Frisbee and The Santa Barbara Mission

Frisbee. Classic. The Santa Barbara Mission. Classic. This week’s blog post will feature one of the best pairs that has been created. Two of the most classic things you’ll find in SB have been mixed together to form the BEST SB PAIR so far… So buckle your pants and get ready for some tapenade. Its Friday March 10, 2017 and I pick up my acquaintance Cole Federbusch. On the ride I notice a beautiful rainbow which I’d like to share.

Once we get to the mission, we immediately start stretching because the strenuous work of throwing the frisbee could result in a pulled muscle or some other injury. We take a few laps around the Rose Garden and proceed to do some high-knees, flamingos, and arm swings. Now that were ready, it comes as no surprise that were throwing pure butter.

It seems as if were the Brita filter to water. Every throw is so clean and always ends up being graciously received by the other. We begin to shake things up with some unique tosses; the chicken wing, the blade, and of course the scoober. Were starting to draw attention and by the end of our warm-up routine, there’s thousands of people gathered around. They all stand in awe of our swift, sexy motions. We continue to frolic in the cool evening air and the crowd begins to scatter. I enjoy the rhythmic slide of the frisbee each time I eject it from my hands. I look to my right and the glow of the mission is mesmerizing.

Although the mission looks beautiful, I see through it. This site is where California’s natives were beaten, maimed, whipped, tortured, burned. Junipero Serra was in fact a manipulator who used the power of religion to justify his genocidal acts. But besides this devilish picture and evil history, the mission proves to be one of the most tranquil, happiest places in Santa Barbara. Cole and I continued to throw the frisbee for a few more hours and then called it a day and headed home. I recommend that all my fellow Santa Barbarians and visitors to this city get a frisbee and go head to the mission.


Driving and Darkness

4:45 A.M, Saturday March 4th. It’s Spring in Santa Barbara, but Winter’s chilling air is persisting. I roll over and look out my window at the black sky. Just the way I like it. Black. I go into my kitchen and eat a banana with a hot cup of some black coffee. The mood has clearly been set for my day and I’m ready to drive to my volleyball tournament in Valencia. The sky outside is a very dark magoon color. I enter my mother’s Volvo and turn on my seat heater. I wrap myself in a blanket and I feel like a joey in a Marsuppium. I suck the pleasing warm air coming from the car’s vents and I simply sigh. We begin the ride.

This picture does a great job at illustrating the frigid air, reflected by the foggy window. It is not so much the darkness that I fear, but instead the absence of light. It was invigorating to drive in the unknown but as the car moved, time persisted. Inevitably, the darkness began to fade, yet a mellow dark-blue blanket fell over the sky with slabs of pink clouds scattered.

Feeling the Earth move below the tires was such an amazing experience, yet to also be feeling this in the dark was such a euphoric reality. Nearly 68% of the universe is dark energy and 27% is dark matter. Our world is a dark place but this should be embraced because it is in the darkness that we truly find out who we are. During this dark-drive, I was able to connect with myself in ways I had never imagined possible. It is in these connections I made that contributed to the epiphany of “dark movement”. It’s like the dark energy of dark matter and its all negativity we feel. When the light begins to charge the sky, it feels like that one scene of Gandalf when he charges the dark forces of Mordor.

The rest of the ride to Valencia is scattered with patches of dark sky yet it just isn’t the same as a completely dark sky. I encourage all my readers to try this pair and give me feedback!


Music and Santa Barbara High School Dances

My eyes slowly peel open like the tinfoil lid of a Blueberry Yoplait. Ah, nice. It’s a Saturday morning and tonights the big night so I better make sure i’m mentally and physically prepared. I start off with some calisthenics to warm up my mildly tempered body but then get hungry and seek my mom.


My mother prepares me a healthy breakfast which provides the fuel crucial for the next couple hours and I am grateful for that cause its a shame to skip the most important meal of the day. I scan my phone and it becomes apparent that it’s already midday so I should get-a-movin if I wish to have a nice full day. I roll over to the appointed pre-game house, Taylor Robins, and with some other fellows such as Ryan Murphy and Jaelen Keel, we begin the pre-partay.


Other friends are present at the event but I dont deem it necessary to name them. After a few hours of various activities we order ubers to the main attraction of the night, Winter Formal. We all mob onto the dance floor like a bloat of hippopotamuses and immediately I break out the moves. Bing, bam, boom, slam! We are absolutely tearing up the dance floor and everyone knows it.

fullsizer I look over and I see Jaelen throwing down some other worldly vibes that I just cant even explain in words. The music hits my ears like sugar to the tongue and my body just wiggles to the beat. I approach the DJ, who seems like he mixes mainstream music in his mom’s basement and I request some Flaka. He said he’d play it but not one Waka Flaka Flame song came on so he should be expecting a thrashing on yelp when I get the time. Besides that little conundrum the dancing and music was exceptional. Dancing cannot be originated from one civilization or time because it is as natural as walking and eating. We need to dance to survive and this Winter Formal rejuvenated my love for dancing to music. As the dance progressed I began to wear and after about a hour I periodically hit the floor but not nearly as hard as those first 60 minutes. I might not attend the next Winter Formal but I suggest that all students at SBHS do at some point in their career.

Cole Federbusch and The Bettles Residents

As William Penn once said, “Time is what we want most, but what we use the worst.” Although I would usually side with my dear friend William on this, I must also add that the essence of time is not found in reflection but through an everlasting journey that should be experienced with all senses. Time is life’s milk and this weekend Cole and I sucked the tit. We used every last bit of time this 4day weekend and achieved more then we have in months. So let me illustrate our weekend from the beginning. It’s Thursday and schools out so I’m debating whether to have little shindig at my place or just keep it “lowkey”. Instead of inviting the whole crew, I decide to just have a playdate with my homie Cole.20170219_155741

He comes over and Flaka starts bangin on the speakers, it’s lit. About 30 minutes after doing miscellaneous activites, a wave of hunger sweeps over us and shifts us into the kitchen. After what seemed like years of careful calculation, we decided to dial the phone number for our favorite delivery resteraunt, Himilayan Kitchen. We order chicken curry, cheese naan, and chicken mo-mo and then waited but we became worried for our voracious appetites weren’t getting any smaller. As if our world was about to come crumbling down, the door bell rang and the food came. I give the delivery man a hefty sum and our transaction is completed within seconds. We eat our food like dogs then dig into the ice cream stash.


After finishing our food we move to the couch and begin the next demanding task of the night, picking a movie.20170216_191638

I ask Cole what his favorite movie is and after some confusion he aggresively responds, “I only watch Forrest Gump, Harry Potter and The Sorcerer’s Stone (long pause), no wait I like Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and Blades of Glory.” Nice Cole, classy. I disregarded his suggestions and decided to make a bold move. I put on “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” and Cole dropped to his knees and begged me to turn it off but I slapped him away like a pimp daddy. I was determined to watch this damn movie; little did I know what I was walking myself into. After pressing play, Cole screamed and ran out of the room like a chicken being nuditered, but I stood like a man and watched it. I was fine until about the 15th second when first blood was drawn and the grotesque images overcame my bravery. I immediately turned it off and decided that I was no man but merely a wussy. Although me and Cole couldn’t watch the scary movie, I enjoy experimenting with my limits and I’m glad I had that experience. Thank you for enjoying my story of hunger, violence, friendship, lust, and happiness.


Dogs and Hope Ranch Beach

Sunday Morning and the sun’s light is piercing through my window like shards of glass. I’m pissed cause it’s 10:30 and I’ve only accumulated about 5 hours of sleep due to a get-together that lasted well into the previous night. But then, I look down my legs and see my beast is already perked up and ready to go. “No!” I yell with rage, it’s seems as if the beast has awoken an unprecedented force of nature, Me. I begin to wrestle with it, but it’s too big and powerful! What have I been nurturing and creating all these years? After accepting defeat, I decide to approach the situation in a diplomatic manner. I ask, “Rudy, do you want to go on a beach walk?”. My sweet pug then returns my gesture with a big grin and its decided, we are going on a beach walk.


Before we go I make supper for both of us but he seems dissapointed that I get eggs and bacon while he only gets dog food. I brush this off because after all, he’s only a dog. I grab the leash, we hop in my Suburu, aka ” El Beastado de Carro” and drive over to Hope Ranch Beach. We jump out of the car and begin to frolic in the waves! Pure bliss.


I begin to tire after so many hours of “ruff” play and I call for Rudy to comeback. I stroke his belly while he purrs like a Persian cat in the African Sahara. We sit together and listen to the waves collide against the glistening sand. He nudges his smushed face against my firm, toned bicep. We make eye contact but giggle and look away for it is in these awkward moments that man bonds to his dog.


Rudy oh Rudy how lovely thy bark, bark for me until the light turns dark. We begin our trek back to the car, reminiscing our lovely little beach day. I talk, he barks, but theirs a connection between us that can’t be tamed by any language barrier. It is in these moments that I hold life with my precious, frail arms. I cannot even fathom a better way to spend a Sunday but I do hope everyone can enjoy a classic SB Pair like this.

Silence and The Botanical Garden

What’s better then two living organism’s connecting with each other? Although you may not have the chance to talk and interact with another human, nature’s always waiting silently for companionship. I walked silently throughout the Gardens, free from forced thoughts, only focused on nature’s language. We as humans have developed such a fine taste for perfection that we forget to respect nature’s anomaly’s. The Botanical Garden is one of the few places in Santa Barbara that has been left mostly undisturbed and natural. When finding spots like this, it is only just to feel every vibe that each plant and animal give off. When walking through the Botanical Garden, I came across many small critters but I wouldn’t have noticed them without hearing their distinct calls. A frog croaks to me as if asking for attention yet when I come face to face with it, it lay stoned.


I walk on. The mesmerizing beat of nature flows in and out of my ear but as I get closer to the stream, it is the flowing water that owns my eardrums. Through years of erosion from a stampede of hydrogen and oxygen atoms, a stream is carved out. I stand, silently.


I think to myself of a quote by Ram Doss, ” The quieter you become, the more you can hear.” My body feels weak as I see the powerful rush of water pour down the side of a hill. Nature, oh nature, how beautiful you speak. I begin to cry when I think about how us humans abuse the beauty of nature but I understand that inevitably Mother Nature will go on, but we may not. The silence has been broken as a waterfall of tears slip down my face and I yell out in fury. 20170206_161807

I exit the Botanical Garden with moist eyes and a closed mouth, enjoying my last breath of nature’s silence before entering the bustling animated city life. If you’d like to connect with your emotions and ponder the meaning of life, try a silent walk in the Botanical Gardens and listen to more then you’ve ever heard.