Tuesday, February 28, 2006

My Life, part 3: Rock Star

Starbucks at Ventura & Vantage, Studio City, California: 63° F and, again, sunny.

I was devouring my Vietnamese rice vermicelli when someone called out “Sam!” Well, Sam is a somewhat common name. I have conditioned myself to forego the Pavlovian response in unfamiliar settings. When it was called out for the second time and no one seemed to respond, I looked up. It was my brother’s friend Joe. He was with someone who seemed quite familiar. He had that knowing smile. I felt my mental Rolodex quickly flipping through trying to place him in context and hopefully remember his name. Then it hit me. The songwriter!

Background Info: The Contest

In Korea, there is this annual event that goes back before my time. It’s a contest that became an important instrument for the Korean music industry for discovering new talent. The process was simple:

  1. Send demo tape to regional coordinator
  2. Those who are picked from the demo tapes are called to perform live in front of the coordinator just to weed out the Milli-Vanillis (real performers from those who lip-sync to tech aided recordings)
  3. Then several contestants are picked to perform live in the regional contest in front of a large crowd.
  4. The top 2 contestants from the regional contest are then sent to Seoul for the national contest.
  5. The winners of the national contest were awarded recording contracts.

What’s that got to do with me?

Well? I entered that contest and the guy Joe was with wrote and produced my demo. I was young. I was foolish. I dreamt of being a rock star. I made it to the regional finals. I would like to blame the unexpected screams, whistles, and applaus from the crowd for throwing me off, but I can’t. I heard myself on the radio and I’ve given up singing to spare the innocent from undeserved torture.

Anyhow, he spoke of what had happened since the contest; he told me of how he went to Korea with the contest winner and produced his album. He provided me with brief old news updates on many of the contestants. It’s always nice to learn what had happened to those who were briefly in my life; it feels like another piece of the puzzle has been filled in...

Monday, February 27, 2006

Love-Hate Relationship

Borders Bookstore, Northridge, California: 52° F and raining...

It's her birthday today... This has been on my mind for the last several days. Part of me wanted to do something... a few stems of Calla lily purhaps... But the sane part of me kept me pretty much in line... until today. I sent her a text message:

Happy 26th birthday.

That was all. I didn’t expect any reply. Part of me hoped she wouldn't. But she did:

Thank you so much! It’s so nice of you to remember

I'm an idiot. Her reply uncovered emotions that had been repressed... Why couldn’t I just stop myself from sending the message...

I have a long-standing love-hate relationship with the rain... I love walking in the rain... being drenched from head to toe... crawling into a warm... dry bed and watching rain gently tap on my windows. But, the rain amplifies any shred of emotion into significance... and overwhelms me into a hopeless romantic... ("hopeless" being the keyword) It's when I'm in this emotional state, I make most of my mistakes.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Entirely Unnecessary Veil of Secrecy

Borders, Northridge, CA: 70° F with a slight overcast.

In the beginning... (wait, that sounds too biblical) When I first began blogging, I was extremely careful to maintain my anonymity... a veil of secrecy to give my blog an aurora of mystique. Then, recently, this universal truth revealed itself to me: wait... it was some cheesy Zen statement/question like “the sound of falling tree when no one’s there to hear it.” Translation? Someone’s got to be reading my stuff to be worrying about keeping my anonymity. It turns out, aside from those who stumble upon my blog accidentally, I’m probably the only one reading my own stuff (My Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder: MapStats). I mean, I already know it’s me that’s writing these entries. So, why the secrecy? So... I’m throwing caution to the wind and coming out from this entirely unnecessary veil of secrecy.

Hi, my name is Sam and I am a bloggaholic... It’s been 7 months since I began experimenting with blogs...

Not that anyone cares...

Just in Case: Samuel. Not Samantha. I once sent a birthday email to my former boss (not PK). He sent me a reply that was entirely too affectionate and laced with ecstatic undertone. So, naturally, I questioned his motives. I asked him regarding the nature of his reply and, as it turns out, he thought the email was from a hot young lady he met some time ago. He was VERY disappointed that the email was actually from me.

Note on Photo: I felt somewhat ashamed after taking the above photo. I ended up capturing the posterior profile of three unsuspecting girls and the profile of a young Asian, mildly attractive, student. I feel like a dirty old man. I must profess that this was mostly unintentional; marginally intentional in regards to the Asian student.

This Moment Calls for a Cigarette

Starbucks at Devonshire & Reseda, the Valley, California: 60° F

I have a thing for sitting in a café and reading a good (entertaining) book. It seems to happen more often when I let my hair grow, which inherently releases my artistic self (ah... that explains the recent purchase of an artistic/scruffy jacket in this 60 degree weather). I was sitting comfortably in a sofa reading about the profoundness of pimple popping and appreciation for being ugly when I felt the need for a cigarette.

I was never much of a smoker. I smoked in college because it seemed like the adult thing to do. My roommate and I dabbled in fat cigars and rolled our own cigarettes. That lasted about a year. The next time I started smoking was because I wanted to quit smoking with someone. Well, that person still smokes--I think--but I have stopped, once again, cold turkey little less than a year ago. I’m what you would call a social smoker.

I love the feel of a lit cigarette between my fingers. I like watching thin lines of smoke rise and dissipate into the air. I inhale occasionally as if I were trying to justify the existence of a lit cigarette. I treasure the comraderie of smokers... bonds that can only be formed among outcasts who have endured the elements together... sharing memories of good old days when smoking was once beautiful.

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Why I Love Boston: Friends

Granada Hills, California: 64° F and blidingly bright as usual...

One of the reasons I miss Boston so much:

me: I may be in Boston early March
Mike: st patricks day?
me: when's drinkin' day?
Mike: when isn't?
me: I meant "Get Hammered Like Everyone Else on the Street" Day
Mike: 3/17
me: oh. maybe.
Mike: friday this year
me: WOW.... couple of days of non-stop drinking...
Mike: livers are overrated anyway
me: yeah. you only need a part of it.
me: besides, you got enough brothers and sisters who may give you a portion of theirs
Mike: exactly
me: good. I'll try to schedule it so that I'm there for the official Get Hammered day
Mike: i'll warn the troops
me: deal!

Drinking? No. Friends. I miss the friends.

Friday, February 24, 2006

My Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD): MapStats

Repost of "My Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD): MapStats" from deleted blog "Blogging About Blogging" posted on 2006.02.24 at 23:39.

Still in Northridge, California: still 55° F

OK. Few months into blogging, I really wanted to find out if anyone was actually reading my stuff. I mean, what's the point of creating a blog that no one reads? Might as well keep a journal, right? I mean if you don't have a bit of exhibitionist in you, you won't be blogging in the first place. So, I look for ways to check if I'm being read. After couple of tries, I stumble upon BlogFlux that helps you list your blog as well as track if people are reading your blog. It's FREE! So, I thought "why the hell not?!" Well... that's when the problem began...

Observe the picture on the right. It's a sample shot from MapStats for this blog. It means 2 people, willingly or not, visited this blog--including myself. Well... it's great free service. You get to see where in the world the unfortunate souls--people with no lives who stumbled upon your, I mean my, blog--are. Did I mention this was FREE?

MapStats is great except for those of you with self-esteem issues who keep wanting to check if anyone actually likes your stuff or not. In my case, every fricking time I am online, I check every 15 to 30 minutes (they refresh every 15 minutes). This is what you would call an obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). According to the Dictionary application that came preinstalled with my PowerBook:

obsessive–compulsive
adjective Psychiatry
denoting or relating to a disorder in which a person feels compelled to perform certain meaningless actions repeatedly in order to alleviate obsessive fears or intrusive thoughts, typically resulting in severe disruption of daily life.

So. I thank/blame BlogFlux's MapStats for helping me develope OCD I never thought I had in me. So, if you don't mind disappointments (when each day you realize no one cares to read your stuff intentionally) and don't mind developing a mildly unhealthy OCD of your own, register your blog with BlogFlux at http://www.blogflux.com/register.php.

Alternatives

  • sitemeter.com (better) - provides more detailed information like how much time people spent looking at your blog (in my case, it's mostly 0 seconds).
  • BlogTopSites - provides how you stand among other blogs... (depressing. Never ranked higher than 403th just in the "Personal" category)

Job Search Status, part 2

Starbucks, Westwood, California: 64° F and, again, sunny.

It's been two weeks since I started looking for a job in Los Angeles... and I'm getting a bit antsy. I've had one interview with a company I didn't like, one that was cancelled on me at the last minute, and a contract offer from my brother (after many hours of slave labor at his company). I called Remington and it didn't sound like they had interviews lined up for me. NOT GOOD! So, just in case, I iChat (AIM) with a former coworker who started a business after our company closed down.

me: Yo. Dave. Are you rich yet?
Dave: yes
Dave: rolling in money
me: good. I need a job. Do you have a position that doesn't require any effort but pays a fortune?
Dave: yep 3 of them
me: good. when can I start?
Dave: are you in Korea?
me: Nope. In L.A. Living with parents, getting spending money... basically what I should have done when I was 16
Dave: do they make you go to bed at a certain time?
me: nah... but they do wake me up early in the morning.
me: my morning wake up call: "EAT!!!"
Dave: if you want to work for little $$$ i got plenty plenty of work
me: how little are we talking about... $1 mil. / year?
Dave: or about
me: so... more like 80K/yr?
Dave: um - yeah - right
me: fine... 75K
Dave: deal
me: are you kiddin' me? am I worth that little? damn...

Turns out, he wasn't kidding about looking for people to hire. I asked him for a job description just in case I have to go back to Boston to make a living.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Gift for Mom’s Birthday: -$50

Starbucks, Tarzana(?), California: 69° F and blindingly sunny.

Throughout my life, I tried giving my mother gifts. I bought her clothes she returned, flowers she winced at, chocolates my father ate, and jewelry she never wore and frequently misplaced. She thanked me nevertheless. As I became an adult, she became a little more specific about what she wanted: CASH. For couple of years, I had my reservations about giving my mom hard currency as gifts; it seemed quite impersonal. So, I compromised and got her gift certificates from Nordstrom or Saks Fifth. Yet, she kept telling me “Thank you for the sentiment, but I want CASH!” So, for the last several years, I finally wised up and started giving her what she had asked for all along. Each year, I gave her varying amounts depending on my own personal economic state. This year, I ended up giving her -$50.

The evening before her birthday, I had forgotten to get crisp 100 dollar bills I was going to put in an envelope. I didn’t want to give her a wad of crumpled 20 dollar bills, so I had to give what 100 dollar bills I had on hand: $300. In the morning of her birthday, just before she went out the door, I performed a big traditional ceremonial Korean bow with a comical twist and handed her the envelope. “Happy birthday, mom.” She smiled and opened the envelope. She was surprised. This was her response: “Why did you put so much in? You don't have any money. Do you have spending money?” I can understand her concern. I’ve been on some sort of a sabbatical (voluntary unemployment / business venture) for about a year and I am currently looking for a job. “Mom. I have money. Don’t worry.”

That night, she knocked on my door and came into the room. She handed me something. “What’s this?” I asked. She told me to “just take it.” It was cash. “What? I gave that to you for your birthday!” She said she had accepted my gift, but she wanted to give me some spending money. I’m thinking ‘great... I’m 33. Am I not only living with my parents, but also receiving spending money...’ I felt the letters "L. O. S. E. R." being burned across my forehead. After she left the room, I opened my hand to look at the amount: $350. So, for mom’s birthday, I ended up giving her -50 dollars. You gotta love mothers. No matter how old you are they still treat you like kids that need to be taken care of.

Note: My mom and I don't speak to each other in English. So conversations in this entry are my own interpretations/translations.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

succumbing to melancholy...

Granada Hills, California: 58° F...

For most of my life, I disciplined myself to become indifferent to solitude (old journal entry: Solitude). But, when I least expect it, I succumb to melancholy... and wish that there was someone... someone with whom I can share my soul. Spend the day reading in bed... our limbs lazily intertwined... tenderness without words.

whatever you do, wherever you are i'm always going to be there for you... i can't bear being away from you, but all the things you do or say, reminds me that you love me, and that eases the pain... i love you, ***... and it's worth it for me. i want to make you happy as long as you'll let me...

text message from the one

It feels like a fairy tale... a love story conjured... a mirage...

Drugs I Need

Granada Hills, CA: 43° F

I remembered this hillarious animation created by a group called JibJab and I felt it quite necessary to share it with the world (OK... maybe just the few people who stumble upon my blog):

Men: The Way Our Minds Work, part 2

Granada Hills, CA: 53° F and dark.

Male dilemma - what a crock! We women don't know what you want! If we come on to you, we're just easy sluts -- if we don't we are stuck-up bitches. Whey can't we all be human beings and actually talk to each other?

blueslovinchick (by the way... who are you?)

That was the comment I received from Blogger user blueslovinchick on my blog entry Men: The Way Our Minds Work, part 1. It got me thinking... I was never in the habit of putting women in those categories. Instead of trying to explain in limited space of a comment, I thought I would elaborate in this entry.

If we come on to you, we're just easy sluts

Well... I guess that all depends. I can't speak for anyone else, but if a woman comes on to me, as long as the advance is not too aggressive or too bluntly sexual in nature, I would actually love it. I think I started dating my first girlfriend because she had explicitly expressed her interest (this was when I was... 14).

if we don't, we are stuck-up bitches

Actually, if the woman does not show any signs of interest, I would just think she's not interested. It's as simple as that. To tell you the truth, nothing turns me off more than a woman who does not show interest--a slight sign of disapproval during the beginning of interaction, and I'm gone. I would never think she's a "stuck-up bitch." I prefer to think she has her reasons (me and my attributes... though, someone did mention that not everything is about me).

Why can't we all be human beings and actually talk to each other?

That's what I'm saying. That's all I want and expect from women these days. Talk. Listen. Share thoughts.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Men: The Way Our Minds Work, part 1

Starbucks, Westwood, CA: 64° F and sunny.

... When she saw me, she began to wave at me happily. My instantaneous thought was: Does she want to sleep with me?

    As I eagerly approached her, it was apparent that the car had a flat tire, and she wanted my help. Nothing more. I described this incident to a friend and he said that in that moment when I thought the woman wanted me for sex simply because she was waving at me captured perfectly the sad essence of the male condition. We are desparate, he explained, for any sign of approval from women, and we will misread the slightest friendly gesture as an entreaty to copulation.

“Troubles with Cockroaches and Young Girls”
from I Love You More Than You Know
by Jonathan Ames

This is so true. Little over a decade ago, after a few heart wrenching incidents, it dawned on me that I tend to misread women. I’m glad that I’m not the only one. I gradually disciplined myself to downplay any signs of affection to compensate for my tendency to misread. Wait... Maybe that’s why I ended up with so many female friends but no girlfriend during the last few years of college; maybe I overcompensated...

A friend once told me that the only sure sign when a woman wants you is when she has a hand on your inner thigh. Is that the only sure way?

I mean women have it easy. If you’re a woman who looks decent, you can pretty much assume the guys want you and you would be correct about 80 percent of the time. I can’t speak for other heterosexual men, but I like most women (fine, call me a “male slut” if you must, but that would be redundant since "male" inherently implies sluttishness). As long as women don’t mess it up via unmistakable display of bitchiness, negativity, disgusting habits, or stupidity... Of course, there are these damned moral responsibilities that sometimes override our baser instincts.

So... by that line of reasoning, if you are a woman, say nothing, do nothing, but look at us intently. If we have no overriding reasons, we are into you. Of course, my overriding reasons pretty much places me in involuntary priesthood, but that's beside the point.

Note: Tolerance to previously mentioned faux pas is directly proportional to physical attractiveness BUT the length of relationship is inversely proportional to the level of faux pas attributes regardless of attractiveness. Translation? If you are beautiful but bitchy, we'll sleep with you, but dump you soon after... that sounds really bad, but it's true.

Aimless Driving

Granada Hills, CA: 51° F

My affinity for aimless walking has adapted to Los Angeles and manifested itself as aimless driving. This puzzled me a little at first since I loathe driving... then I came to a realization that I only dispise driving when I have a clear destination; driving was requirement for reaching a destination. In aimless driving, driving itself is the purpose/destination and can be stopped at a whim.

I started driving a few minutes before 8:00 AM to avoid a parking ticket, but armed, once again, with my Cybershot DSC-T1, I decided to keep on going (that’s the thing about unemployment... your schedule becomes WIDE OPEN for spontaneity).

But first, I had to pick up I Love You More Than You Know by Jonathan Ames just in case I get stuck in some no man’s land. After purchasing the book, since I was already near Topanga Canyon Boulevard, I decided to drive the winding road toward Malibu... and head toward Zuma beach; I do have fond memories of the Zuma beach... I figured I would read a bit on the beach. As I hit the highway 1 that travels up and down the Pacific coast, I felt my repulsion for driving slowly seeping in... 'Damn...' I realized I had a destination... ‘Great...’ I thought. I put an end to my goal oriented driving by turning into Pepperdine University. I fell in love with the campus when I saw if for the first time 17 years ago (god... that sounds like such a long time ago... makes me feel quite ancient). Anyhow, I decided Pepperdine would be my destination and stopped to tour the campus.

Monday, February 20, 2006

Movie: Brokeback Mountain

Granada Hills, CA: 47° F

According to NPR, there was no movie that warranted a solo trip to the theaters... of course with the exception of “Munich” and “Brokeback Mountain.” I’ve already seen “Munich” so I decided to go see “Brokeback Mountain.” According to Yahoo! Movies:

[Brokeback Mountain is an] epic love story, set against the sweeping landscapes of Wyoming and Texas, that tells the story of two young men--a ranch-hand and a rodeo cowboy--who meet in the summer of 1963 while driving cattle on a mountain range. They unexpectedly forge a lifelong connection, one whose complications, joys and tragedies provide a testament to the endurance and power of love.

OK... I had no idea by “forge a lifelong connection” it meant same-sex sex (man on man action). If I had known, I would not have gone to see the movie. Just imagine, a guy, alone, watching a movie that dealt with male homosexuality. Some people are bound to form an opinion as to what I’m doing there. I have been hit on by a guy in a movie theater once and that wasn’t a pleasant experience; I don’t want that ever happening again. I am tolerant of homosexuality, but I still can’t stomach witnessing the very act. Well, needless to say, I hastily picked up my stuff and left as soon as Heath Ledger started bumpin' away.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Deviant Behavior: Driving to Westwood

Starbucks, Westwood, CA: 54° F and sunny.

I do dispise long drives... and yet, I find myself driving about 40 ~ 45 minutes and paying $6 at a private lot just to go to a Starbucks in Westwood. Why is that?

I sat down with my Americano Misto and madeleines after waiting for a seat for about 5 minutes and began analyzing why I would put in that much effort to be at this very location to do nothing of importance.

Nostalgia? I do have fond memories of my college years, but if that were the case, wouldn’t I actually go inside the campus? So, it can’t be nostalgia... Demographic? OK. I do admit the population density of young and attractive people is higher than other places, but I tend to pay more attention to cityscapes and skylines. When I’m inside Starbucks, I am pretty much honed into my PowerBook. So... why the deviant behavior of long distance driving to a coffee shop against my usual repulsion for driving?

I miss Boston. I think that’s the reason. I miss the walkable streets with quaint little shops and hidden endearing restaurants just waiting to be discovered. I miss the contemplative yet aimless walks about the city. Back Bay was such a perfect fit for my oddities. In the state of vast freeways and industrial grade roads where walking is a sign of financial weakness, Westwood is a small haven for those who like to walk. OK... it’s not exactly Boston, but it will have to do.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

In Need of Advice from Women

Granada Hils, CA: 48° F. Still raining a bit.

Here’s my predicament. I would love to make female friends but I am unsure how that can be done in my situation. What’s my situation? Please allow me to elaborate:

  • I am still legally married. It has been established long ago that J and I are far better apart (currently living in different countries). We’re just waiting until the little ones (two to be exact) are old enough to understand why mom and dad can’t work it out.
  • I have decided not to have any intimate relationship with anyone. I've entered nondenominational priesthood a long time ago (celibate... and forego all hopes of romantic involvement). I guess I really don’t want anyone to have to deal with my situation but me. I don’t want anyone to be hurt by my situation...

But I still want friends. I’ve had many female friends, before J objected to the whole concept, and I do miss having them in my life. It’s not that men aren’t great friends. It’s just that I find women, in general, to be caring and considerate, more so than men.

I guess you can say I’m somewhat new in town; I’ve been gone the last 10 years and lost contact with most of my old friends. So, here’s the daunting task: how do I make new female friends without misleading or offending them?

Real Situation: Candice at BJ's

I got stuck in Westwood today (after looking at some cameras at Bel-Air Camera) because I refuse to drive when the traffic conditions are horrible (“parking lot” or siggler). So, I stopped by Starbucks in Westwood for couple of hours to send out some emails and to post what turned out to be a few blog entries. Around 7 PM, I drove out of the parking lot and headed toward 405 freeway. I was only on Wilshire, but I could already see that it was going to be a miserable drive home; I turned back toward Westwood and decided to get a bite to eat.

I remembered Candice worked at BJ’s Bar & Grill. When I first met Candice, I thought she was adorable in a baby sister kind of way and it would be fun to just hang out with her (Pseudo-interviews: Remington International). BJ’s was just around the corner from Starbucks, so I decided to stop by and eat there. Of course, today had to be Friday and there was a line out the door. I walked inside and put my name down for a table. Though Candice was one of 3 hostesses, she didn’t see me (as I said, it was packed). The hostess who put my name down said it was going to be 20 ~ 25 minutes... I walked out the door and started walking. After about 5 minutes, I went back to BJ’s to take my name off the list; I saw couple of other places that seemed less crowded. But this time, Candice saw me.

Candice: Hi! Do you remember me?
me: Of course! Candice. Right?
Candice: Right!
me: Hey, can you take my name off the list? I have to be somewhere and I don’t think I can wait.
Candice: Really? (She looks around) I’ll have a table ready for you soon. (Looks around again). 5 minutes.
me: 5 minutes? OK...

I walked out the door and looked at the menu. After about a minute, I heard Candice through the speaker “*** party of one!” She walked me inside and showed me a booth/table big enough for eight.

me: Hey, wait. It’s OK, I can wait.
Candice: No, no. It’s OK.
me: Are you sure?
Candice: Yes.
me: OK.

I sat. She told me that Tom would be my server and walked away. A little later, she came back to talk about how my interview went with *** Eyewear.

Candice: So, how did the interview go?
me: What? Oh, the interview?
Candice: Where was it?
me: It was in Sun Valley.
Candice: No, I mean which company was it?
me: Oh. Some eyewear company with a small IT department.
Candice: How did it go?
me: Well, I think it went well, but I didn’t like it.
Candice: Why not?
me: They used some old tech, office environment seemed too rigid, and didn’t look like they had much room for creativity.
Candice: Yah, I remember you wanted creativity.

The whole place just crazy so she had to get back to work. I sat there, at a booth big enough for 8, and quickly ate my "BJ's Favorite" pizza with beer.

At this point, I was thinking I want to get to know Candice better as a friend. But here’s my problem. I couldn’t just say, “hey, what are you doing this weekend? Do you want to go see a movie or have coffee?” It would have sounded like I was trying to pick her up. I also couldn’t follow that up with “don’t get me wrong. I think you are great, but I just want to get to know you as a friend.” And, moreover, I definitely could not start explaining myself because that would be simply psychotic. So, what do I do? I walked out the door with a simple “bye.”

In school, it was easy to make female friends. School made it an ideal environment for making female friends by creating natural run-ins at lectures, dorms, campus, and social events. But, now that I’m no longer in school and currently not working in an office, I am unsure how I can make female friends. Help?!? Is this even possible?

Note: The conversations aren't entirely accurate... I just don't remember the entire conversation word for word.

Update [2005.02.21]: I called Remington today to check the status of their efforts. Since Elizabeth, who seems to be in charge of my case, wasn't available, Matt (team leader) and Candice explained the status. I thanked her for getting me a table last Friday and I asked if she was working at BJ's tonight. I guess I thought I would have dinner at BJ's and hopefully talk to Candice. She said no and added that she gave her 2 weeks notice at BJ's. No chance for casual run-ins. Since I will not (cannot) ask her out on a date, I hereby conclude my efforts to forge a friendship with Candice.

Friday, February 17, 2006

Job Search Status

Starbucks, Westwood, CA: 52° F and still raining a bit off and on

Here's the current status on my job search as described during a chat with my former CTO and friend/mentor, PK:

me: And regarding the job availability...
me: I see many job postings, but...
me: they seem to require a CS or engineering degree
me: it used to be "or equivalent experience" but now, with the onslaught of next generation programmer with CS, IT, or engineering degrees, I'm no longer desirable.
PK: nah, you can talk your way into one easily
me: I have forgotten how to bullshit my way into a job. I seem to have developed this blunt honesty.
PK: well, then you have a problem
me: yes.
PK: since everybody else is always BS'ing
me: I know... I do recognize my handicap
me: but I feel like it's their loss if they can't differentiate between BS and truth
PK: in that case
PK: well, when we ever get funding...
.
.

Well... that's the gist of it, I guess.

Mobisode & Sig Alert

Starbucks, Westwood, CA: 56° F and raining off and on...

I was listening to NPR and when I heard a word that was unfamiliar to my ears: mobisode. Mobisode is basically a shorter version of episode made specifically for mobile media players (i.e. iPod or phones) as far as I can tell from the conversation.

There is another word that I usually don’t hear outside of Los Angeles: Sig Alert. It’s thrown around all day long here in L.A. It refers to stop-and-go traffic - not quite “parking lot” and far from autobahn. The official definition of Sig Alert from Wikipedia is:

A Sig Alert is defined by the California Highway Patrol as "any unplanned event that causes the closing of one lane of traffic for 30 minutes or more, as opposed to a planned event like road construction, which is planned separately."

Side Note: For those of you who actually pay attention to where I blog, yes, I am in Westwood. I had to stop by Bel Air (as in "Prince of Bel Air") Camera to lust over the Nikon D70s. I almost forked over $1,300+ today, but decided I would be better off purchasing it online for much less. I know I'm supposed to wait for my first paycheck, but it's tough when the bank account isn't actually close to being depleted.

photos of oldman

Granada Hills, CA: 50° F (this is really cold for Southern Cal)

When I see my nickname, oldman, displayed in some public place, I tend to pay attention and sometimes even take pictures.

The above picture was taken near the Dam Square in Amsterdam. No, I didn't go to Amsterdam for the Redlight District (though I did walk through it) and no, I didn't go there to smoke pot. I actually went there for the museums (Van Gogh, Ann Frank, Rijks and others). OK... in all honesty, I did also want to see the Redlight District and the infamous brown rooms. To observe, but not to participate. However, I fell in love with their coffee and waffles, the variety of cigaretts (I was briefly a smoker), and Dutch cuisine. When things settle a bit, I plan on returning to Amsterdam for an extended stay (I hope).

photo of a sign

OK... I can't take credit for the above picture of a sign. I got it off of someone's blog, but forgot to write down the source. It's supposed to be funny... but I guess I need to understand the Chinese characters to understand it's humor. Anyhow, I do apologize to whoever took this picture for not giving due credit...

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Photo Junky

Granada Hills, CA: 54° F

This week, I am without my Sony Cybershot DSC-T1. My father is in China this week to take care of a small real estate investment. And he had to borrow my camera... At first, I didn’t think I would miss it much, but now that I’ve been taking quite a bit of photos on the run, I keep reaching for my phantom camera. I mean, I tried using the dinky little camera stuck on my phone, but it just wouldn't cut it; the quality of the photos from the phone was out right revolting.

After missing out on couple of good photo ops, I was really tempted to buy the Nikon D70s today. I thought 'I am going to buy it anyway... why not a few weeks earlier?' I feel like a junky. I want... no, need a photo fix right now!!

... nonetheless, I'm going to have to wait as planned: first the job, paycheck, then D70s.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Hindsight: Girlfriend

Chatsworth, CA: 60° F

Since my return to the Valley, I ran into quite a few of old friends and acquaintances. From them I heard bits and pieces of news about my ex from high school. We went out all throughout high school... she was the best girlfriend I’ve ever had. We never fought (correction, she was never angry with me) during the 3+ years we were going out. The only time I was upset with her was when she was friendly with a guy who I knew to have a crush on her. She was innocent and kind; he was taking advantage of her kindness. She was the perfect girlfriend; she put up with the juvenile behaviors of my youth and still loved me. What happened? Well? I made 3 stupid mistakes.

Stupid mistake 1: Until high school, I never had any serious relationships so I didn’t know any better. I was thinking ‘there must be someone better out there.’ As I said, I was young, stupid, and didn’t know any better. I left L.A. briefly to study in Oklahoma (another LONG story) and I broke up with her over the phone. I still kick myself now and then whenever I think about what was going through my head. (FYI: I didn't date anyone in Oklahoma. I didn't even ask anyone out.)

Stupid mistake 2: After I came back from Oklahoma, I became good friends with a guy named Joe. He expressed his interest in my ex. What do I do? I fix them up. BIG mistake.

Stupid mistake 3: She and I both attended UCLA and lived about a minute walking distance from one another. I invited her and all her roommates over for dinner. I wanted to get back with her, but I thought she was still going out with Joe. She stayed behind to help me with the dishes... I should have said something. Instead, my roommate and I just drove her back to her apartment. Turns out she and Joe were close to ending the relationship...

Well, hindsight is always 20/20. She is now married with two, undoubtedly beautiful, girls. I hope she’s happy. She’s a wonderful person and deserves happiness.

HOT Yoga on Valentine's Day

Granada Hills, CA: 57° F

NO. By "HOT yoga", I don't mean sex... I wish it did, but no.

It’s been about 2 years since I regularly practiced Bikram yoga. I used to practice anywhere from 5 to 7 times a week. It’s vigorous. It’s hot. It’s damn too hot (hence the nickname “hot yoga”). Well, I thought it might be a good idea to pick it up again... Bad idea. Why? (1) I haven’t excercised in 6 months, (2) I had recently gotten over the flu + bronchitis, and (3) I’m STILL adjusting to the time change. I started sweatin’ like a pig as soon as I got there, but that’s normal for Bikram yoga. After a few postures, I started feeling a bit dizzy... then everything got a little darker... I sat down quickly. It’s never a good sign when the earth starts swaying under your feet (no, I wasn’t having a private earthquake). After a short rest, I stood up again and this time, my hearing seemed to fade as well as my sight... NOT A GOOD SIGN. I pretty much struggled through the whole standing series, but I stuck in there and completed the whole 90 minutes. I know I’m going to be sore tomorrow...

Picture: Bikram and his wife in "triangle pose" from http://www.bikramyoga.com/

Tags: Yoga | Health

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Old Friends, part 2

Granada Hills, CA: went up to 86° F, but now 58° F

I wasn't feeling too great and I thought about cancelling the trip down to Orange county to meet my old friends. After thinking about the consequences of cancelling, I got myself a BIG cup of nonfat Americano Misto, got in the car, and made the call to Han. "Hey, Han. I'm on my way."

I thought I was going to die. I fell asleep couple of times during the 1 hour drive. I kept turning up the A/C and slapping myself silly, but I still fell a sleep. It was as though I had narcolepsy (no, I don't have nar... zzz...). Somehow, I made it to Tustin in one piece without killing any body. Did I mention how I loathe long distance driving?

Once I got there. I was so glad I didn't cancel. We had a blast talking about the good old mischievous days and catching up on the last 10 years of our lives. Han put on some weight and Tony lost a bit of his hair, but otherwise they were exactly as I had remembered them.

Picture: Han, me, and Tony.
Tony kept on asking Susan, Han's wife, not to use the flash because it will reflect off of his forehead and make it look too shiny (hence the nice big smiles from both Han and me).

Related Entries

Sunday, February 12, 2006

Old Friends

Starbucks, Porter Ranch, CA
80° F. Sunny and windy as hell

10 years is a long time. I left the Valley (incidentally the porn capital of the world) a long time ago and never put in the effort to keep in touch with my old friends. As a young man who had disciplined himself to become indifferent to solitude, I never felt the need to do so (old journal entries: Solitude). Now that I'm older, and hopefully a little wiser, I wanted to get back in touch with those friends I had once abandoned... But I didn’t know where to start. I thought I would give “classmates.com” a try since they were offering trial membership. I saw couple of people I wanted to get back in touch with so I sent them messages without any expectations. Here’s what happened: one of them actually replied.

Hi ***,

Man, how the hell are you?!! Tony and I have been wondering about you time to time. I can’t believe classmates.com really works! This is so cool~ We have so much to catch up on.

Well, let me start first. I’ve been married for about 3 years now – no kids yet and currently living in Tustin, CA – next to Irvine CA. Nevermind.. I think it will take too long to summarize the past 10 years of my life. Give me a call when you get a chance. I hope to talk to you soon.

Han

I’m driving over to his place on Monday (tomorrow).

Boston University?

Granada Hills, CA: 56° F

Just found out today that I can pick up from where I left off. According to the graduate advisor, I can still complete the part-time masters program as long as I accomplish this within two years. This complicates things. I was thinking about changing my career... maybe real estate development. My mother is definitly pushing for it. I guess she wants me in the family business. I have been thinking about it for a while, but I don't think it's for me. I am interested in it, but not as a career. What I would love to do is to buy a rundown place in a hip neighborhood and fix it up myself on weekends. I would still work in the IT industry, of course. THAT is what I would love to do...

But, do I go back to Boston...?

Saturday, February 11, 2006

My Life, part 2: Explosions

Granada Hills, CA: 56° F with slight overcast.

Memory can change the shape of a room. It can change the color of a car. Memories can be distorted. They are just an interpretation. They are not a record.

Leonard in Memento

About 2 years into the marriage, J was quite upset about something. We had just returned from L.A. She spoke of how my mother had ill-treated her... J explained the situation, but I couldn’t understand why she was upset. In hopes of resolving the issue, I called L.A. to ask my mother’s side of the story. The physical events and the timeline seemed in sync with J’s story, but the interpretations were vastly different. ‘Purhaps J just misunderstood,’ I thought. I tried to explain the situation. J was upset. She expressed that it would mean a lot to her for me to support her position in the matter. I sheepishly agreed. She was my wife. I felt it was my duty to be on her side.

J, to express her disappointment to my mother, wrote a letter and showed it to me for approval. I had already given my word that I would take her side. The letter was sent. My mother called; she was baffled and hurt. I stuck to my word and took J’s side. I asked my mother to apologize... She was devastated. I didn’t speak to my parent for a year...

Until that day, I had been the good son. I respected my father and I loved my mother. The fight was excruciating...

The dreaded silence ended a year later... My mother, after fasting and praying for 7 days, called to apologize; she missed her son... and that was the only way. I was grateful to her...

As time passed, I noticed a definite pattern; J’s memories of events were generally skewed to a point where insignificant events seem quite negative and significant. People who experience the same situation can take away quite different memories of the event. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t blame J. She just sees things differently. I had once wished I could help her, but you can only help those who are willing to accept their imperfections. I had to accept the way she was. I took an oath. I had to keep my words. But with each explosion, my heart hardened gradually...

Related Entries:

Friday, February 10, 2006

Pseudo-interviews: Remington International

Starbucks, Westwood, CA
71° F with clear skies.

The last two jobs that I actually liked, I got them through Remington International in Boston. One of my former coworkers fondly described the entire group as ‘a bunch of pushy car salesmen selling people instead of cars.’ OK... I, too, am not exactly fond of their unnusually and somewhat disingenuously high spirits, but I can’t complain; they get the job done. So, even when someone from Remington called my parents unnecessarily often while I was still in Seoul, I called them as soon as I got back to the States.

I knew the drill: the series of pseudo-interviews, the frequent phone calls, interviews, followed by more phone calls. People at Remington conduct these pseudo-interviews to size up the candidate to decide if the candidate is worth the effort. They only make money when a candidate is hired via their introduction, so I guess I wouldn’t want to waste my time on some loser either. So, I went in for the pseudo-interviews. I must say, Candice was adorable in a baby sister kind of way... I digress.

Anyhow, according to Matt, the pseudo-interviews went well. I guess they are going to push to get me a job.

ADDENDUM: I got on the 405 freeway to get back home... and surprise, surprise! TRAFFIC JAM! I had to get off the next exit and come back to Westwood to kill time. I would rather sit inside Starbucks for hours rather than suffer through a stop-and-go traffic on a freeway.