I want to ride my tricycle

The night began with a little walk. Upon turning the corner at the blink of an eye I spotted the infamous tricycle that ignited $$$ symbols and ideas into my head. Once again I found myself convinced that this was gonna be a big hit. I looked around in shame as if I was about to do the unthinkable. The tricycle sat next to pieces of a swing set and a trash can. Ethics played a crucial role in my decision making process. I continued to look around as if God was watching my every move. Well, not really God...just the neighbors or perhaps the home owner himself. Trash I thought. Out of respect and dignity I walked around the bushes of the home to the front porch. The damn house had multiple doors. Which door was I to knock on? I knocked. No answer. Damn, I want that antique tricycle but I don't want to steal it if its not for the taking. I walked around to door number two. The dog in the backyard barks. The Suburban sat in their drive. No answer. I glanced back at the tricycle. Damn, I could sell it to the antique store accross the street from work. How much would I accept? How would I negotiate? thoughts penetrated every fiber of my being. I suddenly begin to get butterflies of the ideas rushing through my head. I speed off around the block a few times and then come back later in the night to make sure it indeed is trash. I stroll the streets of my hometown. Time to myself I am finding myself. I need a new career. I'm not happy with my current one. I could be making much more money. What if these delapitated houses on this particular street were torn down? What if I could develop this entire street? Clean it up. Buy out all these white trash folk and make this brick paved road an enchanting refuge. The canopy of mature tress and the brick paved street would surely draw the crowds. Who has this same vision? What would be like to be a politician and visit each individual home and question their difficulties? Would I be loved by the people? What kind of difference could I make in their lives? How would I be able to communicate to them without passing judgement? I walk around for ten minutes. On my way back to the tricycle I spot a charger enclosed in the grassy back yard of a delapitated neighborhood. At one point that car was a classic. Rusty and abandoned I wonder what it would be like to restore the car. How much would I offer to take the car from their hands. How sweet would it be to match up with a restorer who had the patience to teach me the tricks of making the restoration. Titles. Obama. He was right. I once was ashamed of my interests because of the titles. Who gives a shit, I'd be doing something I enjoy. I walk to the place of the tricycle. It's gone. Someone saw value in the thing. I can't believe it. Someone stole my jewel and some cash I could have made. I now realize my gift. A gift an endowment. Thank you for it. Fear is my only enemy. I should have snatched it when I saw it. Damn it!

And yet another account

Mormons and hydrogen. The topic was the subject of discussion and of interest to a couple of old lads at Dunn Inn in Bloomington. In celebration of the ritual commonly known in society as "the birthday" it was my right that day to celebrate how I wished and with whom I'd spend time in the honorous day of celebration. Quite intruiguing was a man's interest in the Mormon enterpreneurial spirit. The discussion revolved around Dr. Miller's comment on the future of the evolution of energy and the creation of the hydrogen consuming stove and engine. Of particular interest to me was the hydrogen vehicle. Tesla another topic for another conversation will be researched and discussed in futue posts. Memo to further explore the arena. Next to conversation comes the idea of ENER ticker symbol for a stock that spearheaded my interest in investments and the science of the markets. Study George Soros. Read his inspiration. Memo self. Interruption. Relationships of another kind. Family members and progression. Progression to a new level of commitment. Love. Expressions of affection of another kind. Needing to feel appreciated. Creatures of habit and vulnerability. The dramatic science of relationship crisis'. Although claim upon the contrary of distancing ourselves from the cancer. It's a cancour we can't seem to displace from our presence. Dr. Miller, a speech and language enterpreneur in the softwares of language perfection, claimed an expertise on such subject matter and devoted his time and attention to perfecting a product that will someday perfect the novice of the Enlish language. Of particular concern is the CEO who delegates tasks to a Korean who is well capable of performing requested tasks, but yet fails in producing the product the CEO demands. Effectiveness. The lights dimmed. Dunn Inn. Zach, Elliott, Allafare, I believe his name was Adam, and Dr. Miller sit and converse with Meagan Pickle whom I will call the mistress. Cunningly and politely she interests Zach and I to conversation over a tuna sandwich with several toppings I am unable to recall and a side of fruit she recommended. Commercial purposes or not the conversation is intruiguing. Villanova and Pittsburg battle it out on the screen and I suddenly find myself shifting from conversation to the battle on the television set. Dr. Miller takes precedence. The lights are dimming. Earth hour has arrived. I now realize I'm in Bloomington. INPIRG, the organization my good friend Elliott has belonged to discloses their doing in preparation for the day. IPL volunteers and the news hits headlines on the radio. Energy conservation has become a hot topic of conversation for environmentalists. The world must be coming to an end or it's perfect timing to make the right investment in the company I've been researching and tracking for the last eight years. My chance to create millions in a recessed market or a guinea pig for the taking of my assets? I decide. Invest. $15.77. Lower than the unaffordable price of above $50. Is there risk? What is there to...
Damnit nobody ever gets rich off of sitting on their assess. What will I do...? Sit here and wonder while time passes by and bitch as time does and reflect back on my wish have's. Invest you bastard. Besides who could go wrong if Mormons are investing in the damn technology. Their a God chosen societe, right? Perhaps they foresee the end of the world better than the epicurean proclaimed bastard typing away at meaningless conversation. Wow, she looked amazing. Did your friend leave? Distraction. No response. I don't think I ever did. How did she get out here. Random. Did she know I was making a phone call. For a split second we stand there in the cold. The silence is therapeutic. The game persists. I wonder. Perhaps she's wondering. The game persists. Loyalty. To whom. She seems wonderful. The ideas turn to the relative. Sidetracking we don't want her thinking of such things. Like a hound on a scent she smells where her target is leading. No way, we can't go that route. The game is too thrilling, although I never meant to start it, it just happened. She laid there that morning and I could hear her breathing. I was quiet. I didn't want to wake her. I wanted to show her I cared. "But you didn't say bye" She cared once. Will she again? The voice was soothing on the other end. Loyalty. Shit. I am.

What's there to complain about?

Consider this. A man by the name Kenny Simmons walking in your sight one late afternoon as you drive home after work, a man whom you would later recall knowing from a different part of life. One that would take you back to your earlier years as a naive young man; going on Dr.'s visits to the Masonic Home with your respected uncle, the physician. Yes, I remember Kenny now, but what he did at the Masonic Home I do not recall...think David..think. Damn, who cares, hopefully he recognizes me. It is the second time I have seen Kenny on my drive into town in one day. Does he need a ride? He sure looks like he's struggling getting accross that crosswalk? Will he recognize me? If I pull over, how will I approach him? What name do I call him? Will he think I'm a psycho? Will he understand I'm only trying to do a worthy cause? Doubts flutter my brain and suddenly I find myself pulling over. Kenny leaves my sight for a split second as I look in my rearview mirror and find he has already made it around Jeff Street Pub. Without further hesitation I shut my door to my car as oncoming traffic speed by my legs only inches away. I run around the pub and calmly cry out "Sir? Excuse me...my name is David Orton...not sure if you recognize me? I was wondering if you might be needing a ride tonight? I know it's a great night to be walking and didn't know if you prefered to walk, but I just thought I might ask.....the mystery man of my past without hesitation responded "yes, I think I remember you.." I interrupted by finishing his sentence confirming that I knew him from the Masonic Home, upon which I asked, "What was it [you] actually did there?" The question led into a brief conversation with a man whom I was finding I had so much in common. He told me of his recent stroke and proudly declared he had worked at the Masonic Home for over 19 years and only missed 2 weeks in his entire career. He told me of his humble apartment for which he was most greatful. He told me of his postcard collection and his need to sort out the postcards once he got home. Postcards which only minutes before our conversation were purchased at the Auction a block away. He told me about his interest in traveling and that his favorite travel spot was Florida. It was then that I was beginning to question the reality of why I stopped. His interests weren't what I identified with the man. It wasn't the postcards, the Florida vacation spot, although I do enjoy Florida. It was the fact that I wanted to feel good about myself. He asked of my status and my work. I kindly replied with a sincere and truthful response that I was a single man trying to find a friend in this world. What I failed to mention was that I was using him as my feel good potion to fill the void of emptyness I was feeling at the moment he crossed my path. It was only then that I reached out my hand and politely asked what his name was....the rest is a story not to be told, but created.......

Creating my story

Not many of you know this, but my hero in life is Howard Hughes. "The Aviator" starring Leonardo DiCaprio caught my interest long ago and it has taken me years to confess. I saw in Howard many of the qualities I have. Ambition, Focus, and a love for women. I'm also a germ-a-phobe. Not to the same degree as Howard got, but I can't stand drinking after people or germs. Anyways, I swung by the library today and picked up his Biography by Richard Hack. I started the book this evening and I can't put it down. I'm on chapter 3 and the chapter starts out describing the exact same feelings I get when I'm in elite neighborhoods. The chapter is entitled Freedom and it begins like this:

Some moments are etched in memory forever, translucent yet indelible. For Howard Hughes, such a moment occurred on the fourth of January, 1925. He alone as usual-not bored, just existing-without a job or necessary purpose in life. It was early afternoon. He was walking along the edge of Rice Institute and found himself passing the section of Houston known as Shadyside. Ahead was the home of Joseph Cullinan, a magnanimous oil man and friend of his father's, who had built an estate on Remington lane and its surrounding thirty-seven acres. He called his house Shadyside, which had then given its name to the entire development of large, stately homes being built on his subdivided land. Most were incomplete and empty. Dried leaves lay matted and unswept in the gutter, the branches of the great oaks naked against the harsh winter breeze.
Howard stopped and allowed his eyes to roam across the houses, each representing an outward display of amassed wealth and successful careers. It was then, at that moment, he realized that any one of these homes could be his. At nineteen years of age, he had entered that rarified niche of humanity known as endless fortune. With no hall monitor or crossing guard to guide his way or correct his behavior, he was the foremost explorer of either unlimited opportunity or unbridled excess-take your pick. As he stared out at the mansions rising before him, he knew the choice was his to make. It was the ultimate scary thought-that most coveted of dreams that those without money long to possess, yet when faced with actual delivery would be no more prepared to leap into quagmire of excess privilege than he was. This would take some concentration, he knew, and he immediately began to consider his options.

Although, I wasn't born into money, I feel these same decision making scenarios starring at me daily as I make purchasing decisions. I long await the day of my personal "Freedom" when I can roam carelessly and student debt free to consider my options. May God bless me in my endeavor! And may God bless me with a woman who understands my passions and desires!

Update

I had the best Valentines Day ever! Hung out with some great peeps and talked business with a couple looking to move to L.A. and start a gay bar. It's a small world when it comes to business. These guys knew a mutual friend from High School and are in the works of getting some real estate through his connections. I wish the best for them. Who knows maybe I'll help them start up out there. Speaking of California, It seems more certain than not that I will be moving out there. Last month I was introduced to an opportunity of a lifetime in buying up some real estate in my hometown. The price was right, the location was better than perfect, and I was ready to buy. After much deliberation and a great talk with Aunt Flor I came to my senses and decided that California was indeed it. My mind is set and my eyes are fixed on the destination. I've been fortunate to pay down so much of my student debt that I'm hopefully looking at moving out there in about a year or so. "Paying off debt is better than sex"