"Home is not where you live, but where you belong" ~some quote google spat out

What's up world. It's Friday. I'm sitting on my perch on the 8th floor of Kirwan tower waiting for this coffee to brew so I can enjoy it. Sweet it's almost done.

So just before sitting down to make this composition, I fully retracted my blinds, making my window a fully-transparent porthole. Normally I have the blinds down but pretty much open; now I've changed it up. Full view: engaged.

Mmmm coffee's good. I like coffee. Put some Owl City on I'm going to talk about my future home.

So anyway while opening my blinds to enjoy my view of UK's awesome south complex I thought of how I don't want to live in a house. Of course, anything over ten years into the future is unpredictable, but until then I simply don't want a house. A house just isn't my style.

My style is living in a skyscraper, condo, apartment; something with a balcony a hundred feet above a city below. Where I could wake up (maybe a little groggy or hungover) on a Saturday morning, make coffee, and sit on my perch and enjoy being a minute working part of the city.

Then other days, when flying over the city on approach into the main airport, I could look out the right window and see the building I live in. I could poke my first officer and say "See the one with the pool on the roof? I live there!" We'd squeal a landing, break our fast with an airport bagel, and return to our cars in the crew parking lot which haven't moved in 4 days. Slightly jet-lagged, but feeling good, I'd make my drive from the airport to my apartment easily through the lack of 1pm traffic.

Then I'd waltz through the front doors of my complex, smile and nod at people I never see due to being out of town all the town, and return to my cozy studio. I'd make a strong Vodka Redbull (in the can of course), and climb a few flights of stairs to the roof. There, Id' kick my feet up by the pool I flew over just two hours prior and sip on my favorite cocktail; welcome home.

Because of my career field, 'home' is a very light term to me. I don't get homesick, in fact the opposite is true which I'd rather be far away from home than be stuck in Louisville or Lexington with nothing new to see. And it's things like that that make me really great pilot material. I'm the type of person who when get's tired and jet-lagged I still doesn't care if I'm in my own bed or simply the airport Hilton's.

So I figure that with all the above in mind, my future 'home' should be something cheap, and something I at least slightly look forward to returning to. If my place was just a house or some sort of rental garbage that I spend way too much on, then returning home would be depressing and a third of my life would be wasted. Al contrario, if my place was an affordable place for me to relax and enjoy two or three days a week, it would almost be a vacation to return to.

Think about people who legitimately don't have a home. Nomad's as the Tibetans call them. They spend they're whole life traveling; and not to say that I don't want to do that for the greater portion of my life, it's taboo to not have SOME PLACE to revolve your travels around. You need a home base, a domicile, your perch, nest, turf, happy place, whatever. It's part of human nature and a simply necessity to have a location to call your own for you to dwell. Even the poorest citizens of third world countries have a shack on the mountainside next to their three coffee plants which is about all they have in their name. Normal people have a place to call their home

However, the difference between me and 'normal' people is I don't want to live there. I just want that domicile sitting in the back of my mind as I fly from country to country sampling local beers and nightlife hot spots; so that when I finally do get close to returning 'home' I can at least look forward to kicking my feet up with a cigar.

But assuming in two or three years I start wearing a little silver star on top of my little silver wings, my true home will be the flight deck of whatever bird I end up in. The reality of my career is that I will spend more time with a yoke in front my me than I spend in my home city. More nights will be spent in a bed with a seatbelt in the tail of a jetliner or in an Airport Holiday Inn than with my future wife. Fortunately though, I'm really looking forward to that.

Currently my family and I are planning a trip to Europe. They asked me, "Maybe we could stop in London, isn't Heathrow on your bucket list?" And I responded no because a lot of places in the world aren't on my bucket list. Hong Kong, Dubai, Heathrow, etc. That's because most of the places in the world that appeal to me, and I literally spend nights dreaming about, are places where I'm simply fucking going. Unless I die tomorrow, there is no way I wouldn't end up at Heathrow SOMETIME in the next 20 years. In fact, I'll probably end up there in 5 years, and I'll end up landing a plane there in 10 (assuming they don't scrap it by then for being in the worst fucking location in all of London).

So I'll probably still be writing in this blog to no one but myself and I'll be sure to write about the first time I land a plane at Heathrow. Like I said I'll give it ten years. April 20th, 2022. Until then...

Sweet Juicy Honesuckles After a Cooling Rain

What's up world. I'm happily pouring my self of Kenya coffee right now :) The day is April 15th and there are only two weeks of classes remaining, causing me too churn in anticipation.

I'm listening to the song "Breakeven" right now. It's no doubt one of the best mid-to-late spring songs in the industry. It's the kind of song I'd enjoy listening to on the ride down to the cabin for the first time of the season. Blasting the Script as Karen and I breeze past Worldport and leave the the depressing south-side of Louisville behind us as we approach calm, blissful relaxation. The drive would be filled with smiles and bright thoughts of the future; Miami, Summer, money, whatever the season brings. And it would only be interrupted by a stop to eat.

Of course this cabin-season will be altered slightly by the new addition of my motorcycle into my family of cool shit. Now instead of riding with a date or family I'll be riding solo down the twisty fun country roads in the saddle of my ballistic missile. Dodging potholes on I-65 it will be replaced with smelling the aroma's of a worry-free environment. Fresh cut grass on a hot sunny day, or sweet juicy honeysuckles after a cooling rain. After whizzing through the hills for two hours I'll roll up on my destination and allow time to slow down. I can put my feet up on the balcony and enjoy the noises of the forest while I light a fine cigar and crack a cold beer. And if I'm just damn lucky enough, I will have my sweet girlfriend or a good bro to enjoy the atmosphere with.

Be right back I have to pee. I have to work fucking safecats in like 20 minutes so I'm caffeinating up. With that comes urination.

I still am in desperate need of going to the zoo hammered with my friend Doug. I simply can't wait. After a  cool 8 months separated from my best friend, I now further appreciate why he is in fact my best friend. He and I are both trendsetters. We see things that others don't, and often times we can take that and by method of example allow others to see what they couldn't before. For example, Doug and I both see the magic and immense fun in things like freestyle scooter riding, letting our beats pound, and especially Pokemon.

Pokemon is perhaps the most mentally entertaining set of ideas I've ever been exposed to. Pokemon is similar to other standard videogames or fantasy worlds such as World of Warcraft, Grand Theft Auto etc. But the thing about almost every other instances of off the wall fun in a counter-universe is that they include stress, and leave out the innocence. The objectives of shit like World of Warcraft and Grand Theft Auto is often a challenge to the point it's stressful. The fun involved is task based, much like real life.

But Pokemon is different. The principals guiding you through your Pokemon universe are things like friendship, adventure, and the cliche that "as long as you had fun and did your best you win :)." The innocent Japanese culture has completely been slingshot their ideals into Pokemon to the point where, as an American, it's completely fun. Especially as kids, we need more shit like Pokemon to keep our imagination working for us stressed out dumb-fuck Americans.

I'm completely ready for this term to end. Not that it's any longer than I expected or than it needs to be, I'm just stuck in a sunshine state of mind now that there are leaves on the trees again. I don't mind waiting. I don't mind biding my time and chilling while the clock runs out. Honestly it's perfectly fine. I'm not depressed or anything or feel like I'm stuck. I'm not over-stressed about it. I'm really just like the guy from Office Space. Save the fact the I'm getting rewarded for my efforts, I get to just watch as people who have much worse lives than me continue making their life harder because of their stressful ways. While people lock themselves in the library for nights on end and pop amphetamines to get them through the term with a 2.7 GPA, I just watch them from a shady tree while I sip some bold coffee and listen to music native to Key West.

And I enjoy it. Until next time...

Hustle, Bustle, Travel, and Fun

What's up world. Second blog post in a row. I'm on this shit now.

The actual reason I'm blogging right now is because I have a cool calculus exam in about an hour. So I'm gonna fuck that exam, make it swallow, then probably relax in my Tuesday evening with a few drinks, chips and queso, and a few Skyrim quests. As I've said before, Tuesday night's are the best of the week. I wonder if I'll still relish my Tuesday nights during the summer when I have nothing to ever do. I'll answer that question later.

It hasn't always been Tuesday night's though. We've seen Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays be my favorite and most relaxing night of the week throughout this year. It really just winds down to whichever night I choose to make a chill night. If I decide the night will be chill, it will be chill. Every time. Of course I can't do that every night because you need shade to make the sunshine look brighter.

OHH THAT'S A GOOD QUOTE. ~DECKER MUTHERFUCKING LOYD. FACEBOOK STATUS AND TWITTER LET'S GO.

So I've been keeping away from Tribute for the past couple months. I decided to give my taste buds a break. So I've been sampling different shit, all is good. But today I decided to try some Tribute again and holy shit did I forget how crazy it was. I became accustomed to it and it stopped tasting so strong and flavorful. But now it's back! And strong and flavorful and I love it!

So one of the reasons I love Tuesdays so much is because it's a little glimpse of a weekend, or even a summer vacation. Despite being dead center in the middle of the work week, and I'm surrounded by shit to get done, for like 12 hours or so I can just eat wings and enjoy myself. I can create the illusion that I have nothing to do and that I will never have to work hard again. Then when I wake up on Wednesday morning, I have to re-grasp reality and get back to doing shit. Then the cycle essentially starts all over. But Tuesday night is no doubt the culmination of it all.

This cycle of work-pretend like I have no more work to do-work etc. goes on for 15 weeks. It's repetitive and monotonous but it eventually ceases in finals week when I no longer have to pretend. Once the term is over, it's over. And there actually is no more work or effort required of me. Like I said last semester, I could just sit, and not do anything. I could ride my bike to Trevilian and then back home and have a beer and after it all is over I still won't have any homework or studying or STRESS.

That is essentially the dream: Nothing to do. Because having nothing to do results in no work, no effort, and no stress. I literally fantasize about having nothing to do. I honestly got jealous when Karen told me about her Florida Spring Break trip because I was thinking, "Florida would be nice right now, but honestly I'd be thrilled to just not have to do anything..."

The weird thing is, once I finally do reach a break and get to the point of not having anything to do, I completely forget how much I dreamt of it. Instead of being grateful for not having to study and do homework and shit I find something else to bitch and complain and blog about. So hopefully I'll read this in...say a month, and be fucking happy that ALL I have to do is stand by a pool, ride my bike, travel and get shitty at the zoo. FUCKING ENJOY THESE THREE SHORT MONTHS.

So Chloe Krauss called me last night to wish me happy birthday. That was nice of her. The Krausses are wondering when I'm gonna come out to SoCal again. So after thinking about it I realized how much I really wanna go back again. It's gonna cost me a fortune again, and now that I bought a motorcycle and flushed half my savings it's harder for me to just fuck around and buy another plane ticket in a week's notice.

Some places I've been to simply have a tight hold on me. Namely Miami and Los Angeles. I think it's quite interesting how the Universe continues to pull me back to those places so I can have fun. I guess it's just who I am. Ever since I was 5 I've known I was a globetrotter and I would never be happy in any one place, so it looks like I've picked a good career to kick ass in. And I still haven't seen even a percentage of the world (although let's be honest LA and Miami are easily top 5).

So it looks like this summer will be another crazy summer of hustle, bustle, travel, and fun: the way it always seems to be with Decker Loyd. Be right back. I have to pee.

I have a really good life I've just realized. I mean for an 18 year old it really doesn't get any better than this. I get paid every two weeks. I go wherever the hell I want because I can afford it if I'm smart about it. I'm smart as fuck and can get whatever I want with a little thought. I have a bangin' girlfriend who treats me better than any of the depressed alcoholic sluts I see all over campus. I paid my way through college and therefore earned the utmost pride, trust, and respect from my parents.

And I'm not a douchebag about it! Because if I were, I'd still have all of the above, but no one would like me! Some people spend their whole life trying to figure out how to succeed at life in general. I've pretty much got every aspect of it mastered in 19 years. And it's good to see that I'm still confident. I often get worried about my confidence.

Not really.

But I'm about to go deepthroat this calculus exam and slap it in the face until there's a blue hand print across it's cheek. Yeah. Straight A's muthafucka. Until next time....

Trevilian: the road to the zoo

What’s up world. Sorry it’s been a while since I’ve last blogged. Between school and ROTC and getting a motorcycle it’s been quite some time since I’ve had the desire/time to blog. Again, my apologies. Nothing bad ever comes from this blog. EVER.

So I did buy a motorcycle. It’s sick. It’s my badass bro that successfully makes me more badass. It’s great. Riding on that thing is like my happy place, where I’m just left alone to think to myself and reminisce on happy thoughts from my past. Sunday actually I rode around the highlands a bunch and ended myself up at the Louisville Zoo, which spawned a whole new realm of both nostalgia and peace for me. The reason being, is the Louisville Zoo, for me at least, is a magical place for several reasons. Let’s dive right in.

The Louisville Zoo is one of many physical locations which represent my childhood entirely. In fact, not only is the zoo a tangible totem for just my childhood, but childhood as a whole; everyone’s childhood if you will. Every kid who grows up naturally conforms to society and goes to the zoo frequently and loves every minute of it. Birthday parties, field trips, what-would-be boring summer days otherwise are all spent at the zoo. [God the kid in front of me right now looks like an idiot. Sorry, distracted.]

It’s as if the zoo captures a piece of your childhood and holds onto it for you. Like a bank. It doesn’t steal your imagination or hold it hostage or anything bad. It’s simply just stored there. So whenever you go to the zoo in the future there is imagination, fun, and a carefree day ahead of you. Thus, when you revisit the zoo as an adult, it’s all still there. Every ounce of fun the zoo has been holding on to is given back to you for the day.

As it would happen, I discovered this day of timeless fun the day before I moved to UK. My best friend, Doug, told me of a silly idea he’d concocted to finish out the year with a bang. And that was to get really really fucked up, and spend the day at the zoo. I was happy to go along with him, but before anything could happen I needed to get a day off work.

This problem was quickly solved by offering a five dollar reward to whichever individual would work my shift. When asked why I wanted a substitute so badly, I responded with I wanted to go to the zoo. The question was then why did I want to go to the zoo so badly. So I told one person, ONE PERSON, that I thought it’d be super fun to go to the zoo hammered. And he of course told everyone I worked with.

Word quickly got around to my manager. Who also curiously asked me, “So what’s this about getting drunk at the zoo?” Of course I stuttered a bit, but bottom line I could care less if my manager was concerned with it. So at the end of the day, I had found a sub, and had a running joke with my workstaff.

The big day came and Doug and I departed to get hammered at the zoo. We started with breakfast at McDonald’s, and then we were on our way. I began drinking in the car from my McD’s super big cup of spiked lemonade. Half of Trevilian (the road to get to the zoo) was closed and my tipsy-ass had difficulty navigating us to the entrance, but nonetheless we made it not soon after opening.

We ended up getting in for free, due to Doug’s sexy negotiation techniques, and I had to throw the lid from my cup away. Not soon after Doug and I were having a fantastic time looking at animals and kids while vaded to a satisfying level. We had ourselves a great time. I took a picture of every animal we saw and put it on Facebook, so everyone could follow our progress. At about my peak drunkness, I somehow ran into my manager. Who gave me a strange look which I interpreted as “Wow, he’s really drunk, at the zoo. I wasn’t expecting him to really do it.” It was quite silly, and made for some laughs in the break room at work the following day, but certainly did not slow us down!

That final day in Louisville which was spent with my best friend Doug was probably one of the most enjoyable days of my life. I completely can’t wait to do it again. The zoo is a place where if you’re a kid or really really drunk, you simply can’t have a bad time. A piece of my heart and childhood will always be waiting for me at the entrance gate to the zoo, awaiting my return.

Now be right back because I really have to fucking pee.

K I'm back. I relocated to my dorm room. It's a little bit more comfortable than the grass.

So recently I've really been craving the cabin. As far as the history of the relationship between me and the cabin, it's quite a rocky road. At first I hated the cabin. Between ages 7 and like high school I thought the cabin was a waste of a weekend. Also, at that age I was forced against my will to go to the cabin. There was no opting out. I was always having to cancel plans in Louisville because I had to go to the cabin. Then I was given the option to stay home by myself all weekend. So I stopped going. Then recently, I would choose to stay home because with the house to myself I could host dinner parties and shit.

But now, I'm definitely missing that place. Just like the zoo, a piece of me is located there. With a calming drive down, a chill night spent doing essentially nothing, a morning of sleeping in and some water sports, an afternoon of fun in the sun, an evening of drinking, and a second night of chilling, it's an extremely relaxing way to spend a couple days. 

The cabin is where adventure meets serenity. Cliff jumping to island hopping, jumping wakes on the kneeboard to a cold beer on the deck. I've never realized as a kid how easy it is to have at least a solid time. The only thing I dislike about the cabin, is that it simply doesn't compare to half the shit I do on a yearly basis. It's not Hollywood, or South Beach, or Chicago, or a rainforest. Those are all places I experience and thrive in, but the cabin is the only option for frequent visits.

In other news, national news actually, I actually experienced Project X. The movie Project X is about a crazy house party that turns into a crazy riot and the youth of America seems to be on a mission to recreate it. AND ITS ONLY BEEN DONE ONCE--at Lexington Kentucky. Riot police, tear gas, big fires in the middle of the street, 100's of arrests, yeah it was pretty bad ass. And I was there. 

Well I'm really ready for this year to be over. I have so much fun shit to look forward to over the summer. I already blew my money on a motorcycle, so money won't be spent as superfluously as in the past, but regardless I'm positive it won't be a bad one. I mean I'll have a fucking motorcycle. Game won. I just need to make it through 3 more weeks of ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh and drag my feet to a few more classes that seem like they never end and BOOM! Finals week. Which is the best week of the year. I can't even fucking wait. And there's an additional chance that I won't return to Louisville until I move out on Derby day. I'm in it for the long haul ladies and gentlemen. No more fucking around. Until next time...