musings

Tuesday, June 05, 2012

Can I Stay Here Forever

My son will be 4 months old in a week. And already I don’t want him to grow up anymore. Well, maybe a little. It’d be nice if he could wipe his own anus.

But I was sitting there playing with him the other day when I just looked at him and thought, “Could you be any more perfect than you are right now? Just stay like this forever and I’ll be happy.” Then about five seconds later, he started whining/crying about something like “I’m hungry” or “your breath smells.” Well, Josiah, when you grow up, you’ll have some teeth and realize that food gets stuck in teeth and grows old and starts to smell. What’s that? Why don’t I brush my teeth? Well why don’t you get a job? 4 months old, already a wise guy.

But of course, I didn’t necessarily mean that I wanted Josiah to stay in that exact moment forever. It was more like a wistful thought – the idea that he’d be a baby forever and always love me and need me. The idea that when he’s at this age, I have (seemingly) total control over what he does and what harms he’s exposed to. And as I thought that, I realized how sinful I am. In my selfishness, I’d rather Josiah stay a baby and curb my own fears than grow up and potentially break my heart by not making the NBA or becoming a Washington Redskins fan. Lord, would You do that to me?

The truth is, I’m like that with a lot of things. I fear change because I don’t trust God enough. I don’t want to let go of things that I think I have control over right now (career, money, infant baby who can’t run away from me because I’m so much bigger and faster than that noob). But in reality, that idea is so flimsy and two-dimensional. Anything can happen tomorrow. I could die. I could lose my job. Josiah could turn into a mutant X-man and have to go fight Magneto. There is literally nothing I actually do have control over – just the semblance of control that I can try to delude myself with.

Which is why not trusting in God is so foolish. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom… yet I want to rely on my own limited smarts and abilities. Josiah belongs to the Lord, yet here I am thinking I have some claim to him, his future, and his contribution to my life. It’s the same with my own future, be it career, time, finances, etc. I think everything belongs to me and is in my control.

What a foolish sinner I am! It’s funny to think that God reveals so much about myself and Himself through my 4 month old son. He can’t talk, he can’t even sit up without his big head making him fall over, but he’s teaching my about my Father. I’m getting Bible study from my baby!

I pray that I would show Josiah what it means to live a life by faith in the son of God, to live a life totally surrendered to my Lord. And when I fail, that God would show Josiah how merciful He is, how great His grace is.

On a side note, this is one of the most haphazard entries I’ve ever written. I went on way too many crazy tangents and normally I’d go back and delete them but I’m tired and my breath smells so I guess I have to go brush my teeth. Jeez.

Monday, April 23, 2012

Baby Talk


My son is now a little over 2 months and he’s started to make small unintelligible noises.  “Goo goo ga ga” are not accurate representations of the noises babies make but I guess they’re close enough.  If you read books and stuff, they’ll say “your baby is talking to you!” but I would disagree.  When my son asks me to pass the salt, that will be talking to me.  Right now, he’s just making noises.  Very cute noises, to be sure, but still just noises.  Actually I doubt he’ll ever ask me to pass the salt though – Mina will probably have thrown out all the salt in our house by then.  What a food Nazi.

But in any case, these same books or doctors will tell you to talk to your babies, that talking to them stimulates their learning or some other kind of scientific mumbo jumbo.  So sometimes, I’ll sit with Josiah and stare at him while he stares blankly at me and try to talk to him.  Inevitably, the conversations always go like this…

-So… how was your day?
Drool.
-Mm hmm… I see.  So what’s new?
More drool.
-Did you do anything cool at all today?
Starts crying.

This is when I shout for my wife to come “fix the baby, he’s crying.”  I feel so much pressure to start an interesting stimulating conversation with him but I can’t!  I don’t know what to talk to him about.  Sometimes, it even just devolves into ME making baby noises at him, and he’ll make baby noises back at me, but that’s not helping ANYBODY’s development!  And then I just get mad because he tricked me into talking like him.

It was exactly like this with his mother when we started dating too.  I’d unavoidably feel the need to come up with some witty banter or deep conversation topics so she’d let me take her out for ice cream again and I’d just end up saying something stupid making her roll her eyes or look at me with a deeply bored expression.  Seriously, why did she marry me again?

But I’m in the same exact place again!  Now I’m trying to entertain a baby and trick him into thinking that I’m a cool dad!  SO.  MUCH.  PRESSURE.  What does he want to talk about?  What do I say to stimulate his tiny meatball sized brain?  I DON’T KNOW STOP STARING AT ME WITH THOSE ADORABLE EYES!

Sigh.  Ok.  Here just eat this ice cream when Mommy’s not looking.  And if you laugh like crazy when she walks by, I’ll give you a dollar.  After all this time, I’m still in the same place – trying to impress my wife.

Looks like Josiah is not impressed either.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Baby on My Mind

Since I can’t really read the Internet because I’m blind, I figured I’d zoom in like crazy and write up a blog entry.

It’s kind of weird to think that I’m going to be a father in a month or so. Not just because I’m going to be taking care of a life or some nonsense like that though. I mean, are you serious? I’m going to be amazing. Do you see how well I take care of my sneakers? And those are just patent leather pieces of inorganic crap (or organic. I don’t understand the difference. Hehe I’m smart.) Not an actual living breathing thing. Shoot, I’m awesome at taking care of things. Ask Mina. I take care of her all the time. Sometimes, I take care of her so well she gets mad at me. “OMG stop taking care of me. It’s too nice, like your hair. LMAO!!” I swear, this is how she talks.

Anyway, it’s weird because it’s just not very real to me yet. I look over at my wife and sometimes I see her lovingly caressing her belly and I can just tell she’s absolutely flat out head over heels in love with the little boy inside of her. But for me, I just see my wife’s big beautiful belly. And I know all the natural reasons for this – it’s because she’s connected with the baby and she can feel him moving and hiccupping and doing all sorts of crazy things every second of every day. The closest I get to being bothered by the baby is when Mina can’t fall asleep at night and I have to listen to her saying “this is so uncomfortable.” Fortunately, I’m really good at falling asleep so I only hear her say it like once or twice and then I’m zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

I assume this feeling is natural, but sometimes I feel really guilty about it because I start to think – what if I never bond with our baby like that? What if the doctor hands me my baby covered in afterbirth and blood and God knows what else and all I can think is, “Why is his head like that?” What if he starts to poop on my hand while I’m holding him and I drop him on the floor he starts sliding across the linoleum like a crazy piece of mook? (why are these so hard to pick up? Makes me so mad. You’re so delicious and I want to eat you! Just get on my chopstick and hold on! Jeez!) What happens if I look at him and I don’t have that moment of euphoric deer-in-the-headlights kind of love that I’m supposed to have as a new daddy?

Well… there’s always kid #2!

Haha… just kidding.

I guess there’s no real way to tell right now though. I’ll just have to wait and see what happens when I finally meet this kid who’s been treating my wife’s inner organs like a Rock Band drum kit. The monster who makes my wife eat 2 or more ice cream treats after dinner every night. (Josiah, one day I will ask you about this but we must both promise never to reveal the truth to your mother) The little guy who we, as well as so many others of you (and we are truly grateful for all of you) have been praying over for the past half year or so now.

So, buddy, I don’t know when I’ll get to see you. And i can’t promise that when I do, I’ll love you like your momma does. But I do promise that I’ll take care of you with my life. See you soon. Don’t touch my sneakers.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

work it out.

I recently started going to the gym again after a 3 year sabbatical that included ingesting massive amounts of French fries, Doritos, White Castle chicken rings and Häagan Dazs’ Caramel Cone ice cream. While the past 3 years were incredibly enjoyable and included some of the best eating I’ve ever experienced in my life, they weren’t very conducive to a healthy existence, evidenced by the fact that I developed a habit of dipping my French fries into mashed potatoes and gravy. It all came to a crashing end though when my mom grabbed my neck fat and told me, “This is disgusting.” This was followed by my dad giving me a derisive look out of the corner of his eye and snorting in amusement before he fell back asleep on the couch. I love my parents.

So, given the fact that as an Asian male, I am programmed to obey every passive/aggressive command from my beloved mother and father, I started working out again. The 1st day was fairly easy – so easy, in fact, that I ended up staying much longer than I first anticipated and doing many more exercises than I had planned. However, the 2nd day proved that not only was I disgusting but stupid as well, when every single fiber of my body screamed at me, “You are an idiot and now you will pay.” The pain was equal to being run over by a truck while laying on a gravel street of broken glass. I never ever exaggerate.

That said, I’m proud to say I can now go to the gym without crying myself to sleep afterwards – I only allow myself a tear or two on the drive home while listening to Wham’s “Careless Whisper” (a great workout song by the way – is there anything manlier than George Michael and a saxophone?). I can’t say that working out again is all bad though. It has definitely opened my eyes to a whole new social network of gym-going participants which I’ve decided to lay out here. Please note that all opinions expressed here are the sole thoughts of the author and not endorsed by any gym, Under Armour, Balco, or Roger Clemens’ and Barry Bonds’ new sponsors: Fathead.

The Meathead – This is probably the easiest guy to find in the gym. He typically wears ripped shirts and some variations will even work out in jeans, boots and a bandana. He has the intense look of a high school football player/rapist and takes pleasure in asking you “Are you done with that machine?” and then adding about 10 more 45 pound plates to it while staring you in the eye as if to say, “This is how real men lift, not stupid small little girls like you.” To which, I wittily replied, “Have fun working out and getting girls while I’m playing video games – sucker!” and then ran away.
Soundtrack: Any song by Explosions in the Sky from “Friday Night Lights”

The Professional – Not to be confused with the Meathead, the Professional actually looks down on meatheads and doesn’t even notice normal peons. The Professional treats working out like it’s his job, which in most cases, it probably is. He often wears spandex shorts and tight weight-lifting shirts, meant to maximize his workout efficiency. He can be found sitting on a bench eating protein powder straight out of his 20 gallon tub while breathing loudly preparing for his next set which includes bench pressing a small car. He also beats his girlfriend.
Soundtrack: Rage Against the Machine – Killing in the Name of

The Smelly Bastard – As a rule of thumb, never use a machine or bench after the Smelly Bastard because, you guessed it, it will smell. Sometimes, you might even think the smell is coming from you but it’s not. That’s what the Smelly Bastard wants you to think! He is quite crafty and will move quickly throughout the gym, leaving his stench everywhere so that people will assume the entire gym has a ventilation problem, but it doesn’t; it has a smelly bastard problem. The Smelly Bastard is oftentimes also the Heavy Sweater and will leave wet marks of putrid odor on anything that comes in contact with his drenched shirt and head. Both the Smelly Bastard and the Heavy Sweater will rock shirts with yellow pit stains seemingly visible to everyone but themselves. They are usually single and will die alone.
Soundtrack: Jimmy Fallon – Idiot Boyfriend

The Noisy Bastard – Usually, the Noisy Bastard is also the Meathead but doesn’t necessarily have to be. The Noisy Bastard makes it his duty to alert everyone in the gym that he is using his full effort on every single repetition of every single exercise. Like Sharapova on the tennis court except without the physical *ahem* attributes, the Noisy Bastard exerts every ounce of energy through his vocal chords. Sometimes after sets, he’ll even finish with a “Yea!” or a loud single-syllable expletive to alert the gym that the Noisy Bastard has blessed you with a few moments of silence before continuing his verbal rampage. The Noisy Bastard is also better known in the real world as the Douchebag.
Soundtrack: Anything by Fall Out Boy

The Cougar – Some of you may already be familiar with this term, defined in urbandictionary.com as the following: “An older woman who frequents clubs in order to score with a much younger man. The cougar can be anyone from an overly surgically altered wind tunnel victim, to an absolute sad and bloated old horn-meister, to a real hottie or milf.” The Cougar can take similar forms at the gym but is most obviously spotted by her age and excessive use of makeup and perfume. Often wearing tight clothing and seen flirting with much younger men, the Cougar will only perform exercises while facing a mirror, to ensure her face remains absolutely still as to not create further wrinkles. She mistakes people staring at her for lust when it’s more likely amazement at the fact that she doesn’t sweat plastic. The Cougar also has a foul mouth and is unashamed to sprinkle in a cuss word or two into her conversations in order to remain “hip” and “young.”
Soundtrack: The Divinyls – I Touch Myself (made popular by “Austin Powers”)

The Skinny Girl Stronger than You – Perhaps the single-most discouraging gym-goer for the normal men out there, the Skinny Girl Stronger than You requires no introduction. Even though she looks like a strong breeze could send her to Oz, she curls what you bench. The Skinny Girl Stronger than You is one of life’s greatest mysteries, much like George Bush’s election. People who see both only have 1 reaction: “WTF was that?” Watching the Skinny Girl Stronger than You outlift me makes me feel dead inside.
Soundtrack: Paramore – Misery Business

The Professional Racquetball Player – Nobody takes himself more seriously than the Professional Racquetball Player. By day, he is your everyday working professional. By night (or at least the hours of 6-8 PM), he is the Roger Federer of a glass encased room. Marked by the goggle imprints forever lining his face, the Professional Racquetball Player walks into the gym as if he owns the place with multiple bags for his racquetball clothing, protective gear and equipment. He often sports a gold chain and is extremely hairy but ironically balding.
Soundtrack: None – only the sounds of squeaking sneakers and other men’s grunts motivate this man

The Artist Formerly Known as Shrimp – Once a weakly young boy, the Artist Formerly Known as Shrimp has since devoted himself to getting bigger by working out. He takes great delight in his new found muscles and will keep trying to catch glimpses of himself flexing in the mirror. The Artist Formerly Known as Shrimp has tried all sorts of strategies to get bigger, including Creatine, protein bars, and if he has the means, possibly even HGH. He is also quite competitive and takes great care in noticing how much other people are lifting. Some of you may think that I fall into this category, given the prodigious amount of information I’ve culled in this list – not so – I am clearly the Skinny Girl Stronger than You.
Soundtrack: Michael Jackson – Beat It

The Old Guy – By age, he is the male equivalent of the Cougar but more likely, he is an aged version of the Meathead or the Professional. He openly gripes about how in “his day”, men got bigger by lifting anvils or fighting Hitler, not fancy needles and shakes. He’s also ridiculously strong for an old guy with no definition whatsoever. His glare alone can bench press up to 300 pounds.
Soundtrack: None – doesn’t know what an MP3 is

The Guy Under Armour Wishes Would Stop Wearing Their Clothes – This is probably my favorite guy at the gym. He walks around like he’s carrying a tuba underneath each armpit while his Under Armour shirt looks like one of those Long-T’s they sell at Foot Locker. He puts on more weight than he can possibly ever hope to lift and merely shifts the barbell around. He acts like he knows all the regulars at the gym and will try to engage them in conversation. He tells everyone his favorite cast member on “Saved by the Bell” is Slater when it’s really Screech. The typical response? “Dude, I wasn’t even talking to you and why are you talking to me about ‘Saved by the Bell?’”
Soundtrack: Nickelback – Photograph


These are not totally inclusive of every single gym-goer out there. There is the Conversationalist, the Personal Trainer Who Looks Like a Librarian, the Work Out Couples – these are just a few more groups that I’ve excluded for reasons of laziness. But now you’re better equipped so that the next time you’re at the gym, you can keep an eye out for the Smelly Bastard. Seriously, I hate that guy.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

baby i'm back

Hello. It’s been quite some time, has it not? Since last we spoke, so many things have changed. For instance:

1) The New York Giants won the Super Bowl. That means we (Yes, smartass, we. I am a part of this team no matter what the restraining order says) are the WORLD CHAMPIONS. At least for 2007 anyway. And you know what else that means? Not the Redskins or Patriots! I would express my glee through a smiley face, but unfortunately, I have testicles. Maybe unfortunately is the wrong word. I digress.

2) I moved to the South (for my Maryland readers – yes, this is the South. I know this may come as a shock to you, just as it did for me when I crossed the Mason-Dixon line and was subjected to your horrific accents, but this is the truth.)

That pretty much covers it. Sure, there were more important world events, like some “civil war” in Africa or something and some other important stuff like a “recession” but we’re not here to talk about big words. Besides, since they don’t affect me directly, who cares? Am I right? Am I right? High five?

Regardless, to celebrate my resurrection from the internet grave, I’ve decided to discuss some of my favorite phrases that have died. And by favorite, I mean stupid.

1) Surfing the web – I hate this phrase. When I would ask people online “what r u doing” (note the abbreviated “r” and “u” usage to indicate how cool I am) sometimes, I’d get the inevitable response of “surfing the web”. What the hell does that mean? Who came up with the phrase, anyway? It doesn’t even make sense, “surfing the web”. How do you “surf” a web? WTF. Seriously, next time some nerds come up with world-changing technology like the Internet, leave the phrase-naming to professionals such as myself. I would’ve called it “looking for porn” but that’s just my humble opinion.

2) Crunk – Wow. That’s all I have to say. Wow. Forever will this word be associated with the hip hop phenomenon that is known as Lil Jon. I hate that guy. And for every white person out there who said “skee skee skee” without understanding its true terrifying meaning – shame on you.

3) Fo shizzle – There seems to be a running trend here of catch phrases from the hip hop community. Truth be told, I have nothing against hip hop. I’ve worn baggy pants. I’ve barked in public. I’ve licked my lips á la LL Cool J. I’ve futilely attempted to crip walk only to sprain my ankle badly and then tell the doctor I fell down the stairs. But some things, such as the crip walk, must be only attempted by special individuals. So if your name doesn’t end in “Dogg”, then don’t say fo shizzle. And no, self appointed nicknames do not count.

4) Da bomb – Usually used in reference to something that is especially wonderful, such as a particularly tasty desert (“Outback’s Chocolate Thunder from Down Under is da bomb!”), I haven’t heard anyone use this phrase in quite some time. This probably has something to do with the fact that today, referencing “bombs” is not quite as kosher as it used to be (see “Meet the Parents”). Whatever the reason, using this phrase now gets you at worst case scenario, some time in an airplane holding cell with Robert DeNiro or best case scenario, absolute ridicule from whoever in the room isn’t under the age of 6.

5) Cowabunga – I actually like this one and wish it would come back. Only because I feel like I never really got to use it quite as often as I would have liked in normal conversation. “I just totally made out with the hot chick in my bio class. Cowabunga!” followed by high fives all around. Also, I miss Leo, Don, Raph, Mikey and the whole gang. Even that depressing bastard Casey Jones and his stupid baseball bat. Seriously, man, these are highly trained turtle warriors with swords. You’re bringing… a Louisville Slugger? What an idiot. How he ever bagged April is beyond me. Wait, am I still writing? This was supposed to be my personal thoughts!

Friday, April 20, 2007

new york state of mind.

onto a lighter topic... but still a tragedy nonetheless.

http://www.hoopsworld.com/article_21697.shtml

i can see the sunset.

“Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.”

in the wake of the tragedy at virginia tech, i’ve gone through a fair amount of emotions – sadness, anger, fear. i was saddened by the thought of all those lost – not only for those who were lost but for those who have had to endure the losing: the parents, the friends, the brothers and sisters. i was angry that such a terrible tragedy could even happen in our world today (angry, but not surprised, frankly) and also angry that the first reactions from some were to place blame rather than try to heal, to find someone at fault rather than try to help. lastly, i was afraid of retaliation.

we have to be careful here. before we begin analyzing the situation and trying to find someone to blame for the tragedy, we must understand why it occurred. and the simple answer is because of pain.

there is no doubt that this certain individual has created a prodigious amount of pain himself. an entire university has been shaken to its very foundation. parents who were anticipating the arrival of their children after the spring semester instead await the arrival of caskets. friends eagerly looking forward to spending the summer together must now share the heat coldly alone. families have been torn apart. even the perpetrator’s own family is not without suffering – for all the heinousness of the individual, did his parents deserve that pain? to know your child is dead, his life taken by his own hand is terrible. to know that your child carried out a massacre of other children prior is almost unbearable.

i’ve already heard a few stories of some koreans being discriminated against for the simple fact that they are the same race as this killer. i’ve even heard rumors that the killer’s parents were taken into custody by the FBI for their own protection. whether this is true or not, i have no idea but i do know this – retaliation is a very real possibility. there could be someone out there hurting so badly that all they want to do is make the person who caused this pain to hurt just as much. how far will they go to see this fulfilled?

the sad thing is, we’ve already seen the consequence of going too far to satisfy your anger. the vtech shooting is a direct result of anger. how angry must you be to take the life of not one enemy but 32 strangers? what kind of rage must have filled you? and what caused this anger? how much hurt must have amassed to transform into such unbridled, blind, merciless anger that you take the lives of 32 other human beings?

for the kids who were too cool for star wars, the quote that began this post is from yoda, a guy who due to his physical appearance probably wouldn’t fit in anywhere in on this planet, much less america. but he understood people and the kind of chaos and suffering that pain could cause. in my opinion, it’s a cycle – pain leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to more pain. and we saw that cycle at vtech.

think about it for a second – everytime you’ve gotten angry, it’s because of pain. whether it’s from dropping a hammer on your toe to someone making fun of you, the natural progression is from hurt to anger. the terrible truth is, there is a lot of pain in this world. maybe even more hurt than the good stuff.

the world is a terrible place. think about the number of people in this world. how many of these people are genuinely happy? how many of these people are genuinely satisfied and content with their lives? i’m not even talking about just some people who are sad or depressed or who have lost loved ones. in our country alone, the number of people suffering is enormous. the poor, the diseased, the abused, etc. but the rest of the world is even more messed up. entire continents seemingly overcome by epidemics and civil war. civil rights – basic tenets of human life being denied in secret all over the place. women being treated as underground sex slaves. there is just so much shit in this world, it’s ridiculous.

sometimes, it’s thinking about this kind of nonsense that makes me really want to give up on people, on the world. yet it’s in these moments that you have to cling onto hope. you need to grasp on and hold on like you’re slipping from a roller coaster. falling into despair, into shame, into pain, into anger… only leads to more.

there’s a song from a band called live entitled heaven. in it, the lead singer proclaims that “i don’t need no one to tell me about heaven – i look at my daughter and i believe. i don’t need no proof when it comes to God and truth, i can see the sunset and i perceive.” the lyricist’s point was that it’s in the beautiful moments, the precious things in life, the majesty and wonder and beauty of life that we realize that maybe there’s somebody up there after all. i happen to think the totally opposite. when i consider all the terrible crap and all the suffering and pain and anguish in this world, that’s when i have to hope. how can i not? what’s the alternative? can this really be all that’s left for us? is this as good as it gets for some people? i can’t believe that. i refuse to believe that – that life can be filled with suffering and that’s it. nothing else. there has to be more.

for all of us who have been affected by this tragedy, we have to cling onto hope. we can’t give into the pain, the anger. already the cycle of finger pointing, media bashing, insensitivity, racial divides is happening. what matters not is who’s to blame, what’s the right way to talk about it, who should get fired, how should people react, etc. what matters is that there’s more than all this nonsense. we just have to choose to look for it.

Friday, April 13, 2007

color me bad.

there’s been a ridiculous amount of media attention and internet traffic generated over the recent comments by radio shock jock don imus regarding the rutgers women’s basketball team (see how everything revolves around jersey, the greatest state in the union?) it seems like everyone is up in arms about this comment but two distinct voices, at least in my opinion, have emerged from this situation:

1) the voice of indifference – this is the voice that says “who cares, he’s a shock jock, that’s what he says, plenty of people say that everyday, there’s nothing wrong with it in the context of comedy”.

2) the voice of change – this is the voice that says “don imus must be fired. we can not tolerate these kinds of messages anymore and something needs to give.”

honestly, i am personally sick and tired of all this bs regarding racism, perceived racism, political (in)correctness and all that other nonsense. i am not commenting on what imus said or whether or not i feel his words or actions were appropriate. i am commenting on the media whirlwind and what people out there are spewing over race.

here’s the main issue, which i’ve said before in earlier posts – i don’t think this is about race, about color, about stereotypes or all that nonsense, at least not directly. this is about respect, or the lack thereof, in our society today. today’s world is a cynical, negative place where we are extremely quick to ridicule and point out others’ faults or inconsistencies but sloth to help or fix things. all we do in this society is pinpoint mistakes and transgressions and then laugh at them. the truth is there is an enormous lack of respect out there for our fellow brothers and sisters. differences in appearance only serve as a conduit for expressing such lack of disrespect.

tell me, is there a reason why we need to refer to other people with derogatory terms or horrible names filled with historical hatred? is there a reason why people’s lives must be ruined over something said whether in seriousness or jest?

this is not an indictment of “everyone else”. i am the same way. and you know why? b/c i’m a racist too. everyone is. anyone who says they aren’t is a goddam liar. everyone’s got a little racist in them because everyone harbors stereotypes and preconceived notions that they may not exhibit publicly, but they’re there. i guarantee that. anytime someone says something like “i don’t see in color”, i want to rip their heads off. then wtf do you see in? black and white? polka dots? is everyone a stick figure to you? even for all the people out there who claim to want equality and fairness between blacks and whites… i ask you this… what about the yellows? what about the reds, the browns? as an asian man, it’s hard for me to read something where someone calls for racial equality but believes there’s only two colors in that equation. but that is an altogether different issue. again, i return to my main point. this is about respect. this is about courtesy and personal responsibility. again, everyone has these preconceived notions but it’s how you deal with them that defines you. do you give in? do you tighten up when you see a black guy? do you start to laugh when a yellow guy opens his mouth? do you change the way you talk when a white guy’s around? but the best question is, what do you do when they’re not around and it’s just you?

those two voices i mentioned before? both are right. people do say the same crap imus says everyday. maybe it’s in private, maybe it’s amongst friends, maybe it’s in a public setting, but it definitely gets said by someone of each color everyday. and you know what? that does need to stop. we do need to recognize that every single person out there is a human being just like you and me. you want to make fun of someone for being a color? how about i make fun of you for being ugly and dumb?

these 3 links below should provide more color into the situation, no pun intended. if you can only read 1, read the chappelle article. he is as intelligent and perceptive as he is hilarious. and i truly mean that.

this 1st link is to an interview with jemele hill, a black female sportswriter for espn.com’s page 2. you can read the interview, which is very interesting and honest, but the real meat is in the comments where people are debating the imus issue.

the 2nd link is to an article regarding the georgetown hoyas and their relationship with race, steretypes and perceptions. it’s got incredible insight into why we identify with racial jokes and stereotypes.

the 3rd link is to an article summarizing dave chappelle’s recent appearance on oprah and what he had to say. focus on the 5th frame of the article, this is the most poignant part of his message.
in the end, i say this. you cannot understand what it is like to be black in america if you are not. you cannot understand what it is like to be yellow in america if you are not. you cannot understand what it is like to be white in america if you are not. you cannot understand what it is to be anything anywhere if you are not. but we can try. we can try to understand and build bridges. all it takes is some respect. there’s no need to close your eyes and be “colorblind”. being your color is as much a part of you as your IQ, your humor, your shoe size. but can you respect that?

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

everybody's working for the weekend.

"For no matter what we achieve , if we don't spend the vast majority of time with people we love and respect, we cannot possibly have a great life. But if we spend the vast majority of our time with people we love and respect—people we really enjoy being on the bus with and who will never disappoint us—then we will almost certainly have a great life, no matter where the bus goes."
-Jim Collins

as most of you know, i’m in investment banking. some people take pride in saying that. let me be the first to tell you if you know someone who does, punch him in the face; it may help his outlook on life.

in all honesty, there are rewarding things about investment banking but i’m not going to get into them right now because i don’t like lying. however, there are extremely painful aspects of the job, too. there are the all-nighters, the last minute canceled plans, the disregard for personal life, the unsavory personalities, the self-centeredness – all of which contribute to a pretty painful existence. as much as i enjoy the financial security this job provides, there are times i ask myself, “what is the least painful way i can kill myself?”

but there are also times i’m reminded why i work so hard. i love being able to provide for the people i love. and by provide, i don’t mean i’m paying off mortgages. simple meals here and there, gifts, etc. b/c it’s the people i love that make work worth it.

you’ve heard this phrase before – do whatever you love and money will follow. honestly, that is such BS. if someone says that to you, ask them what they do and they’ll probably shut up. in this entire world, how many people do you really think are doing something they love? even many professional athletes, who many would consider have the “dream job”, don’t enjoy their profession. they’re just collecting paychecks. with that said, i don’t really care if my job is miserable. i don’t care if my 9 to 5 is hell as long as my 5 to 9 is good. i love my boys. i love my girl. and i love my family. if i can do things for them, take care of them, then i’m happy. that’s all i want in life.

my parents told me before, don’t do this job for us. if you hate it that much, then don’t do it, don’t do anything for us. i understand what they’re trying to say but what they don’t get is that everything i do, i do for them. i do for my sister, for my boys, for my future family, wife, kids, etc. and in that sense, i AM working for myself because by doing it for others, i’m doing what i want.

this is not really an indictment of investment banking. to be honest, i’m pretty sure any job i could have, i’d be unhappy. i really hate working. i am incredibly lazy and a huge underachiever. if i won the lottery and could do anything i “love”, you know what that would be? sitting on my couch watching basketball and eating cheetos until my face is covered in processed nacho cheese.

so i work because i love. the quote at the top speaks exactly what my heart wants. there are people in your life that make life worth it. there are people in your life that make your life that much more fulfilling by participating in it with you. these are the people i want to spend all my time with. these are the people i work for. you know who you are.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

coming soon...

coming soon....

the revolution.

HIBACHI!

Thursday, November 02, 2006

i'm bringing sexy back. YEA!

when i first heard this song, my first thought was “wow…i never thought i’d hear the sound of dying animals on the radio.” what exactly does our young squire, justin timberlake (“JT”), mean when he claims that he’s bringing sexy back? first of all, where did it go? and why’s it coming back? did you have to go find it or did someone give it to you? how do we know that this is really sexy? we can’t just take your word that dancing like that is sexy. in fact, when i try to do it, the normal reaction isn’t arousal but laughter. so what the hell, justin, what exactly am i supposed to do with all this sexy? i can’t use this crap. and who made you the messenger anyway? when i think sexy, let me tell you, my first thought is not of justin timberlake giving me the sexy eyes while leaning up against a brick wall in the rain, clad only in sweet gentle denim that he is slowly peeling off while whispering sweet nothings at me. no no no, my first thought is of brad pitt but that’s a story for another day.

all kidding aside, this song is awful. but i’m not here to complain about it, that would be highly outside of my character. i almost never complain except when i’m not happy which is roughly 98% of my waking existence. in fact, i once claimed an allergy to happiness and joy and i’m not sure but i think people may have believed me. jeez, i hate people, they’re so annoying, they always want to… oh yeah, no complaining.

anyway, the real song i want to discuss today is JT’s “what goes around” which is a conversation JT is having with a non-responsive female regarding her former cheating ways while she was with him and how she is now receiving the same treatment from her new beau. hmmm…whoever could he be talking about?

the JT/britney break-up was a rough patch for the mickey mouse club. never has a couple affiliated with disney experienced such emotional turnover since the Sultan of Agrabah tried to force Princess Jasmine to marry Jafar. their highly publicized falling out was the result of a rumored cheating incident involving the bubbly blonde and her personal trainer (how do i know these details? don’t ask questions you don’t really want answers to). JT then proceeded to highlight said cheating in a song on his first album entitled “cry me a river”. the music video for this song featured our hero hooking up with some random chick on an anonymous blonde girl’s bed while videotaping, leaving the evidence behind for the blonde in order to pay her back for her own cheating episode. damn. getting caught is bad enough. but getting caught and then having the whole world know? damn. say what you will about the curly-haired pretty boy but you gotta admit he is one cold-hearted pansy.

but let’s not forget that he is still very much a pansy. it’s been years since she cheated on you, bro. you’ve moved on. you’re an extremely wealthy, highly-recognized pop star who is dating arguably one of the world’s most attractive actresses who has no qualms about male bodily fluids (see “something about mary”). what exactly is the problem? “oh no she cheated on me boo hoo, my life is so hard.” yeah, i can see how your life went straight downhill from there.

if anything, JT, you should be thanking britney instead of whining about her. have you seen her recently? it’s like she’s in the witness protection program and ordered the trailer park trash do-it-yourself kit on ebay and messed up while applying it. she’s starting to make christina aguilera look classy. and remember aguilera has done multiple collaborations with lil kim, a woman who is constantly referencing her female member and oral sex. i need to throw up.

JT, count yourself lucky that you and the walking makeup counter accident parted ways when you did. your careers went in totally opposite directions. think about it; had you guys stick together, instead of smash hits like “sexyback”, “cry me a river” or “like i love you,” you’d be yelling papa zao. seriously. shut up.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

mawwige.

“congratulations on the wedding” – street poet, tupac shakur

one of my closest friends is getting married soon. i could write a few memories we’ve shared over the years that i’m sure would probably cause his union to become null and void but i’ll take the mature route and say something else. besides, i have to save something for the wedding, right? i mean, what wedding isn’t complete without mention of past incidents involving drugs, sex and alcohol? and once i’m done talking about myself, i can mention my buddy and his new wife and their future happiness, blah blah blah. oh, so sorry, i forgot today was about YOU...selfish prick.

it’s amazing. he’s 23 years old, soon to be 24, and he’s ready to commit his life to another human being, to fully devote his mind, body and soul to a woman, to place his entire future in her heart. i’m not even ready to part with my collection of comic books! …what, they’re worth a lot of money, spider-man’s making a comeback ok, leave me alone.

a lot of people would probably say, “damn… 23. that’s so young to get married! that’s so early!” we’ll call these people “men.” others might say “omg he’s getting married, that’s so awesome! how much was the ring?” we’ll call these people “women.” do you notice a difference here?

think about the way women approach marriage. some girls begin subscribing to wedding magazines along with “Tiger Beat” and “YM” so they can imagine themselves in white dresses walking towards JTT waiting down the aisle (JTT-whatever happened to that guy? and btw, i know about these magazines only b/c i used to be a librarian and i have a little sister and there wasn’t much to read in my bathroom when i was younger. those excuses sounded much better in my head). granted, some girls aren’t as obsessed with weddings as others, but the wedding is definitely about the lady. guys, there is a reason we rent the tux and girls buy the dress; this is their day. we are merely participants in their special day, much like the old people at a bar mitzvah. if they’re there, lovely, but if they’re not, the show can still go on.

meanwhile, men approach marriage with the same anticipation we would approach circumcision, if we remembered it (for those of you who DO remember it… my God, you are braver men than i can ever hope to be). “are you sure we need to do this? yea, i know you’re supposed to do this eventually… just didn’t think it’d happen now. are you sure? and you said everyone does this? really? and my life will be better afterwards? are you sure about that? seriously, can someone give me a straight answer to my questions?”

the reason for these two differing perspectives is quite simple: women see marriage as the beginning while men see marriage as the end.

women view marriage as an ultimate goal in life. for their entire lives, they’ve been focused on finding A man, training A man and finally, keeping A man. once they’ve achieved these goals, they can begin the most anticipated stage of their life, hence marriage is the 1st page of the book. men, on the other hand, have been focused on an entirely different goal. men are trying to find ANY woman, hook up with EVERY woman and finally, end up with A woman who can tolerate their natural scents and habits without having to resort to any criminal acts of retaliation. and once they’ve found this woman, they know that now all other women are off-limits to them. and this is where the book ends for men. no sequel planned.

with such wildly contrasting views towards marriage, how can it succeed? truth be told, it can’t. at least not in the conventional sense. but you’re missing a key concept from above. the woman “trains” the man. upon completion of a standard woman’s intense training regimen, the man becomes a highly disciplined individual who begins cleaning up without being told, becomes concerned with air freshener scent variety within the house, and starts noticing slight shading discrepancies between different hues of red.

obviously, this is a joke. EVERYONE already knows the difference between magenta and rose! jeez, stupid! but the woman does enlighten the man in a way because it’s her job to change his thinking. he’s always going to look at another girl and wonder what it would be like to be with her for a night. but a woman’s real job is to make a man look at her and wonder what it would be like to be with her for the rest of his life. once you get a guy thinking like that, it’s over. good game, we’re out of quarters. you just made it to the final level and lost to the last boss when he had 1 life bar left. how do you feel?

well, if you ask my buddy, surprisingly good. he’s happy, satisfied, content, all those other “joyful” words that have no room in my vocabulary. there’s a peace in his voice and a calming serenity surrounding his entire aura. frankly, it’s sickening. but at the same time, i give him a lot of respect and credit too. he’s taken the hardest test there is and he’s passed with flying colors. anyone can get a girl for a night. it’s getting a girl for life that’s really impressive.

so with that said, i guess 23 isn’t too young. that is, if you’re ready for it and you know that once you close that book, it’s getting returned to the library, son. and we don’t mess around at the library, oh no. watch me as i take the book you just handed to me and PUT IT BEHIND ME ON THE RACK! that’s right, it’s on the rack now, you definitely can’t get it. you give us a book, you can never get it back. unless you borrow it again. in which case, we’ll lend it to you again. dammit.

anyway, let’s hope that never happens to my boy. congratulations, bro. make sure my mic is ready for me because i am about to turn your wedding night into the most uncomfortable silent treatment since the history of mankind.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

cell phone.

i just got a new phone but i lost most of my numbers so leave yours if you think i'll want it. think hard about this decision. it's quite important.

and yeah yeah, i know i haven't updated in a while. it's coming soon, i've been busy doing stuff like work and sleep. but it's coming soon. trust me, it'll be worth the wait. the return of the dunce. the most highly anticipated return since i clogged my toilet last night.

unless you didn't notice i was gone. then, i hate you.

Monday, July 03, 2006

i can see clearly now.

http://itsmedunce.blogspot.com/2005/10/nba-finals-prediction.html

this was what i wrote way back in october. holler. i am the man.

Monday, May 29, 2006

do you remember?

i saw a movie this past weekend that had been extremely hyped up and created a lot of buzz in recent weeks. people had been talking and writing about it for months, internet sites devoted to it for years and in the midst of all this was a great deal of controversy. some were simply aesthetic (the casting was all wrong, the dialogue was awful) while others were more philosophical in nature (would they stay true to the story already made so popular in print form?) in the end, you could sense the tension in the theater as the lights began to dim. the packed house whispered excitedly as they were finally witnessing a movie years in the making, a movie that many people out there, including my mom, probably didn’t want us to see. that’s right, this past weekend, i watched “X-Men III”. and it was glorious.

for all of you expecting a movie review of X-III, i’m sorry. i can’t talk about it right now. my feelings are too conflicted. so instead, i’ll celebrate this memorial day by talking about some of my fondest memories of my life.

age 0. i’m born. holler world. the nurse checks me out. she so wants me.

age 2. i’m the fattest i’ll ever be in my entire life until 20 years later when i begin a career in investment banking where my daily meals consist of some variation of chicken nuggets, french fries, pizza, and buffalo wings. this is not a punch line, this is a fact.

age 3. on a hot day by my cousin’s pool, i down a glass of what i believe is water but what really is my uncle’s vodka. my body turns purple as i have my first experience with asian glow. my parents begin to notice that i’m drunk when i start stumbling around, slurring my ABCs, and telling everyone how i used to be the man in high school and how much i love them. i also begin telling a nearby garden hose how pretty it looks today.

age 4. i almost drown in my cousin’s pool when i tell myself, “i don’t need a tube” and slip out of it while floating in the deep end. at this point, i discover that i do in fact need a tube. fully clothed, my dad jumps in to save me. after i finish puking 15 gallons of water, i giggle at the sight of him soaking wet in a lacoste shirt and purple corduroy pants. gosh, dad, you’re supposed to change before you go into the water. even i know that and i’m only 4! he looks at me like he wants to hurt me. hilarity ensues.

age 5. i accidentally drive my dad’s car into a neighbor’s lawn. i can see him running after me with a rake in his hand, not because he was raking the leaves but because he’s getting ready to kick my ass. hilarity ensues.

age 6. my doctor informs me i need glasses. i punch the doctor in the testicles and run out of the office.

age 6 and a half. i move to new jersey to avoid a lawsuit from said doctor and begin my development as a street fighting machine in the hard edged streets of “northvale, nj”, a town famous for 2 things: they filmed the tv show “ed” here and… ok just 1 thing.

age 8. my sister is taller than me. she’s 6.

age 12. my sister is still taller than me. she’s now 10. constant references to the height disparity in addition to my mother’s friends telling me how pretty i’d be as a girl encourage thoughts of ending myself with my he-man sword. the fact that i still have a he-man sword compounds my misery.

age 14. my friends and i begin a secret career as a ruff ryderz tribute band. this quickly ends as embarrassing rumors and inexplicable photographs begin to surface.

age 16. i finally begin to sprout some hair on my legs, stopping the increasingly annoying habit of girls telling me they “wish they had my legs.” possible homicidal killing spree is subdued.

age 17. one of the hottest girls in my HS tells me i make her feel hot. i quickly regale the story to my friends only to have them tell me this has more to do with the fact that it’s late june and i’m still wearing my asian gangster jacket than any sort of hormonal effect i have on women. i vehemently disagree and continue to tell the story to this day.

age 18. i enroll in uva. i feel like tim robbins in “shawshank redemption” getting sent to prison for a crime i didn’t commit. my roommate is extremely hairy.

age 20. i tear my ACL in a vicious scrimmage with the uva football team. apparently enraged that jackie chan’s cousin is making fools out of future nfl prospects, a cheap hit ends any chances of a career in the nba. after careful consideration of future job prospects, i shelf modeling and acting for the time being to become an i-banker. hilarity ensues.

age 22. i gradutate uva and begin working in ny. i feel like tim robbins in “shawshank redemption” when he escapes prison and is crawling though a pile of filth to taste freedom. except the only thing i taste is still filth because there is no freedom, david. there is no freedom.

age 22 redux. it’s memorial day and i’m at work writing a blog entry. i hate my life.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

i work hard for the money.

for the unaware, i work in an office. and in my office are certain characters, or caricatures i should say, that i will outline here. many of you may be familiar with such people. some of you may even be such people. if so, i recommend you cease and desist your current activity immediately. why? because people are laughing at you, you idiot.

1) the FIGJAM.

this is a recently learned word, even for such a learned employee as myself. (btw, you must pronounce the word “learned” with 2 syllables for intellectual respect. if not, all the monocle-wearing, handkerchief-toting, pipe-smoking people in the world will laugh at you. and if there’s a more horribly embarrassing fate than that, i am unaware of it) anyway, the FIGJAM stands for what a typical FIGJAM thinks as he goes about his normal FIGJAM day: “F*ck, I’m Good, Just Ask Me.” the FIGJAM holds himself on a pedestal above his peers because nobody else will. he believes that he and he alone is the sole reason for his company’s success and no one quite as smart as him has ever graced the hallways of his corporation. in fact, we’re all lucky to have FIGJAM here to run to with tears brimming in our eyes because we just can’t figure out how to do our jobs as well as FIGJAM. to which FIGJAM will sigh, come over to your desk, and not only do your job for you, but tell you the whole while how easy this is for him. FIGJAM, we salute you.

2) the Dentist AKA D.D.S.

dentists Don’t Do Sh*t. (not real dentists, they do a lot, like scrubbing the decaying meat out from between my teeth and dealing with my horrendous burrito breath. seriously, everyone’s so scared of dentists but shouldn’t they be scared of you? YOU can choose to brush your teeth or not. YOU can choose to stuff your face with garlic-laced pizza before your appointment. YOU can choose to fart in your own mouth. and then HE has to deal with it. he should be scared. not you. think about that. i’ve just empowered you for your next dental visit. send me money.) your office dentists are the guys who walk around all day, schmoozing with people but they don’t really do any work. they just try to act like they’re busy. in fact, you could’ve sworn you heard him typing away furiously in the middle of the afternoon. surely, he must have been doing some work, right? no, you moron, he just has a blog. ummm…. ok let’s just move on to the next guy.

3) the trust fund brat.

this is the guy who got his job because his father is friends with the CEO of the of the company. and btw, it’s always “father” with these people, never “dad”. if it’s a girl, it can be “daddy” but come on, these types of girls don’t work in offices! they work in charities during their non-traveling/shopping time where they raise money for the poor by hosting $5,000 plate dinner galas where rich people come together to eat and drink and celebrate the fact that they’re rich and you’re not and isn’t life grand hohohoho. but anyway, these guys have a certain swagger to them, an arrogance. you know when you’re little and you say to your friends, “my dad can beat up your dad?” well these guys used to say “my father is worth 2 Microsofts and 1 Starbucks more than your father.” and then swing their burberry scarf at you. their names also almost always have roman numerals afterwards. like Preston Winston Chattingham III or Chauncey Worthington V. they’re like sequels to bad movies. and just like bad movies, they usually have hot girls. dammit! (hehe hi mina)

4) the weirdo.

the weirdo comes in many shapes and forms. in the 70s, he came to the office on casual days in a tie-dye shirt, had grateful dead posters in his cube, and smelled of marijuana. in the 80s, he tried to talk like tony danza, wore leather jackets on occasion, and smelled of marijuana. in the 90s, he dressed like a goth every now and then to throw people off, would softly play Nine Inch Nails at his desk, slowly turning up the volume throughout the day until someone would come over and be like “ummm….yea… about your music…could you turn it down a little bit? i’m on the phone with a client and he’s wondering why someone at my office is screaming about fornicating like animals”, and also smelled of marijuana. today’s weirdo is a little more subtle. he usually wears clip-on ties with the short-sleeved dress shirts, has staring problems (especially with females in the office), tends to be a mouth breather, oftentimes wears glasses that were fashionable when the beatles were considered as controversial as eminem, and smells of marijuana. he also leaves the weirdest food in the community fridge. beans and potato sandwich? salad with peanut butter and ketchup dressing? this dude is so weird, he makes my friend chris look normal. and chris is far from normal. he once rubbed his face in a bowl full of scallions in the middle of a korean restaurant. he once dropped his cell phone in a public toilet, took it out, tried to WASH IT, and continued to use it for months afterwards. he also thinks everything causes cancer, is a hypochondriac, and likes to make up his own words to pop songs in chinese and he doesn’t even speak chinese. ok enough embarrassing chris (happy birthday, buddy. i know it’s not today, relax)

5) the inappropriate topic broacher.

this is the guy who you swear is going to get fired. he brings up totally inappropriate topics for a work setting, constantly makes non PC comments/references to ethnicities, genders, etc., and always has the latest racial/sexist joke handy. in other words, he’s the funniest guy in the office outside of work, but inside, everytime he opens his mouth, you try to take a step away and give people walking by a look like “who is this guy? he’s crazy. i don’t know why i’m standing here listening to him.”

6) the crazy secretary.

it’s an unwritten rule that in this day and age, all secretaries must be either old or ugly. this is a modern development given the evolution of our legal system that allows anyone to get rich by suing someone with a lot of money for sexual improprieties that my or may not have occurred. but not only do most of these secretaries’ physical appearance discourage sexual harassment/advances, but they’re freakin crazy, man! one secretary flipped out on me for clicking a pen. it’s one thing to ask, “hey, can you stop that, it’s kind of irritating, like your face”, it’s quite another to stand up with a wild, crazed look in your eye and demand “who’s that clicking? where’s that clicking coming from? stop the clicking!” and jam your fingers in your ears while screeching at the top of your lungs. another one went ballistic because myself and a colleague were bouncing a ball back in forth about 2 feet away from each other, apparently afraid that the rubber foam source of our joy would somehow in a flubber-esque horror scene jump into her cube and destroy all her pens and colored post-its. then there’s another secretary who has the most inappropriate conversations on her phone so loud that everyone can hear her telling her girlfriends about last night when she went out and… uhhh… did bad things with boys. btw, she’s like 45.

so these are your basic types of people at work. of course you have others, the office ho (male and female versions), the consummate professional, etc. and then of course, you have your normal people who are, well, you know, normal and don’t fall into any of these categories, but they’re boring. but yeah, i have to get back to pretending like i’m doing something now in case anyone realizes that i’m a dentist. who said that?

Thursday, May 04, 2006

love is in the air.

what is it about the spring air that makes people want to get jiggy? even animals are not immune to cupid’s influence when the weather warms. walk by any local park and you’ll see dogs, squirrels, and various other types of asian delicacies engaging in public acts of indecency that would land any normal human being in jail. (on a side note, i’m sick of these double standards for animals. if a dog can pee anywhere, i should be able to too. i refuse to pay that fine and i will never apologize to those schoolchildren.)

without question, spring is the season of love. weddings, spring flings, the blooming of flowers, everything related to love seems to coincide with the year’s first emergence of warm weather. the sun is shining, the sky is blue with the only visible clouds being of the fluffy cotton candy variety, and love seems so easily accessible at this time. can anything go wrong in spring?

the answer is, “YES, you idiot.” lucky for you, here is my guide to “how not to act a fool this spring in your relationship or lack thereof.” if this were a movie, it would be starring kate hudson and johnny depp. kate hudson because she thrives in these types of movies and johnny depp because he resembles me most after brad pitt but i didn’t want to seem too conceited or anything. (it’s difficult managing good looks, brains, and a good heart all at once. sigh, my life is so hard.)

Rule #1: just because someone pays attention to you doesn’t mean he/she likes you.

i cannot emphasize this rule enough. at first, i thought this rule only applied to guys because growing up, i knew so many guys that thought just because a girl talked to them, she was in love with them. honestly, why would you think that? let’s consider the facts: you have no redeeming qualities whatsoever and she only talks to you when she wants answers to yesterday’s chemistry quiz. do you really think she likes you? in the eternal wisdom of napoleon dynamite, “GOSH, IDIOT!” guys in general have big heads that are easily inflatable with the minimum of motivation. a simple smile from a girl walking by can convince them that she thinks he’s hot. listen, fellas, half the time, she’s just being nice/friendly. the other half? she was smiling at the guy behind you. get over yourself and move on.

however, this dynamic also applies to the females as well. i will admit that most of the times, guys are nice to/pay attention to girls only when they are attracted to them or are considering pursuing them, so you can’t really blame girls for thinking a guy likes them. the only problem with this is, guys are ALWAYS attracted to girls and will ALWAYS consider pursuing a girl if she shows even the remotest interest. so relax, you’re not that special. he bought you some of your favorite chocolates? he had some left over after he dropped off the 1st bag at some other chick’s place. he calls you every night at 11 PM? he’s driving home after hanging out with some other broad and is bored. he texts you before your tests and says study hard? he wants to cheat off you on the exam. he told he he likes you and wants to go out with you? he used the same speech last night with your best friend. ladies, don’t be fooled by his wily ways. actually, the word ‘wily’ belies some sort of cleverness or intent. while some guys are definitely like this, most guys are just stupid. the sooner you learn this, the better off you’ll be.

Rule #2: nobody wants to hear about the latest cutest thing your schnookums did.

first of all, there is a reason these monikers are called “pet names”: they are reserved for domesticated animals bred solely for your twisted pleasure only to die a couple of years later. don’t refer to your partner with embarrassing nicknames usually bestowed upon the family dog, especially in public. nobody needs to hear that your little “sugar bear” is the “bestest, westest, sweetest, tweetest” boyfriend in the whole wide world. in fact, i’m pretty sure that sugar bear doesn’t need to hear it either. sugar bear probably imagines himself taking a bath with a toaster everytime you mention how “cutesy wootsie” sugar bear looks when he chews his food. in fact, i’m ready to join sugar bear in his electric bath just from typing sugar bear so many freakin times. somebody shoot me. anyway, this leads straight to…

Rule #3: what you think is cute, nobody else does. NOBODY!

this speaks for itself and relates to the above note. keep your personal stories to yourself. seriously. i could be really mean and say this applies to all newborn baby/children stories as well but i won’t be that mean. at least not today.

also, it may appear that Rules #2 and 3 are directed towards the female audience. well that’s because females are the largest offenders of these 2 rules. if a male commits these egregious sins, he will most likely find himself (a) friendless (b) castrated (c) crying everytime “Beaches” or “The Notebook” comes on basic cable or d) all of the above.


ok well, that’s it for now. these are all the rules i could think of without offending the general public, which i probably did anyway, and this should be enough to avoid looking like the complete idiot you are. at least for a little while. but until then, stay classy. and thanks for stopping by. but mostly stay classy. thanks for stopping by.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

the beach.

horizon. softest of yellows, gentlest of reds
meets ocean. deepest of blues, coldest of whites

how often i return here
to gaze upon your loveliness
to wander within your endlessness
to bask inside your timelessness

how often i long for escape
the sweet release of oblivion
floating through the empty abyss

the cry of the gull
the roar of the sea
the whisper of the wind
i hear nothing but the sound deafens my ears

the tide washes wasteless against the shore
cold water laps my ankles yet the sand sinks deep
drawing me ever deeper into its hold

i can feel the pull of the tide
lulling me into the soft ephemeral
instead of stepping back

i move forward, shifting water with my fingers
sifting sand with my toes
to enter is my only escape


Friday, April 28, 2006

ooh boy you acting like you like what you see.

i was going to write something because i finally have some time after a hellish week or so at work but i’m too tired. i literally started typing and all my energy started seeping from me. so instead i’ll leave you with this fairly humorous clip of alex rodriguez in one of the more bizarre pre-batting rituals i’ve ever seen. and that includes steve yoon and his kimchi squat thrust and booty drop mixed with his club dancing ritual. truly, a bizarre sight for the eyes.
http://www.deadspin.com/sports/baseball/random-youtube-finding-of-the-week-169722.php

Thursday, April 20, 2006

i don't need no one to tell me bout heaven.

today as i was getting off the subway, i saw a dead bumble bee on the steps. it was in pristine condition, just lying there in a slightly fetal position. during my brief 2 second autopsy, i concluded that said bumble bee had expired due to natural causes, perhaps a heart attack, perhaps through years of gorging himself on high cholesterol flowers and smoking too much pollen when he was a younger and more foolish bumble bee. perhaps old age simply caught up to him as he zigged and zagged his way through the subway, trying to find his way home, just like the other few million people who ride the subway every day.

i had an english teacher in middle school who looked 50 when he was probably 40. he was also a DJ who ran our middle school parties (imagine a balding, goggled slightly overweight middle-aged man running back and forth between 2 walls of a gym screaming PEPSI COLA as backstreet boys blared in the background and boys and girls who had spent hours getting their hair and outfit just right refused to acknowledge each other from their respective sides of the gym. ah junior high. is there a more confusing time in life than when your voice fluctuates like an accordion, your face begins to resemble a pepperoni pizza, and girls tower over you?) he had a couple kids younger than me and lived right around the corner too. but i remember one day, all of a sudden, he had this shiny red convertible sitting in his driveway. people whispered that he had just turned 45 and that’s when i learned what a mid-life crisis was. (i’m pretty sure it was really his daughter’s car but it helps the story. shut up.)

at one point in all of our lives, we, too will encounter this strange mix of emotion and thought that inspires us to chase younger partners, purchase faster vehicles, or perhaps even totally change careers/friends/family. we will all face the eternally echoing question regarding life’s purpose. to what end are we here? what is the meaning of life? who what how when where but most importantly, why?

my boy dk, had an interesting excerpt from some weird hippie book he’s reading that talks about life and it’s purpose (hehe just kidding i love you, dk… but yea, you’re a hippie). i’ve cut and pasted it here.

In this constant battle which we call living, we try to set a code of conduct according to the society in which we are brought up, whether it be a Communist society or a so-called free society; we accept a standard of behaviour as part of our tradition as Hindus or Muslims or Christians or whatever we happen to be. We look to someone to tell us what is right or wrong behaviour, what is right or wrong thought, and in following this pattern our conduct and our thinking become mechanical, our responses automatic. We can observe this very easily in ourselves.

For centuries we have been spoon-fed by our teachers, by our authorities, by our books, our saints. We say, 'Tell me all about it - what lies beyond the hills and the mountains and the earth?' and we are satisfied with their descriptions, which means that we live on words and our life is shallow and empty. We are secondhand people. We have lived on what we have been told, either guided by our inclinations, our tendencies, or compelled to accept by circumstances and environment. We are the result of all kinds of influences and there is nothing new in us, nothing that we have discovered for ourselves; nothing original, pristine, clear.

Throughout theological history we have been assured by religious leaders that if we perform certain rituals, repeat certain prayers or mantras, conform to certain patterns, suppress our desires, control our thoughts, sublimate our passions, limit our appetites and refrain from sexual indulgence, we shall, after sufficient torture of the mind and body, find something beyond this little life. And that is what millions of so-called religious people have done through the ages, either in isolation, going off into the desert or into the mountains or a cave or wandering from village to village with a begging bowl, or, in a group, joining a monastery, forcing their minds to conform to an established pattern. But a tortured mind, a broken mind, a mind which wants to escape from all turmoil, which has denied the outer world and been made dull through discipline and conformity - such a mind, however long it seeks, will find only according to its own distortion.

-jiddu krishnamurti, freedom from the known



i found this excerpt striking because it’s something that hits close to me. but one thing i disagreed with is how easily the writer seemingly brushes aside all previous teachings, lessons, and insights that have been developed and cultivated throughout centuries of human thought. is that possible? and a mind “made dull through discipline and conformity” can only find “according to its own distortion”. is this true?

the truth is everyone needs some kind of guidance, everyone needs something to inspire them. it can be a teacher, a pastor, a friend, a book, or even the sun setting over the horizon, a ball of fire composed of colors no artist in his most inspired moment could ever conceive yet nature so easily blends on a daily basis. how do we ignore such strong teachings? how do we find meaning without such inspirational voices?

it is true that you can never and should never derive your own life’s meaning through someone else. nobody should tell you how to think, how to act, what to believe, what to say; anyone that does this is a fool and need not bother contributing to the gene pool. but at the same time, to think that you and you alone know the meaning of life, that you and you alone are the only one who can figure out what life is about is not only conceited but a bit dangerous as well.

there is another ancient philosopher who is one my favorite people ever. he once stated that everything was meaningless; there is nothing new under the sun. all your poetry, all your art, all your accomplishments, all your wealth, all your women, all your careers, all your achievements, everything has been done before. this man knew because he had tried all these things. he had lived lives of excess, of self-denial, of seeking, of perfection, of hedonism, searched for meaning in his own way through countless different methods. and all these fruitless exercises led him to the same conclusion; everything is meaningless and there is nothing new under the sun.

i agree with him. you may not. but that is the point. you must find out for yourself if what he says is true. if what he says influences you to agree with him, fine. if what he says sways you to disagree, fine. but the point is, by hearing what he said, this has to have some prevalence in your life.

whether you are one of the “millions of so-called religious” or not (actually, especially if you are one of these), you must seek to find the answers to your heart’s questions. while i agree with krishnamurti that you cannot simply conform and do as others do, you cannot simply disregard all previous teachings as well. because in the end, life simply cannot be just this. life cannot be just this daily going forward and maintaining social norms. if so, what makes us so different from animals? human beings are unique creatures on this planet in that we are the only ones who fathom what lies beyond this world, beyond the years we have alive. the question then becomes, not what is the meaning of life, but rather, what is the meaning of after-life? to this end, we must all seek some meaning. whether or not we all arrive at the same destination is a totally separate matter. but we must all seek.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

also...

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=whitlock/060405

a really good article with a different viewpoint on the whole duke lacross team sex scandal from the rest of the mainstream media. and it's on espn too. how ironical. this is probably the most accurate depiction of the events surrounding the scandal that i've read yet. and if you're asking "what duke sex scandal?" then stop reading my blog. seriously.

these hands they are my own.

my line of work often brings me in contact with what society would label as high class individuals. rubbing elbows with CEOs of multi-billion dollar companies, conversing on a daily basis with SMDs (senior managing directors for the non-finance people) who rake in 8 digits a year, etc. but just because most of these people have more money in their left pocket than i have in my entire life’s savings doesn’t mean that they’re better than me. it means that they’re much much much better than me.

in fact, one SMD here at work is so much better than me that he doesn’t even have to wash his hands after he uses the bathroom. i found this out because i watched him pee (not that way, you sickos. i’m talking about the observant, investigative manner, not in the hey, your penis looks weird kind of way) and then he just walked out of the bathroom without even glancing at the faucet. that’s absolutely disgusting. this guy is supposed to be some big “hitter” in the group and probably meets CEOs everyday. i wonder how many deals he’d do if people stopped shaking his hand because he’s got traces of urine and bacterial fungi all over it. ew. (on a side note, the word fungi always made me giggle when i was in school. same with words like poop deck. hehe. so silly. another good one was infarto which is a spanish word for heart attack. i would try to incorporate that word into every one of my dialogues in spanish class just because i liked the way it sounded. we could be talking about anything and all of a sudden i’d just throw in the word infarto!) anyway, the funniest thing is it’s like the SMD didn’t even notice me. i didn’t even register as a human being in his mind. because if i did, wouldn’t he have at least faked washing his hands? i mean, if you never ever wash your hands after you use the bathroom, wouldn’t you at least make an attempt to do it when there’s someone else in there watching you? just to at least pretend to the world that you have decent hygiene and manners? this dude is worth millions of dollars but if he offered me a check i wouldn’t touch it. i know where his hands have been. and it’s nowhere near a soap dispenser.

stupid rich people and their dirty dirty hands.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

movie review.

i think it’s high time for another movie review. today’s movie of choice will be “the wedding date”. everyone rolling their eyes and laughing at me, shut up.

now for those of you who don’t know this movie, it’s a chick flick of course. i don’t really watch a lot of other genres. once in a while, i’ll watch a dramatic movie that makes me “think” but i go to the movies to be entertained. if i wanted to think, i’d sit in my room, light some incense, and turn on some yanni. “v for vendetta”? more like v for wait till it comes out on VIDEO! HAHAHAHA!

......

ok i’ll shut up.

anyway, “the wedding date” can by summarized pretty easily like this: “pretty woman” except this time, the guy’s the hooker. some broad needs a date to her sister’s wedding in england b/c her ex is going to be there and she wants to make him jealous. yada yada yada, she hires a hooker, hilarity and drama ensue.

3 notes before we continue. 1) the male hooker angle is something that’s quite overlooked in our society. while your average woman looks at a female hooker and probably experiences feelings along the line of nausea, disgust, and pity, your average man will see a male hooker and feel only envy. unless it’s deuce bigalow. then you just feel bad for the guy.

2) debra messing is ugly. her nose is just really weird looking. look at it! it looks like something’s about to crawl out of her nostril! seriously, it’s like she’s hiding things in there. if you ever need to smuggle someone through immigration, you know who to call. also, there’s this one scene in the movie where she has her eyes closed and it’s supposed to be all sensual and stuff but instead, the only thing you can focus on is her eye makeup. it’s like she took a gallon of paint, closed her eyes, and chucked it on her face. i guess she was just trying to take the attention away from her nostrils. good job with that one!

3) dermot mulroney is the man. after brad pitt, he is the smoothest, suavest man in today’s american cinema. he would have been a great robert langdon for “the da vinci code”. tom hanks is great and one of my favorite actors but he just doesn’t fit the bill for an action thriller. the closest thing to an action movie he’s done is probably “turner and hooch” and he’s just not slick enough. (if you’ve never seen it, i highly recommend it, one of the greatest cop buddy movies ever, even greater than lethal weapon) hanks is awesome, he’s cool, he’s fun, he’s the man. but he’s not slick. dermot mulroney? what’s cooler than cool? ICE COLD!

moving right along, so debra messing hires dermot mulroney to be her escort to the wedding. once there, all sorts of british people pop up all over the place, you have your typical british gentleman who’s all manners and says things like “that’s quite ridiculous. rather.” and then your crazy party british girl who’s not that attractive, a bit oversized, and really wild, yelling things like “top night!” whatever that means. british people are crazy. at least their teeth are anyway.

so at the wedding, debra messing’s character starts getting attracted to her escort. in fact, after her sister’s bachelorette party and a few too many drinks, she sleeps with him. the next morning she can’t remember the night at all and then dermot mulroney’s character is all upset b/c he had started to fall for her too, even telling her he never does weddings but he did this one b/c “there was something in your voice.” at this point, i had to pull out my BS flag and start waving it furiously. first of all, dude, what are you complaining about, you just did the dirty. relax. second of all, something in her voice? something in her voice??!!? are you serious? everyone knows that voices have nothing to do with looks. have you ever seen any of those girls on those 900 numbers in person? neither have i and i’m sure there’s an excellent reason for that; they look like the exact opposite of how they sound. voices mean nothing. also, shouldn’t dermot mulroney’s character be cognizant of that fact? he’s a male prostitute; these kinds of things, while perhaps not directly related, are definitely associated with his line of business. come on, man, make me believe in the story. sigh.

anyway, so there’s all this drama and i won’t ruin the ending for you, but basically her ex is a big jerk and there’s some secret stuff going on blah blah blah. but even though her ex was a thoroughly disgusting human being, there was still something charming about him. it’s the british accent, i’m telling you. even at work, whenever there’s someone from the london office here, everything they say sounds right, no matter how ludicrous whatever he’s saying may be. he could say something like “are you sure the company’s name is spelled like that? i’m pretty sure there’s a W somewhere in Microsoft. i think it’s silent.” and i’d be like, “you know, you may be right, i heard about those silent W’s, they’re pretty tricky, let me check on that.” british accents, much like glasses, automatically increase your IQ.

basically, the movie was pretty entertaining. i wish they had picked a better girl but what can you do but write a blog entry whining about it. sigh. my life is so hard.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

these are a few of my favorite things.

today is your lucky day. why? b/c today, i’m going to tell you what pisses me off. and you’re going to sit there and read everything. and you’re going to like it. oh yes you will. you will because it’s NORMAL. hehe i heart family guy.

guys who still try to get into fights post-college. unless fighting is part of your job description a la professional wrestlers, you really should not be putting your hands on another man… unless that’s your style… not that there’s anything wrong with that! but seriously, dude, you’re like 25, you’re probably going to be married with kids in a couple years, and you’re still going around trying to prove you’re the baddest guy in the bar. we get it, you used to play football in high school and you can lift 2 times your body weight while lying down, which i’m sure comes in handy during your extracurricular activities. but save the small penis compensating display of macho-ism for someone who cares. besides, i’m friends with cops (see previous post).

people who talk about stuff and they have no idea what they’re talking about. this is really annoying. especially when YOU know more about a topic than the person who’s talking. one time at a party, there was this kid telling me and one of my friends about how he wanted to get involved with venture capitalism and he had this idea and he was going to get some venture capitalists to give him a “few million” dollars to start it up and it’s “easy to get money like that” blah blah blah. what a moron. the worst part of all this is that he was talking with such a condescending tone and an air of arrogance. and when i asked him “what’s your idea?”, he dismissed the question as a non-issue. umm… so you expect some random strangers to give you a “few million” for an idea that you don’t even have yet? you can’t even convince me that you’re not an idiot and i ain’t giving you anything! remind me to stab myself in the ears if you ever try to strike up a conversation with me again.

girls who say “oh i’m so fat and ugly” when they’re really not. if i had magical powers and a pet panda, anytime a girl said something like this, i’d turn them into rosie o’donnell. (i don’t really need a panda for this. i just always wanted one) let me put it this way; if you’re really fat and ugly, you would never say out loud that you are fat and ugly. it just doesn’t happen. it would be like me saying “oh i hate being so really really ridiculously good-looking.” it doesn’t need to be said! girls who just say things like this for the sake of saying it are just trying to get some attention. and this is not just my opinion on the matter either. here’s mina’s reaction to attention seeking people. note: her opinion should be read with the understanding that she’s a fairly violent individual. one time, she body slammed my college roommate and gave him the people’s elbow.

when people drive in the left lane under or at the speed limit. people from uva think i have road rage while people from the north don’t find anything weird about my driving. the reason? people from the south are slow drivers. in fact, i suffer my biggest road rage attacks while driving in the south, where everything is slower including the acceptance of the idea that dating your cousin is a bad idea. but this problem isn’t solely representative of the south; there are idiots everywhere. let this be a hint to all of you out there who drive slowly in the left lane; when there’s a lot of cars behind you and none in front of you, GET OUT OF THE WAY.

people who write brokeback blog posts and don’t allow for comments. this really REALLY bothers me. if you’re going to write a brokeback entry, be it about your significant other, your feelings, or about how today was the worst day in your life because you overslept and you missed your exam and your professor is a meanie poo because he wouldn’t let you retake it, at least have the decency to allow comments so that people like me can tell you to shut your mouth. have some balls, man. or if you’re of the female gender, grow some ovaries. if you’re a kid, you really shouldn’t be reading this blog b/c i use big words and talk about adult topics like harry potter. but these brokeback blog entries deserve only ridicule and disdain. anything otherwise allows people to continue living in a fantasy world where they think someone actually cares about their whining. erroneous! ERRONEOUS!

heights. i’m just scared of them. hehe.

obviously, there are a lot of other things that bother me but i don’t have the time or the energy to discuss everything in the world that i don’t like. that would take way too long. besides i hate people who complain a lot. hehe!