Ian Anderson 11 a.m., Oct. 8
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- The Mystline
Tales of an Insomniac: The First Month in San Diego
Reminiscing of past events is often necessary to motivate and inspire those around a person and even stir a possible spark within oneself in order to step up and succeed. Last month I had a very turbulent story about my first night in San Diego that has affected me as a person to this day, but I am not surrounded by the type of people who will allow me to turn to any harsh forms of personal punishment. Since my well-documented adventure of my car being towed, I have discovered the beautiful city and people of San Diego, and with it a completely new inspiration to step up my personal goals for life.
On June 3rd, I decided to drive back home to Las Vegas in order to both get away from San Diego and pick up all of the articles of luggage which I forgot to bring. I spent about two nights in Las Vegas, telling my friends and family the story of my first night in San Diego, and taking the opportunity to spend the night out in the city of Las Vegas for the last time. For me, things got interesting when my buddies and I stopped by one of the most high-profile strip clubs in the city, simply because when the strippers tried to make small talk with me they would ask me where I was from. I was in a limbo to answer, because I didn't know if I had to answer if I was from Las Vegas or San Diego. I had a long talk with one of the girls that I knew at the club (yes, when you're from Vegas, you will have stripper friends), and we eventually came to the conclusion that the fact that I have gone through such a harsh first night has solidified my eventual residency in San Diego.
So from that moment on, I kept telling people I was from San Diego.
My heart was breaking when I was saying my farewells to all my friends and family, but it wasn't until I arrived back into the little San Diego city of Clairemont that I was filled with a new feeling of ambition and plight. I felt like crying, but not out of sadness, but out of the overwhelming feeling that I have the entire city of Las Vegas behind my back. How my friends guided me with open arms and how my family supported me with a strong grip made me realize just how hard I need to work for their honor and my own well-being.
I didn't even take one second to rest, for as soon as I arrived in Clairemont, I spent the majority of the day stopping by every single business around my house to apply for a job. I spent the majority of my second week in San Diego just walking around the gorgeous area of Clairemont, meeting wonderful people and applying for different jobs. However, it wasn't until I stopped by the Home Depot nearby my house that I realized people are certainly different in San Diego than practically any other city, as I witnessed a burglary happening first hand in front of me. I watched two employees from Home Depot run after this man who was quickly putting stuff into his car, and it was their aggressive body language that made me realize that this was a crime in progress. I ran over to the car as the employees tried pulling the thief out of his car, and it was around that time that he attempted to back away. We quickly reached into the car and pulled up the hand breaks of the car, effectively stopping the car and we held onto the criminal until law enforcement arrived.
I have seen robberies of all sorts in Las Vegas, but I have never once seen someone in a totally suburban area attempt to rob from a Home Depot of all places. On top of that I have never seen an employee run after a robber in an effort to stop them. This opened my eyes to the charisma that some people in San Diego have instilled into their souls; San Diegans will act upon things without a second thought.
This kind of attribute is exactly what I see throughout my days of employment in the Gaslamp Quarter. During the weekend, Downtown San Diego is littered by hundreds of alcoholics, and I have never seen people act without reluctance or care as to what happens to them. From the way people talk to the way people act, human beings in the Gaslamp Quarter become the physical manifestation of charisma (and at times, mental retardation). Throughout my weekends working in Downtown, I have seen groups of men fight, girls argue, families run away from drunks, monks dancing on the streets, bums fighting for money, and drugs being passed around like it is candy. Having to go into detail about all the things I have seen in Downtown San Diego would need a completely separate posting just for itself, but the one thing I will capitalize on is how some kids in San Diego truly think they can get away with doing something stupid by trying to talk their way through things.
If I watch you go up to a girl, smack her in the face, and proceed to pull you off and pin you on a wall, why would you try to argue with me in saying that everything is fine? You just smacked a girl, you're obviously a worthless piece of crap that needs to spend a month or two in a Neil Strauss class in order to properly learn how to behave around the opposite gender.
Despite having to deal with idiots at night-time and trying to adapt myself into the behaviors of San Diegans, there was not one moment where I had to stop and appreciate the absolutely gorgeous environment in which surrounds the cities. Since I tried spending most of my days trying to both apply for jobs and meet professors in all the different colleges and universities, it gave me the awesome opportunity to explore the absolute fabulous sights that is in every corner of San Diego. While trying to make connections in UC San Diego, I took a stop by La Jolla Cove and explored the superbly clean beach that traces the western edge of San Diego. I have never seen more clear waters in my life, and by God, I have never seen so many beautiful people in my life either. It's almost like it's San Diego law that every man has to be chiseled and every female has to have a booty.
A long with exploring the wonderful beaches, I spent a few days out of the third week of June exploring the enormous Balboa Park and Downtown San Diego. The fact that the city gives such history to its residents is breath-taking in itself. I took full advantage in taking notes from every single museum and botanical garden that was offered in the park, picking up wonderful knowledge about the Spanish, Portuguese, and even some random tidbits about Arabs here and there.
During my time in these natural and public sights, however, I learned that San Diegans have to pay quite the large sum just for these parks to stay afloat. Millions of people a year come to these places, and it is thanks to the residents, whose money is literally taken out of their pockets by the city, that these wonderful sights are operational to this day. This was something I took for granted by living in Las Vegas, as everything for a Las Vegas resident was tax-free and taken care of by the large influx of cash that the casinos rake in. A person living in San Diego is simply forced to work twice as hard in order to sustain what the city is trying to offer as the premier destination for beauty.
This, I have seen, has instilled a struggle in every San Diegan, but not a struggle out of hateful and horrendous needs, but rather a struggle to prove to the world that they are a force to be reckoned with. San Diego is that city for the people who have a story to tell and can relate to hundreds with the same story. San Diego is the city where one can realize who their true self is and discover what their spirit is meant to accomplish.For me, living in San Diego means I have to always constantly be on the hunt, and the moment I stop is the moment I die. Through the gorgeous environment and geography, to the unprecedented amount of hard work that every resident has to do, San Diego is probably the most spectacular city in the world, and I'm proud and honored to call it my new home.
Every night is ended in the local Masjid (the Muslim temple for the non-Muslims reading) for an hour as I spend the time in silence and recollecting my soul to God and everything around me. During the last days of June, I realized that the mistake I have long been making is that I am always saying "Please help me", begging higher powers to give me what I want. I shortly realized that I need to always be thankful for this wonderful adventure I am in, and have now started saying "Thank you" to the higher powers, an acceptance that I have been given a gift to succeed further in this beautiful life.
More like this:
- Dating VaginasaurusRex in San Diego — Dec. 5, 2012
- Amin Nash: Journal — Sept. 26, 2012
- Amin Nash: Journal — Sept. 19, 2012
- Tales of an Insomniac: The First Night in San Diego — June 5, 2012
- The Java Journey — Aug. 19, 2009