They are waiting for women candy coated in money. With bills stacked in layers molding tightly to their bodies taking the shape of Luis Vuitton, Prada, and Dolce & Gabbana clothing. Gold, thick, gaudy jewelry draped upon their necks and weighing down their thin, fragile fingers. Overly flaunted large breast implants, and plump lip injections make it that much more evident. The hair must be immaculate with no-show of flaw or miscare. Make up must be polished and thick, their tan dark and orange. It’s the ideal catch.

I approach Saks 5th avenue my ordinary self. Wearing faded blue jean shorts, black v-neck, black knock-off but equally as good Ray Bans, and wavy blonde hair more erratic than normal from just before diving into my friend’s pool. I was wearing no makeup, and have Reef Sandals upon my unpolished feet. I didn’t fit the desirable catch, and understood this quickly. As I walked through the wide, gold trimmed doors and past the employees, they glanced, establish I’m not from wealth, and paid no further attention. I scope the downstairs for a face that appeared welcoming. When I found none, I made my way upstairs which produced none as well. At this point, It dwelled on me that I was intimidated by these people. I annoyed myself tremendously, and decided I would force myself to do an interview in this store. I walked up the first group of employees I saw, and they continued chatting as if I didn’t exist. I felt embarrassed and walked around the road block. I then walked up to an alone employee behind a clear counter.

Alexis smiles as I approach, and I’m relieved. But this relief is short felt. After she smiles kindly and asks what she can help me with: I inform her of my project, and that I would appreciate an interview. As it strikes her that I’m not there to spend money, her voice instantly transforms. It becomes irritated, and slow as if I was incapable of understanding. I introduce myself, and ask her name, saying it was a pleasure to meet her. What I received was a sarcastic and prolonged, “Thanks.”

When Alexis was growing up she had anything and everything she could have wanted, and she was aware of it. She took it for granted, and made mistakes. As she turned 22, she decided to become religious. Her reasoning of what caused her strive to become religious didn’t make complete sense to me. She said that she hit a void in her life. She always liked history and animals alongside nature and didn’t think it was right to enjoy those things without giving credit to the creator. But what exactly made her have this instant realization? She continued with, “Jesus is my mentor.” But what made her come to this conclusion after previously not being what so ever religious? How did this all strive from the love of nature, history, and animals?

What happened next the farthest thing was from expected. I asked the question of if she could have one wish granted, what would it be and why? She started choking up, and couldn’t speak. Tears began to pour down her face, as she said, “Hold on… Hold on…” I felt horrible thinking I brought up something uncomfortable, and utterly sad. The possible scenarios ran through my head of maybe her child, mom, someone close to her died and she’d bring them back. Or someone had an awful illness. But her response, “That everyone could just live under one government, and get along.”

He undoubtably has a rough, but likeable personality and a wide, modest infectious smile. Tattoos coat most of his skin, all in dark ink that appears almost blue. I wondered the possible significance of the devil with the long snake tongue on his arm, the pin-up girls with buff muscles, and the giant S inside the shape of a diamond stone clearly meant to represent superman across his chest. But this man wasn’t a superman, was he?

These days, his life is spinning on a stagnant replay. He wakes up in the morning, stays home in a small  government-funded apartment because he has discovered first hand that finding a job with a criminal record is next to impossible. He smokes weed, and sits outside on his front porch watching the hours creep by. Later in the afternoon, he takes the infamous “walk of shame” to the circle k and gets a forty of Cobra, or OE. Then another, and another till the day is spent. He wants something more out of life. He tells me, “Listen, I smoke weed, I do. I drink, too much, I really do. And man, this ain’t life. I do this because it gets me past life, and my mistakes. “

I asked him what were his mistakes. He said getting in with the wrong crowd. The reason for his association I didn’t expect to understand, but I did. He explained it in a unique way, Religion is something you have to put faith in, you don’t see god, you just have to have faith he exists. Being in a gang, you don’t need any faith. The money, the girls, the cars, the dope, everything, the drink, the smiles and having fun, the parties are all there in front of your face.” Thats why I went the way I went, I wanted it and I strived for it tough.” And on the same token, he talks about how nobody gets that life forever. You get smoked, you get a good run. But the life style kills you, he used the example of Al Capon. I asked him if he thought at the time he was messing up. He told me, there was nothing to think about. He explained, ”I only thought about what was there, what was right in front of my face. I never had a law, there was no law.” I then asked the question again, And he then said, when he ran away from his mom’s house, then his friends, and his grandpop’s and he knew he was working people who loved him unconditionally, he was doing something wrong.

His wife works as a receptionist and they have 3 boys, Isaiah, Issac, and their newborn Roman. I was shocked when he informed me that him and Michelle, his wife, had met when she was only 12, and him 14. He talked about how she changed his life. He said, “She took me up outta that bullshit. I wouldn’t be here without her, I’d be dead, for real, for real. If I didn’t kill myself, I would have killed someone else, and we’d of killed each other.” He talked about the love he has for his kids and wife, and how he’s living his life for them. But then I thought of what he’s doing with his life, sitting day after day on the front porch with a blunt and 40 oz. in hand, and how could that be possibly be helping his kids? or wife?

At the end of the interview, I ask if he could take back, or change one thing what would it be? His answer annoyed me. He said he would change marrying his wife, Michelle. Carter had just spent the last hour telling me how much he loved his wife and kids unconditionally and how he wouldn’t be alive if not for her, and then takes it all back by saying he regrets marrying her? I wonder why? Is it because him being married holds him back from getting a hotter chick? Someone with more income? Whatever the reason, he contradicted himself entirety.

In all honesty, I came out of this interview utterly confused, and wondering if he was just saying what he knew he should say. I gathered that he’s a man who wants to do good, and wants better himself but his past habits and decisions are hard to break apart from. He knows what is right, and what he should be doing but lacks the motivation, and enough determination to succeed and truly change.

I am just one of the millions of ants walking on the rectangular tracks of San Diego. I walk the streets in a delirium. Confused by where I am, and not sure of where I should be heading; or even what I am looking for. My head is lowered, averting my eyes to the darkened brick plastered sidewalk. I notice a man sitting against the abandoned side of a pale skin colored building. There is nothing across the street but a mirrored side of a similar building. Dirt filled the cracks in his weathered hands, that held a thin black marker tightly. My eyes followed his hand as it moved in a slow, shaky manner forming hollow slim letters that eventually spelled out “homeless, can you help?” on a piece of unsmooth cardboard. I wonder what he is like, what he has lived through, and what his name was. I stop, introduce myself, he tells me that his name is Freddy, and I proceed to sit down next to him.

One must wonder what he witnesses’ every day. People hardly pay attention to his presence, but he wouldn’t cause any harm. They pass, not refraining from talking, or ever stopping to think about his possible judgments. They continue on with their actions, and on with their lives, probably never giving him a second thought. But his eyes and ears are always there, because he is always there. He’s homeless, and the downtown streets are his home.

He’s a simple man, and I don’t believe the city suits him. I wonder what pulled him in? The promise of work? a hope of a fresh start? Or something so simple as San Diego’s nice weather, so what a better place to be homeless if its unavoidable? Whatever the case, he comes from a small town in Colorado. His favorite memories are of him and his father Dave, fishing in the small rivers and lakes. He explains how much he misses the feelings and comfort he got from it, and I tell him he should go fishing. I wasn’t thinking. Obviously a fishing pole and bait aren’t exactly his top priorities. Automatically, I feel bad for this suggestion, but he’s not bothered. He turns his head to me, smiles faintly, and refocuses his gaze ahead. “In time I will, for now, I watch.” He explains how he goes down to the water and watches the other men fishing. It seems to be what he’s doing with his life, watching and waiting.

He observes the people who pass. He tells me how he can define a person without speaking. By how they act, what they say to others, what they look like. He sits and observes, and learns through observing.

“Some of them are so selfish, and some of them are such the opposite. When you start watching people you can see how they are, without even talking to them. Just watching what they do, what they say, and things like that. It’s amazing how you see things you don’t want to become yourself, or you see other things you do want to become.”

We agreed on how life can never be understood, and things quite frankly, don’t make sense. He brought up himself, and his mother, both have tried to do good, and have ended up in unfair places. His mother always went out of her way, doing whatever she could to help people. It was her life, and recently she had a stroke, and is the hospital with half her body paralyzed. She didn’t deserve it; after all, all she ever did was help.

Five years ago, he wasn’t not only not homeless, but had a home, a wife, and a daughter. He’s not a lazy man, he worked for 35 years solid of honest work, repairing heating/air conditioning units. His wish is to see his daughter. She’s now 18, and is going to college on a scholarship outside of Denver. He hasn’t seen her since he got divorced 5 years ago, and that she never gets his mail, or anything he attempts to send. He once again looked at me, smiled, and asked if I was granting wishes today. I know he wasn’t 100 percent serious when asking the question, but there was definite hope in his voice that I somehow possessed the power to bring her to him. I smiled, and said “Sadly no, I wish I could, sorry…” I got mad at myself; I couldn’t. I wanted to help. I wanted to buy him a fishing pole right then and there, I wanted to make his daughter appear out of thin air, I wanted him to be happy, even if he never told me he wasn’t.

I enjoyed his company, and wondered if he enjoyed mine. We talked as if he was my dad, and I liked him more. I sat with him, on the sidewalk in the middle of downtown for nearly two hours. Hundreds of people hurried by, only the occasional few glancing down from their lives and realizing we were there. I liked the feeling of just being amongst the city, without people looking at you, just letting you be. It’s different to be low, your eyes can observe without having other eyes observing you. Hours quickly passed and I didn’t want to leave.

Max and his buds traveled to Encinitas in the hope that they would get tickets for the Best of TearDevils Surf Video at the La Paloma theatre. To their misfortune, they weren’t successful and ended up hanging in the parking lot across the street. It was fortunate for me however, because it gave me this interview. I approached them asking if any of them were interesting. They smile, look at me, then each other, then gaze agian at me with highly confused expressions. I then explain my project, and they debate who’s the most interesting. They elected Max, a laid back, humorous, nice guy surfer and musican.

Max attends Cal State Channel Islands, and resides in Ventura. Music, along with moving out of his parents house, crack cocaine, and as his friend interjected being Jewish, have all influenced his life. (Safe to say that the cocaine part was a joke, but hey it does liven up the interview) He lived in Fresno for a while, but grew up in Columbus, California.

He’s been playing music his entire life, and it’s clearly his passion. Currently he  plays drums in the band  Marc B, they play acoustic mix of reggae, surf, and folk rock. As  promised, you guys should all check them out!  www.marcbmusic.com Seriously they’re sick, I’m listening now.

He’s living day by day, and seems to be happy where ever he is as long as he’s doing what he loves. Tomorrow isn’t planned, but hopes not to be in California for too much longer. He firmly expresses his dislike for the United States, and wants to see even more of the world. We talked about his travels, he’s been to almost all of Western Europe, Costa Rica, Hawaii and other surf destinations. Where ever his life leads him is where he’ll go, and he’ll be sure to bring music along.

It’s hard to explain in words what I experienced during this interview, I am not entirely sure I could even explain it to myself. I’m sitting at a table with my dad when I was visiting him in the Salton Sea. We’re drinking our black coffee in the wimpy woven chairs, and I am merely grateful for the sunshine. An older man with a dark tan and gray hair at the table next to us just looked over and started talking. About nothing in particular, just talking to talk. Telling stories more so, and my dad then glanced over at me making his eyes wide as to say oh my god, who is this? At this point, I think interview. He obviously wants to talk, so why not talk to him?

I can’t describe him, or his life. So I’ll just tell you, exactly what I got. I asked what his happiest memory is. The answer, “I’ve been single 57 years, I had one Jewish mother god rest her soul. Jewish sister on her 5th wedding, but she did good, she’s in Lake Havasu, and he’s up in Orange County. He works for Visio- HD. bah bah bah, uh, happiest memory, uh, I don’t know I’m too stoned right now, uh, probably when I was born. When they bombed Pearl Harbor, my dad was in Maliki which is a leper colony. And the only question I asked my dad was I’m glad you were in Maliki. Maya Shaka, Bo maka Shaka.”

Why is being born your happiest memory? His response, “It’s when I started my life.” This much made sense, but then,” Mom pushed me so hard, she intimidated me when I was younger, so when I played baseball, you see I was born in Chicago, and all of the Jews moved to Las Angles in 57, because it was cold. But not that cold, I mean I lived in the mountains of Colorado for 30 years, and I always wear shorts. I’ve been sitting in this chair for 10 years.”

Overwhelmed, I asked, what are a couple things that have determined your life? “My dad taught me to  treat people how you want to be treated, put women on pedestals and tell them what they want to hear, and it has been working my whole life.”

 After talking about whistler, double taking on people, and the truck he wants to get in a four door I asked my next question. What wisdom do you think is most important? “There are things in life you can control and things in life you can’t. The things you can’t, forget about it! And you change your life; you make choices in your life. And that, if you don’t like your life, you change it, if you make a mistake you learn from it and move on. Life is simple, people make it tough. Fear, people are scared of it. I put my way through high school, the nurse from Monticello; husband was a supervisor for Broadway, Broadway main company mutton and Robeson. I was making 10.75 an hour that was big money back then. My dad was born in 22, and when he was 9 and 10 he had to work because of the great depression…” I continued, and I sat trying to piece together what I was hearing, with no rival.

I then asked curiously, and hoping for an actual answer, where do you want to be in five years? The answer caused me to laugh to myself. “I want to be in the white house, because I want to legalize marijuana and prostitution. And you know the old dogs pay for it. They buy breasts and face lifts and then I have to service them. I want to trim your ends; I want to cut your hair.”

If you could have one wish granted what would it be and why? “Change my ex from being bi polar. She calls my sister up for 4 years ago, and says I robbed a bank. I don’t do banks, I pedal. And I pedal heavily, put it that way.” What happened when she called? What did your sister do? She called up my friend who’s seventy something years old, and you got to understand Wendy is drunk by six o’clock at night. When you’re 4 foot 11 and weigh 90 pounds, and she does not eat, it doesn’t take much.”

What are you grateful for? “Being here, just being here for the moment, the day. I try to make everyday special, I try to make people laugh, because 90% of people hate what they do. I tell young kids, life yourself find a passion in life, whatever you want to do. So when you have your lover in bed, or your girl, or your boyfriend, lots of girls are switching, but you know why, guys are assholes, they are.”

Confused? So am I.

Two things were clear upon meeting him. First, that he is a kind natured old man, who wouldn’t dream of doing anyone harm. And second, that he has an unsurpassed talent of tie-dieing clothes. Outside of this, his life has been such an adventure that it makes me feel as if I’ve done nothing yet. The key word being yet, because he inspires others to be kind, love and experience life to the fullest. He believes things are possible even when the odds are far from being in your favor, and that nothing should ever be taken for granted. That to never allow the evil in you to take hold, because it is always regrettable.

He is content and genuinely happy with his life. I can tell by the way he spoke; in such a soft, relaxed way that makes you just admire him for his temper. He’s been giddily married for years, and now has 4 grandchildren. His passion is to travel, and just enjoys spending time with the ones close to him. He’s simple, yet has had a complex life that could easily fill the pages of a book. Where he acquired the skill of tie-die could do the job alone.

He lived on a commune with his wife, in Tennessee called “The Farm.” It was a hippie community of sorts, and is actually unbelievably interesting. You can go to www.thefarm.org/lifestyle/miller.html to read about it. It started with open classes at San Fransisco state. Where they discussed what people wanted to do to lead better lives, and it evolved into a caravan of 60 buses that set out to create it.

They found land in Tennessee and established their own community. It was open invitation to join, as long as were willing to reject main stream views and had the willingness to help others. He lived there with his wife, and they had their daughter Rachael.  He described the time as nothing short of amazing. They grew their own food, and were all vegan. He learned there how to tie-die and it stuck with him throughout the years. The peace was indescribable, and it was the best society he’d ever experienced. The farm still exists, and now is known by many as “the land of aging hippies.”

Carl shared how he took what was called a vow of poverty, and they did relief projects all over the world. They believed if everyone shared, then there would be enough for everyone. He spoke in particular of a project he was involved with in the Bronx. They had seen the appalling 3rd world conditions of the lives of the people in the area and set out to help. They moved into an abandoned building, which they had to place steal sheeting over the windows so people couldn’t fire bombs at them, because they were after all, white in a beyond troubled black community. They set up an ambulance service, because no paramedics would respond to calls it was too dangerous. Yet, they did and were successful. They had their own EMT’s and paramedics, saving countless lives. They did a job that the government wouldn’t even attempt, and got national attention for it. Life Magazine, and various others wrote about how they were taking action.

After college, he bought a car in Frankford, Germany for $650 dollars. And for a year he drove all over Southern Germany, through Switzerland, Northern Italy, and went down to Southern Italy where he met his family in Sicily. He then took a boat from Sicily to Northern Africa, where he drove across Northern Africa and lived in Morocco for five years, then moved through Spain. The thought amazes me of just going where ever you want, and where ever your travels take you. Having the opportunity to experience so much diverse cultures, and acquire priceless knowledge.

His voice is far too captivating. I presume countless young women have fallen victim to the smooth, flowing syllables that form words; in turn forming sentences. People are left with no desire to acquire the meaning of his words; they’re just dazed in the unfamiliar, yet captivating sound of his voice. To think he didn’t ask for this charm, just obtained it from growing up in Perth, Australia.

Going back to the biggest isolated city in the world, he remembers the times when he was little enough to sit atop his dad’s broad strong shoulders. Instantly transforming him into a eight-foot giant that could walk through the city of Perth, above all harm. The feeling of being so secure, and safe amongst all of life.

His parents are Yanks; dad from Huntington Beach, and mom from Humboldt County. His dad’s a Christian, and in the 60’s there was a revival of Jesus Christ and they started this thing called Cavalry Chapels. Basically, they were churches where hippies were welcome. His dad got involved in that, married his mom, and moved to Australia where they started churches for 30 years.

Growing up emerged in the Cavalry Chapels has molded his outlook. It taught him to look at things from a logical perspective. He believes in the laws of entropy, biogenesis that life comes from life. That all material things will pass away, and all the things here on earth will burn up when we die, none of it will go with you. So not to be living for them. Why do people constantly desire more? The businessman that wants the new hot over the top car, and then 6 months later wants the next model? He talks of how he strives to live by this, even though truthfully it’s hard to always practice what he preaches.

I had expected him to be almost snobby to the American lifestyle, and mainstream likes. His long dreads down half his back, with Rasta colored strings in them, and accent gave me the impression he would be different, for lack of a better word. I can’t almost describe how, but I just expected something more in a way. He listens to a lot of break beats, and eighties rap. He enjoys Taylor Swift, and loves to watch her perform. I was so shocked by this that I almost took it as funny. He didn’t like reggae, or some underground Aussie music. But a young teenager adored by millions of youth under the age of 12; that sings of, “Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone, I’ll be waiting, all there is left to do is run, you’ll be the prince, I’ll be the princess, It’s a love story…” It was my judgment, and probably good to have proved wrong.

Also surprising, he break dances and does material arts. At this point in the interview, I’m a little lost, not knowing anything about breaking. But apparently, he’s a b-boy and I think his nickname is select one a.k.a. bomb sauce? If you know about breaking, or at least a little more than I do, Supernatural from Toronto is a good crew. Breaking has given him style, and rhythm. Material arts have given him discipline, and dedication.

5 years from now, he’s going to be a millionaire. And he’s giving me and Taylor a million, no big deal sense he has twenty. So realistically, he wants a house, or a nice car, something to show for his time, maybe to move back to Australia. He shares he’s not a good goal setter, and 5 years is too long.

When I first saw Bill, he was sitting outside of Starbucks in one of the oversized comfy chairs pulling slow on a cigarette. He looked calm, but quiet, and I didn’t automatically go for the interview. I sat thinking for a while, and then decided why not. He turned out to be the extraordinarily nice guy, who was shockingly easy to talk with, and has a story that I give the utmost respect.

Bill has two kids Scott and Kasey, ages 19 & 21. His oldest boy is currently on the USS Eisenhower in the Mediterranean. He is closer now to both of his kids than ever, and only hopes for the bond to grow even more tenacious. He worked till 7 on Thanksgiving and then rushed home to be with his family. They had the traditional dinner consisting of turkey, mashed potatoes, the regular indulging in pumpkin pie: leaving himself in bed by 10. Family comes before all, and he hopes to be an incredible support system to them.

On the subject of Thanksgiving, I asked what he is most grateful for. This answer amazed me, “Most of all, honestly, probably, when I first got clean and sober 26 years ago.” I was completely curious, from own personal experience with family substance abuse, and in his life solely as well. But when I asked if he could tell me about it, he responded with a shocked, “Really…?” As if he was so surprised I genuinely cared, and wanted to know. He then explained how he was brought up in a dysfunctional family. His parents drank and used drugs, so he was shown that it was okay, it was what you do.

He got caught up in the use, and everything that went along with it. He spun a web so tangled that it wasn’t easily escaped. It’s as if you’re a young kid going down a huge hill on a skateboard. If you only go up part of the way and ride down, your fine. It’s slow enough and you are able to slow down, and at stop safely at the bottom. You grow use to that, and climb up the hill and dare to go further. You get to the very top and start going down. You realize, you’re going too fast, and it’s unavoidable to stop. You are bound to crash.

At this point, his parents sent him to the Betty Ford Center. It helped immensely. He learned a lot about himself because he really never knew. He never could know why he did what he did, and why he felt the way he felt. The Betty Ford Center opened his eyes to these questions and helped find the crucial answers. The bottom line was that he really hated himself. He never liked who he was, and used drugs and alcohol to mask how he was sincerely feeling. After he continued with AA, and NA. He has now been clean for 26 years, and is unbelievably stable.

I admired the fact that he got clean so early. Most people continue with substance abuse way past the young age of 21. But he knew he was done if he didn’t. “You have to take yourself to another level, until you’re ready for something else. I like to think I hit my Bottom. I was ready for change; I just had to be put to such a high level before I had enough.”

He met his wife in AA, and consequently she relapsed after 10 years. They stayed close because of the bond of their marriage and their children. Even though his wife began to use again, he didn’t falter. His children never saw him intoxicated, and there for making it clear who he truly was.

This advice, stay true to yourself, answers will come if you let them. Sadly lots of people have a shield and don’t let people in because they are afraid of who they really are. They are scared they won’t be accepted. You cannot hold on to animosity and resentment. If you hold onto the past and it makes up who you are today. Let go, and live.

On her fourteenth birthday she boarded a Boeing 747 and flew some 6,000 miles from her home in Poland to forcefully start a new life in California. Knowing that it’s not a vacation, and you have no choice, its permanent filled her with fear. There was no turning back.

She was terrified of starting school, and expected everyone to be rude, and pretentious. She cried before the first day, she simply couldn’t take it. It was partially true, she attended shaking and nothing but scared. But it wasn’t as bad as anticipated, she recalled, “Some of the people were nice, and welcoming, saying, Oh your polish that’s nice. It wasn’t that bad.” But no one truly cares to get to know her, and she wanted her own friends that she could just completely be herself around. She told of the struggle she had to find them. She described the people as being nice, but fake. I agree. Countless people are, and not just in high school. They are kind to your face, but it’s a projection. They don’t actually care.

 I wonder the different welcoming and experience she would have received if she wasn’t so pretty. Americans, not all but most, aren’t great at hospitality.  We talked of the differences when you have company how Europeans always offer everything, and Americans being far stingier. This also led me to think of a foreign exchange student in my art class. He sits every day, alone, bored out of his mind.  None of the students speak with him, and he’s going to return to his home, thinking what of us? That we are rude, take everything for granted, and extraordinarily unwelcoming? And honestly, I don’t blame him in the slightest for thinking any of that.

Agatha wishes to travel the world, especially New Zealand. The culture and diversity compels her. She’s young and she wants to see it all. She detests living in the desert, and wants’ to move out to the coast for college next year. “The people in the desert are all the same, and inland is far less welcoming.”

A lot of artists and musicians have influenced her life, alongside her mother. She loves good music that relaxes, and doesn’t care much for rap. The words need to be meaningful, whatever they may be. Artists in particular, Kings of Leon, The Kooks, The Raconteurs, Jack White, and Bob Marley. Her wisdom, “Do whatever makes you happy, and whatever you do, go with all your heart.”