C Note(s)

Wow. It took some digging, but with some monster help from friends, I've installed a solid state drive (SSD), 8 GB of RAM (maximum I can do in my laptop), and Windows 10. Thank you so much, Mari and Chad Kanotz! This laptop boot up time is literally seconds, and it's been Flash Gordon fast ever since. Chad warned me that the CPU is bearing the burden of computing so to watch for the heat build up. I joked it might be from all the work I'm getting done!

Merry Christmas, Mom, Last year I wrote a similar letter which I copied for the purposes of updating it (blog entry Open Letter To Mom - Christmas, My Only Wish. It's taken me a better part of a decade and a half to figure out why you loved the Christmastime so much when you were with us. Speaking of ‘with us’, can you believe that it’s been 18 years since your soul has been upgraded to another plane of existence?  For the years that followed, I upheld all the Bayne Christmas traditions. I started playing music on December 1 st , and kept playing  until December 31 st .  I continued to watch my Die Hard and Die Hard 2 movies within the month of December.  I digress.  This year I finally figured why you loved Christmas so much. And no, not because you were born and raised Catholic, either. I remembered every year you would have me crawl into the attic to drag down the tree, and decorations on the weekend of Thanksgiving – many of which you made yourself. You would s

After a full 40 hour week at the Woodinville Costco (747), I only have a few observations. First and foremost, the entire staff at the building is super sweet, welcoming, and accommodating. That was a relief. I heard of experiences of transfers to buildings, and warnings about the work environment, and hearsay but didn't cloud my first impressions. And if you know anything about me, you know this is my SOP for any adventure. Be myself but watch and see what the situation will bear. I noticed there is a subtle hierarchy, in terms of tasks, within the workforce. I envisioned cart runs in the rain, and other not-so-desirable tasks, for my first week. I was pleasantly surprised with tasks that would help me be a better cashier at the front end. I won't list them out, or detail them out, but I'm not afraid of hard work so I accepted all of them with a smile and "I'm on it" on my lips. Secondly, there's a warehouse vernacular that is a mixture of English, abb

I've started this blog entry several times, but still have difficulty posting it. You see, I have some bad news / good news to announce.  "Bad" news first so that the good news will help alleviate the bad news. As of Friday, 11/27/15, yes Black Friday, it will be my last day at Costco Travel. That'll be the end of 13 and a half years at the company. In this day and age of constant job change for one reason or another, this type of tenure is unheard of. I've been told it's quite an accomplishment. To me, though, it reinforces the type of person I am, and work ethic.  A pessimist would tell me that I simply tolerated what I couldn't change, and I couldn't find a way out.  An optimist would tell me that I am a loyal employee to a fault. I smirk - it's neither. I loved my work (still do), and loved the people and company I worked with / for. If you know anything about me whatsoever, you know this is simply the only acceptable explanation. Fri

DJ Swarlos is simply my stage name in which I rarely use. If I’m the DJ / MC / hired entertainer I simply go by Carlos. Maybe when I have “arrived”, on a main stage somewhere or a regular fixture at a club, I’ll reference Swarlos. However, I digress. I wanted to announce that with enough gigs, and saving my cheddar from these gigs I finally have all the gear needed to be independent DJ. I don’t have the best in the business but it gets the job done. In the end, just like photography, it’s not the gear but the professional using it. There. I said it. Professional. My intent was to post about moving up from a novice / rookie / amateur but comparatively speaking … I’m a professional! I really do earn the money, and street cred that comes with my gigs. Despite any on-site challenges, or however chaotic the itinerary becomes, I get the job done with a high level of professionalism. My clients have given positive feedback, gratuities and requests to have me back next year. Only professio

Several years ago, I was introduced to the world of $1 bets by my bro, Scott. BEST. THING. EVER. Especially since most $1 bet disputes can be easily answered with a smartphone or computer access to the itnerwebs. Besides, I coined it a level of confidence as an answer. "Are you sure?" It's a flimsy yes. "So are you $1 bet sure?" So I've recently introduced my work team to the wonderful world of $1 bets. At first my new teammate was not initially understanding. As we understand it, it's a nominal amount but enough to keep you accountable. Yesterday I proposed a $1 bet to the other ICS (teammate) I ended up losing the best so I attempted to pay but she wouldn't accept my outstretched arm with $1. She declined it! Flat denied it. I offered twice then put it away. Today? One of my managers proposed another dollar bet. And this time I won! But so did Taryne. I eagerly accepted my manager's dollar while Taryne was reluctant to accept. I wan

Twas the night before Spartan, and all through the crib; Not a thing was stirring, not even the racer’s bib; Compression socks hung by the door with care, In hopes that the start time soon would be there; Us racers were nestled all snug in our beds While visions of obstacles danced in their heads; And baby in her pj’s, and I in my cap, Had just settled in for a short autumn’s nap, All of a sudden there was a clatter, out on the lawn, Sprang from my bed to see what the hell was going on. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen rain, Gave a luster in the fog of my sleepy brain, When what to my wondering eyes did appear, But a Spartan Elite and all his race gear, With a spry young racer this year’s champion, I knew in a moment it was Robert Killian. More rapid than eagles his competition they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: "

After 2 days, 2 phone calls per day, I was able to contact the WSDOT Good To Go Office. 1-3 record isn't bad right? You see I qualified for a free GTG Flex Pass on RideShareOnline . The red sticker on it states to activate it before use. Having been through the new debit card - credit card experience, this seem natural. Easy. Automated. Right? Not even close. I access my GTG account online in the hopes that the portal has been upgraded and enabled end-user to modify their accounts. Nope - what the hell was I thinking?! I call the toll free number on the sticker. And that's when I inadvertently relived the Friends episode called The One with the Screamer (Season 3, episode 22) Specifically, I'm speaking about the longest hold that Phoebe is on because her phone warranty is about to expire. I discover from the automated phone prompts, which is the same voice of the Comcast bitch, that the office hours are closed. I called on Wednesday. Twice. Each time I held on for 2

I’m starting a new sub ‘blog, titled: Carpool Conversations with Charrina. Most days that we carpool into to work are mundane. Our conversations are run-of-the-mill what’s on the to-do list, etc. Every once in a while, at least in the past month, we can have some interesting convo. We were discussing the human condition, that people are crazy – both genders, all walks of life. WCP: “Aiight, Lamp. B**ches be cray.” ‘los [I refuse to refer to my moniker of Lamp]: “Correction. Everybody be crazy. Normal is only a setting a Whirlpool washing machine.” WCP: “I’m with that.” ‘los: “So we need a gamut, a range of cray.” WCP: She pauses, “Whatcha thinking?” ‘los: “On the Crazy-Hot Matrix it’s 2-10 but for our discussion purposes, let’s bookend it with 1-10 with 0 not being a possibility as we agreed everyone is crazy.” WCP: After a nod of acknowledgement, “Cool.” ‘los: “1 is your garden-variety, slightly zany, mostly dingy, fluffy bunny cupped in your hand crazy or cray

In this day and age of mistrust, is compassion conditional? And if you live long enough, you've known the pain and experience of trusting the wrong person which you were rewarded with betrayal and hurt. Kinda doesn't incentify you to show compassion and/or present an olive branch to the next person when called upon. Recently I had spirited conversation with a good, and dear friend of mine about compassion. I was pro-compassion without condition. My parents taught me, especially my mother, that if I don't have a good reason not to help someone who's asked for it, then your answer should be yes. Easier said than done, though, right? Damn, right! I still helped in my way, and richly rewarded with more than I imagined. But that's how compassion / Karma / whatever you sow you reap pays you back. I smiled and retort, but you don't help with the thought of what's-in-it-for-me. Or do you? Or is it how much am I risking to lose? Or how much my trust in the

It's been a minute since my last post - apologies for that. It's been an uncharacteristic month for me as well. I've been dished out more losses than wins, with my mountain-high level confidence been razed to a level of a soccer pitch. And yet? Yet - I keep digging. Why? Hope. That's right - hope. Hope for a brighter day, hope for another win with a grip of more hard work, hope that you're closer to your goal than when you started, and some much more. To me it's a fascinating portion of the human condition. I've observed in the absence of all else (seemingly insurmountable odds, lack of resources, for examples) but if you still have hope, then you can continue through the desperate of situations. I could rattle off a litany of situations from my perspective that was desperate but comparatively speaking they weren't that dire. Just seemed like it. And for now, too. Someone once told me the "grass is greener on the other side", and of cou

That is the question isn't it? For as much as I post (some chide me as a post fiend) you'd think it doesn't take an effort. It does take a conscientious effort for the most part if I'm not sharing a funny / noteworthy post of someone else's. My motivation, at least in the beginning, was to communicate and broadcast to my Dad and family in the Philippines because they signed up for Facebook after abandoning other social media websites such as Friendster etc. Then I had / have a Blogger account with several blogs. One is called C Notes. Why C Notes, you ask? 1) the title is vital, 2) multi-layered pun, and 3) versatile.  So when I'm inspired or motivated to post, I write. But I have a general rule to not to write in anger or in a negative space. Of course, it's happened in the past and will continue on occasion. To understand, you must know when I started journaling my life but then returned to those pages years later I thought to myself I was unhappy an

Last night was my first night at my new crib, back in Bothell. I woke up and walked out onto my 2nd floor balcony that faces a green belt. I smirked. Fourteen years ago (to the day) I did the same in a newly purchased house in Bothell in the Mays Pond housing development in 2001. It's a mere mile up the road. I thought it would a bad ghost town to roam around in. As I bounced to a rally point for pick up today, I drove down Highway 527 to find them ghosts standing there. However they were harmless and barely visible. I'm certain it's because I don't think on those memories any more or give them energy to live on. Again right after the betrayal and divorce those ghosts were very opaque but it's been a decade and a half (gawd I'm old!) It's time to create new memories to think on to give them energy  to live on. Now that'll be a memory lane to stroll down. This has been my C Note 'Los; out

Another year, another successful Watershed . As much as I plan and calculate, I have yet to get the details formulated correctly to what actually transpires. A part of me understands, and yet still struggles with that it's a very fluid situation so the details will not be known ahead of time. "Go with the flow [of Watershed]", per se. So I save myself the aggravation, and deploy my two rules of life, and leave it at that. The line up was awesome as it has been for the past two years. Spotify user, Michael C. Alexander, created a Watershed 2015 playlist . Only two people of the original crew has been all three years: Charrina Bayne, and Michelle Green. It's fun to have a revolving crew, yet have some keystones. The newest member to our Watershed crew? Cher Jones Rasmussen, my girlfriend. She had her reservations about this Watershed business, but as always, she approached with an open mind, and kind heart, and sure enough she had the time of her life. She ev

On Facebook I posted an encounter with my ex-wife. See below So! Ingrid Michaelson's song "Time Machine" is blasting out my speakers as I'm rolling slow through Redmond Town Center. Then I stop to let a pedestrian walk through a crosswalk only to realize it's my ex-wife that (thankfully) I haven't seen in years. The IRONY! It hurts! It's the one person I would dedicate this song too   ‪#‎ sorrynotsorryatall‬   ‪#‎ artimitateslife‬   ‪#‎ ironyatitsbest‬ The tone of the comments were my expectation of props for showing restraint, etc. I replied with, "You have no idea". However, what I meant was entirety different. Usually when I bump into exes the encounter is ill-timed, and coated with awkwardness. Meaning sometimes 5,000 tiny daggers stab my heart at once, or the pit of stomach tightens, or my manic level hits the roof, my blood boils from revenge or my sadness envelopes me like a winter's blanket. This time? Nothing happened. Zilch,

Ok, so on Saturday, Cher and I plus her co-worker’s crew ran the Rugged Maniac 5K obstacle course. Since it was essentially a mud run, I warned Cher that no electronics allowed on the course. About half-way through the course, as we were sludging our way through muddy river portion, I looked over at her. She smiled but quipped, I could really use some music. My motivation and power come from my music. This is first experience with this, so I wanted to ensure she had a great time, and being who I am, I broke out into song. Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline to be exact. We trudged our way to the nearest obstacle, a military crawl in mud under barred wire. There was a small wait, and just long enough for me to sing to the chorus. A couple of our flag football buddies approached us through the crowd of waiting people. It was Kurt and Julie! They heard me singing (more like bellowing), and thought, who the hell would be singing in the middle of obstacle course? Me, of course. After we e

Happy birthday, Dad! I've never been one to favor Daddy, father, papa, etc. I know you're half-way around the world but you're always close to my heart. I'm proud of you. Hell, I'm proud to be your son. So much so that I've intentionally molded myself to be a direct reflection of you but not be a clone. Imitation is the finest form of flattery. I am the man I am today because of your parenting with Mom. I hope you know that. And if I ever find myself in a situation that I'm interacting with children, whether they are strangers or friend's (girlfriend), I launch into a parenting type of role, because that's what you would do. As an adult, I've learned that it's my responsibility perhaps obligation to parent. What do I mean by the term parenting / parent? I mean be like you. A family first type of man. And family is defined by how I designate so that blood and marriage not the only parameters. To be the best co-worker, friend, partner,

So I discovered that I have an agreement with  Bluehost  and  Wordpress  for an entire year that I can't break. That means I paid for a website, hosting of it, and the URL, for a company that doesn't exist. *insert sarcastic remark here* Awesome! I do find it amusing that this is a post (blog) driven website much many other platforms have transformed into. I noticed that Blogger is the format - you can have pages (static) or posts (dynamic) or pages of posts (kinda a blend of both worlds) Now I'm conflicted.  Do I maintain two blogs simultaneously? Or do I maintain the free one (Blogger) that I've had forneverness in favor of the pre-paid? Or maintained the paid one knowing it'll be deactivated / deleted in a year's time?  What would you do? I'm gravitating to writing one post but copy the entry to both so I can maintain blog integrity. In the early days of web logs ('blogs or blogs for short), I would start with one company such as Live

So my constant PIC, WCP, will be driving me to my doctor's appointment for more and hopefully the last foot treatment for my wart. I wanted to put a positive spin on my upcoming limp in my walk so my snarky remark will be, "I'm becoming Keyser Söze." Yay, if you're not a movie buff, you won't get it either. And no ... I'm not explaining it. 'los; out

Several years ago, I was given unexpected bad news by my then-wife. She was cheating on me so she wanted a divorce. "Love" had punched a hole in my chest, ripped out my heart out, and with it still beating in its' grasp, broke my heart in my face. As I fell to my knees, I outstretched my arms to stop myself but the ground gave in below me. I tumbled into the abyss of depression, thus touching off the cycle of grief. The grieving the death of my relationship.  You see, I don't share this many, but as an adolescent I struggled and battled with depression. It wasn't diagnosed but 20 years later I'm confident it was. In fact, I believe it's why I love to entertain and make others laugh and feel good. I know what it's like to feel otherwise. I digress. Without a relationship, and a new perceived away of "Love", I had time to be alone with my thoughts. If you know me, and still reading this, this situation can be dangerous.  First item fo

For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: "It might have been!" - Bret Harte Funny thing is this is a parody of the Maud Miller  (1856) poem written by John Greenleaf Whittier! At any rate, I designed a plan, executed it perfectly, and still had unplanned results which some were welcomed and others not so much. What was the plan? From The Hunt for Red October (1990): I'm not saying I'm Russian, but I usually don't act without a plan. Ask anyone who knows me. Since I decided to not take a self-guided photography tour of  Central Washington, and the Palouse area specifically, my time away from the office would need to be optimized if I wanted to feel relaxed. I changed gears to make it a productive staycation. The past days I've spent focused on organizing, and packing my crib. Yes, it's only a one bedroom apartment but it wasn't fully moved in therefore some aspects of it were a hot-damn mess. As of yesterday afternoon,

HM. I'm a grip tired. Woke up on my own around 5:30 a.m. on Memorial Day. Any other year I would've checked the time, repositioned myself and return to my slumber. Not this morning. I had a cup of coffee, dressed in gym clothes, dialed in Mark VI (iPod) and set out into the wide world of sports for a run. After 4 miles it was time enough to return to my home. To write this blog entry. Again, any other year I would be campaigning to know the difference between Memorial Day and Veteran's Day, all the while enjoying the "spoils of war" which is my freedom and my nation's freedom. Brave men and women fought valiantly on foreign and domestic soil so they could preserve the right to have a run at OH-DARK thirty, or backyard cookouts or frankly whatever the hell we want to do at that time within the confines of rules of decorum. Any other year, I would be waking up in a campsite or somewhere not in my town, enjoying the company of friends and family. This yea

HM. One the groomsmen at the wedding I performed mentioned to me, "Ya know, you're a hard workin' man." I smiled and thanked him. Then I continued to work. I thought about it as I continued to toil. I worked 40 hour week at my Clark Kent Job, then helped a bro move his family's furniture with a crew from his old home to his new home. I crashed out, woke up to coffee in my cup (not gonna lie some rum cream may have made into the cup) and immediately went to work. I started gathering songs for a 5th grade graduation I am DJ-ing, while I readied myself for the wedding I was about to perform in the afternoon. After the ceremony, I bounced to my girlfriend's crib for a quick noshing on food and ... guess what? You guessed it, back to work. This has been my C Note. 'los; out #norestforthewicked #gottakeepdigging #diggingaintdone

UGH. I did myself the disservice of looking at the mirror I was naked. Nobody needs to see that, let alone me. In the morning. Before coffee (BC) Cher and I jokingly said that any events or decisions before coffee / caffeine most likely will be nullified. I had 3 epiphanies on our trip; all after one cup of java joy. We also reference B.C. as Before Cher / Before Carlos, meaning the time before we met each other and found love.  I digress.  As I was admiring (more criticizing) what I saw, I wanted to set out to change that. I’ve attempted several times already. Each time ended with frustration and disappointment. I reviewed each attempt with a lessons-learned-what’s-my-takeaway. You see, I’ve done this before. I wanted big guns, and broad shoulders – check and check. Now I want a flat stomach as I’ve had before so I know it’s possible. Talking with my love, Cher, we agreed we needed a goal, an arbitrary point in time, a bookend to the effort. While I agree with that, I als

My Dad says some crazy shit. Some of it is wildly unbelievable but some of it is utterly genius! Like his two rules of life, which I've adopted as my own.  1. Shit happens! 2. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do Note: any problem with rule number one, see rule number two. Any problem with rule number two, see rule number one. The beauty of this is its simplicity. The vagueness is its all encompassing nature of it.  It applied to all our challenges we, Cher and I, faced while traveling.  Lesson 1: Remember all your belongings when leaving a vehicle. You'd think that I would have this down as a goddamn science by now... Forgot my carry-on in the bin on the first connection flight. Luckily our travel documents were in it. Why, you ask? It was able to be verified that I was the owner.    Or in the UberX car, my camera (Lumi) fell out of my jacket pocket while I was exiting but the driver hollered at me because I did leave a tip.  So shit ha

Mom? Were you checking in on me the other day because I cried? Or was it a routine check-in, and I happened to catch you in the act? How do I know it was you, you ask? Simple - the undeniable aroma of fresh cut roses, from your rose garden in a place that it's just not possible to have. In addition, it was bone-chilling cold when I passed by, but it was clearly higher than usual room temperature. Lastly... This is about sixth time I experienced this, which is the same every single time.  I digress! Anyways, I was crying because my heart was touched and overwhelmed with joy, not of sadness. Yeah sure, I'll acknowledge work hardship, and difficulties have me stressed, but it's a job. Honestly, not receiving a promotion I didn't earn hasn't upset me. Much less bring me to tears.  No, ma'am. It was this experience last weekend. Picture this. Easter Sunday. I returned from Norwescon in the mid-day. Cher text me the standard exchange of information, and p

UGH. ACK! EWWW. That was the most Karma charged hour I’ve lived through in a minute. I was dashing out for lunch in the work parking lot which is packed 24/7. So leaving for lunch errands equates to sacrificing your parking stall, and most likely having to return to the overflow parking at Lake Sammamish State Park, with the shuttle ride back. As I withdrew my car keys, I spy the one of the few people I never want to intentional help – ever. Despite my better judgment, I hoisted my car keys in the air to indicate I’m leaving soon thus sacrificing my parking spot. I threw up a grip in my mouth over how sickening it was to help those that don't deserve it. Now I could’ve waited them out, or other shady behavior, but frankly I don’t have the time, nor want to dedicate that effort to it. Fast forward through my lunch time convo with my baby, dropping dry cleaning, and returning to a parking stall at work that I manifested. I walked through the deli to say hello to my Costco Deli

The women's bathroom, to me, is a modern day enigma. My confusion started with this mysterious place when I was a young man. My first job for the 'man' was at Payless Drug Store (aka Pay 'N' Save, then Thrifty Payless Drug Store, finally Rite Aid) One of my nightly duties was to clean the restrooms for both genders. After my first time, I learned to start with the most difficult one to clean as it would take the most time: Women's. I am a rather tolerant and patient person even a teenager. I understand that women have more outgoing bodily fluids than men so I usually forgave some of the messes left in there as my nightly 'treat'. They give us life, they rear the children they produce, and more. I get it. What I didn't understand or 'get' was ... If they are the fairer sex, and seem put together, and generally smell nice, why the hell is it such a nasty ass place then? Even most women would share with me one of the nastiness places on