A true thought brewing in my head, one which I'd really like to expand on.  But I have no time right now to write.  Tonight, possibly.  And most likely in a ***PP***.  In the meantime, here's one really good piece of work that I'd like to recycle and add to my list of Retired Posts.  Enjoy this re-run.

[originally posted February 6, 2004]

I wouldn't go so far as to call a dog filthy but they're definitely dirty. But, a dog's got personality. Personality goes a long way. ~ Pulp Fiction

There are instances in your lifetime when you know that you had made a difference in a person's life.  And not just in that one person's life, but also in the one he treasures most.  

One particular cold night I wanted to buy some groceries.  As I was walking into a store in my neighborhood, my eyes caught a homeless man begging passers-by for money.  Over four years I've worked in downtown Los Angeles, so I see many homeless people out and about.  Usually I don't acknowledge them and casually walk by without making eye contact.  I've become desensitized to their appeals for loose change.

But this night, something caught my attention.  No, it wasn't the beggar holding out the empty McDonald's cup in his right hand.  It was the companion that was by his side.  His dogg.  Half German Shepherd, half wolf, half I-dunno-what.  It was huge.  On its hind legs, it probably could tower over me by a good two feet.  I bet it could breath fire if it wanted to.  A mighty creature.

Yet mighty humble. 

Underneath that heavy fur, I can tell it was skinny as a rail.  Probably hadn't eaten a full meal in days.  While its master continued pestering others for a quarter, a dime, a penny for God's sake, the dogg looked right at me.  Ears pulled back in despondency.  When our eyes made contact, I nearly broke.

It took me a half an hour to finish my grocery shopping.  I rushed through the aisles, hoping that the beggar and his dogg would still be there when I exited.  Paid the cashier and quickly pushed my cart outside, not even making sure she gave me the right change.  But I didn't care.  Something else was on my mind.

Still outside, it was just the two of them now.  Beggar and his dogg.  Nearly closing time, there were no more shoppers entering the store.

"Excuse me sir," I said as I approached Homeless Man.  He stood, as did his pet.
"Good evening," he replied.
"This is for you."  I gave him whatever change the cashier gave to me.
"Thank you, sir.  And God bless you."
I reached into my cart and gave him a plastic grocery bag.  "And this is for your dogg."

Surprised, the homeless man took the bag and browsed its contents.  Two cans of dogg food.  A can opener.  A bag of doggy biscuits.  And a new bright red collar.

Homeless Man looked at me, his swelling eyes said everything I needed to know.  Yet he still spoke: "Oh my God.  Thank you, sir.  Thank you so much!"  The dogg seemed to understand too.  It gave me the same grateful look as its master, supplemented by the wide-swinging wag of its tail.

Not knowing how to end the encounter, I simply said the first thing that came to mind:  "My name's Rob."

"His name is Jake," replied Homeless Man, referring to his dogg.  And we parted ways, wondering if we'd ever see each other again.

'Til next time,
G-Dogg

I just realized that all my posts over the past week have been protected.  I've been neglecting all the lurkers out there that only have access to my public pieces of work.  So here's a post from the archives for y'all.  And if you want to delve into my more personal life, ask me and you shall be considered for inclusion.  For now, enjoy this bit of nostalgia.

[originally posted November 6, 2003] 

So this is a Harvard bar, huh? I thought there'd be equations and shit on the wall. ~ Good Will Hunting

Whoever invented the Happy Hour is a genius.  To spend quality time with five of my closest colleagues whom I see five days a week, and occasionally on Saturday, is a ritual that not enough people seem to appreciate.  What starts off as casual conversation can veer to any direction, from sports, to women, to cars, to women, to careers, to women, to sex with women.  With the addition of alcohol in the equation, no topic is taboo in the circle.  Because my colleagues and I sprouted from the same beginnings in the firm (the lot of us had since moved on to bigger but not necessarily better things), we all had that one thing common, and we're able to connect when it comes to venting about work related issues, past and present.

Where most people separate work from their personal life, I openly merge the two together.  My coworkers are people with whom I've worked closely for the past three or four years, gone through the good and the bad.  These are people who know my career path, and are with me to strive to be better at what I do, and inject the ambition I so lacked years ago.  And because of that, I welcome them into my life as friends.

'Til next time,
G-Dogg

I have nothing to update right now, so I'll be digging into the archives.

[originally posted October 28, 2003]

Sure, he's cute. Of course you can keep him. But heed these three warnings: Don't ever get him wet. Keep him away from bright light. And the most important thing, the one thing you must never forget: no matter how much he cries, no matter how much he begs . . . never, never feed him after midnight. ~ Gremlins

Now, I'm sure y'all are wondering how I picked the Xanga username GizmoDogg.   Well, back in the mid 80's I had a cute little mongrel of a dog who looked a lot like the little furry creature named Gizmo from the movie Gremlins.  Remember that one?  Wasn't Phoebe Cates a super hottie?  Oh yeah.    *sigh*  Of course, not as hot as she was in Fast Times at Ridgemont High.  Hubba hubba... remember the pool scene? 

Umm... I'll be right back........

Anyways, where was I?  Oh yeah.  GizmoDogg.  Well, I named my dog Gizmo after the little creature.  No, the picture on the right is not my dog.  I haven't scanned any pix of him, but luckily I found a very good likeness of him online.  He was my favorite pet of all time.  Half Shih-Tzu, half Chihuahua.  I loved that dog very much.  But then on Memorial Day weekend of 1997, Gizmo had grown so old and frail that we decided to let him go.   I remember, the day we put him to sleep, the vet asked me if I wanted to keep his collar.  It's a small blue collar with tiny paw prints along its length.  I took it off, and vowed to keep it forever.  To this day, if you ride in my car, you'll see Gizmo's collar wrapped around the driver's side sun visor.  Once in a while, I'll give it a little pat.  Only recently have I decided to honor his name by taking it as my username in Xanga as well as a few other websites, forums, etc.  But since the name Gizmo is a surprisingly common username around the world wide web, I chose to tag it with Dogg. 

So that's the story behind my xanga username.  How did you come up with yours?

'Til next time,
G-Dogg

Hello, faithful readers.  I'm feeling a bit nostalgic this morning.  And since I've recently acquired a few new subcribers, I thought it'd be a good time to recycle another classic post from the G-Dogg archives to welcome you to my Xanga.  Enjoy, and thanks for readin'...

[originally posted November 16, 2003]

Ross: You know, you probably didn't know this, but back in high school, I had a major crush on you.
Rachel: I knew.
Ross: You did! Oh... I always figured you just thought I was Monica's geeky older brother.
Rachel: I did.
~ "Friends"

We were in the first grade.  I noticed her a year before, in Kindergarten.  Sure, I had experienced love at first sight many times in my lifetime, but this was definitely the first episode.  Her name was Kristen - a cute blond-haired, blue-eyed angel.  We spent every minute of recess together.  Hanging the monkey bars.  Swinging the swings.  Sliding the slides.  And it was good.

One day, a friend and I were playing after school at my house.  He asked me if I liked anyone at school.  My heart began to race, but I didn't answer him right away.  I played it real cool.  Fonzie cool.  "Oh, I dunno, I think Kristen is a little cute, I guess."  His eyes widened. "Dude, you like Kristen?  Awe man, I'm gonna tell her!"

Shit.  My heart was pounding now.  I forgot that my friend and Kristen are not only good family friends, they're also next door neighbors.  Would he really tell her?  What would she think?  Shit.

Damage control. 

I came up with this really clever lie.  It was so good, that you could've hooked me up to a polygraph and I'd pass with flying colors.  "You know... um... I really don't like Kristen.  I was just joking."  But my friend saw right through it.  Was it the beads of sweat on my forehead?  Was it the thump thump thump of my heart trying to break out of my navy blue Alligator shirt and Members Only jacket?  Was it that when he said he was gonna tell, I looked like a deer in the headlights?

The very next day, everything seemed normal.  At recess, Kristen and I were together again.  Hanging the monkey bars.  Swinging the swings.  Sliding the slides.  Apparently my friend didn't give away my secret.  I was off the hook. 

Until...

We were in the middle of the field.  Just the two of us.  She turned to me and asked me, "Do you like me?"

I froze.  I looked at her and our eyes met.  She was beautiful.  Her skin... her smile... her eyes... her hair... breathtaking.  Has this time finally come?  Is this the chance that I can finally express how I feel about her?  It felt like eternity before I opened my mouth to answer her.

"NO!" 

I made a 180 degree turn and I ran.  I ran faster than I have ever run before. 

And I cried.

~

Tell me about your very first crush?

'Til next time,
G-Dogg

Thank you all for the birthday wishes.  Believe me, I've never received so many e-cards, paper cards, xanga comments, txt messages, emails, AIMs, phone calls, wave-hellos, all wishing me a Happy Birthday, before in my life.  Makes me feel special.  Thanks again.  So, in honor of my 32nd birthday, and inspired by SweetSillyAznGirL's post about age, I thought I'd throw in another recycled entry of mine.  It's about getting older... but not.  Enjoy.

[originally posted June 24, 2003]

The bitch about getting older, you know, you don't fling yourself into love and friendships the way you did before you got hurt. That's a damn shame. ~ Glory Daze

Age ain't nothing but a number. 

Until you're reminded all around you of the fact that, yes, you too are getting old.  Let me explain.  I am 29 years old (for the *ahem* third time), but I'm young-at-heart.  I like to hang out, party, drink with my 20-something year old co-workers.  Age is the last thing on my mind.

But in a matter of weeks... Reality struck in full force.  Three weeks ago: Marilyn, one of my "younger" college friends, turned 30.  Welcome to the club, Marilyn.  Two weeks ago: Little Joshua was born.  Last week: Little John Paul turned one. 

Among all my college friends, we now have five babies, plus two more expected this fall.  Seven weddings, with two more this coming weekend.  Add a couple of engagements and there you have it.

I guess I missed that bandwagon.  Heck, I ain't worried.  There'll be another one coming.

But this reality check has caused me to sit back and reflect on my own life.  Have I lived it to the fullest?  Have I reached my goals?  Is there more to strive for?  Am I ready to settle down and start a family? 

Fuck it.  Why worry about shit like that?  Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda. I'm not done with my life.  I have things to do.  Places to go.  People to see.  I am my own bandwagon, and I'm going full steam.  Anyone wanna jump on, come aboard.  But I ain't waiting around too long.  Apathy doesn't exist in my dictionary.

'Til next time,
G-Dogg

Not much time to write today.  Will be busy moving boxes out to storage so I can finally have room underneath my desk to stretch my legs.  And room around me to spin playfully in my psuedo-fancy desk chair.  So instead of racking my brain for a new topic, I decided to recycle a prior entry.  This one is one of my favorites.  Enjoy.

[originally posted July 16, 2003]

Things never turn out exactly the way you planned.  Growing up happens in a heartbeat.  One day you're in diapers, the next you're gone, but the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul.  I remember a place, a house like alot of houses, a yard like a lot of yards, on a street like alot of other streets.  And the thing is, after all these years I still look back in wonder. ~ "The Wonder Years"

My sentiments exactly, as I sit outside tonight in my backyard, listening to the crickets, the birds, the windchimes.  A cig in one hand, a cold one in the other.  And my mind goes a hundred miles an hour.  What am I doing this weekend?  Did I pay all my bills?  How could I lower my golf score?  Will she ever call back?

But whatever runs through my head, I look around my backyard, and then I remember.  I remember those days growing up, when the only worries in my head were...

...absolutely nothing. 

The free spirit of the young kid who lived here 20+ years returns to me, and I exhale.  I sit here looking in awe at the moth fluttering around the glowing screen of my laptop.  I look up and gaze at the plane in the dark sky, appearing to be on a crash course to that star up ahead... only to fly right through it undaunted.  Yeah, I remember.

Sure, I could sit here and read a book, a good story.  But the best stories are the ones I relive in my head.  And no author can write such an epic.

'Til next time,
G-Dogg