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Running away from your problems never really solves anything.  Originally when I conceived this trip over a month ago the premise was for me to go celebrate my old surf shop minion turned good friend’s John Mauriello’s recent graduation from design school.  The kid earned BA for industrial design, that shit is pretty hard. I have seen John’s work and its super tight.  I would say the dude is borderline genius.

I’m really proud of him. I wanted to come up for his graduation and subsequent gallery show, but unfortunately it coincided with my final exam schedule at culinary school. The plan was set for me to travel there for a few days after finals and just run wild all over the city.  I had not been up to San Francisco since I was a little kid and my recollection was hazy at best.  I was looking forward to quite an adventure.

Then my relationship with Adrienne fell apart and going to San Francisco took on a whole new meaning for me.  It became an escape even if for a short while.  At the very least I can leave the bulk of my pain behind.  That did not really happen, but its all good cause the adventuring has already started.

The drive up was rather uneventful although breathtaking nonetheless. I always forget how beautiful open space is.  I ended up stopping at some random highway side vineyard in Paso Robles for a tasting.  I tasted about seven wines for free and then bought a 2008 vintage of a so so Cabernet Sauvignon for $5 bucks that I guess they were trying to move.  For the money they bottle was more then worth it.

I got into town around sevenish and completely got off at the wrong exit getting lost in the city.  It was chill though cause I got to take in some of the scenery.  San Francisco is a big city.  The lay out is crazy with really steep hills, electric buses and trolley cars running all over the place. I was full of awe.  Luckily John was able to talk me through the chaos back to his apartment.

I must say the kid lives in a really nice place with a chill ass room.  He was even able to return the kindness I showed him over the summer with my very own ghetto futon couch to sleep on.  He already had the night all planned out.  Apparently there was this club Matrix that goes off on a Sunday.

We cruised down there by bus and besides some slice bread with almond butter and sugar cookies we really had not eaten anything.  Luckily for us the bus dropped us right in front of a KFC.  As we walked in a group walking out said they were closed.  I look at the lady behind the counter and asked if she had any garbage she could feed us.  She ended up filling a bag up with old potato wedges and some popcorn chicken that were definitely time and temperature abused.

When I reached in my pocket to pay for it the lady behind the counter was like no charge.  I threw her a $5 tip for the effort.  I was fucking starving and housed that shit.  From there it was off to the club, but we were coming down from our wine buzz rather quickly. Thank god for a corner liquor store/frozen yogurt place (I know what a ridiculous combination) and mini shots.  I love those tiny airplane bottles they are so much fun.

This particular joint had Patron mini-shots so it was on.  We got to the club and the bouncer forced us to wait outside for like over 30 minutes claiming a bad ratio, meanwhile letting in packs of other guys, whom were not nearly as well dressed and definitely not helping the ratio out at all.  Maybe it was John’s asshole face that kept us from being garnished with immediate entry.

Finally these two random chicks grabbed us off the street and were going to let us walk in with them and yet still the douche bag bouncers would not let us in and made the girls wait with us also.  It was ridiculous and some real heinous political bullshit if you ask me.  That pretty much set a negative tone for the rest of my night.

When I finally got in, the place was a tiny little spot with a 7 guys to one girl ratio and out of that I think there were maybe a dozen unattached.  Of that population maybe four worthwhile of any effort.  Santa Barbara and its high concentration of beautiful women and over abundance of them really skews a person’s out look on things.  Whatever, I got a free drink off some friend of John’s and spent the rest of the night attempting to break it down on the dance floor despite the fact that the DJ was the worst I have ever had the anguish to listen to.

After maybe two hours of that we cruised out of there.  John’s friend gave us a ride home and took us across the Golden Gate Bridge since I had not been across it.  It seemed a lot smaller then I would have expected.  It was still really cool and then when we got to the other side we parked for a minute and got to over look the entire city skyline.  That was in my opinion the best moment of the entire evening.  I have not really seen a city skyline since I went home for Christmas and had forgotten just how extraordinary the accomplishments of man can be.   Moral of the story: if you’re ever in San Francisco don’t waste your time on the club Matrix.

Patron shots at the bus stop.

For the next few days I will be pimping my shit out with my boys John Mauriello and Brennan here in San Fransisco.  I have not been in this city since I was a kid and just driving into it today I felt all the excitement of a big city.  We are going to be doing some adventuring and some partying.  Keep checking here for updates, stories and pictures.

Gimmie the Loot

This week’s UCB makes a winner of John Mauriello with the topic “Money”.  Although I feel like this is one that has been covered before I have no concrete recollection of it making perfect grounds for a revisit.  He gets one point for his efforts.

I hate money with a passion.  Unfortunately it is one of the necessary evils for survival in this world.  I have seen it cause misery and wreak havoc in my own life and the lives of others.  Growing up I was obsessed with money.   I could not get enough of it.  I would do chores around the house, work all sorts of odd jobs.

Money was a way for me to get things that I wanted.  As a result I never properly learned how to manage my money either.  As a kid I spent it as fast as I had it and when I became an adult the same held true.  Then somewhere along the road I realized the money was just another shackle put on our ankles by society.  I learned how to live on as little as possible and get as much as possible out of it.

Now I look at money purely as a means of survival.  Sure I have dreams about being a baler, wearing expensive cloths, driving luxury cars and having a house on the hill.  I don’t think I know to many people who don’t.  These days my ideas of money have become a bit more realistic and my goals concerning it as well.  Now I only shoot for obtaining as much money as it takes to live comfortably and not have to always worry about getting my bills paid.

I have learned to live within my means to some extent not that it is an easy feat here in Santa Barbara where the cost of living exceeds the mean salary by triple.  I guess that is the price we pay to live in paradise and I would not have it any other way.

My biggest problem with money is how it is used as a method to value people.  Look at minimum wage for example.  Is anyone person really only worth $7.25 an hour?  I sure hope not, but that is what one must degrade himself to in order to survive.  It was not long ago I had an audition for a grill position at a restaurant here in town.  The owner was impressed with my skills and offered me the job but only wanted to pay me $10 for it.

I valued my skills a little higher then that wage and by accepting such degrading of a wage I would have devalued the position and the profession of a cook.  The fact of the matter is it is a skilled job needed to be worked by a skilled individual who should be worth a little more then I got paid to sit on my ass at the gas station doing monkey work.

That is how America and capitalism work.  The person in advantage can take advantage and the person at a disadvantage must accept his fate.  I hate money.  I hate what it does to us.  I hate that it has become the only motivating force in our society.  Instead of an individual striving to the best he or she can possibly accomplish the only concern is how much am I going to get paid for it.

Adrienne and I finally decided to take a break apart from each other.  I know it’s for the best right now, but still it’s hard for me to not wish things could not have turned out better.  I tried to keep us together for as long as I could as hard as I could.  She was not ready to try and may never be able to.  I think now the only chance we have of ever reuniting is some time apart.

“If you love something set it free and if it comes back to you it was meant to be” is how the saying goes I trust.  If you’re lost revisit Bowing Out and Once Upon A Mattress for more details.  It looks like from here on forward you will be reading about independent single Lisanti.  Don’t get your hopes up for drunken tales and sexual escapades.  I don’t find pride in those stories anymore.  Before I close the Adrienne chapter of my life I would like to tell one last story about us, our last fun day.

This past weekend I took Ades up to Santa Barbara Wine Country.  Springtime is beautiful up there.  Everything is still green and luscious before browning out during the summer heat and drought.  I had been up there many times thanks to countless Jalama and Surf Beach missions that had went awry leaving me extra time to go poking around.  Adrienne had never been.  I knew my days with her were very limited and that if I did not act now I may not have ever had the opportunity to share one of my favorite places in California with her.  There are so many other places all over the world I wish I could have had the privilege to show her.

As an extra incentive to go I knew many of the 2010 vintages were beginning to be introduced to the tasting rooms.  I planned the whole trip out to go to two vineyards and do some valley adventuring.  Our first stop was Beckmen Vineyards in Los Olivios my current favorite estate wine producer in Santa Barbara County.  They grow mostly Rhone varietals (grapes that are grown in the Rhone Valley of France, Syrah, Grenache, etc), which are currently some of my favorites.  Syrah is considered one of the grapes that grow best in Santa Barbara.

Ades is the one who actually turned me on to Beckmen, buying one their earlier vintage Red Rhone blends earlier in the year.  It was one of the better wines I have had the privilege to drink.  Out of all the vineyards up there they were the must stop.  We get up there and it is just a beautiful vineyard with all the different varieties neatly trellised.  The grounds were nicely gardened with a little lake and rose garden.  There is nothing more aesthetically pleasing to me then a well kept vineyard.  Staring out at acres of pristine rows of vines is surreal.

We go into the tasting room and luckily just missed one of those large wine tasting buses thus had the sommelier all to ourselves.  They had a six bottle tasting for ten bucks and the guy threw in a tasting of the new 2010 Rose for free.  Adrienne is more of a red fan then a white, and I don’t really have a preference.  The 2010 Sauvignon Blanc was quite exquisite.  I ended up buying a bottle.  They did a Rhone white blend (Marsanne, Roussanne, Grenache Blanc) called Le Bec Blanc that just blew me away.  I bought a bottle of that too.

Then we tasted the Rose, which I found to be quite refreshing, Adrienne was not a fan.  Too sweet for her I think.  We tasted their red Rhone blend Cuvee Le Bec, but it was the same vintage Ades had bought that one time so it was not really special to me.  Finally we tasted their Syrah.  Usually when you buy a bottle they comp the tasting.  I bought two and the dude still charged me for the tasting.

Ades said it was because I was not nice enough to the guy, but the dude kept talking about how he was sick and was coughing all over the wine the entire time.  How nice could I possibly be?  Also I did not really care much for him.  Some people just rub me the wrong way.  I think it was something about his face.

After the tasting we cruised around the vineyard a bit.  I love to walk amongst the grapes, feel the dirt between my fingers.  Just imagine how it will look when I come back for another visit for harvest season in the fall.  If I ever strike it rich someday maybe I will get myself a vineyard and grow my own Rhone varietals.  I can be a Rhone Ranger.

Whenever tasting its good to take a break to give the body a chance to absorb the alcohol.  After all if you get too sloshed then you really do not taste objectively.  My absolute favorite spot in the Santa Ynez Valley is this little park called Nojoqui Falls.  Its this 60 foot limestone water fall that is more like a water slide then a fall thanks to years of limestone being deposited at the base of the falls.  It almost does the opposite of most waterfalls.

Instead of eroding the base, all the rich sediment builds it up.  It makes for a very breath taking sight.  There is all this great moss growing on the limestone and the water bubbles down like chandeliers of foam to a shallow crystal clear pool below.  Brennan and I came a across this gem two summers ago when we were doing our 101 Santa Barbara activities. I love it there and make a trip to it whenever I have some spare time.  I had wanted to take Ades there for months but never made the time.  It’s funny how I always wait till things are over to do something amazing.

After the falls I wanted to get over to Ostrich Land, this crazy ostrich and emu farm in between Solvang and Lompoc.  For $5 you get a pail of food and are let lose in the bird pen to feed these monstrous prehistoric angry birds at your own risk of course.  I have been here many times.  It’s a must stop whenever I go up north with someone new.  The place is like a petting zoo gone sadistic.  It’s a shit show that you have to experience to fully understand.  We both managed to survive the endeavor with all our extremities in tact.

They even had a handful of baby Emus that you could hand feed.  I was super pumped on them.  I wanted to buy some ostrich meat to cook up since I just recently found out in one of my classes that it is good eating. Unfortunately it turns out the meat has become super popular and is near impossible to get at the moment and they don’t slaughter the birds at Ostrich Land, a fact I always thought the opposite. Turns out the place is just for fun and not for food.

From Ostrich Land it was on to our next tasting.  Apparently most tasting rooms close at four and there were a few that closed at five.  We managed to luck upon a vineyard a few miles from Ostrich Land that was still tasting called Dierberrg, Star Lane and Three Saints.  Those were the three wine labels that are produced there and it was an estate vineyard as well (estate vineyard means all steps in the wine making process happens right at that vineyard).  We made the last pouring of the day and the sommelier was super chill and actually poured us a very generous tasting of each bottle.  Their pinot noir was very splendid and so was the syrah. I was rather happy with all of the wines poured.

Unfortunately I kicked my budget at Beckmen and the bottles here were a bit too pricey for me to buy one.  I offered to pay for the tasting and sommelier said it was free.  Well then I had to buy a bottle.  I was going to get the Sauvignon Blanc cause it was only $18, but then she pulled out these other wines called Three Saints that are their “table Wines”.  I bought a bottle of Syrah for $12.

Their vineyard unlike Beckmen was huge, too large to walk around.  As a last stop with the slowly waning sun I took Adrienne to surf beach over on Vandenberg Air Force Base.  Surf Beach is one of the eeriest places I have ever surfed and with the recent shark attack I have not made if back since last summer.  We got there and it was actually a beautiful afternoon.  The beach was closed by the military being that it was passed 6pm (surf beach is only open from 8am-6pm daily), but we could still mill around the parking lot.  Between the missile silos, strange non descript huge government buildings and the vast emptiness of the churned up sea it was a breathtaking site.

Ades did not think it was all that eerie, but of course she wouldn’t.  She likes creepy places.  We muddled around the area for about an hour or so.  I tried to do flips off this concrete pillar to no avail, although I did not break my neck so one may consider that a success.  I think it was some of the most fun we had together in a while and deep down thought we had a glimmer of hope.

I wanted to get dinner at this famous restaurant called the Hitching Post, but being it was Saturday and around sevenish there was like a two hour wait.  Im not about to wait two hours for any food.  I don’t care how good it is. We cruised into Solvang this tourist trap built to look like a traditional Danish village.  There were less choices then I would have expected considering the nature of the town.

We ended up settling for some Danish themed diner call the Little Mermaid Restaurant.  The food was plentiful, cheap and from what I could tell from a quick glimpse in the kitchen mostly heated up out of a can.  The dinning experience was great with a bus girl who for whatever reason kept her purse on her at all times thus accidentally clocking me in the head with it every time she took my plate.  It was a classic dingy Jersey diner with a Danish theme .  We ordered beer to go with the meal, after all that type of food is made to pair with beer.  Then Billy Jean came on the radio and I decided to get up a bust out a move or two.

It was a most splendid day.  Our last day together, maybe forever?  Only time will tell.  The situation is out of my hands now.  I have done and endured all any human heart could for another person.  I can’t force her to love me; she has to figure that out on her own.  Sometimes distance makes the heart grow fonder and I can only hope that after a period of time she will realize that she does still love me but has just hardened her heart towards me for the moment.

As for me I need to hang up my hat and walk off into the sunset gracefully alone.  She moves out June 1st and it’s going to be difficult but I cannot be the one to initiate contact between us.  If she wants to try again she knows how to find me.  For now I have to put my feelings for her aside and move on with my life.

A lot of good has come out of this.  I learned tons about myself and have went through a complete transformation as a person.  I think I have finally learned what it means to be human.  I wish Adrienne the very best in life and hope she finds the happiness I was unable to provide for her.

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Im an Ashanti fan so sue me.  I think her vocals are pretty tight, she is good to look at and her grooves are solid.  Her music speaks to me as of lately.  I have been playing her on loop from my Ipod the last few weeks.  This is one of her weaker songs from the Declaration album entitled Struggle.  It actually came on my shuffle while I was sanding boards yesterday and I had never really listened to the lyrics before, usually I always skip it because of the cheesy key board intro.  I must of been the middle of something that required the use of both my hands cause I let it play out.

Turns out the lyrics really reflected my current emotions and feelings.  I ended up repeating it three times, then listened to it again this morning.  Pretty much everyone around me right now is looking at me like door mat and believes that I have completely disrespected myself.  They don’t fully understand my situation, heck I don’t understand it even the slightest.  My world is in complete disarray right now and I have to just have faith and trust in the lord, in myself and in the other person whom I care so deeply for.

So yeah what I’m doing right now is crazy and it hurts, but it feels good too.  I don’t know how things are going to play out.  All I can do is stick by my convictions a bit longer despite how pathetic it looks and be strong.  If your still at loss to understand why I’m traveling down the path that I am listen to the lyrics of this song closely and maybe you will see.  This captain is going down with the ship.

Things have been pretty heavy here on SurfingRuinedMyLife.net as of lately.  Such is life, such is life my friends.  As an appreciation for reading my sad babble of despair and heart ache I though I would reward you with a short funny tale that happened to me this past December while visiting my parents in Florida.  I had been shelving the thing for a special occasion and now I figure is as good a time as any.

In life an advantageous person can find a way to benefit from almost any situation.  This is the story of how thanks to a random act of child abuse I managed to score a free soda on a very hot day.  Whenever I go visit my parents they always have all these fun little activities that we can all do together.  Apparently in South Florida back in the early 1900’s a commune of Japanese farmers bought a large plot of land and set up a Japanese work farm that lasted about thirty years before ultimately like most other communes failing.  One of the guys of the group stuck with it and made a small fortune working the land.

In his will he donated all his land to the county to be turned into a Japanese cultural center of sorts.  Today there is a beautiful collection of different types of Japanese gardens, a heritage museum, a bonsai tree exhibit and much more.  The place is amazing. Its called the  Morikami Gardens and is a must visit if your in the area. Check them out here: http://www.morikami.org.

I was wandering around this incredible place rather awestruck when nature called.  I went looking for a bathroom and as I was approaching it I heard yelling.  Then I see this Asian lady screaming at this little girl after which she proceeded to give the kid a few good whacks on the rump.  Then she pulled a can of orange soda out of the kid’s hand and threw it in the trash all angry.

Initially I was taken back by the whole incident.  Then again who am I to interfere with a persons parenting technique.  I mean its not like she was inflicting real injury on the kid.  Besides I took a few lickings when I got out of line as a kid and it helped make me tough.  Obviously if the mother was inflicting injury upon the girl I would have stepped up and put her down, but that was not what I observed to be the case.   Plus I was really thirsty and the water fountain or dispensers of transmittable diseases as I like to call them was questionable at best.

My inference on the scenario was that the mother put her money in the machine and the little kid pushed the button for orange soda with out having permission to do so thus bringing the onslaught of public child abuse I inadvertently witnessed.  Now I have a pretty good ear when it comes to caned liquids and the sound of that can hitting that garbage pail seemed like it was probably unopened.   As soon as mommy dearest and darling daughter were on their not so merry way I took the opportunity to peer into the trash.

Sure enough that can was full.  I gave a quick look around to make sure no one was watching and then reached in and pulled the can out.  I took it to the bathroom, gave it a wash and whamoo! One free can of orange soda for yours truly.  The funny thing is I was really thirsty too.  That my friends is how I benefited from great techniques in poor parenting.

It was Fanta too!!! They make the best orange soda.

This Week’s UCB, the first one of the Spring Quarter was won by Nick the Kook.  He will claim 3 points since I promised that I would double the first blog.  Don’t worry though every week from here till the end of the quarter there will be a double point bonus floating UCB if a topic worthy of such accolade is asked.  There are plenty of opportunities to take the lead.

Kook asked me to write about my favorite parking lot story.  Now this at first did not make sense to me.  Initially I thought maybe he wanted a story about me in a parking lot, sort of like that Sienfeld episode where Jerry and the gang got lost in the parking garage. Then I realized he was talking about the surf parking lot or at least that is what I am going to assume.  I cant think of one particular story at the moment, although there have been many.  What I would love is to use this topic as a forum to explain to the non surfing population just what we are talking about.

By now if you’re an avid non-surfing reader you have learned of many of the mystiques and fallacies of surfing exposed here on SurfingRuinedMyLife.net.  If you have been reading since the myspace days then you are just about an expert.  When you think about it this blog is sort of like stereo instructions (or the handbook of the recently dead from “Beatle Juice”) on the surfing sub culture.

The actual physical act of riding waves is the shortest denomination in the surfing life style.  If you must have a true break down it goes something like this:

10% riding the actual waves (and that is still being generous for the average surfer)

25% travel time to and from the break (may be larger depending on proximity to a ride able wave)

35% Paddling, waiting in the line up, walking back up the beach
30% parking lot

I mean it may work out differently for other folks I don’t really know, but generally I think the above percentages represent most surfers surfing experience well.  So what is all this time that is spent in the parking lot all about?

Every single surf spot on the planet with the exception of remote islands has some kind of parking area near or right on the break.  Depending on the visibility from the lot to the waves depends on the amount of time spent there.  The better the view from the lot the more hanging out that goes on.  Take C-street as a perfect example.  You can sit in your car and watch the action all day, and some people do.  At Rincon on the other hand the parking lot is out of view of the break, thus less stragglers.

Basically a surfer hangs out in the lot before each session from anywhere upward of 5-30 minutes depending on the surf.  If its firing everyone is tearing their suits on as fast as possible.  If it’s tiny then most of us hang around watching for motivation or just trying to kill time by shooting the shit with who ever shows up.  Other times guys will be waiting out the tide or the wind.  I have sat in the parking lot at Emma Wood for over two hours before waiting for a tide push that never came.

Then you have the vets and surf reps who always seem to just hang in the lot all day talking shop, yet only surf like twice a year at best.  After the surf you hang out and recap the session with your bros and other fellow surfers.  Sometimes even enjoy a victory beer or smoke, which happens before the surf as well at times.  I personally think the parking lot is about as much fun as actually being in the water.

Parking lots at surf spots are full of all sorts of characters both the surfers and bystanders.  Here in California you can almost always count on some type of entertainment from either a crazy homeless person, tweaker or a combination of the two.  Good old-fashioned agro localism fights will go down in the lot.  Cars get vandalized and robbed.  Oblivious passer byes walking will ask stupid questions like “is the water cold” or “How is the surfing today?”.

The parking lot is the true celebration of surfing and surf culture.  Im sure the ancient Polynesians hung out in front of their huts doing the same shit we do now while watching the action.  There is heckling, jeers, cheers, grom abuse and everything in between.  Next time your at a surf spot take a moment to observe all the action going on in the parking lot.  I can on most days assure you it is more exciting then what is going on in the water.

There is a parking lot view for you.

Thats pure skill right there baby. Look at that too close for comfort head clearance.

This could really be a prime candidate for a Story Behind the Photo Blog, but I like to save those for older photos as more of a hindsight type of scenario. No, this is a story on how to stack a full size mattress and box spring on the roof of a two door Honda Civic with nothing more then a blanket, a set of tie downs and some very old and weathered FCS soft racks.  If you remember back to the Bowing Out blog I was living on my friend Lindsay’s couch last week.

Well this week I for reasons of pure comfort and logic decided to move back into my own apartment despite my current odd ball situation there.  Its a two bedroom and I figured I could just move back into my old room.  Sure its tiny, but I always found a smaller space safer anyhow.  Its like a little fort in here.  As a matter of fact I am sitting behind a wall of pillows and blankets I built for security right now.  Yeah you guessed it the thread my sanity had once clung to has been completely severed.  Shit if you only knew what I was attempting to do right now you would really think I was a prime candidate for the funny farm.  That is a blog to be written a bit later when I see how things play out.

Moving back in required I get another bed.  Being the gentleman I am, I let my ex-girlfriend/friend/roommate/other?? (yeah its complicated at the moment) keep my bed.  I found a haggard ass full size bed on craigslist for $50 bucks.  It was hardly worth twenty, but being lazy I talked him down to $40 and was on my way.  Back in the days of Cory my retarded craigslist furniture endeavors worked out a bit easier courtesy of his pick up truck.  These days as is proof from the above photo I have to do a bit more improvising.

Luckily this bed was only about a mile or so from my apartment, but it was both up and down hills with a strong cross wind.  I put two 12 foot tie downs together and two FCS soft racks and was somehow able latch the thing to my roof.  The dude I bought the mattress from was pretty amazed by my resourcefulness.  I found the whole incident rather comical.  Some how I managed to get the thing home and in one piece.  Mission accomplished although I guess the true accomplishment would have been not having to get another bed in the first place.

I know things have been a bit dicey around here lately, borderline redundant, and definitely way to whiny, even for me.  Well I promise to start going back to the regular segments beginning with the UCB this week.  Now the UCB has been skipped for the past three weeks at least, so I am making the first one double points.  Anything that has been suggested since the start of the quarter please submit again cause all are in the running.  I’m lazy and will not go back looking for them.

To make up for the missed ones I will have three bonus UCBs that will be written if I get a topic worthy of the bonus.  Each of those will be worth 1.5 points. I cant promise there wont be some whining, my life is a bit precariously perched at the moment.  I have just entered into one of the most crazy propositions I have ever embarked upon in my entire life.  Its a little bit on the too ridiculous side even for me to write about at the moment,  but I promise when the time is right I will fill you in on things.

For the moment know that I am doing my best to survive and get by.  I am learning to look at things on a day by day basis for now rather then the larger picture.  In a way I guess we can say I’m going back to my roots.  Lets have some fun and laughs here, even if it wont always reflect my mood.  After all cause when you smile the world smiles back at you or something like that.  Here is to the remainder of the Spring Quarter with nothing but good bloging to look foward to.

Here to you my readers!

Its funny all the places that one seems to find God.  Prison cells, the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniels,  in one’s darkest hour, that is it seems when desperate souls make there last stand and reach out to a power unknown.   So how did I Chris Lisanti, one of the lowest of God’s creatures, the biggest non believer and nay sayer ever, end up sitting before the pulpit listening to the good word of Luke, John, Mathew and the rest of the gang.  You got me, yet there I was sitting two rows back with tears streaming from my eyes the entire time this past Sunday.

I have struggled to even think about writing a blog like this for fear it would turn my readers off, but then I thought of all those Christians who faced horrible but proud deaths by the hand of the Romans and it gave me strength to keep writing.  After all they were not afraid to die for what they believed in. So why should I be afraid to write about it.  So here goes.

It all fits into the last couple of blogs written here.  If you go back to Bowing Out , I know it was like 2000 words long and I don’t really think anyone gave it a read, I finally exonerated my plight and agony I have been going through.  Well somewhere in that mix I started having weekly conversations with one of my professors.  I needed advice on whether I wanted to be a chef anymore and later on just plain help coping with my desperate situation.  At first he just gave me some helpful advice, but then later began quoting scripture.

Normally when someone pulls that shit on me I run for the hills, but for whatever reason I began listening to his jargon.  This time it made a ton of sense though.  The very first moment I went to speak to him he told me words that I have been trying to live by since.  “There are three things a man must figure out about himself before he can truly be a man and attain happiness:

  1. What is his purpose in life, or in other words what is he going to do with himself.
  2. What does he believe in spiritually.
  3. Who is he going to spend the rest of his life with.”

Nothing had ever been summed up so clearly for me. As of lately I had number one covered.  I’m trying to make my way in the world here in Santa Barbara California. I just want to have home, be able to support my home and be happy with it.  If I can do it through food even better.  I thought I had number three figured out, but I guess I was wrong about that one.  Number two, number two has always been troublesome.  I don’t quite ever know what to do with number two.

Well the night he told me that I was very uneasy.  Tons of things had passed beyond my control and I did not know quite where to turn.  He said a prayer for me out loud and it really relaxed me and I felt comforted if only for a few moments.  For whatever reason from that moment on I began to pray a little bit every day and it made me feel better.  I I did not know whom or what I was praying to.  I just believed I was being heard and it was enough for me.

I know I sound very silly right now.  I am a well educated individual.  I should know better then to send my hopes up to the sky.  No matter what rationale I attempted to rectify the situation I still found myself praying every single night.   I have almost been dead so many times, including at birth, yet here I am still breathing to write this.  My mother named me Chris, after Christ, my middle name is Joseph and my last name, Lisanti, means the saint in Italian.

Fast forward to May 3rd where I found myself sitting down professing my love and devotion to Jesus Christ my savior.  I had been asked to open my heart up to him so many times in my life and each I scoffed.  Why he kept knocking is beyond me, but he did.  For a reason unknown to me I listened and took him in.

I don’t know whats next.  I have no grasp on the future.  All I know is that I feel stronger now in this current time of great suffering then I ever felt when everything I thought I wanted was working out.  I’m not telling you this because I think you should follow my example and go sign up.  I promise that I will never become one of those crazy righteous holier then thou types either.  I’m telling you this because it is important for me to share it.  This blog has documented the major changes in my life for the last six years and for me to leave something this big out would be an atrocity.

Please don’t get scared and run from the new Lisanti.  I’m the still the same fun loving guy I always have been.  The difference is this time around I won’t be having fun at the expense of others.  Please keep reading.  I promise there will be chills, spills and thrills just as in the past.  My only hope now is that when you read about them you wont feel the need to shake your head in disappointment or disgust.