in from our facility two miles away. The only thing I could think of was that these people did not want to drive to another facility so they made their own CAB. Finally there is Global CAB. They have oversight to all of I.T. There job is to assure I don’t interfere with another project or cause delays to any on going operational work. This is probably the only meeting I see as necessary, except for the fact they ask some really ridiculous questions, such as “is this necessary,” or “what happens if it doesn’t work.” Are you serious, “is this necessary?” I always wanted to say, “No it’s not but I needed something to do on Thursday night at 10 P.M., but your wife was busy.” These managers I swear they feel they all need to ask a question to prove their value, even if they have no idea what they are asking. Once I get approval I then notify everyone we have the green light. Since this is one to two weeks prior to the actually activity I need to send an invite a few days prior to the actual scheduled date just to make sure everyone shows. Then the night of the actual install I need to usually call one or two of these guys because they almost always forget. Once I have everyone online and on the conference call we start our work. This means I start telling each one of them step by step how to do their job. So there it is one of my regular tasks in this lovely company. I could have literally completed this task in 30 minutes, but when it’s all said and done it takes a collective set of about 20-30 man hours, very efficient right? This is why I sometimes dream of being a WalMart greeter. At least then my life would have purpose.

The Colorado is a dive bar on the east end of Pasadena. It’s not much to look from the outside. Its not much to look at from the inside for that matter. As all dive bars go the charm isn’t in the decor it’s in the patrons. It’s the really people with real souls that make this place come alive. A few miles down the road, on the west end of Pasadena, there are countless high end restaurants. At these places stranger don’t talk as they drink their over priced under poured drinks, but not at the Colorado. At the Colorado you can drop the facade of class you think you might have, leave your pretense in the car and just be yourself. On any given day you may here phrases like “thats a boob grabbing song”, but just relax and go with it. It truly my favorite bar. The outside is wrapped in non-descript black and green matte paint with the words “the Colorado” painted on the side in red script. Walking its black matte metal door you will see the usual beer and liquour sponsored decorations hanging on its dim lit dark painted walls. Towards the front is a juke box, which is a real juke box not one of those internet connected imposters. Towards the front sits its long wooden bar. Behind the bar is a mirrored wall of spirits. The selection of scotch might disappoint James Bond, but the average human walking around will have no problem finding your favorite poison here. Also behind the bar, just to the left of the shelves of bottle sits a selection of candy bars and snacked sized bags of chips. Classy I know, but like I said this is a real bar for real people and real people eat snacked sized bags of Doritos when the drink. If you are offended by its out dated juke box selection, or its offering of snaked sized bags of chips then you don’t belong here. In front of the bar, in the main room pf the bar, is a collection of mismatched tables and against the far wall are four booth upholstered in dark vinyl. The vinyl was probably once a distinguishable color, but year of wear and tear has faded it something close to black. Just through the main room is the back room with a dart board and two pool table. This room is painted in institutional green decorated by blue neon beer signs and pictures of album covers from 70’s rock bands. There also its women’s and men’s restroom. I can’t speak of the women’s restroom, but in the men’s you’ll find a condom machine. I know I’ll say it again, classy right? Who cares little like this make this bar feel like a really bar and not a sterilized soulless piece of crap like your local Chilis. I’ve never actually bought a condom from this bar, but it stares me in the face every time I use the urinal. You only have three selections of condoms. I couldn’t tell you what the other two are called but the middle one sticks out. It’s titled “Ben Wa Balls” and has a disclaimer not for actual use. This has captured my imagination on many a drunk nights here. Anyway back to the bar. In the far corner of the back room sits a large metal door with the sign titled “Emergency Exit Only” on it. Funny thing is this door doesn’t close and in fact is used by the patrons constantly for a quick exit for their smoke break. It may not sound like much but it is one my favorite places in the world, but not because it is one of the best dive bars in Los Angeles (and I love dive bars). It’s my favorite place because this is our place, mine and Ivy’s. We usually come here on a Sunday afternoon when it’s empty, except for a few local regulars. We sit at the bar and drinking our whiskey cocktails and watch football or basketball depending on the season. Yes, you heard me right, Ivy drinks Whiskey, Bourbon, and Scotch. There is something so sexy about a woman that can handle a real drink. Subconsciously there are probably some sexual undertones to this but I have never wasted too much exploring this one. I just sit in silent admiration as I watch this beautiful women order her favorite cocktail. “Jameson and Ginger,” she orders. I fall in love again and again as I hear those words. This place is our hyperbaric chamber. Relieve from the pressures of the world and the people we know we can be ourselves. So here I am another Sunday at the bar waiting for this beautiful woman. She just texted me she just got out of the shower and is running a little late. Usually this would bother me, but not with her. Good things are worth waiting for, and she proves this true. Also I never like her waiting at a bar for me. If I leave her alone for more than five minutes a man someone will try to hit on her. I can’t blame the men of the world for trying. Even a blind man can see she is special. Today is an empty day. There are four people in the bar, including the bartender. After about twenty minutes she walks in. God she is beautiful. She really is the most beautiful thing I will ever see. I think this every time I see her. I know men say you eventually get tired of a women, but I know I will never get tired of this one. Each time I see her she is more beautiful that the last. I will never love anyone like the way love her. This I have always known. If I ever told her this it would terrify her, but I’m sure she sees it in my eyes. “Hi,” I say as I give her a hug. We sit at the bar talking about our day for about twenty minutes before making our way to the backroom. This is our favorite place. I love it because I like the way she looks in the blue neon lights. She likes it because I beat her at pool and according to her its the only thing I can beat her at. I think she just likes seeing me in control. As the night progresses,,,

Ivy is easy to love, and at the same time she is impossible to love. That statement may sound confusing, but if you know her you wouldn’t find this statement confusing. Some would call her illusive. Some would call her insatiable. She definitely knows how to make herself scarce, and this quality can definitely drive you made once you are caught in the gravity that surrounds her. This unseen force pulls you in. Maybe a better comparison is quicksand, the harder you fight the faster you fall. It’s hard to put your finger on just one quality. There is compassion. Enough warm compassion in that heart of hers to melt the poles. She is also tenacious and if a force of nature when she sets her mind on a goal. Then there is the other side of her. The indecisive, insecure, and selfish side. She is a whirlpool of conflict and love. To Gregory she was perfect from the moment they met. (to be continued)

Gregory lives on his own. Some would consider his existence a lonely one, but from his eyes it could be worse. This is not to say there aren’t lonely times. There are times he wonders what could have been of his failed marriage. He was married in his twenties, but it failed fast and hard, and for good reason. Both himself and his young wife were not ready for the commitment of a marriage. They were young, naive, and didn’t have the emotional mature to make the compromises necessary for a lasting relationship. If you ask him he will say his life is great, and he has plenty of female companionship to keep him warm on cold nights. He has learned from his mistakes, but if you listen to the moments between his words and thoughts you will see the damage that was done. Inside he would love to have the chance to make a life long commitment, but on the flip side he knows part of him was made for that type of life. He has a life full of friends and family that care about him. Anyone that close to him knows he has a problem with commitment. He has no problem going to Las Vegas at the drop of a hat with friends, but ask him to commit to dinner plans a week in advance is more than a challenge. His family is a close one, as most latin families are, but with the passing of his father his extended family of cousins has grown more distant. Event like Christmas and Easter once were prerequisites for all family members, but lately it seems like even wedding invites are optional. His father was the patriarch of the family and his death was the first major loss his family had experienced. He went before his parents, and his death was sudden and tragic. His father Tovar was diagnosed with stomach cancer shortly after his early retirement. A few years prior to his retirement he separated from Gregory’s mother, but reconciled 3 short months after the separation. Gregory always wondered what brought his father back. He deep inside he doubted it was his fathers love that prompted his father’s return. Instead he felt it his father came back out of obligation for his children and not for the love his mother. This always left a questionable sadness hanging of the families house. There were happy times after, but the security Gregory felt in his families home never returned. This happened during the last two years of high school for Gregory. Due to his age and his still developing brain he took it harder than he should have and retreated into the sedated haze of Marijuana. This continued through early years of college. After his fathers death his mother depended on him heavily, which caused strain on their relationship. So much so that Gregory moved out a little more than a year after his fathers death. He lived with his cousin for a few months just one town over, but moved back to his families house a 6 months later. He is still not sure why he came back. Maybe it was out of obligation like his father. He just knew his mother couldn’t hold it together without him and he worried about his younger brother who was still in grade school. Its not that his mother was a weak or deranged in anyway, but she grew up with a abusive mother. At a very young age her mother would leave her alone for days with her younger siblings. These were tramatizing events for his mother and as a result she held on to life a little too tight. These dark days of her childhood instilled an intrinsic strength to her character, but as all strengths that come from surviving abuse it comes with a price. This price always has a flip side, and at times manifests itself as a weakness or disability. His father also grew up in an abusive household. In his case it was his father bringing the abuse. Gregory’s grandfather was alcholic and his arrival to his home was always like Russian roulette. Gregory’s father never new what to expect. In teenage years he was forced into the role of the protecter of his mother when his father came home abusive and drunk. These events also produced an extraordinary strength in the character of Gregory’s father, but just like his mother at times acted as his fatal flaw. His father grew up making sacrifices constantly for the loved ones around him, and as a result he never learned what his happiness felt like. Late in life he got a taste of what his life could of been in the arms of another women, but unfortunately he turned his back on his chance for happiness for the love of his children. Well this is how Gregory sees it, and maybe it is true. Gregory will never know. One year after his father returned he was diagnosed with stomach cancer and three short months after that he was dead. This was, in a way, a nexus in Gregory’s life. If you asked Gregory he could define his life in two chapters. One chapter before his father’s death and the second following the aftermath of his death. Part of his fear of commitment and his views on relationships were molded by the final years of his fathers life. Inside he fears nothing last forever, and he views most marriages as a surrender of the individuals dreams. He was always technically proficient and his parents encouraged his natural talent by giving him a computer at an early age. During his early years of college he fell into designing websites for small companies and this eventually led him to the corporate world. He enjoys the money that the corporate I.T. world provides, but he hates the pointless political games required to get ahead. In the corporate world perception is almost as important as accomplishments. He should be further along his in his career but is refuses to submit to the politics. In a way his has given birth to a lethargic cynicism that has stolen his passion for his work. Gregory does have untapped potential and is capable far more than what he done with his life the past few years. If anything he is a volcano waiting to explode. He is just waiting for that one spark to unleash years of frustration and desperation. He knows he is different, and he knows he sees more than others around him. Unfortunately his life and choices have always been slightly off rhythm with the beat of his heart. Despite being different he has the ability to relate to everyone. At time he uses this ability to manipulate those around him, especially women. At this moment he doesn’t know what he wants out of life, but just he has the gifts and talent to change the world. His next step has to be great. He used to doubt himself and run from uncertainty, but slowly he is realizing that uncertainty is his path to greatness.

It was a Friday afternoon. Erik sent me an instant message,”What are you doing tonight.” “Not much, I’m taking the night off from the hospital. I have my sister and brother going down. My brain needs a night off,” I replied. “Cool, you’re coming with me,” he quickly replied. Marie was away for the weekend in Vegas for a girl’s weekend, and when the cat’s away the mice will play. The truth is Erik and Marie’s relationship is in its final stages. It’s easy to see by the snide remarks they constantly launch at each other that this is the end. Once you lose respect, especially in front of others it’s hard to recover. Not sure who I blame more, Erik is my friend so I have to be in his corner, but I can see that Marie pain comes from neglect and if you can see past her the spite and anger in her eyes you’ll see years of neglect and lonely fuel this fire. “Hurry up fucker, don’t take to long. I have a surprise for you,” Erik said suspiciously. “A surprise?” I asked. “Ok I’ll be out in 15,” I typed. “15 minutes. Not a Gregory 15. You are gonna like this surprise,” Erik typed before quickly signing off. I never get when my friends question my punctuality. I know I have a disability when it comes to my sense of time. Maybe you’d see it as a lack of consideration, or even rudeness. I don’t care this is my life and I live it on my own time table. I was actually kind of curious about Erik’s surprise. Knowing him it can only be one type of a surprise. Something involving a female. What tipped me off was the address he gave me. When I looked it up on Google Maps it showed a wine bar. Erik doesn’t drink wine unless it might help him in the quest of what he calls “strange.” If you don’t know what “strange” is, he means a new sexual conquest. Driving up to the place it doesn’t look like much. It’s on a side street between a fast food burger joint and an insurance office. Looking in from the street it actually looks like an antique shop. “Ok let’s do this,” I tell myself before I get out of the car. I really didn’t feel like being his wing man on one of his “missions” tonight, but I needed a night out and I thought maybe some female companionship might help. Walking in I don’t initially see Erik, but as my eyes adjust to the dark I see him in the backroom of this place. Next I can see the other side of his table, so I take a few slow steps forward to see who he is with.

After that initial stay in the hospital my mother was briefly discharged. Even though we all had major concerns about her coming home the hospital still discharged her. Sometimes I hate this country. America, allegedly the greatest country in the world and yet you’d get better health care in a war torn 3rd world country. Patch them up, stablized them, and then ship them out. This is how an outpost hospital worked during the civil war. My mother was barely home two days when I recievaed the call. This time it came in the morning from younger sister. I was in the middle of making breakfast for myself and Marie. “Good morning Josette,” I answered. “Greg we are taking Mom back to the hospital,” she said. “What happened,” I inquired. “We just can’t do it. The pain mess aren’t enough anymore, and she is starting to forget stuff.”, she said as voice cracked with an overwhelming amount of emotion. “Ok take her. I have to go to work for a few hours, but can be there in the afternoon,” I replied. She hesistantly agreed. I know she wanted me to take the lead on this, and drive down to help get my mother re admitted. Honestly I could have taken the day off and helped her. My mother would have prefered that, but I needed everyone to start pulling their own weight. This blood cancer, multiple myeloma, seemed to be a slow killer from what I read on the internet. There was a an important meeting at work I was not entirely lying, but still it made me feel like a bastard to put work before family. Even more so I hated myself for having this imaginary scoreboard in my head that was constantly keeping track of everyone’s effort. My mind was exhausted and needed a break. Driving to work I packed an extra large bowl of week in my pipe that morning and took a few extra detours on the drive in. I knew it was going to be a long day and I wanted to be extra numb for the day’s events. Especially if I had to head back to the USC medical center. I pull into the parking at work in a smoke induced haze. Every part of me relaxed and all the sharp points of my world temporarily dull. I was relaxed until I see a sight a sight that instantly steals my well deserved high. It’s a sight that to this day still causes my stomach to tie and my penis to retract back into my body. A light blue Prius. Dianne’s car. My fearless leader. I say fearless because you have to have a heart to feel fear or any other for emotion for that matter. I put a few extra drops of visine in my eyes knowing I have to walk by her desk to get to mine. I joke to myself as I swipe my badge and enter the building,”maybe diet coke has the same effect on the heart as it does the kidney. It slowly dissolves them. I think I might have mentioned Dyanne drinks about gallon a day. It’s her elixir for beauty and good health. Plus it helps her keep those dark circles under her eyes extra dark and deep. I can’t help but laugh at the thought of all this as I step out of the elevator. The floor is empty. Afterall it’s 7 a.m. Also known as the hour of the dead in Corporate I.T. “Hi Dyanne”, I say trying to hide the obligatory tone. “You’re here early today,” I say in a veiled attempt to be friendly. “Yeah I slept horribly and my back was killing me,” she replies. I have learned to never ask Dyanne questions such as, “how are you?” or “how was your weekend?” If you do you have to know you are setting yourself up for one of her 30 minute long diatribes about her vegan husband or her over privaledged judgemental mother in law. I haven’t mentioned it before but Dyanne is Jewish. I’m not saying all stereo types are accurate but Dyanne loves to complain. Her upper lips curls instinctively into something half way between a snarl and a smile whenever she blurts out a snarky negative comment about someone. I’m not saying they are never insightful, but her comments, input as she may see it, is always negative. Maybe it’d her way of giving back to the world. Afterall they say we all have gifts and we should use these gifts to give back to the world. She is definitely gifted…at being a rude incorrigible bitch. Doesn’t she see that her behavior just reinforces decades of negative stereotypes about her people? I’m Mexican and I feel it’s my responsiblity to not have a lot kids. Likewise of I was Asian I would feel obligated to be a better than average driver. After a few minutes of painfully superficial charting with the boss I excuse myself so I can attend to some neglected email before our weekly team meeting. As I sit at my desk I remember I forgot my linch and breakfast on the kitchen counter. One of the occupational hazards of a stoner is that your short term memory goes to shit. Which I guess is better than your long term memory. Imagine how fucked it would be to forget your name instead of your lunch. I read a few emails, make a few phone calls and before I know it it’s time for our team meeting. Today we are discussing and assigning new upcoming projects, which is one of the reasons I wanted to be at worked today. There is a project I find interesting. Ok I will be honest. I found out Ivy is working on the supplier portal project and I want to get closer to this girl, or at the very least get to be in the same room with her a couple of days a week.

The day was finally over and I needed a drink so I decided to ping my buddy Erik. Erik was one of my true friends at the company, someone I actually trusted and one of the few people I could depend. We had met prior to IT. Erik was an analyst at the call center when I started with the company. He was a likable person and had a unique charm with the ladies. To be quite honest his reputation was notorious. The call center had a high turn over and 80% of the population were females under 30. For someone like Erik it was like fish in barrel. In fact at the peak of his sexual exploits the director of the call center had to have a “talk” with Erik. His love life was having a negative impact on the call centers performance. I’m not sure what was exactly said, but basically he was asked to stop fucking so many of the girls. In his defense he never lies to these women to get them into bed. He’s a confident guy and I think that goes a long way with the ladies, but I once over heard someone say it was his “ten inches” of personality that gets them into bed. It was a few minutes past five so I sent him a text message, “ebar?” He replied, “sure.” It never really took much to get him out. As I said it was a long day and these days I was never in arush to go home. I quickly shut my laptop down, undocked it, and I was out. Once in my car I texted Marie I was working late. Sadly it had become a habit of lying to her. Looking back to these I admit I was a coward and somedays I just didn’t want to deal with her. I took the long way to the bar so I’d have time to smoke. As a stoner you learn to take the side streets. In direct routes of side streets are the safest when smoking. One it is less likely to see a cop or a co-worker and two it gives you more time to smoke. Erik’s car is already parked, and I know he is going to give me shit for keeping him waiting. He knows I smoke. I don’t think he judges me for it, but he does like to give me shit for it. “It’s about time fucker”, he says as I walk to our usual corner table. “Traffic was a bitch”, I reply. The bar is only a few miles from work so we both know that a lie. The waitress sees me and instinctively brings me a long island ice tea. It’s our go-to drink, and during happy hour it’s the quickest and cheapest route to numbing my thoughts. Being a regular at bar has its perks although I sometimes joke with myself and ask does the fact that I know every waitress and bartender by name indicate I have drinking problem. We spend a few minutes lamenting about our days before he gets a text. “Who is that?” I asked. “Is it Long Beach Lori or Whittier Wendy?” I continue. I just like to fuck with him. Erik still has a revolving door of women coming in and out of his life and he has employed unique memory device so as not to get them confused. Essential in his cell phones contact list he adds a prefix to their name, usually the city or location where they met. Before he could provide a witty reply to my inquiry my phone starts ringing. It’s Marie. It’s already after six and she’s strarting to get suspicious. After about the third missed call I tell Erik, “I will be back. I have to take this.” “Hi, you called?”, I ask. “Where are you?”, Marie replies. “I’m in the parking lot walking to my car”, I quickly say. She knows I’m lying. Women always know when I’m lying, and I know I’m a horrible liar. I tell her I need to go to school for few hours and will be home late. She has no compassion for my mothers illness, and I need to decompress. That how I rationalize it to myself. With Marie dealt with I walk back into my bar where I find Erik talking to one of our favorite waitresses, Megan. “Hi Megan”, I say as I sit back down at my stool. “Another one?”, she asks. I answer,”Yes please.” She’s so cute, and bubbly. For a moment I fantasize about being with someone who is so bubbly and perky. Even when we were in high school Marie was never what you would call bubbly. Erik and I spend the next few hours drinking and casually flirting with Megan. I know this is an escape and I’m self medicating with weed and alcohol, but my mind needs a break.