Fun Alley

Laffs

2008-01-09T19:11:00.000-08:00

Me: "You know what is a really good, funny movie? Enchanted."
Coworker: "Oh, yeah, I saw that. It wasn't bad. Not that good though."
Me: "I thought it was hilarious! I loved how it made fun of itself, yet still managed to be Disneyesque. It was cute...definitely cute. You gotta admit that."
Coworker: "Yeah... maybe I should have gone with my girlfriend instead of my dad."

Capetown Ahoy!

2007-01-04T21:50:00.000-08:00

Jan 3 2007 6:45am capetown, south africa

It may have taken over a day to get here, but I’m finally here! After a 10 hour flight from SF to Frankfurt, a 7 hour layover, and an 11 hour flight to Capetown, it’s been quite a long haul. Everything went surprisingly smoothly though as I was half expecting to discover that my baggage had been lost (a fate that befell both Ian and Vidya when they arrived here). I breezed through customs (they request to see your return ticket, guess they want to make sure you leave!) and am sitting in the SFO-like lobby, waiting for Vid to pick me up.

It’s early but the sun is already shining brightly. I stepped outside to take in the not-very-Evanstonlike 70 degree air. I think I’m going to like it here. It’s bustling outside, with people flowing into the International Terminal. It’s a really diverse crowd of families and jetsetters of all ages and ethnicities. I know I’m jumping the gun, but it really feels like I sat on a 30 hour flight and ended up back home!

Capetown has a very cosmopolitan, busy yet laid-back feel to it. Well, at least the airport does. I can see how people liken it to the Bay Area. One thing’s for certain though, it’s a whole lot prettier. The view as we descended into Capetown Airport, was breathtaking. Table Mountain, Lionshead, the Cape … I hope they’re as magnificent as they looked from a mile up. Guess I’ll find out.

Ok, time for me to head back out and look for Vid. We’ll be spending the day getting settled – getting my phone card, some cash, and booking the Tanzania tickets. I’ll be staying at a famous party hostel – the Big Blue Hostel. It’s a 10 person room (hey, how can you turn down 13 bucks a day?!) so we’ll see how it goes.

...Now, what's a guy gotta do to get some Keg popcorn around here?

Mamma MIA!

2006-11-11T01:09:00.000-08:00

It was the best of times, then the worst of times...then the best again! To what do I owe this great emotional roller coaster ride to? Why, recruiting of course!

Everyone goes to business school with the aim of getting into some company or industry they've been eyeing. For me, it was to get into a management consulting firm like Bain/BCG/McKinsey or get into product management at Yahoo or Google. Somehow, after the crazy twists and turns of ridiculous world travel, feverish socializing, miraculous semi-conscious knowledge osmosis in class (only thing that saves me time after time), and intense competition in the recruiting arena, i found myself flying into the Bay Area this week to participate in the only final round interviews I managed to get this whole quarter - with McKinsey and Google!

I was counting my lucky stars to even have a shot at these jobs, but I knew that I was up against some of the most qualified individuals in b-school for the few open positions that were available. I was nervous but ready to do battle. Eye of the Tiger played continuously and I knew that I should only focus on what I can control. These were my fights to win...or lose.

GOOGLE, Wed 11/8, 9:00 AM
Our recruiting shuttle pulled up to the Googleplex in Mountain View right on time. I couldn't believe what I saw outside my shuttle window. Outside the giant, oddly-shaped office buildings, people in all sorts of crazy, colorful outfits were riding their bikes, milling around, and zipping by on motorized scooters. I would soon learn that these were some of the 9000 Googlers at the firm.

The shuttle dropped off the respective groups and my Product Management group was let off last, along with the Product Marketing Manager candidates. We headed into the G-plex and jumped into a talk about how the most exciting people work at Google and how great of a time we'd have it we were there. If that wasn't preaching to the choir, I don't know what is. This was one amazing place and I think we were all drooling a bit at the prospect of getting an offer. Oh ho ho, what a silly idea to entertain so early in the day! But entertain it we did...

We were sent off to our interviewing cubes, which, oddly did not have any ceilings and it was possible to hear the other interviews next door. Anyhow, it didn't matter as I was focusing solely on what my interviewers were saying. 2 PMs and a software developer quizzed me on all sorts of product management questions, as well as some theoretical technical stuff. There was only 30 minutes per interview, so it felt very rushed. The fact that one of my interviewers looked like he was ready to sleep right there in my cube wasn't too encouraging. I headed into lunch thinking that I was dead meat.

After a tasty Mexican lunch (Google has free food all day, if you haven't yet heard), the PMs were ushered back into our first meeting room, where we were then informed that some of us would make it to the never-before-mentioned Round 2, where we would meet with directors. Ohhhh....kay. They handed us some fancy Google bags and we were called into the hallway, three by three. I started having flashbacks of the Apprentice and hoped that I would be sent down to the street. Amazingly, I was brought back for the second round and I had some fluid and interesting conversations with the next two interviewers. I left the Googleplex, feeling better about myself. But man, I could not wait a whole week to find out the results! This was by no means a slam dunk, so the wait on pins and needles began.

So, with one down, I had another to go and this time, it was time to do battle with McKinsey Palo Alto on Friday...

Being Back

2006-07-20T00:46:00.000-07:00

It doesn't quite feel like the summer is nearly over. Yet, lo and behold, it's July 20. July 20! My internship at Accenture is over half over, I've finally had a chance to see most of my Bay Area friends at least once, I only just yesterday unpacked the suitcase i've been living out of since moving back, and I just got word that it's time to book my Fall classes once again. I never fail to be amazed at how each day can slip by when you're not looking.

My cubemate said to me today, I wish this day was over! Now, this is a pretty typical statement - particularly on sucky days when work is just killing you - but c'mon, it was only 11am! It's like pulling the ejection seat while the plane is still rolling down the tarmac. 11! I think I was still chomping down the last bit of the donut I bought for breakfast.

In another, completely unrelated incident (except that this, too, occurred at work), but another coworker came into our cube and chatted with my cubemate. As this transpired, I caught a glimpse at his shoes and was floored. They were some huge, scaly shoes made out of something that looked like alligator skin. The skin must not be too flexible - the shoes looked about 5 sizes too big for him. They were so loooong and weird reptiley - almost like flippers. I had to turn away and snigger to myself. It was the same kind of snigger I enjoyed oh-so-thoroughly last quarter when I realized that one of my team member's last name was iamthongthong. I AM THONG THONG. is it a name....or is it Sysqo's latest single? you be the judge.

So yeah, my brain's still a bit mushy and I can't spit out a coherent blog entry yet. It's like I snapped out of coma but forgot how to walk. it's all good, I'll just take this back to normal life thing one step at a time - or at least until I'm whisked off to school once again.

Jumble-Aiya

2006-07-19T00:22:00.000-07:00

Hello peeps, I'm back from the abyss and have a bunch of random thoughts stored up in my noggin. Here goes, before I explode.

it makes me sad when people who like taking pictures stop taking them. or when those over-eager video camera types start leaving the camera in the closet. does it mean they don't treasure the memories as much?
office space is funny as a movie. not so much as your life.
my little brother can go a whole day without saying a word at home. wow.
you make up a whole lot of stuff in consulting. the rest you just ask your client.
ok, i get it now. i have weird hair.
i got cornered hy a weirda (it was a girl) at a party. she made weird faces when i mentioned people we both knew and was so proud to know senior management types. suffice it to say, i went to get a refill...pronto.
bschool stuffed my brain. i think i'm still chewing on mid-november.
70% asian. 20% south asian. 8% white. 2 % other. Rogonacci numbers.
i miss Recess, Orroroo, and Choose Your Own Adventures
tots is great!
Most of the people in my life go way back. Is that why they are the people in my life? Or is it that I've chosen for them to be in my life, hence we go way back?
For some reason, I feel desensitized to a lot these days (maybe because I'm still chewing on mid-November?)
I wonder if anyone will read this (FunAlley's been quet, I know).
Congratulations to my bro Jer - you'll be a great doctor!
Congratulations to my bro Danny - may you find your passion at UCR
I think I need braces.
I'm becoming one of those worker people who come home so tired they can only eat dinner and watch tv. And they spent all day in front of the computer so they don't want to go online much either. Couch potatoville, here I come...
But how will I write my book that way?
Bush never ceases to amaze in a jaw-dropping sort of way.
Good night

Someone get me some Drano!

2005-12-21T23:39:00.000-08:00

It's been thirteen days since I finished my first quarter at Kellogg and only now am I starting to comprehend my education. Every moment I sit and do nothing is a chance for me to play back in slow motion a bit more of the reel of Ferris Roger's Business School Education. It's actually a pretty dense and awesome flick, when you give it the time of day. During the first go-round, it was played at 10X and it was all I could to do to simply skim.

1/6 of my education is complete (read: $20K) and it felt like 4 weeks. Wow. Do I feel like a more high-powered business guy? Hmm, maybe. Do I feel more intelligent? (incrementally - but definitely not in Accounting! Curse you bonds!) Do I feel better connected? (yep. well, with my peers anyway. it's time to get started on those profs though.) I feel as though I bit off more than I can chew and am slowly mashing up and digesting the mouthful of knowledge, lessons, and experiences that got jammed into my face over the past few months.

Is business school a great time? Absolutely. Do I know why I love it? Maybe. Aside from the mountains of social opportunities and pretty cool classes, the value proposition of school is more easily said than fully grasped and understood. Lofty goals such as * gain a high-level understanding of business * or * become a well-rounded individual * or * contribute to my class through my various work experiences * can be lost in the shuffle of the madness that is maintaining your Outlook calendar, sifting through your piles of email, and running to and fro to different recruiting events.

Don't forget the prize, ladies and gents. Keep your eyes on the prize. And, perhaps, to do so, we all have to chew through the cud once in a while.

Chomp. Chomp.

Bailando Otra Vez!

2005-12-03T20:04:00.000-08:00

Ring! Ring! Ring! My cell phone danced and I grabbed it, grateful for the break it offered me from my Marketing final.

214....

214...

It sounded oh-so-familiar but I couldn't quite place the area code.

"Hello?"

"Hola! Rogelio... Recuerdome? (remember me?)"

Like a bad sequel, a flurry of panicked-flashbacks swamped me as I dizzily stumbled in the hallway, clutching my forehead in silent panic. [to catch the first episode, please see the posting "Oh Boy Alberto"]

He was back. And more bailando than ever.

"Hola! Hola?"

"Um, hello! Si, I remember you..." came my sickly reply.

"Bueno! Donde estas?"

...And there I went down the slippery slope, explaining that I was very busy (try to escape), that I had class (Clases? Que clases?) and that I was in school (Porque? Por negocio -- ah, still got that AP Spanish skills :)...) and that I was in Chicago (que bueno!).

I tried to run away, but just like in those silly horror flicks, I stumbled, bumbled, and crashed into nearly everything along the way. The conversation, it was picking up momentum....pretty soon, I'd be caught having a real conversation! ack!

"OK, voy a ir. Bye bye. Adios!" Halt the JAWS score -- the water went still as Bailando suddenly left. I was left in a cold sweat, clutching my phone as the 214 phone number blinked three times and faded.

A year later, he had found me.

Ay caramba.

Up For Air

2005-11-25T13:56:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

It's been nearly four months since I last posted. Wars have been won and lost in less time. Sadly, this closely correlates with the moments I have to take a breath and assess where I am, where I have been, and where I am going.

A lot has happened in the past few months. Since getting back from Oz, I packed up and moved out of the Bay for the first time in 27 years. I moved into my Park Evanston high rise apartment in Evanston, home to Kellogg, and set forth on my two year adventure in business school (which got off to a less than ingnominous start with the towing of my rental car the first morning I was there). Four days after moving in, I spent a week hanging out in Ilha Grande, a small local island community off the north coast of Brazil, as well as partying it up at the Copacabana (ah, now the Friends song makes sense). It was on this KAOS trip (since named Kwest to not besmirch the Kellogg name, apparently) that I met my first group of bschool buddies. The Ilha clan has since claimed title at school as the rowdiest, most amped up, and party-hard group of peeps. It was certainly an experience not without my own personal challenges as I tried to reconcile a group personality different from my natural instincts.

After KAOS, CIM week kicked in and I met my section, the Bucketheads. 65 strong, our rallying cry was "Bow to the Bucket!" and we owned the OLC by screaming at the top of our lungs, "Win or lose, we booze!". The entire week was a tremendous blur of adrenaline, new faces (everyone sweated the name game -- thank goodness for Todd Midura calmly sailing through). Thanks to some fantastic organization and theatrical skeelz, the Buckets rocked the CIM Talent Show with some burly men in tutus, acapella/LaBamba tunes, and one dynamite Napoleon Dynamite dance off.

As the school year rushed in, Strategy, Marketing, Decision Sciences and Accounting filled my life. Not sure if it's my natural inclination to resist learning or if it's my Engineering undergraduate training, but I've managed to dedicate 50% of my brainpower to pondering everything but class. Not the best approach, as I now face a Thanksgiving vacation centered around the books (granted, I'm now blogging, so clearly I'm not that worried quite yet). I do, however, now believe it's time for me to get some of my money's worth and pick up a thing or two from the great faculty here.

There have been so many new names and faces that I am still digesting everything. I've met some good friends here - Ian, Vid, Jess, Sarah, Megha, Brian, and Ben top the list and I can't wait to see what awaits me. The challenge is really getting to know all the interesting people here while at the same time surviving class and nailing that tricky consulting gig for the summer. Wish me luck!

And of course, there is the great Tatertot, with whom I now share this tremendous bschool experience. She's been ultra supportive and understanding during the last few months of frenziness - yet she's also reminded me of what's important (us, family, friends back home). She's been my anchor during this torrential downpour of change. And, of course, that's why she's my gal.

Now, friends, I will try to come up for air more often than four times a year. And if I'm too much a stranger, reach out and remind me that life happens outside of the craziness that resides between one's two ears.

Things I'm thankful for:

my healthy family, tatertot, & relatives
my pals back home, the loveboaters, the Danvillians, the Lantoids, BLers, Cal peeps, the Locusts, and Kelloggians
the opportunity to really make something of this Kellogg experience!
and of course, you guys, who care enough, to check in on my blog (even after being dry for 4 months)

~ dodge

7 Days

2005-07-13T02:27:00.000-07:00

Apparently seven days is the amount of time I need to adjust to life in Orroroo.

After watching cricket til 10:30 (Oz vs England showdown) and crashing hard like I've done every night since arriving in Orroroo, I woke up today awash a sea of calm, like I was back home in my own bed and not on the other side of the world. I got up, got showered, scarfed down some toast, and jumped into the police truck to visit the Bowman's farm.

Gone was the apprehension, advance forethought of what I should do, what I should say, how I should behave. It was just plain and simple daily life. My homestay finally became home.

And that's what the Experiment is all about, really. It's not a Mickey Mouse tourist visit - it's a chance to step into the shoes of an ordinary citizen in town. It's about waking up and feeling as if it were going to be just another humdrum day.

Here's a rundown of my day:

went offroading at the Bowman's and took a bajillion pics of the purple, pink, and orange shades of ochre by the creek bed
stood aghast at seeing Midge, the Bowman's dog, chow down on a dead lamb in said creek bed
sat down for some impromptu tea at the local IT handyman's office, where I was looking to save my pics to CD. discovered that Tim previously built homes in an opal mine, is chair of the local regional board of directors, learned to build websites on his own, and is planning on launching a strip mall in town
had my name spraypainted onto a wall of shearer names that went back nearly 30 years
listened to the police radio, which announced a siege in progress (to which Danny, who seems to always be on call, dashed off)
wondered all day why Casey, my 3 yr old host sister, kept shooting me mean/sad looks
realized that I truly enjoyed 4 yr old Ryan's company - his effervescent cheer and curiosity is refreshing
appreciated how good at parenting Danny and Fi really are

I also came to one of my most poignant and stinging realizations today. I was disappointed by my lack of communication with Danny (bro, not host dad). Here I am, leading high school kids through Australia, encouraging them to be open, honest, and involved while I can't get my own brother to say more than "hey" before disappearing beneath his hoodie. Why is it easier to talk to strangers than it is to my own family? How is it that I'm exchanging email addys with 15 year old farm kids but can't even get my own brother's email address? {Once, I asked for Danny's email address. He told me to just call the house.} If there's one thing I've learned from this trip, it's that tomorrow is dictated by what you put into today. It wasn't ordained that my group of students come together as tight a unit as they have. It was through concerted effort and some bonding moments that we've arrived at this point. Similarly, perhaps I haven't poured sufficient effort into my siblings. Whatever the cause, I'm going to spend what little time I have when I get back home before I move to Evanston doing my best to connect those broken lines.

Edumacation & Roo Steak

2005-07-08T08:09:00.000-07:00

so i finally got to fulfill my "o'captain my captain" dream today (* dead poet's society reference, guideline for every starry eyed teacher wannabe).

i was sitting at the computer last night and wanted to put together a one-pager on things my students should keep in mind as they head into their second week of the homestay. i started it off with a gem i learned when i went skydiving. "the most important lesson i learned skydiving was to remember to take it all in. whether it be over 7 seconds or 2 weeks, your memories are based on what you actually take note of the experience." i then threw on a few basic questions i wanted the students to ask themselves to make sure they were actually conscious of this great learning experience. i then capped it off with the poem from thoreau.

I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately,
I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life,
To put to rout all that was not life and not when I had come to die
Discover that I had not lived.

as romantic was the vision i had in my head as i typed it all out at 1am, the reality of its actual execution was a tad more pedestrian. i gathered the group between sessions, sat us down in the school kitchen (hard up on common areas as it was pouring outside) and passed it out (forcing them into the hands of the kids who were afraid they were the national anthem lyrics i had vowed they would sing at the school closing assembly. those would come later heh heh...). we only had a few minutes before the assembly was to start so i blurted something like "okayguysthetripisalmostover, readthislistofstuffandkeepitinmindsoyoucanmakethemostofyourtrip, k?"

* silence *

then, "i hate poetry!"

somehow, i didn't quite feel moved to jump onto the nearest desk and yell carpe diem.

~~~
so at the assembly we sang the australian, american, and --get this-- the chinese anthem. the lone Chinese student (from China) stood up in front of 200 ppl and led us through the anthem (she had written it out earlier). it was such an inspiring moment -- this was from the girl who felt lonely because of the language barrier. in loud, clear, and commanding English, she explained the anthem and had us sing it with her (or rather, murmur, since we didn't quite know the tune). we then cheered wildly afterward.

that's when i wanted to jump on a desk. not finding one, i just grabbed my half eaten hot dog and chomped away as the assembly continued.

~~~
ate some roo tonight. we went over to the neighboring town of pekina and ate at the only pub in town (well, it's really the only establishment of any sort except for the neighboring fire station). the roo is like a medium rare steak with a tinge of gamey lambness. not too shabby. had a citrus sauce on it. not too shabby - the kids even took a bite. we're making progress!
held my host brother (ryan, the 4 year old) in my lap as we played cards at the pub. that was when he decided to let one rip. i felt this weird fluttering on my leg and then the smell enveloped my head. criminy. almost dropped the kid i did.

good times, mates. good times!
~~~~
Quotable of the day:

Girl 1: My relatives were so mean. Another cousin visited their home and my aunt locked the fridge. Can you believe that?! He was so hungry!
Girl 2: But wait, wasn't there food in the fridge?
Girl 1: She didn't lock him in the fridge.
Girl 2: Ah.

Tales from the Land Down Unda

2005-07-06T07:12:00.000-07:00

ok, so it's been a random summer, to say the least.

i'm in orroroo right now, a small town in south australia with a population of 600. we held an assembly where i introduced my international students to the local school (k-12, 120 students). we went for an echidna walk (track down porcupinish guys, only succeeded in spotting two wild roos), spoke to different classes (Q to my chinese student from a 3rd grader: are there schools in china?), and ate and drank cool diff-dimensional stuff (sour watermelon FAN-ta! and chicken satay pies).

yes, yes, the above is your run-of-the-mill visit small town in australia type stuff, you say. and i would tend to agree. save for today.

it started normally enough. walked to the local school to meet w my kids (ran late, oops!). it started to sink in that i was halfway around the world, walking to school w a backpack, waving to neighbors that i've never met before. i was still chomping on my toast & marmalade (vegemite spread was the day before, not too bad for yeast jam) when i thought to myself, this is AWESOME! the air was pure, the peeps were nice, and hey, i was going to school where we would play some cricket, make some kids do some embarrassing ice breakers and call it a day.

i met w the kids, did some one-on-one check ins, walked around town (got sour apple fanta today, yum, + honey soy chicken chips), served up some hot chocolate for a local fundraiser and even got in some community service planting trees with the 8th graders. oh, and one student found his missing passport (thank gawd, woulda sucked to deal w that one - prolly would have to ride back to adelaide and fly to sydney - the equivalent of driving from sf to tahoe, flying to la, and back).

after tree planting, i went back to my host family's house. i'm staying with danny (sole policeman in orroroo -- we live in the police station and ride in the police truck), fiona (a nurse), and their two adorable kids (ryan -4, casey - 3). i hang w the kids some (sleeping beauty dvd, play w their rabbit floppy), chat w fi, and chat more with random neighbors that swing by (this one guy was in the aust navy and who spent some time in seattle where they would rent cars and simply see how far they could drive in a weekend and make it back before monday 8am, another guy was a woodworker guy who grew up on a farm). so far, so good.

then i step outside of the house for a breather and see the camels.

weird.

they were on a trailer attached to the police truck. apparently a car had overturned and danny had to cart back the camel trailer back home. it was soooo strange to see the camels in small town suburbia - and even weirder to note that everyone else didn't really bat an eye that we had a circus act in the front yard. anyway, i ride shotgun with danny as we pick up the camels' owner (frank?) who was not hurt in the accident and bring them to the local pen (free of use to anyone with something to stick in it). apparently frank is a bit of a nomad and races camels throughout australia. danny chats it up w him and i may be able to bring my kids over to ride em a bit. giddy up!

after that, we head back and stop by the local firehouse. i meet the 6 local volunteer firemen/firewomen and grab a cold aussie beer w them. we chat about random stuff in the firehouse headquarters (danny once killed a roo w a tire jack, one girl's driving the fire truck for the first time next wkd, one guy made a racist aboriginal joke -- awkward!).

then we get back home and have tea (=meal) that fiona prepared. mm, thai stir fry. very awesome. wash it down w more aussie beer and then i read some bedtime stories to the kiddos. then get a call from home base and learn that the grandparent of one of my students passed away and that i should prepare for some counseling tomorrow morning. poor girl - i just had a one-on-one w her today and she's having an incredibly fun time. ah, unpredictable life.

another student had mentioned earlier that he was afraid of losing one of his friends this summer. i'm crossing my fingers i don't get a call from home base about that one.

hope everything is going well back home for everyone!
rog

The Experiment, Days 1-3

2005-06-24T23:56:00.000-07:00

It started much as any Dodger adventure would, I suppose. Frantic scrambling, barely moving out of my house in time, praying that i packed my bags correctly, driving to Danville at 3 in the morning w/ my bro Jer, having my Dad wake up at 4 to drive me to Oakland Airport at 4:30am, and BARELY making my flight (who woulda thought the security line could be so long at 5am on a Wednesday morning?).

Now, here I am in the fun room of the Ellsworth dorm at the World Learning campus in Brattleboro, Connecticut at 3am this fine Friday night. It's a dingy fun room (I used the computer yesterday with a giant beetle chilling by the F6 button) but I'm just happy there's Internet access.

I'm here to participate in LTW - the Leadership Training Worship, a ramp-up course for those participating in the Experiment in International Living program. 102 group leaders have congregated at this giant colonial estate amidst the greenest, rolling-est hills around. It's an amazing place. Nestled -that's the word that comes to mind (I'll be sure to take some pics of the campus for you guys).

What's more incredible than the scenery is the group leader population. We're all here to take high-school age students abroad for a two-week homestay along with an ecological, language, art, or community service adventure (mine's an ecological expedition of Down Unda). I'd say 80% of the group leaders are currently high school teachers -- and 95% of the group leaders have studied abroad. The atmosphere is electric - it's like living in this weird dreamland where people speak in ideals, expound on developing community, and drive home the emphasis on making a difference in the lives of young adults. It certainly harkens back to my RA days (go Priestley!) but there's an added element of global awareness. These guys know their Zimbwabwe from their Zibbydedooda, if you know what I mean. We were at lunch and we were discussing how English has become the universal language. One of my buddies quips "I feel bad for those who learned Romanowski! What a waste of time that would have been! 0Heh heh." (note: he didn't say Romanowski, he said some other R-word that I take to mean some language that was slated for global use). I smiled politely and gave a courtesy heh heh. I mean, hey, everyone but me must know what Romanowski was! (or is?). Perhaps I slept through that lecture somewhere along the road. Anyway - they be educational highfalutin'. Cool stuff. Smart stuff! And humbling stuff.

As I walk between training classes, I can't help but survey my environment and stand agog at the amazing surroundings I have. The buildings are large, colonial, and bleach white. The grass is the darkest of greens and the sky is always watercolor perfect. As the 102 of us congregate for our daily dose of community building in an international setting, I stand amazed at the different people I have met here, different perspectives I have gained, and diverse personalities I have gotten to know. 3 days ago I was Joe Schmoe packing bags. Today, I'm Joe Schmoe establishing the basics for my 11-teenager team to Australia. It's kinda like the X-men school here. That's definitely what it looks like.

Anhow, let's hope I bring back the same number of kids! The administration doesnt' seem to want that either. Wish me luck!

Good times, good times.

Rog

Now, Breathe!

2005-06-06T02:11:00.000-07:00

Ah, it's good to be back in the Alley.

The last few weeks have been a veritable whirlwind from which I still feel a bit dizzy.

The Fogies Return
Yangstar, Nabster, and I returned to our roots and spent an afternoon in Berkeley. After hitting the driving range at Tilden, we grabbed salsafied burritos at La Burrita, hunted Cal gear at all the typical spots (Bancroft Clothing, ASUC, Joy's), took in a few beers at the Bear's Lair (3 dollar Hef's ... wowzas), and caught Kingdom of Heavens at Emerybay (Braveheart/LOTR lite, nada especial). What struck me about this fine day was how circumstantial and tenuous it was. I was on my way back to Danville, Nabs couldn't get his contingency softball game together, and Yangstar got out of his Berkeley extension class early. Had these rare moons not aligned, the fogies would not have been able to experience a textbook day from their student years.

While we sat in the sun that afternoon, surrounded by academia and the buzz of graduation, I was reminded of how excited and exploratory we were as university students. Our schedules were largely localized to campus events and friends and hanging out was our primary calling. We forged the long standing friendships not due to frequency but out of effort. We are friends today not out of coincidence or convenience, but rather because of those great Cal years when we dedicated ourselves to sharing our lives with each other. Alas, amidst the hustle and bustle of our scrambling schedules, convenience seems to drive the day. There's a nugget in there somewhere, let's hope we all find it.

Viva Cindiana!
The '98 Loveboaters gathered at Vegas to help usher fellow LBer Cindiana into holy matrimony w/ her now-hubby Jeff. They had a beautiful ceremony at the Bellagio and I was grateful to be there on their special day. It was also made for a great LB reunion - in addition to Tots and myself, Chen Popo, Jenshine, Vivvles, Chaz, Fee, Blackie, Annie, Hey Bert, Irene (w/ beau) and counselor Julie made it out to hang out in the scorching Vegas sun. Peng and Lex - we definitely expect to see you guys next time! While we couldn't get into Pure (curse you Carlos!), we did chat it up at Monte Carlo, pop in the wave pool (good work, Chaz - Head of Procurement), go fancy at Diego's at MGM (fanciest guac I've even seen) and work the line at the Bellagio Cafe. And, of course, it wouldn't be LB if we didn't take a bajillion pictures from a bajillion cameras :). My personal highlights -- Chaz' pimp walk w/ pimp bong, my getting twirled by the General. lasting 6 seconds on the mechanical bull, and listening to Cindiana's dad's speech at the wedding (hearing how she was always the happiest to see him and the first to greet him at the door made everyone tear up - myself included). Great, great, wonderful stuff.

Brawlin N'Awlins
So I finally had a chance to discover the land of Creole, Cajun, Voodoo, and daily street parties that put other towns' new year's to shame. A bunch of guys came together this past weekend to celebrate my friend's, and incidentally, boss') bachelor party. I was happy to find all the positive things I heard about New Orleans correct (friendly people, rowdy fun, fantastic jambalaya and gumbo) and that the negative things I had heard not apparent at all (ultra dirty streets, nastiness everywhere). We had two phatty condos next to each other on Frenchmen Street and we trekked down Decatur and Bourbon from Friday straight through Sunday. We must have met every bachelorette party in the city this weekend and accosted every gal wearing a bridal veil to take a pic with the poor bachelor (he wore the shirt Dave M. had gotten him - -it had a picture of a happy married couple and the words "Big Mistake" emblazoned beneath it. Genius!). Some of my fave moments of the weekend - Beignets (Louisiana Kristy Kreme + tons o powdered sugar), 4AM Gyros (best I've had!), having the best gumbo at a local bar, watching Dave drink up practically ever test tube shot available at Crazy Catz :), enjoying the tale of the Broadlane brawl next door, and getting beat by a Chess Grandmaster in what must have been 9 steps. Good times gentlemen, good times.

Hurrah and hoopla

2005-05-11T00:09:00.000-07:00

So the fun news is that I got the Australia gig, Tomato story and all. I'll be spending the next month or so dreaming up how to make this the most mind-blowing trip for the kids. During my spare time, I'm trying channel Captain my Captain (I'll even settle for Sister Act).

This got me wondering just what exactly made certain events in my childhood and schooling stand out. What was so special about the memories that have actually stuck with me through the years? Some were really happy memories, some were really painful. Was it simply the level of shock that it induced in me? Does that mean that, as we get increasinly desensitized to the events in our lives, we end up remembering less because it all just gets lost in the noise?

Some of my memories are so random...

buying a giant bag of Whoppers (malt balls, not burgers) at school
eating nachos at school
making mom cry when i asked why we didn't drive a newer car
playing catch with dad in the backyard
mom bringing me back a book on bugs from her college bookstore
jerry pretending to run away because i was a mean babysitter
danny refusing to hike anymore and pouted
the barber got mad that my hair was stiff and hard to cut
the morning when we learned matt snow died
reading my RAs welcome letter
feeling embarrassed over reading 2000 more pages than everyone else during our readathon
hearing that i was going to hell if i didn't go to church
discovering the greatness that is einstein anderson
having my heart implode
debating affirmative action in my hallway
standing ovation in polysci
realizing my gf was a disney character

Hmm. So I don't know what to make of this list. I guess emotionally bruising or scarring incidents certainly make their mark. I guess i'm just going to need to either really scare the high schoolers or buy them books on bugs.

go figure.

Rich Enough To Get A Hot Wife?

2005-05-03T01:16:00.000-07:00

Dub, Pand, and I were driving throughout SF and Sausalito on our Be A Tourist Day when we passed by what we thought to be Jerry Yang's house (of Yahoo fame).

Pand: "Is Jerry married?"
Dub: "Yeah. I think so."
Pand: "Is his wife hot?"
Dub: "...um, I think she's normal."
Pand: "You'd think he's rich enough to get a hot wife."
Dub, Me (in unison):
Dub (recovering faster than me): "but what about love? doesn't that count?"
Pand: ...

As quick as we all would be to leap at Pand, fingers all a'accusing, it is interesting how common this thought process really is.

The more money, success, and/or fame you have, the "better" the significant other should be. And, in today's superficial world, apparently attractiveness/hot quotient is all that it takes to be "better".

Even I'm not immune. When I found out that Katie Holmes was dating Tom Cruise, I balked with the best of em. Dawson's Creek fodder in the same company as Jerry Maguire? Pshaw, I think not. After all, I had thought, "She's no Nicole Kidman." (read: not hot enough)

What do I know of these people? Nothing, really. Are they funny? Brilliant? Quirky? Who knows. And do I care? Nope - I do my cursory review of the couple's picture and make my snap yet oh-so-authoritative proclamation on the chances for survival. I assess the relationship equilibrium and pass down the decree.

Wow, I'm so Chinese parent that it's scary.

Randumb 2

2005-04-29T15:24:00.000-07:00

...man.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/burrito_lockdown

Randumb!

2005-04-27T23:14:00.000-07:00

Today is a lazy day. Why? Because I have nothing pressing to do tonight. That, in short, is fantastically fun. There is nothing better than drinking OJ, listening to some mp3s, and fiddling on my computer.

As I don't feel like getting to philosophical or weird/gross or complainy today, I shall instead present to you the list of randumb stuff.

Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes? huh? no. way. she is no nicole kidman, sorry! Will this last, you ask? Two words, one movie - Mission Impossible.
Flunking the Eye Exam. So I went to the opto today and sat behind the spectrometer -- the giant lens machine that the doc uses to say "1 -- 2 , 2---1". Normally these tests last 5 minutes. I was tested for nearly 15 minutes! my vision started to blur and my eyes got weak. soon, the 2's looked like 8's ... which looked like B's ... and then 6's!! It was a mess and in the end, the doctor gave up. SHE GAVE UP! she pulled out some crazy antiquated machine and put it on my face. I think it's what optos used before they invented the spectrometer (or whatever it's called) thing. It looke downright medieval. Anyway, I wore that thing (no doubt looking like a mad scientist all the while) and she fiddled some more.1---2. 2....1? I asked her to repeat it a few times and then she stood up and said my eyes were too dry and maladjusted without my contacts. Then she proceeded to tell my my eyes were desensitized raisins that shouldn't have contacts on em for at least half the day ....Doh.
Questionable Apprentice showdown. Anyone wonder how it is that there exactly 2 old schoolers and 2 new schoolers? After all these reality show exposes, I am pretty sure the thing is rigged and that the right mix of people make it to the end. ...Shods. (but I'm still gonna watch)
Project Russell Wong/Rick Yoon. So my attempt at growing out my hair to look more Hollywood/Corporate-friendly isn't progressing as I'd like. Rather than flop down and be combable, instead it is creating a sort of umbrella-ish look (aka mushroom). I am considering hair relaxant/straightener ... but the outcome is unknown. Who knows. Maybe it's spikyness forever for yours truly. Perhaps I should go for the Scarecrow look. Perhaps more feasible. ...Doggone.

and that's the Randumb list for tonight. It's...how you say, a slow news day :).

Meat Tooth Jr.

2005-04-26T01:09:00.000-07:00

Doggone! I thought my days of deteriorating chompers were long behind me.

Alas, I suddenly discovered last night that I couldn't really eat with my right side. Every time I'd bite down, a tingling sensation would shoot down into my entire being. Egads! Upon closer inspection, I discoverd a tiny hole in my molar that exposed what, in my pseudo-DDS-ness opinion, are oh-so-synaptic nerve endings of my gums.

I got me a cavity, Vern!

This unfortunate episode harkened back memories of ol' Meat Tooth, the Moby Dick of bad teeth. When I was ten or so, I recall wondering why a certain area of my mouth smelled like wrongness (which, if you don't know, smells very un-wonderful). Upon further inspection and probing with floss (who's preventative characteristics I had not yet embraced), I discovered there to be a small crevice in one of my molars. When that tooth fell out, I found there to be a small cave inside the tooth. I believe a piece of meat (most likely from the ribs Mom always made) had lodged itself between that molar and a neighboring tooth and spent several years creating this little home. How clever, meat, how clever indeed.

Wish me luck at the dentist tomorrow. Meat Tooth jr. be gone!

Genius Abound

2005-04-21T21:59:00.000-07:00

I've always loved being around smart and accomplished people. Their views on life and achievements always infused me with the belief that i could go anywhere and be anything (which happens to be a line in the Reading Rainbow song btw). It's always so cool to have so many people to look up to. Cases in point...

My high school buddy's bro recently released "Year of the Yao", the new documentary on Yao Ming
my bro Jer just completed his mcat! (a monster of a test I shudder to even think about)
McM scored a massive 760 on the ol gmat
LHM just became on heckuva young VP at a NY financial firm
Xelagirl recently left the States to to return to her five-year journey in helping an orphanage in Central America (she started Cal with senior standing...)
Tots is going to evaluate what is broken with local charter schools and write a bizplan to fix 'em

I know, I know ... idolizing others' achievements isn't necessarily helpful in reaching one's own dreams. Being a sideline fan doesn't get me in the game any faster. What it does, though, is remind you that goals can be achieved, risks should be taken, and tomorrow is never set in stone until it becomes yesterday.

Perhaps this reflective mood strikes me as I am amidst my own challenges at work. Although I am frequently the last to leave, one to work weekends, or simply to try hard at the office, it's no secret that I am somewhat underpaid for my position. I know money isn't everything, but I pity the fool who says it doesn't equate to self worth in the organization (still in doubt? watch Jerry McGuire). As I stand on the cusp of leaving behind a workplace I've been dedicated to, I definitely feel that pinch of dismay at discovering that my replacement may be offered nearly 30 grand more. ...yeah, it sucks just a smidge.

So, what's the lesson of the day? Never lose sight of what you want. And while you're busy pursuing that, know your full worth and never stop demanding the respect that you deserve.

Good luck in being all that you can be, peeps. May our journeys always lead to increasingly wonderful days ahead.

Friday Night Quarterbacking

2005-04-16T00:02:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, it takes me a few days before my consciousness finally catches up with the decisions I've made. And as I mentally audit the past, there are those unfortunate moments when you realize that you should have paid attention the first time around.

As I brushed my teeth tonight, I suddenly thought back to this past Tuesday, when my friend CMUG out of the blue called me at work.

"Hey! What are you doing next week?"
"Hmm. Working."
"Do you want to go back to our high school for Career Day and talk about what you do?"
"I duuuuunnno." I open Outlook and look at a day packed with appointments. "I'm pretty tied up with meetings and projects. Things are pretty rough these days."
"Are you sure? It would be so fun! And they only do it every two years."
"Yeah.... I don't think I can get away."
"Alright then, just wanted to check. Talk to you later."
Click.

It took me nearly four days to finally think over this exchange. Suddenly, tonight, I snapped to my senses and realized that I just passed on the most amazing opportunity to share my experiences with those who could really benefit from some advice - teenagers toeing graduation and their foray into college or the working world.

I realize that I passed on an unforgettable experience for one that will be utterly forgetable - another day of frenzied paper pushing, emails., and conference calls. Somehow, despite my impending departure, my loyalty to my work prevented me from seeing the bigger picture and answering when opportunity knocked.

Damn.

Did I mention I always dreamt of such an opportunity to help guide young lives? In fact, I've thought out several business schemes involving life tutoring and counseling for the youth.

Damn.

Don't ever get lost in the thicket my friends. Maybe I could have shuffled my meetings around. Who knows, maybe they will get Cancelled anyway. Don't ever shut doors on yourself. Don't ever convince yourself out of doing what you've always wanted to do.

And above all, don't ever forget what's important ... and what isn't.

A Rock, A Hard Place, and Katie

2005-04-13T23:54:00.000-07:00

The heavyset, wheelchair-bound lady in the dirty ski jacket made her announcement to the crowded Bart train.

“My name is Katie and I have multiple sclerosis. I need to see the doctor and I have to pay a 20 dollar copay. Can anyone help me?”

My fellow passengers stewed in the awkward silence that followed and several of them passed to Katie their spare dollars.

Disgusted, I looked away. Was it my place to say something? Was it my battle to fight?

Was it my place to tell these unassuming Samaritans that “Katie” had just announced the same story right in front of me only two minutes before – while we waited for the Bart train?

Was the $20 dollar bill from the corporate real estate broker who sat next to me not enough to cover this supposed $20 copay? Were the five singles that followed from the young Asian man not enough to cover any extra gap? [In fact, she had called out that she only needed one more dollar after getting the 20 – and when the man came over, riffling through his wallet, she casually said – the other bills would be nice too. He complied.]

Initially sympathetic to the woman’s plight, I cast her the darkest of glares during the rest of the Bart ride.

I know your plan, lady. Your audacity is shocking and your easy lies prey on the innocence of others. You probably don’t even need a wheelchair.

As my feeling of loathing slowly ebbed, I wondered if I, in a position of financial comfort, could justly condemn the woman. What if she was on the brink of starvation? What if she were living out of her car – or worse, completely homeless? When it comes to starvation and poverty, perhaps any tool to assist with survival is justified. This woman had found a loophole into people’s hearts and wallets – the need to pay a copay for multiple sclerosis treatment somehow resonated further than the standard “can you spare a dollar?” It was a con game, no doubt about it, but do the code of ethics still hold when your back is against the wall and you’re just fighting to stay alive?

I’m not advocating in anyway that her fake story was in anyway justified. It further tore at the already threadbare fabric of our public compassion. But still I wonder, when someone is at the foot of Maslow’s pyramid, if ethics stood between people and their basic needs, what would happen?

I Swear That I Don't

2005-04-13T00:31:00.000-07:00

Grabbed sushi with Yangstar today and we got on the topic of mingling into the right crowds. In the context of work, getting to know the right people and relating to them on personal levels may bolster your professional future as well. As we surveyed our place in our companies and reflected on our own personalities, Yangstar shared this insight:

"You are too squeaky clean. People like to have a little bit of dirt on others. That helps them relate better."

What he was getting at was that, because I don't swear and rarely get crass, I will have difficulty bonding with others who favor such characteristics. I see what he means. When you are at your most comfortable, you typically don't watch your language and you get silly and stupid. A person like me, who doesn't swear nor has a "frat" version of myself, can seem a bit too pristine for anyone looking to just kick back and be beer buddies. It's like pairing up Homer Simpson, a casual, laid back, man's man, with Ned Flanders. They're from different worlds.

Rule No. 1: Coworkers that swear at each other, stick with each other.

Another characteristic I lack is any contemporary knowledge of sports -- and particularly college sports. This is one of the core subject areas of any sort of off-duty guy mingling.

Rule No. 2: Sports is the lifeblood of alpha male conversation.

This particular challenge has surfaced quite often - most recently in Japan. I was hanging out with some of the guys on the trip and the topic of last year's Cal football roster came up.

Guy 1: Yeah, next year is going to be tough. You guys are losing a lot of key players
Guy 2: Definitely. But you know what, at least you'll have that running back. Hmm, what's his name...
Me (only guy from Cal, representative of the "you guys" in this conversation): Hmm...yeah, what was his name.... [feign deep thought ... I actually have no clue at all]
Guy 2: Mark? Marshall?
Me: Hmmm .... yeah, maybe that's it.
Guy 1: Marshawn Lynch. I think that's him.
Me: AHHHHHHH. right-o.

It's unfortunate that my knowledge of sports came to an end after the mid 80s, when I loved the Lakers (real showtime), Bears (superbowl shuffle!), and A's (bash brothers!). If I knew now what I knew then...maybe I'd be joshing with the fellas around the proverbial watercooler, rather than eschewing the latest twist in Desperate Housewives.

Everest-erator

2005-04-09T20:22:00.000-07:00

It was my Everest. Oh ho ho, was it ever my Everest.

With a sickly hum and a staunch refusal to churn even the measliest of scraps we offered it, the broken In-Sinkerator (street name: Garbage Disposal) was more than a slight inconvenience, it was a persistent, mocking reminder of who - or in this case, what - was in control. I may be its owner, but the House and its many mechanical minions merely cough and I am paralyzed, tossed into a limbo of decision - just live with it? maintenance men? product warranty? call Dad? .... or fix it myself? Every time Finicky House so much as blinked, I'd call the homeowner association service people. After all, I was under warranty. HAHA!

That ended last October and I've been hoping that we'd go problem free...well, forever. That's when In-Sinkerator struck. Or rather, got stuck.

On the verge of the Dad call (think Batman spotlight, only using my shoddy Samsung instead), I figured I'd see if a service guy could come out.

When the In-Sinkerator service guy suggested I just replace it myself, I found myself at a defining moment. If even the guy who stands to make money tells me to do it myself rather than pay him, something must really be wrong. It must be like offering to pay a doctor to help me put on my glasses or something.

It was time for me to be ... a Man of the House.

For the first time ever, I went to Home Depot to buy something other than gift for my Dad or pick out something to be installed by someone else. I masked my look of desperation as best I could and toted my new In-Sinkerator, plumber's putty (plumber = me!), and adjustable pliers (aside from some mini computer screwdrivers, I have no real tools) home.

Now I know where the term "screw this!" comes from. After an afternoon of screwing, unscrewing, wresting and lugging, I excised the broken beast from under my sink only to discover that there was a whole other list of missing tools. With my ever-so-patient roommates Kroosts and Cat offering moral support, I steeled myself for the second round. Off to Ace I went and brought back a wire stripper (not nearly as sexy as it sounds), wire caps, and electrical tape. With my new artillery, I jumped back into the fray and managed to put the new beast in by evening.

I flicked the switch.
Whirrrrrrrr.

Ah, the sound of success had never sounded sweeter. If I ever cook with real food (non-Ramen based cuisine), I can't wait to toss some crazy chunks of food down that puppy.

I wonder if Bob Vila needs an understudy?

I'm a tomato

2005-04-07T23:22:00.000-07:00

Just got back from my interview with the Experiment in International Living. It was a really fun interview, although I am on pins and needles hoping that I made a good impression. I think I did well...then again, I was the only person in a suit there. Oops.

The cool thing about this trip abroad is that it's being an RA in a new world. This expedition is about immersing ourselves in a new culture, helping young minds grow, and gaining a better understanding of how the rest of the world lives. Australia, New Zealand, South Africa or Botswana ... I don't mind where I get sent -- I just hope hope hope I get sent.

As usual, of course, there was a defining FunAlley moment, when time sort of slowed and the proverbial pie smashed beautifully in my face. The group interview consisted of four candidates and the interviewer sitting on chairs forming a circle.

Interviewer: What fruit would you be?
Candidate #1: Mango. Because it's tropical and full of flavor.
Interviewer: Interesting!
Me: I would be a tomato. Because people think it's a vegetable but it's really a fruit. Similarly,...
Candidate #3: ...People think you are a vegetable but you really are a fruit?
Interviewer: (stifles laugh)
Me: *cry!*

The end.

Wish me luck peeps.

With the things I say, I'm sure going to need it.

Pic o the day - HalloBday Di 2003

2005-04-07T22:59:00.000-07:00

IMGP1545
Originally uploaded by funalley.

It was a fancy meal...

...so of course we got dressed up.

Bully For Me

2005-04-06T23:44:00.000-07:00

** blogger's note: you know you're onto something when you write a new blog on the exact same topic as two months ago. well too bad, i wrote this on BART so i'm posting it :). without further ado, i present to you, deja vu **

As Nabs and I have discussed many a time, I am a bad man. Of the variety of reasons why we arrive at this conclusion, the predominant one is that I am one confrontational monster. For more on this, you can check one of my previous blog entitled “ Oops I Did It Again" (2/6/05). In my defense, this may be overstating the case, but the essence of it is true. For anyone who has had the misfortune of getting embroiled in my investigational assaults, I am sorry to have plunged you into the hottest of hot seats. Typically, this occurs during the most unassuming of times.

Buddy: It sure is a nice day out.
Me: Really? It’s actually kind of overcast. I think it may even rain.
Buddy: Perhaps. Still, it’s pretty nice.
Me: You think so? Do you like overcast days? Typically, people favor sunny days, which seem far superior to the gray ones. Overcast days kind of just suck the life out of me.
Buddy: Errr. Well, today’s pretty decent. I mean, sure it’s slightly cold, but it kind of wakes you up.
Me: I’m not so sure about that. On days like these, I’d imagine people would rather just sleep in and hide under their blankets. I think people would call it a rather gross day. You don’t think it’s a gross day?
Buddy: Well, maybe. I dunno.
Me: Ooookaayyyy. Then, I’m not so sure I see how you can think of it as both a nice day and a gross day at the same time.
Buddy: I gotta go. Bye.
Me (calling after him): Wait! So I’m confused as to what you think!

When it comes to conversations, I’m a Spockian fact checker. Whenever I hear something I am confused about, I ask questions. In a thorough and detailed manner, I will try to ask as many questions as it takes for me to truly understand what a person is saying, in inescapable, black and white terms. My line of questioning typically involves a mix of questions I personally support (“don’t most people think sunny days are nice?”) as well as questions to which I completely disagree with (“wait, so you think people really enjoy getting wet in the rain?”). As I collect my data, I gradually triangulate towards the nugget of fact – the core essence – of what that person is saying.

People have called this approach unnecessary. It’s just normal conversation! Does it have to be a cross examination? Is it that important to pressure test someone’s assertions anyway? Do you really have to kick those damn tires?

I don’t. But I guess I figured any question that can be defended won’t be interpreted as offensive anyway, right?

Wrong.

We are all sensitive in different ways. What our friends say to us carry a weight that may not be evident at first blush. While I may want to poke and prod at others’ beliefs, I need to realize that the other side may not be viewing the exchange in as removed, scientific, and logical manner. In fact, the other side may interpret it as accusatory, insinuatory, or maybe even downright hostile.

Sometimes we think that with those closest to us, our family and friends, we can be as harsh to them as we want. We think things like - “They understand”, “They know how I am.”, “We like it when we speak our minds.”, and “I just want to keep it real.” Perhaps it’s time that we – that I – realize that those closest are also those we care about and want to make happy. Perhaps participating in spontaneous verbal jousting isn’t as wholesome and fun of an activity as I thought.

It All Started With A Sportcoat

2005-04-05T01:15:00.000-07:00

Grabbed dinner with CMUG tonight and ruminated about a million things under the sun - what a struggle it was to introduce the daylight savings concept (some states aren't implementing this??), hating or loving certain high school students, hoarding raffle tickets beyond the point of redemption (a very sad story I need to share in a future blog), and looking the part. It's this last topic that drew some sharp opinions from both of us -- this is what I want to air tonight.

Lately, I've been observing people all around me -- on the street, on Bart, at work, in the stores, on TV -- wherever. I've been carefully noting the first impression they make on me and try to identify the reason for it. I've mentally started categorizing these strangers into different buckets like the CEO, the Slacker, the Middle Manager, the Housewife, the Student, and the Sales Guy. I suppose you could just say this is some good old fashioned stereotyping -- but just know this is done in the name of research!

What research might this be, you ask? (Thanks for inquiring, btw) Well, since you ask, it's to resolve the eternal question - Should I buy a sportcoat?

Now, I am not a sportcoat kind of guy. Actually, I am far from it. On any given day, I'd rather wear my tattered jeans and Berkeley hoodie (hole in the back, thanks to Max) than suit up in business attire. Still, as I stand on the cusp of understanding the inner workings of the business world, I figure that assessing any other ways to succeed in business could be worthwhile.

I've noticed at work that all the VPs wear their sportcoats (typically navy blue, matched to tan slacks) to meetings with executive management. This is interesting to note, as my company has a business casual policy. That means that, really, a button down shirt and some slacks are sufficient. Full on suits are definitely not de rigeur here. What I didn't pick up on until I visited a customer's executive team with a few VPs and directors on my side was that there is a dress code for situations where you need to be fancy but not too fancy. This is called sportcoat casual. A simple donning of said jacket will commute to you high-professional status. No longer do you look like a cube monkey -- but you also won't look like you're ready to attend a wedding or interview.

So "who cares?" you ask. Why should anyone care what the heck jacket you wear to such meetings? I used to think this as well -- which I attribute to the "David slays Goliath" mentality of the dotcom generation. During the late 90s and early 2000s, kids were the movers and shakers. Casual dress was huge - and new college grads - even high school grads - were doing huge things and constructing the New Economy. It's the power of our minds and ambitions -- not the showiness of our dress or savviness of our politics -- that made things happen. We didn't have to do the dance, we were making others dance. Well, folks, for the most part, the old school ways are back in full force, and if you want to make a good first impression, you're going to need to look the part.

This is going to sound superficial, but so much is gleaned from how you look. Before you can open your mouth, people may have already pegged you. This can be a great thing - or downright regrettable.

clothing - being neat counts. the more untucked, the more casual - nee, flippant. the better fitting, the more upscale you look. you can be PartyBoy, IvyLeague, MillionBucks, or HoboJim. You are what you wear. Remember that.
hairstyle - now I am pretty much screwed by this, as I am not sure I have ever had a decent haircut in my life. From bowlcut to high fade to tendrils to military-on-leave, I've sampled a ton but have never attained the Hollywood/ Russell Wong/ Rick Yune look. Now I'm not trying to go pretty boy - but if you are known at work as one of the Spiky Hair Asians, you'd want to do something about it too.
watch - i notice rolexes. and i don't think i am the only one. maybe it's human nature, or maybe i'm just lame like that - but i know when someone is wearing one, and i automatically think of them as rich and privileged. in the business world, anyway, this is an advantageous place to be. similarly, like the truly beautiful, such people get away with a lot more. that's just life folks - hate it or love it, that's just the way it ticks.
shoes - this is key, especially for guys (so i hear). Now, again, I am the man with holy socks and shabby shoes. In fact, my coworker San once made it a game to try to step on the leather straps that were falling off the back of my leather shoes. I remedied that with some masking tape. Now I don't know a bruno magli from a payless shoesource special, but snazzy, well fitting, and shined up shoes communicate a certain crispness and togetherness that imbues trust and respect. Impression of being well-heeled? Indeed.
bag - I think the West Coast is more laid back about this, but apparently the East Coast is less forgiving of using a North Face backpack brought to tote your stuff. I heard there is a huge bag trend going around (e.g. Jack Spade) but at any rate, you are what you carry.

Again, I'm sorry to introduce such superficiality to the discussion, but this is something that I believe is straight up unavoidable. People are going to judge. And once that impression is made, your other strengths - such as communication, sense of humor, work ethic, ingenuity, will build on top of it. Simply ask yourself, what can I do to ensure a good starting point?

This doesn't mean you have to lose your uniqueness, nor does it mean that you have to start getting all Brave New Worldish and become a clone. It just means you have to keep your ear to the ground, your wits about you, and know when it's time to shine as an individual -- and when it's time to wear the uniform.

Love and Birthdays Abound!

2005-04-04T01:16:00.000-07:00

The news:

Despite the shoddiness that is lose-an-hour day, it brings me great cheer to congratulate my buddies Tex, Peng, and Cindiana on each starting their walk down the Aisle. Hoo-ah!

A flurry of bdays have headed this way, as Sonman, Mr. Lu, Jay-girl, Wenchar, Mayor Rahman, LHM, STST and Daph are all coming of age in April. Feliz cumpleanos, peeps!

The thoughts:

May Terri Schiavo finally rest in peace after the sad media circus/vulture-fest. It's a private matter people, let it be. (As will I, after this next sentence, promise). Big Q: I don't see how dying of dehydration and starvation is a good way to go - isn't that just a tad cruel?
Read an article on Abu Ghraib on how an Iraqi general got beaten just before he died from suffocation. The strange thing is, the article sounded all outraged about the fact that he was beaten -- and glossed over the dying from asphyxiation part. Shaking my head - whiplash style.
Just how exactly did the SF officers involved in Fajitagate get off scot-free??? This, as you may recall, is an event that besmirched the reputation of the entire precinct and drove the police commissioner to complain of related health trouble! Another oddity.
Another article on the complete dependence on an Iraqi informant that was a known drunk -- and whom the Germans REFUSED to put the U.S. in touch with prior to Powell's big show in front of the UN (we had never even met the guy face-to-face). Why? The Germans said he was crazy.
That it, I'm all head-shook out.

Yay Weekend:

Texan second-cousin Jimmy visited just before he headed to Monterey for new admit wkd (studying to be a diplomat to Asia). He definitely knows his Asian history. I got some massive clarifications around the Japanese-Korea-China-Taiwan-US political web and one thing is indeed clear. That game of Risk is one helluva simulation of the real world. Ah, one question though- When should we hold the public accountable for what a government has done -- and when do we not?
Spent an awesomely relaxing day at home in Danville. Walked Max (tight leash when other dogs around a definite must), told Jer about Japan, watched the Contender w Danny, gobbled Mom's cooking, helped Dad with his 42-slide Powerpoint, and enjoyed some good ol' taxes. That last one definitely deserves a Woooo-hooo. Saw Ronin (not bad, but it's really just a car scene showcase, isn't it?) as well as the Incredibles for the third time (still fresh! watch the dvd just for the Jack-Jack extra. Definitely worth it.)
My mom tried to regift my Japanese gifts -- AS we were unwrapping them! This was a Chinese first for me. Wowzas, I must really suck at gift-giving...
Tots is visiting in 3 weeks! Woohoo!

And that's a wrap - hope you had a similarly fun weekend. Until next time - over n out.

The new chapter begins...

2005-04-01T00:52:00.000-08:00

So it's settled, I'm definitely off to Kellogg. While unceremonious checking of the Stanford website, I discovered the lovely ding letter - it was really really long. I fast forwarded through the whole thing and went on my merry way.

Of course, I am a bit bummed to not have the luxury of making a decision between two great schools. While I had been previously hovering around 95% Kellogg, even if I had the chance to select Stanford, it still would have been nice to know that it was my decision to make. Of course, another way to look at it is that I was saved from an excrutiating decision that would have made me close the door on something great one way or the other.

But y'know what's perhaps more telling? It's that I am bummed at not getting in not so much for myself but because it would have meant a lot to my parents. Getting into Stanford - much like Harvard - is the Holy Grail of every Asian parent's bragging rights. Somehow, if one's kid gets accepted, the arduous cross-Pacific journey to provide a brand new life for one's family becomes suddenly validated. Of course, I could be completely blowing this out of proportion and that, in reality, my parents are happy with how I turned out anyway.

If there's one thing about me, though, it's that I rarely feel satisfied with whatever I accomplish. Back in school (pre-college of course, back when I actually had a work ethic), I would beat myself over anything less than an A. Then, if I actually received an A - I'd bemoan any minor problems I missed. And if I had nothing to complain about, I'd just quickly stuff the test in my backpack and never look back. I wouldn't celebrate. I wouldn't feel that much happier. I'd just feel like it was status quo -- that that's the way it should be.

Just what exactly are these crazy standards I've ingrained in myself? Will I grow up to be the Asian parent who just asks for the A+ if my kid comes home with the A? Will I view critical feedback as simply a thoughtful example of "wanting what's best" for him or her? Am I ... unsatisfiable?

But still, I ponder this knowing that, in my heart of hearts, I am ecstatic about the experiences await. I am thrilled that I don't have to reapply - and that I will be attending a school that is a great fit for me. I think, more than anything, I am what you call, a "safe" complainer. Typically, I would have my truest needs met. Then, I will seize upon a periphery issue to analyze, muse, and complain about. While I am actually satisfied deep down, I frolic in critiquing my actions.

It is odd indeed. Maybe I am a well-to-do malcontent with nothing truly to yap about. Perhaps I like feeling like an underdog - even if it's not the case. Whatever the reason, I should really quit this little hobby of mine.

Why quit this fun game of complain-o-rama? Well, I think people may start getting the impression that I actually don't appreciate the people and events in my life that I, in fact, definitely do appreciate. Also, maybe taking a more outwardly optimistic approach will free of some of the self imposed shackles I slap on so frequently.

Of course, maybe this is simply a case of tough love. By being extra harsh on myself, whatever end result will be something I am happy with. It's like high-balling myself. Hmm.

Coincidentally, my Dr. Phil book is talking about this very issue. Being myself and not holding myself to anyone else's standards. That, apparently, is the secret to a fulfilled life. While easier said than done, I think I'll give this novel approach a shot.

We all scream for the Ring.

2005-04-01T00:49:00.000-08:00

Q: What's funny?

A: A girl screaming.

Q: What's even funnier than that?

A: Lots of em screaming.

http://www.blennus.com/index.php?option=content&task=view&id=294&Itemid=

Filling Up On Phil

2005-03-30T23:00:00.000-08:00

I prepared to get off the Bart and transfer trains. But the moment I felt the tap on my shoulder, I sensed the jig was up.

"Is it good?" she inquired. I'm not one of you! I'm not!

A deer in headlights, I stammered, "Sorry?" Maybe she's referring to something else.

"That." She motions to the book I had been entranced with during the entire Bart ride. "Is it as good as the ones before it?"

"Ahhh. Yes, it is quite good. It's really plainspoken and direct. But I haven't read any others." I responded softly. Maybe the others won't hear. Shh...Shhh....

"You should!" she exclaims. The entire train, I can feel their eyes. They pierce! They judge! C'mon lady, no more..."Dr. Phil is really the greatest!"

Thaaaanks.

***
But I kid, I kid. I've long gotten past the threat of public ostracization for embracing the uncool.

Wearing the bright orange cap-toed clown shoes my Grandpa bought me took care of that nice and early in life. And having my entire first grade class know that I took a bath with the girl next door sealed the deal. And for good measure, there was the announcement by my coworker during my first all-hands meeting that I watch Gilmore Girls.

So, yeah! It's called Self Matters and it's by Dr. Phil! And I read it right before I get my beauty sleep!! So there!

...Just don't tell anyone ;).

yaka yakatabune!

2005-03-29T01:08:00.000-08:00

yakabune
Originally uploaded by funalley.

all you can drink asahi and sake, bottomless tempura and endless karaoke. this was a boat of hyberbolean porportions.

zoom zoom

2005-03-29T00:50:00.000-08:00

zoom zoom
Originally uploaded by funalley.

Be it on the JR Rail, Shenkanzen (Bullet Train) or the Metro, everything passed in a Japanese minute.

Tokyo-Five-Oh

2005-03-28T22:11:00.000-08:00

Konichiwa everyone! It's great to be back :).

The two week GIM Japan trip (Kellogg's international business research trip) was one Amazing Race of a time. Try as I might, I couldn't quite squeeze enough time into our insane schedule to blog at one of Japan's many manga cafes (internet-japanese comic spots). During the one moment I did have to settle into an Internet station, I fruitlessly fettered my yen away as I tried to make sense of my funky keyboard that kept alternating between Japanese and Korean. By the time I had it figured out, it was time to dash off to our next hot spot.

Suffice it to say (did you know most ppl think it's "suffice to say"? interesting, no? just like how irregardless isn't a word yet peeps use it all the time. crazy humans!), I loved Japan. While the land of the Rising Sun was indeed chockful of tasty delights, ultra friendly peeps, and dazzling technological coolness, I have to commend the group leaders in composing an itinerary that provided such a diverse glimpse of life in Japan that it rivals my normal experience here in the States.

The spots!

Tokyo - land of: neon signs, rush hour that feels like the million man march, karaoke, all you can drink on the yakatabune boat tour (while being filmed for Japanese TV), trip to Namjatown (a Chuck E Cheese, but with gyoza instead of pizza) & visits to Sony, Dentsu (ad company), Celux (fancy members-only club of Louis Vuitton), BCG
Osaka - land of: second fiddle mentality to Tokyo, Osaka Castle, visit to Toyota's famed manufacturing plant (think: robot attack in Matrix 3) & meeting spot of our homestay family
Nara - land of: Japan's first capital, most famous temple & zillions of hungry hungry deer (think: Italy's St. Peters Square w/ deer instead of pigeons)
Kyoto - land of: sumo wrestling, Zen overnighter (brr!), super-kabuki (hyped up take on the traditional Japanese theater - cirque du soleil meets samurai-ish melodrama)
someplace - land of: Hayao Miyasaki's studio (Spirited Away, Totoro)
Hakone - land of: kimonos, fancy 9 course meal, naked hot springs (fig leaf anyone?!)

The gasps!

Me + First International Pressure Situation = When confronted with a flurry of Japanese while trying to exchange my money, I responded, "Si si....". No Alberto jokes, please.
Buttons, buttons! Japanese toilets are fancy. How fancy? Well, there are two heated seat settings - warm and hot, buttons for "preparation" (runs some water to clean the bowl), "bidet", and "shower", a dial to control wash-water temperature. When you sit down, this water noise starts up as background noise (so thoughtful!). After a week and a half, I was bold enough to press the shower button. Think of it as a well-aimed Super Soaker. Very well aimed. Yikes!
Elastic is not the answer. So the family Di and I visited had a four-old daughter and a one-year old boy. We immediately felt at home and I was bouncing Ryo, the 1 yr old on my knee, just like they do in the movies (and maybe in real life too). Well, I'm about three bounces in when suddenly the kids ultra loose pants and down around his ankles and I'm making cooing noises at this half-naked boy. Fortunately, the host family laughs good-naturedly and I quickly try to put his pants back on. No Michael Jackson jokes, please.
The jumping bean. I was scarfing my mondo burrito when a black bean fell out. I couldn't find it for the longest time until I realized it had miraculously bounced two chairs away and resided underneath the socked foot of the guy next to the aisle. I couldn't decided if I should mention it to him (thus pointing out that I was one sloppy joe) or just hope he didn't extend his foot and squash it (hey, it was only an 11 hour ride). .... I took my chances. [for those who know my spit bean on the pants story or my slime on the sweats story, this one is par for course, eh?]

...and of course, the lessons...

They are nice peeps. "Sorry" and "Thank you" are peppered throughout Japanese conversation. Manners, protocol, and respect are of the utmost importance. There is no such thing as being too polite. Whether it be at McDonald's, a fancy restaurant, in the hotel lobby, or just on the street - I was always met with a polite tone, a bright smile, and generous heaps of courtesy. I know, I know, this is a generalization and that there are all types of people everywhere. If so, I then puzzle over why I don't come away with that feeling here. If anything, I'd say courtesy is earned rather than standard and indifference is the golden rule. Just look at how we treat people who don't speak English.
Sweet silence. Despite the insane population in Japan, it is not New York deafening. We walked through Tokyo one morning and noticed how quiet the streets were. There was the soft beat of people walking and swish of cars driving by, but absent were abrasive honks or loud conversations. During our visit to the Zen temple, the monks encouraged silence to focus on our tasks such as meditation and eating. It is important to be self aware, they reminded us. You could tell many of us were dying to just talk -- even if we didn't have anything to say at all.
What if we all just did the right thing? Eating and drinking in public is impolite in Japan. Also, there's barely any litter in Japan, yet there are very few public garbage cans. When I arrived in SF to work this morning, I noticed the ubiquity of both garbage cans and litter. Tis a strange, almost contradictory, phenomenon, indeed. I think this is a case of being provided an inch and taking a mile. Because we Americans are permitted to eat anywhere, we of course produce garbage. Because we produce garbage, we feel compelled to discard with it immediately. Because there are garbage cans around, we reason that there must be some entity that cleans them out -- along with the streets surrounding them. Therefore, it must be fine to just toss litter wherever we want - it'll go away. This goes for cigarette butts too.
Salad bowl. Mixing pot. Whatever you want to call it, there's no equivalent for a rich, diverse community. I took BART home today and was transfixed by the sheer differences between each of the riders. I had become used to seeing the ocean of black haired Asians every morning - and had come to forget how unique this home of immigrants truly is.

If you made it to the end of this blogathon, you're probably praying I don't go on another trip anytime soon :). At any rate, thanks for reading. Until next time, sayonara, over and out!

Arigato Mr Roboto

2005-03-14T02:10:00.000-08:00

It's 2:15AM and I finally have a chance to crack open my Lonely Planet Japan before my 8:30AM flight today. Well, always better late than never! The hecticness of packing (one of my most loathed activities) has finally subsided, as has my shell-shockedness at having experienced the Vagina Monologues presented by the Filipina Womens Network. So much to say, so little time. Ok, first things first.

First Order of Business - The curse of the papercut.
Velly velly strange. Have you ever had something strange happen to you repeatedly over a short timespan? This very phenomenon has struck me today in the form of getting sharp, thin items jammed under my freshly trimmed nails. This morning, as I took my sheets off of my bed to be washed (yeah yeah, I DO wash them...annually), my hand slid under the sheets and a fingernail slid under one of those mattress stickers. The sticker had partially come undone from the mattress, providing the perfect fingernail guillotine. Slice. Blood. Ow. Suck finger for next 5 minutes and whimper. Then, this afternoon, as I grabbed a sheath of papers from my passenger chair, one of the papers got lodged under another nail. Slice. Cry. Fetal position. The third installment of this cruel cruel trilogy just took place as I reached into my backpack to get my Japan tour book. Reach in, get cut up, cry. Indeed, a tough day. 3 paper cuts beneath my nails and some hearty crying. Sweeeet.

Second Order of Business - Vag Monos.
Uber strange night. I'm an open minded person, or so I think. {True, Nancy Reagan has shaped my views to some degree and I just say No all the time ... but anyway, humor me} A bunch of us went to see a local performance of the Vagina Monologues. It was cool to see our friend Jeah perform {we were famous by 2 degrees!}. It was a spirited performance and I was awed that a non-prof group had put together such an ambitious show. It was, however, strange to see the actors read their lines from notecards. Also, about a fifth of the show was done in Tagalog - to the great glee of the native speakers on the first floor -- not so much to the English-only slouches on the second. Ah well. Also, I suppose it bears mentioning that a few of the guys (me included) shared some "Ohhhhhhh-Kaaaay" moments when some women just a few years shy of my grandma moaned and a'hooted and a'hollered about the "down there". Stlange. Very Stlange. Oh, and the fact that they were wearing silky outfits multiplied the "Ohhhh-Kaaaayy" factor.

Third Order of Business - Japanimania
6 more hours and it's off to Tokyo for me. I'm gonna be embarking on a 2 week trip w/ Totters' Kellogg class to visit some companies (Sony, Toyota, the Japanimation studio that made Spirited Away, Louis Vuitton, and an ad agency), check out some sites (sumo wrestling, fish market -- eek, need to wake up at 4am for that one :(!, the Ginza shopping area), and sneak a peak at Japanese life (homestay and a night at a Zen temple). I'm pretty stoked at the Zen temple trip, although the 9pm bed time and 4:30am wake up time is a bit daunting for a night owl like me (this blog, case in point). Anywho. It's vacation, I'm not complaining, and I hope to get out there and buy me a Sony Time Machine so I can go back to 2001 and get my Nasdaq money back. {DOH! how did that little nugget sneak into my consciousness? WAAHHH. ok. done.}

And with that, my friends, I bid you good nite. Hopefully I'll get to visit Fun Alley when I'm out there. Peace out and may your nail beds be spared any papercuts.

Just...riiight....there

2005-03-11T22:16:00.000-08:00

It's nice to be home after my whirlwind trip to Dallas, where I partook in some white-knuckle sock-knocking-off project management training. One Brazilian churrascaria feast, 2 Alberto encounters, 1 nacho lunch (highlight!), 2 games of bowling (unanimously awarded most awkward approach) and 3 nights of consecutive heartburn later, I am finally home.

My cautionary tale of the night:

So I was sick for the past 2 weeks, right? Well, apparently all the runny nose wiping lay the groundwork for a fine, giant pimple - which emerged right underneath my right nostril. Unsavory as it may be, we all know that pimples can dry up and look like little boogers. It was indeed the perfect storm - one large, dried, green pimple + prime nostril location + oh-so-helpful coworkers.

Coworker 1: Hey, come over.
Me (walking over): Yeah?
Coworker 1 (pretends to wipe his nose): Right there.
Me: What's that?
Coworker 1 (wipes again, more deliberately, slower): Ya got something there. Riiight there.
Me (flatly): That's a pimple.
Coworker 1 (doubting tone): Oh really? Maybe it just looks different from this angle.
Me (brief moment of self doubt before remembering that I'm not crazy and no, I don't like just keeping such things dangling around.): Um. It is.

Suffice to say, I didn't let the moment pregnant with awkwardness hang around too long. My pseudo-boog and I made a hasty retreat to my cube/hiding place.

But hide forever I could not, and soon I was accosted by another Samaritan during the training class.

Coworker 2 (rushes over urgently): Hey there!
Me: Hi.
Coworker 2 (worried look, hushed tone, whispers): You got a little something. Riiiight there.
Me (hmm, let's just pretend I am an ignorant stupid man who doesn't care about appearing sanitary): Eh? It's okay. It's nothing.
Coworker 2 (uncertain how to respond): Oh...alright. Bye.
Me (moral victory, huzzah!): Bye.

So having this pseudo-boog pimple (which, btw, has refused to leave for over a week) makes me feel for those deep sea fish that have weird appendages/growths that are supposed be evolutionary aids.

Pesky Coworker Fish: Hey, you've got a mini fish riiight there.
Evolved Deep Sea Fish (embarrassed): Um, that's a growth.
Pesky Coworker Fish: No, really. It's right there. I'm gonna get closer and take a nibble.
Evolved Deep Sea Fish: CHOMP.

Yessir. Me and the EDSF. Two peas in a pod.

214 - Digits to beware

2005-03-09T22:02:00.000-08:00

If a 214 area code calls, send it to voicemail. That is the lesson, my friends. Well, maybe the lesson is, don't give out your phone number to random janitor peeps. The calls persist, 2 this past weekend and an UNKNOWN ID last night (I think Alberto is getting more clever). The thing is, I'm in Dallas this week for training and I actually ran into him on Monday and Tuesday. It was weird - I felt like I had to be extra nice to him cuz all my coworkers were there - and were clued into the story. So, in extra-nice Spanglish, I chatted with him ... only to experience this wonderful gem of a moment.

Alberto: Hola! somethingsomething San Francisco?
Me: Que???
Alberto: somethingsomething San Francisco? (Big Smile)
Me: Que???
Alberto: somethingsomething San Francisco? (Bigger Smile)
Me: Que???
Alberto: somethingsomething San Francisco? (Biggest, Earnestest Smile)
Me: (OK, can't ask again - three times is max. better choose one hotshot) Si.
Alberto: Bueno. (skips away to do janitorial stuff down the hall. Seems to be smiling a lot. hmmmm.)

So...what the heck did I just agree to. My coworkers advise me to say No during times of confusion. To that, I say - um, if I had that good sense in me, would I be in this situation???

If I see him at my door back home one day, I won't even be surprised. Life ees fun, life ees fun.

$3.50 at Powell

2005-03-03T00:19:00.000-08:00

It was a melody of both earnest hope and deep sorrow, a swath of soft comfort ushering the late night stragglers to their Powell Street Bart trains. Enchanted, I paused mid-stride to soak in the ethereal sounds. I rounded a nearby pillar and traced its origin to a forlorn homeless man playing a beaten keyboard. Countenance weathered and dirt-smudged, hair neglected and gray – he was merely another artifact of the San Francisco homeless. His concert wafted along as he splayed on the floor, a literal contrast of beauty and neglect.

Moved, I opened my wallet and shuffled past several crisp twenties.

“Damn, I hope I have a single,” I urgently thought.

I deposited my dollar in the keyboard case placed near his beat up high tops.

Now, he had $3.50. A job well done.

I rushed up the flight of stairs and was immediately encountered by the sign. “Disabled Vietnam Veteran Needs Your Help.” The scrawled plea rested atop the lap of an older man sitting in a wheelchair. He motioned his change cup towards me.

“Sorry,” I said in that hushed way honed through years of living in Berkeley. “Do you want my Chinese food?” I offered him my leftovers from lunch earlier that day. He made a disgusted sound and wheeled away to an escalator that held greater chance for charity.

I hopped on my Samsung. Buttoned my Boss suit lapel. Put on my cashmere-wool blend pea coat. Absently kicked at my leather Johnston Murphys and checked my Skagen. My train was due any moment and I pulled out my Tumi. Ticket in, ticket out – I boarded the next train back to my bubble.

I feel guilty so I write this tale. I do so amidst my train’s gaggle of the well coiffed, the well heeled, the non-scrawled sign wearers, the non-woeful keyboardists. I do this, as our memories of those less fortunate grow fainter with every second.

I was moved to give a dollar, but why? Was it more out of the surprising service the man rendered or was it because I felt for the man? If he were less talented, would I empathize less? If I didn’t have that dollar, would I try to break the twenty? Would I ever just give the twenty? Why didn’t I similarly give to the veteran? Why was I so quick to reject him? Was it because he didn’t play me a song? Had I filled my quota for the day? If I had given to him, what would I have done for the next person to ask? What do I think of this coddled, safe lifestyle I lead along with so many of my protected brethren? Should I feel bad for having what I have? What are my duties to my fellow man?

One thing is for certain. Knowing the answers to these questions never makes them any easier to ask, let alone face.

My 9 Fave Flicks

2005-02-26T22:52:00.000-08:00

It was all quiet on the western front tonight. Still reeling from El Flu, I visited the 'rents and made it a Blockbuster nite. My eagerly awaited rental of The Grudge, however, was postponed upon discovering that they just released The Forgotten. Still recalling the trailer where Julianne Moore frantically tears back wallpaper revealing child scrawls, I convinced my Dad that this was a quality night in the making.

I liked it, Mom criticized it intermittently (along with asking a multitude of questions that would be answered if she just quietly watched the movie), Dad fell asleep. and Grandma came in to snag 2 kernels of popcorn before going to bed at 9:30. Tough crowd.

Whenever I go rent a movie, I can never recall many that I actually have been waiting to see. I'm not sure if it's the way Blockbuster only highlights recent releases or whether my memory just plain sucks, but if I were forced to go to the old school aisles categorized by department, I wouldn't know what movie to pick out. With so many flicks flying by all the time, this is a crying shame.

So, while this list won't help me any longer, perhaps it will aid you with your next night in. Renter need not beware, viewer satisfaction guaranteed :).

Dodger's Top 9 not-so-obvious* Movies (* this list does not include the popular blockbuster types no doubt everyone's seen/knows of/knows they're good):

1. The Ring - probably the only truly scary movie I've seen seeing Exorcist/Poltergeist when I was a kid. Hey, given how jaded most of us our, real scary movies are hard to come by.
2. Spellbound - Oh yes, it's a documentary on the spelling bee. Then again, I got beat in the county round by an autistic kid who put his hands in his pants each time he spelled a word and still harbors dreams of the golden stage ;).
3. The Hunt For Deep October (or, as some may call it, Red October...)- Denzel and Hackman - power struggles personified. The claustrophobic, deep sea element is the perfect pressure cooker.
4. Amelie - Cute. Fun. You will go to sleep a happier person.
5. Shakespeare In Love - Maybe it's cuz I like proving I can understand languages other than plain English (see all Alberto-related posts), but I found this movie really fun. Not recommended, however, for those who suffered the shakes when studying Shakes.
6. The Negotiator - Spacey and Jackson in a fantastic faceoff. If you like mental battles and rhetoric, this is a must-see. Also good for dealing with car salesmen.
7. The Shawshank Redemption - A tricky name makes remembering it even trickier at Blockbuster. But if you are one of the poor few who haven't been clued in to catch this, GO NOW. Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman (before he adopted Ashley Judd) are incredible. Go go go! (surprisingly, Stephen King penned this)
8. The Assassin (or, as some may call it, The Professional)- Rapport can make or break a movie. The French guy and Natalie Portman (her debut) definitely do the former. A warm, thoughtful movie amidst bullets and blood.
9. Monsoon Wedding - A Bollywood flick prepped for the casual American audience. This is fast, colorful, and ultra-festive. Much like real Indian weddings - which, I attest, are very much like the one in this movie (monsoon optional).

Now, I could only come up nine recommendations, so that's that. Happy renting.

As for your own faves, I'd love to hear them!

Rip Van Winkle

2005-02-26T12:56:00.000-08:00

16 hours! I cannot believe I slept for 16 hours... that is like going to work and sleeping in my cube all day -- twice in a row. egads.

so i had limped home from work on Friday, amidst a renewed assault by my friendly flu. i could barely crawl into bed before passing out. suddenly nothing seemed better than my coccoon - neither bathroom nor kitchen could tempt me out of getting up. fast forward to now, a brand new day.

i hope i don't have bed sores.

Red Pill Blue Pill

2005-02-25T01:01:00.000-08:00

Good evening everyone, on this fine 1am evening...

I'm fresh from poker at nabster's (4th place thanks to some massive slow-playing) and still sick of being sick. well, at least the fever's gone. now all i have to contend with is my niagara falls of a nose. y'know...i was wondering -- why IS it we get so dehydrated when we are sick? Is it simply from blowing our noses too much? Where exactly does all our moisture go? Strange indeed. Sidebar to come should I ever discover the answer to this oh-so-worthy secret of the universe.

Today's announcements:

mark this day, for my friend just got the news of her life. i couldn't be happier :).
happy bday lizzo fo shizzo! welcome to club geezer. her blog's posted on the left.
today, my cubemate next door, sansan schadenfreude, asked me for the third time what my blog url was. then, she balked when i suggested she bookmark it. nice peeps, nice peeps.

And without further ado, onto today's pondering: Red Pill Blue Pill.

If I were Neo, I woulda been stuck at square one. When offered the choice of the red pill or blue pill, the movie would have screeched to a standstill as I evaluated the ramifications of each decision as far as I could possibly foresee. I'd try to figure out the upsides and downsides for each choice, then compare and contrast, slice and dice, and due diligence it to death. they could use that cool Matrix bullet time slo-mo special effect on me as I tried to decide -- only I wouldn't be moving due to decision paralysis. Maybe it was a good thing I passed on the role. Yeah, Keanu, you owe me ...big time.

So what is it about decisions that paralyzes me so? Regardless of the type of decisions-- Thai food or Chinese? -- Sweater or button down? -- Gym or dinner? -- I find myself having to weigh my options and take the best of the lot. Did you catch that? I said -- the best of the lot. That, my friends, is the crux of the issue. Why do I have to always select the best option? How do I know what the best option is? Is there always a best option?

My pal Wencher enlightened me to this quandary during a recent discussion about whether I would choose Kellogg or Stanford if provided both options. I was quite betwixt - on one hand, Evanston would be a tremendous, eye-opening change of pace, on the other hand, Stanford is the holy grail of the Chinese world (souvenirs for all!) and Silicon Valley darling. I anguished over this decision when Wencher (aka She-Yoda) imparted, "It's just a decision. It won't necessarily be the right or wrong decision. It will be just be a decision."

Clouds parted. Rays of light beamed in. Angels sung. Boom - I fell to my knees, blinded by the pure trueness of that statement.

It was just a decision. A million different things may happen after I make that decision, but it is practically impossible to determine the outcome in advance. Like a Choose Your Own Adventure, I wanted to keep my fingers at all the key junctions and flip back just in case I got zapped by an alien or got eaten by a tiger. But life's not like that - and fearing what lies behind the next corner will only add paranoia and secondguessing to every step I take in life.

Ever the do-right by-the-book good-boy, I have wanted to make my choices that my teacher/parents/peers/public would approve of. I wanted to choose correctly -- not wrongly. But, the funny thing is, with many choices (we're not talking pop quizes or open heart surgery, mind you), you'll never know what would have happened if you went the other way. It doesn't matter, you see, because the Pachinko game keeps on going (the marble/buncha pegs game). You hit another decision point and you just choose a direction. And then you just keep truckin' on.

...and only time -- and maybe Morpheus -- knows what awaits you :).

EvansTon o' Fun

2005-02-23T21:01:00.000-08:00

Seasonal greetings, peeps!

It's been a whirlwind President's Day weekend and now that I am felled by the flu, I can finally take sometime and share the haps on the past few days.

But first, a few announcements are in order!

Congratulations to my buds Darrell and Vivian Wong on the birth of Kayla, their one-day old little girl! I still can't believe DarDarBinx is a dad ... Kayla is going to be logging some MASSIVE tv/dvd hours :).
Happy bday to Jen Gu! hope you and lhm rock ny tonite :)

So, I apologize for going AWOL on y'all. Last Thursday, I headed out to Evanston as part of Kellogg's Day At Kellogg orientation/sell-day weekend. About 200 bschool admits flew out to partake in team events, mixers, dinners, mini-lectures, and presentations about the fun world o' Kellogg. It was an amazing time - there were people from various regions, professions, cultures, and family backgrounds. I felt like I was plunged into a dunk tank full of intense life experiences.

A few highlights:

Among the peeps I met were a minor league baseball player, black belt automotive engineer, FDA food tester, Emergency Response Team volunteer, biochemist, an infantryman who was in Iraq, a gal from the NBA, and a screenwriter.
Dean Jain's speech moved me to near tears (I swear I was scratching my nose...). He shared with us the story of how he fortuitously avoided getting swept away by the tides in Phuket simply because he decided to walk back to the hotel and get some water for his kids. When he returned to the beach, he and his family were about 1.5 minutes from the lagoon into which people and ships were being tossed. Sometimes the smallest things can result in so much...
SNOW. This is less of a highlight as it is a notable occurrence. I believe the aforementioned flu can be directly attributed to the FREAKING COLDNESS of Evanston. Alas, I shall suffer for my education much like Van Gogh suffered for his art. Vincent cut his ear off, I shall freeze off mine.
Totters. As always it's great to see Totters, my Gatorade-nacho-lemon pepper popcorn of a gf. She was a DAK leader this past weekend, a kindred spirit of an RA, if you will. OH, and she got me the Canon SD 330 of my dreams. I'll be posting some pics from it soon.
Freshman year all over again. As you guys know, I'm RA through and through. DAK was a great chance to meet people that wanted to meet others. After spending forevers in the Berkeley residence halls, I've noticed a phenomenon I shall call The Window. (see sidebar)

[sidebar]
The Window is the brief period of time when people are truly receptive to incorporating new people into their lives. This most commonly occurs when someone is new to an area (e.g. freshman year in the dorms or new job), experiences a traumatic/life changing experiences (e.g. September 11th), or suddenly changes his/her friends base (e.g. post-breakup social shift). The Window can last just a few days or sometimes up to a few months. At some point, however, the inner circle of the social network is filled (you can only rehash your deepest darkest secrets/ life story so many times to so many people) and the window is closed. Once closed, those people met during The Window are processed and sorted into the following categories: lifers (friends for life - you can actually call these people to chat), event buddies (friends for specific activities/needs), and acquaintances. Depending on opportunities for new Windows and the availability of lifer/event buddy/acquaintance slots, people may open The Window periodically throughout their life.

Having returned from the party that was DAK, I've gathered my senses and look forward to starting this exciting chapter in my life. I now know what I want to study (business, tata engineering!), I know what type of people I enjoy being with (exciting communicators- carpediemers), and I know what type of stuff I want to pursue (mgmt consulting, growing Recess, starting some company). Bschool couldn't be coming at a better time in my life - I can't wait to getting the heck outta Dodge.

BUT (there's always a but)...

Stanford suddenly wants to interview me. (um...urk!). While choices are nice, this really throws a curveball into my future plans. I still think I am Kellogg-bound, but suddenly this goes into extra innings. GSB is a world-renowned program and the endless opportunities of giving Stanford apparel to my Chinese parents and relatives is almost too sweet to pass up. I guess I will keep my options open for now, but I just think it's sort of funny how there's always some sort of wrench (albeit a wonderful wrench) that gets thrown in to keep my life interesting (or at least dramatic).
The Fam and the Peeps. When I say I want to get the heck outdo dodge, I am referring more to the need for me to open my eyes and stretch my life experiences a bit more broadly. Life in the Bay Area has been one giant nacho (dodgertalk for "couldn't ask for anything better"). Being so close to home has been one of those perks you can too easily take for granted... Mom, Dad, Jerry, Danny, Grandma and Max (yes, even Max), you have always been there for me and wherever I end up, I will be thinking of you guys. My hometown peeps have been the bedrock for all the fun I've experienced. Nabster, Yangstar, e.Dub, CMUG, Kroosts, Danvillians - you guys are my boys (and, um, girls) and distance will never fade our bonds. Both Totters and I will be back before you know it :).

And there you have it, the past few days in a nutshell.

It was a wild merry-go-round of faces, places, and experiences. As the memories from the taste of my new life dry, I am reminded of the wonderful life I lead here and vow to live the next four months as though they were my last.

Q: What's cool for gals, not so much for guys?

2005-02-15T22:52:00.000-08:00

A: Bullets that look like flowers. Doh.

Too Cool? Must Be Old School.

2005-02-15T03:31:00.000-08:00

Waking up at 3:30AM and feeling like blogging is rather strange. It's pitch dark out, pouring rain, and I should be climbing back under the covers. Instead, I reach for my virus-harboring laptop (I just love the 2 minute browser start-up time) and jump into Fun Alley. Hey, it's been a while and I missed posting to you guys. Topic du jour: Old School

With my gf out in Evanston, I spent the v-day night playing poker with a few friends. {Well, can you call it playing poker if you only play seven hands? Note to self: I suck.} The host had a vintage Voltron toy in the living room and we all marveled at its awesome old school majesty. As we basked in the warm glow of the fun stuff of our childhood, I thought I'd toss out a few gems of my own for no reason other than thinking about them makes me say "Ah! That was the best!". Enjoy.

- Alf (acronym for ...?)
- MacGyver (first name was...?)
- Hey Dude (ah, crazy Mr. Ernst)
- After these messages, we'll be riiiiight back...!
- "I'm proud to be a Chinese American!"
- Mr. Robinson, Mr. Robinson, I broke your window with this ball, that I do confess!
- Mathnet
- The He-Man with the rotating dents in his armor
- How stupid Rodimus caused Optimus' death
- MASH (the paper game)
- Garbage Pail Kids (and the big pictures they formed!)
- Snorks
- Metal lunch boxes w/ thermoses that always smelled a little funny
- Squeeze-Its
- Gremlins
- Roos (with the pocket for coins)
- Pegged pants
- OG Space Quest/ Police Quest/ King's Quest
- Friendship bracelets
- Jelly bracelets
- Bloody Mary
- Heads Up Seven Up
- Buns Up
- Tetherball (SO hurts the hand, SO not fun)
- Scholastic Book Fairs (where everyone but the Chinese kids ordered books in class)
- Choose Your Own Adventures (where you keep your fingers at each of the decision points ... just in case you died)
- Silly Ramona Quimby
- Clifford
- Making sounds by blowing a blade of grass through your fingers
- Making farting sounds using your armpit
- Doing that weird thing where one arm is in your shirt and the other arm goes through the other sleeve. Then you pump up and down .
- Those pencils that consist of a bunch of mini leads. When one would get dull, you pull it out and the next one slides out. Then you put the used on into the back of the pencil.
- Cool pencil holders with compartments that pop out if you push certain buttons
- Trading lunches
- Watching Friday the 13th tv show and not being able to sleep

OK, speaking of not being able to sleep, I better try harder! Forget counting sheep, next time insomnia hits, just count old school stuff.

Uncle Update

2005-02-11T23:30:00.000-08:00

My uncle was discharged today. I had a chance to visit him briefly. He looked good - weak, slightly pale, but still talkative and upbeat. Thanks to all of you who've wished him well - it means a lot.

Thoughts To My Uncle

2005-02-11T00:37:00.000-08:00

I just learned tonight that my uncle who recently immigrated from China is in the hospital after coughing up blood. This is unsettling news - in fourth grade, I had a friend pass away after coughing up blood after an asthma attack. I hope today's situation is not nearly as severe.

Suffering from potentially severe gastrointestinal ailments, my uncle is facing an extremely arduous road ahead. Strangers in a strange land, he and his wife are fortunate enough to have landed jobs soon after coming to the States, despite having only the faintest grasp of English. He fell ill the first day on the job. Perhaps most worrisome next to the ailment itself is the specter of medical costs. With insurance kicking in only after three months on the job, it seems entirely possible that he is not covered whatsoever.

Fact 1: Hospitals in the US charge exorbitant rates.
Fact 2: He is staying in the hospital at least for several days, not to mention future treatment.
Fact 3: No amount of savings they have from China can fight back the flurry of fees mounting at their door.

While first and foremost concerned about my uncle's immediate health, I am also worried about the financial predicament they are in. I am confident he and my expanded family will rally together to find a way to handle this. - but is this a one-time incident or just the tip of the iceberg?

What happens when you can't afford to get better? Do you just go on your way and pray to never cough again? Do you go to bed with fervent prayers, hoping to see the light of the next morning? Many of us are fortunate - we have good jobs, coddled lifestyles, and are in good health. But those who worry about rent and basic expenses, those who don't have insurance paid for by work ... they walk a very delicate tightrope with nary a net to cushion a fall.

For my uncle, who arrived here only a month ago, the Land of Dreams has become the Black Hole of Uncertainty. At the onset of the Chinese New Year, may health and financial security find their way back to him again.

Oops I Did It Again

2005-02-10T01:29:00.000-08:00

I got called a negative bastard today. Or at least, it sort of felt like it. The details are less significant as the message itself. When presented with different ways to interpret a situation, I call out the less sunny side of the tracks. Perhaps it's just a matter of perspective. I like to kick the tires once in a while just to doublecheck. I like to poke and prod to make sure things are solid. And when they aren't, that gets pointed out too. I'm not judging but observing. I'm just a friendly inspector.

But maybe through the eyes of others, my questions and insights are taken at face value, as point blank criticisms drawing my position in the sand. Perhaps I am the new Chinese Mom, quick to point out the innumerable errors of one's ways. Tsk this. Tsk that. Shoulda coulda woulda. Aiya. Goodbye family honor

I'm a fact checker, plain and simple. I like to kick the wheels, doublecheck, and vet out everything and anything under the sun. Maybe it's the engineer in me. Rule #1: Test out critical assumptions. When I ask Why/How/When/Who/Where ... it's not to disprove something but simply to make sure we're on the same page. When confronted by the affronted, I try to calmly explain that if something were defensible, then all lines of questioning should be welcome.

People have suggested that I pursue a JD rather than an MBA. My fierce pursuit of truth (or, apparently, my version of it, at least) coupled with my ability to turn casual conversation into a cross-examination seem to indicate some traces of litigious blood in my veins.

Perhaps it is due to the famed "Frank*" Effect. {not really Frank, but you get the pic} Frank and a friend started a company. Every time I would see Frank, I'd eagerly inquire about the progress of his firm. Particularly interested in evaluating the guts of the operation, I would ask very specific questions about different facets of his endeavor. Much later on, the word on the street was that I had a beef with Frank.

I was floored. Apparently, my casual kicking of the tires seemed more like fierce verbal assault and battery. To the Franks of the world. my polite chit-chat was more suited for Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men. Ooops.

Here's the rub. I am analytical, not critical. I let the evidence speak for itself - whether the conclusion be favorable or not. When I inquire, I am simply gathering information. I'm not asking for Good, I'm not asking for Evil. I'm just trying to understand.

But the Franks of the world may not understand this - or even care. Perhaps they would much rather me focus on the beautiful weather, remark upon a few pleasantries, and go upon my merry way. Who cares if I don't fully understand something? No one's asking for my advice or opinion anyway.

It's just weird. Should I just clam up and only share the good stuff? The warm fuzzies but not the open questions? And, what about those thoughts that are actually critical? Are they better off locked in the vault in order to preserve my good name? For the sake of proper understanding and good conversation, I sure hope not.

But then again, maybe it's just because I'm a negative bastard.

Punky Rooster's New Year Salutations

2005-02-09T13:23:00.000-08:00

Happy Chinese New Year's everyone! May you all win the lotto as I plan to do.

{Enjoy the latest tidbit. Thx WongTon!}

Asian Guy (changing yen for dollars): "Yestoday I get two hunat dollar fo yen - today I get a hunat eighty. Why it change?"

Teller: "Fluctuations."

Asian Guy: "Oh yeah? Well, fluc you white guys too!"

Q: What's wrong with the world?

2005-02-08T16:24:00.000-08:00

A: People like this. {thx nabster for the edification}

For INSANE MAN NEWS, Click here.

Oh Boy Alberto

2005-02-07T22:07:00.000-08:00

Some of you have inquired about the oblique references I have made to Alberto. {okok, I know I mentioned him by a different name. But I realized during my ride home that it's quite possible for him to search for his name on the web and find this blog. So, clever me has decided to employ the ol' pseudonym approach. So it's Alberto now peeps. *note: You may use air quotes in exaggerated fashion when discussing this with me in person. I will humor you.}

Gather 'round, for here is the tale of Alberto.

Several months ago, I visited our Dallas office for work. It was late and all was quiet, save for the rapid staccato of my furious (read: desperately late) typing and the low hum of the clean up crew's vacuum. A slight, boyish looking janitor stepped into the conference room and started to clean up.

"Hola."

Startled, I looked up from my work.

"Um, hello."

"Se habla espanol?"

The nerd in me couldn't resist passing up this opportunity to prove I had retained some high school Spanish.

"Si. Un poquito."

"Ahhhh... bueno bueno!"

Sweeet! He was understanding what I was saying. My Spanish was being understood by a native speaker! Look, he even seemed to delight in my Spanish skills. I rock!

"Tienes un telefono?"

Hmm. He wants to know if I have a phone? HA! That's an easy question. I was so going to ace this conversation.

"Si, tengo un telefono!" This Chinese nerd liked the questions on this pop quiz. They were so easy! Come on, toss me another.

"Que es tu numero?"

Hmm. All of a sudden, this pop quiz took a turn in the wrong direction. Why the heck would my company's cleaning crew want my phone number? I wasn't even leaving a mess or tracking mud onto the carpet! Odd. So odd.

As I gave it to him, time seemed to pass in slow motion. If this were a movie, someone would yell out, in exagerrated form, Noooooooooooooooooo!

And, like in such movies, it would be too late.

He scribbled it down. (Strange...strange... does not compute.)

"Cuando salieras?" He wanted to know when I was leaving.

"Jueves". For some reason, Thursday suddenly couldn't come too soon.

"Ay!" (Ah! Anguish, a good sign perhaps!) "Si estuvieras aqui en viernes o sabado, podemos bailando!" As I pieced together the final pieces of this Spanish mystery, it dawned on me. Alberto wanted me to go dancing with him on Friday or Saturday.

To emphasize the potential fun of this event, he suddenly did a twirl in the middle of the conference room, hands pointing to the sky.

"Bailando! Ooooo Oooo! *" Twirl. Twirl. Point to the sky. Spin. {* the Ooo Ooo sound is that sound that groups of girls at clubs usually make. Typically to hip hop songs. It's strange, yes. Coming from a slight, boyish janitor in the middle of a conference room is even stranger.}

In psychology, they teach you about the moment when, in an emergency situation, one either takes flight or fights. Not one for confrontation, I powered down and exited stage left. Pronto.

I smiled apologetically and said I had to go. "Lo-siento-Necesito-ir-Hasta-luego-Alberto!" I called as I headed out of the room.

"Hasta manana!" Dayam me and my polite niceties!

Well, no worries. I thought smugly to myself. It's not like he's gonna call me!

Mondaze

2005-02-07T11:18:00.000-08:00

Happy Monday everyone. Check these out to make it still feel like Sunday. (Thx DeeReal for the tips)

All the ads:
http://sports.channel.aol.com/nfl/superbowlads

Wardrobe Malfunction explained!
http://www.big-boys.com/articles/bannedsuperbowl.html

The full Go Daddy, uncensored clip! (select the full version and enter in the view id)
http://www.godaddy.com/gdshop/superbowl05/landing.asp?isc=bpshdr001&se=%2B

Super Bowl 39

2005-02-06T15:52:00.000-08:00

Hmm. How come when real numbers are used, the Super Bowl sounds like an offshoot of Ranch 99?

Anyway. In this new era of appreciation for family, I decided to be the good Chinese son and watch the Super Bowl at home in Danville. I figured, with my impending departure to Evanston, it would be good to catch the game with my little bro and my dad.

The play-by-play:
1:15 pm: Dodger calls Yangstar, leaves vm saying that he won't be able to make the rowdy beer n chips fest in the city. He's gonna go home. It feels good to do the right thing.
1:23 pm: Dodger pulls up into driveway.
1:25 pm: "Where's Dad?" he asks. Mom informs him that Dad is out helping a relative move.
1:30 pm: "Has the game started?" he inquires to his bro. No, but he's leaving soon to his friend's house to watch, Dodger learns.
1:40 pm: Dodger heads out and walks the dog.
World - 1. Dodger - 0.
Happy SB everyone.

Well, y'know what. Watching it by myself can be fun (I tell myself, since there is no one present to perform this duty). Yeah! Let's get psyched! I turn on the TV and regale in being a curmudgeonly critic.

SB39 Highlights:

The pre-game show emphasizes the military service provided by America's armed forces. They even thank George Sr. on his participation during WWII. Conspicuously absent is comment about Junior. Unscripted TV rocks!
A little kid performs the coin toss. Apparently, they didn't train him .. the coin flies flat and lands with Tails up. I smile. The Patriots, who called Tails, no doubt think... stupid kid!
Returning from commercial, there's a shot of a dolphin popping up from a pool with a football in its mouth. It just sits in front of the camera, with the giant ball jammed in its mouth. The shot hangs long enough until everyone - even the non-PETA types -- start feeling a mite uncomfortable. The game comes back on and the announcer wonders aloud, "Is that real?" ... no one answers him. I smile again.
Bill Belicek runs to the Eagles side of the field after commercial break. Wow. Embarrassing.
GoDaddy.com commercial best I've seen so far. Who's got tix to the next congressional hearing?

RIIING! my cell rings and I desperately (err, I mean, casually ... actually, offhandedly!, grab it. it's a 214 area code. hmm, weird. hmm human contact or watching the game by myself? I'd ask the coin toss kid to help me, but I know he'd encourage me to go for the gold.

I answer it.

"Rogelio? Como estas? Recuerdeme?"

Ay caramba. It's Alberto (name changed to protect the innocent --namely, myself) my Texan stalker. All of a sudden , watching the game by myself didn't seem so bad after all.

Gympiphanies

2005-02-03T01:03:00.001-08:00

There comes a time in every young man's life, when - against all odds - willpower, tenacity and unfulfilled perseverance come together to help him achieve the impossible. Today was that day for me.

I made it to the gym.

A little background: About 4 years ago, I prepaid $600 for three years, thinking that it was a steal of a deal. Interestingly enough, I ended up paying an average of $30 per trip over those three years. {Curse Boston Public, 24, GG (if you know what this stands for, don't clue in anyone who in that may still think I'm cool), DC (please see previous plea), and Curb Your Enthusiasm for holding me hostage during prime workout time!} Anyway, I've decided to commit myself to making my membership renewal actually work in my favor this time around. Let's see if I can get it down to $15 per trip. Heh heh, that'll teach them to try to hook me.

Like the majority of my trips, my workout was a "breaking-in" workout. BI workouts are usually less intense since my muscles (or skin-bone-fat equivalent) have atrophied and any stimulus will be sufficiently rigorous.

I will spare you the boring details of the actual workout (consisting of light stairs, light benches, light machines, and light sit ups ). What I do want to share with you is the education I gleaned from tonight's trip.

Always be ready for naked old people in the locker rooms. I strode into the locker room and POW! This grandpa-ish guy is standing in the middle of the room watching the TV...with no clothes on! I hastily tossed my stuff in the nearest locker and started my cardio by running out of that locker room as fast as possible.
A radio at the gym is the 8th wonder of the world. I finally had the foresight to bring my mp3 player and I tuned into 107.3, which played the audio for TV #1. That I could actually listen to the TVs in front of the treadmills was news to me (until my friend e.dub recently told me about that...he knows all things useful like that!). Up until then, I just tried reading the tiny closed captioning as I bounced up and down during my run. I think my nearsightedness increased a diopter to a 9.25 on account of all that in-motion squinting.
Don't count your reps. I dunno about you, but counting suddenly makes the goal that much more unreachable. I was doing great on the sit up machine until I had the bright idea to count my reps. Suddenly, each one became impossible to do and I could only eke out a handful more before collapsing. I think there's something about countdowns that builds up unnecessary stress. It's like paying attention to your breathing. Once you do that, you suddenly fear that you'll stop if you don't pay attention. It sucks a lot when I do that. Fortunately for people like me, I have some pseudo-ADD and will soon forget what I was supposed to concentrate so hard on.

After the gym, I felt very proud of myself and treated myself to a trip to Safeway. I picked up canned soups, rice-o-roni type stuff, and two giant bags of chips. Reasoning that I burned off some calories, I promptly ate half a bag of spiral cheetos (synthetic nature's miracle snack). It's a zero sum game, my friends, zero sum.

Hurray for Tots

2005-02-02T01:13:00.000-08:00

Y'know how it's kind of nice to just let people know that they're appreciated? Well I want to just say that my gf Totters is one fantabulous gal. Not only does she put up with my so-called antics (some call them sad sad feats of asking-for-it) but she continues to have faith in my ability to do some good. Tonight, she rounded up three new writers for Recess http://www.recesstime.net (Ha! take that Yangstar). You rock! K, now it's my turn to churn out a new issue.

Anybody have some submissions they wanna get published?

Everyone Is Talking To Themselves

2005-02-02T01:12:00.000-08:00

So let me be the first to say that this isn't a blanket statement about all of mankind. Or about my generation (anyone see Time, recently? Twixters! Yikes!). Or, perhaps most importantly, about you. That said, let me hold court on a little something I like to call EITTT.

{sidebar: anyone ever notice that the little phrase "That Said" can clear the way to say anything you want, particularly something that is in complete contradiction to the former statement? It's complete nonsense (or poppycock, if you'd rather)! "Your honor, OJ is guilty!...That said, the glove does not fit so you must acquit." Silliness!}

So EITTT, the Everyone Is Talking To Themselves Theory, says that our means of communication is geared towards collecting information to help us each make sense of our own lives. When we converse with others, our primary goal is to assemble the various puzzle pieces of our jumbled sense of who we are and how we fit into the world. I think it goes without saying that most of us are better at blabbing than we are at listening and processing what we hear. Have you ever heard of active listening? It's an actual learned (pronounced learn-Ed, natch) approach to listening -- showing that you are paying attention, providing visual and verbal cues that the speaker isn't wasting his or her breath. So, I ask, why do we need to practice listening? Well, I answer myself (and appropriately so, you shall soon discover), it's because we'd rather talk about ourselves as we try to solve the greatest whodunit of all - our lives.

Do it yourself experiment! (try this at home kids)
1. Strike up a conversation with someone you know. (if you choose a stranger, he or she will feel pressured to engage in polite conversation, which is not "real" conversation)
2. Count the times the person discusses something about themselves.
3. Count the times the person inquires about your life.
4. Count the times the person will actually ask follow up questions about what you say about your life.

Hypothesis (and no doubt fact): The person is bound to cover far more topics/info about him or herself than he will inquire about yours. For even more stark numbers, compare qty of topics covered from his/her life to qty of follow-up topics from your life. See? Your role in the conversation was the catalyst. After that, the conversation is good to go, with or without you. See... Psychology 2 did teach me how to conduct scientifically meaningful experiments. See, I knew those classes weren't a waste of sleep.

Counterargument: Well if the "mark" (or victim of this experiment) is so entranced with discussing things through the lens of his/her life, then from the experimenter's perspective, the experimenter is learning a lot about the other person!

Counter-Hypothesis (aka Booyah Take That Explanation): In this controlled environment, yes, the sides are unequal. But that is because one side is intentionally feeding the other side self-indulgent questions. In the real world, both sides would be "trying to get theirs" (theirs = their piece of psychoanalysis through the vehicle of casual communication).

Such scenarios typically play out like this:

Me: Hello, how are you?
Friendcentricfriend: Pretty good. I did X, Y, Z ...and A, B, C .. + 1,2,3.
Me: Cool. (do I get a volley?)
FcF: Oh did I tell you I did A1, B1, and C1 too?
Me: No way, tell me about etc.!
FcF: etc, etc, and etc.
Me: Niiice. (that's it...if I get a volley, I am running with it)
FcF: ...and that's about it about etc... So, how are you?
Me: I am pretty good. (brain races, tries to queue up interesting tidbit worth discussing/evaluating during the public psychoanalysis). I ate at the new In N Out. That was good. (racing racing!) Do I look fat? Eating those burgers always make me feel fat.
FcF: Oh, sorry, what did you say? I was thinking about my life again.

That, my friends, is EITTT in full effect. If you strip out the two sides of the conversations and either side can stand on its own as a conversation, then you know EITTT is in da house.

Not everyone suffers from me-syndrome. These are the askers in the world. They help keep conversations going and unearth nuggets of info about people that enrich our mutual education. It is typical that askers don't say much about their own lives -- unless confronted with another asker. When that happens, a fierce ping pong match of you first - no, you first - no, i insist, you first politeness ensues where each tries to get the other to talk first. It's like being at a four-way stop with people who forgot who's turn it is to go.

But anyway, that said, EITTT doesn't always apply to all of mankind, my generation, or, most importantly, you. Just ask yourself how much you know about others... and how much they know about you.

Blog Falling In the Forest

2005-02-01T18:10:00.000-08:00

So I unveiled my preciousss at work today. To my mild surprise (dismay? subconscious expectation?), the public reaction was less Hollywood premiere and more suitable for Al Bundy's Alante.

Me: Hey hey. I am making a blog!
(pause in IMing. I better provide a better lead-in)
Me: Do you have one?
Vivvles: No.
(even longer pause. Abort! Abort!)
Me: Isn't IMing in italics so classy?
Vivvles: Classy isn't the first thing that comes to mind.

Hmm. Perhaps interest was best generated in person.

Me (i'm floatin' on sunshine, whoa-oh, gonna feel good!): Hey check out my new project!
DarDarBinx (...bait him): What is that?
Me (beaming): It's my blog.
DarDarBinx (...go in for the kill): Why do you have it?
Me (overcast): Um, to write in it.
DarDarBinx (...finish him!): Who's gonna leave you comments?
Me (dark and stormy night): Um, I write for myself.

I wonder if the Bay Bridge guy is still filming jumpers...

But you see, this fine enthusiastically delighted, open-arm reception of FA (Fun Alley, to the uninitiated) oh-so-gingerly scooted me to the realization that this blog may never make it to another person's computer screen. Does the new age equivalent of a tree falling in a forest when no one's around make a noise? What impact do I, my 999 monkeys, and 1000 keyboards have in churning out supposedly "public" journals for all the world to see? In fact, is it even public if no one knows about it?

I pondered this all day and realized that this is further supporting evidence of my Everyone Is Talking To Themselves theory. This Eureka moment freed up my brain resources and I was able to reallocate focus to ancillary activities such as breathing, eating, and occasional thinking.

What is this EITTT theory you ask? (you = imaginary reader). Tune in next time cuz I got me a BART to catch.

Return of the Alley

2005-02-01T01:46:00.000-08:00

I used to sit in a row of cubes fondly dubbed Fun Alley.

We would play digital golf on my pda, IM pithy witticisms to the world, and putt golf balls into a trash can. The sun shone brightly, the birds sang, and we of Fun Alley revelled in a weird combination of summer vacation, detention, and work.

Granted, this delight was tempered by a cruel little torture called web development. Don't get me wrong, I love a good kick in the head as much of the next guy, but making me code was clearly fate's preferred way of making me pay for the sins caused in my previous life (most likely as a papercut on the tongue or something similarly evil). But you know why the fun in the alley never ceased? Because we were riding the dotcom wave to the sky! Whooo-eeee! We were blinking Marios all the way, baby.

$18 - 55 - 80 ... um, 1 dollar?

Faster than you can say adios mamastinker ("hello, i'd like to apply for the FCC posterboy internship...), things got Donner Party pretty fast. Staff thinned, cube raidings were commonplace, and soon the denizens of the Alley packed up and moved out as the office closed its doors. Goodbye, garbage can golf, we'll miss you dearly.

~~~

Almost five years to the day, I now resurrect Fun Alley in the form of this blog. While I'm not really sure what I'm going to do here, I figure it's only right that I dedicate a place in cyberspace to that sliver of the paradise I once knew.