Stockholm, Sweden

Beacon Street, Boston, Massachusetts
73° F and muggy enough to take the joy out of breathing.

I've been told I'll be going to Stockholm to work for a couple of weeks, but with any work related travel, it's never final until you're actually on the plane.

Today, I was told to book the flight so that I can be in our Stockholm office from 10th of July to 21st. So, I guess I'm one step closer to actually going to Stockholm. I've been entrusted with the task of recruiting talented individuals to work in our Boston office; there's a severe male to female ratio imbalance in our office. It should be my primary goal for the trip, but sadly it isn't. I'm sure I'll be stuck inside some office Monday through Saturday and spend Sunday trying to catch up on some sleep...

Hopefully, they'll let me out of the office once in a while see the city.

By the way, if any of you spent some time in Stockholm, I need suggestions on how to spend what little time I might have in Stockholm.

Zen Hair: Quest on a Shoestring

Summer Street, Boston, Massachusetts
82° F and sunny for a change... windy and muggy... but nevertheless sunny.

Observe the picture on the right. That was me about 5 months ago. Imagine, if you will, a 3 months worth of hair growth (multiply by 1.5) added to that length. (My hair always seems to grow at 1.5 times the normal rate. There's an old Korean saying that says something along the lines of "your hair grows faster if you think naughty thoughts." Wait... that makes me sound like a pervert. I'm not. I just have a very healthy appetite for... I better stop right there before I make myself out to be some sort of a sex crazed nymphomaniac...)

I've been inadvertently letting my hair grow far beyond my personal limits for the last few months. Reason? It's not because I wanted to "feel" artistic, but because I just couldn't afford the services of my usual stylist any longer.

The $120 (USD) Hair Cut

I know, some (fine. "MOST") of you may be thinking I'm nuts. But after hearing my reasons, most some of you will agree that I'm not crazy. A bit metrosexual, but not crazy.

If you were told to buy only one outfit that you will have to wear every single day for one entire month, how much would you spend?

Well? A haircut is just like an outfit. It's an outlet for personal expression... and no matter how you manipulate it, a bad haircut can ruin your personal expression for months. Believe me. I know. I once had a bad haircut that took about 6 months to remedy.

Anyhow, I didn't set out to get a 120 dollar haircut. When I first moved to Boston, I was in desperate search for a good stylist. I traveled up and down Newbury Street trying out random stylist costing anywhere from $20 to $100. It just so happens that a haircut from the stylist who gave me the best haircut now costs approximately 120 dollars (including tip).

The Stylist: Angela

I was ecstatic. After months of one disappointing haircut after another, I have finally found the one (no not the love of my life, but THE Stylist); she gave me the best haircut of my life. The haircuts to follow were never quite euphoric as the first, but I kept going back just in case. On the average, her haircuts where better than anyone else's. In the beginning, a haircut from Angela was 60+ dollars (+tip ~ $90), but over time, her rate increased to 80+ dollars (+tip ~ $120)... not including the 100 dollar Christmas gift/tip each year. I guess I always felt, in the interest of self-preservation, I needed to tip Angela -- the one who will hold scissors in one hand and my hair in the other -- very well.

The New Search... on a Shoestring

I have to find another stylist. Soon. My hair is fast approaching Fabio, and I don't think I can live with that. Last Sunday, after hours of searching for some shred of hope online, I made an appointment for a haircut.

This Saturday, my hair will be at the mercy of Freddy of Zen Hair... and if the exterior is any indication quality... I am deathly afraid.

Feeling Used

Beacon Street, Boston, Massachusetts
64° F and yet muggy as hell.

I understand that, for women, it's only evolutionally sound to look for a man who can provide financially for whatever the future may bring. That's logical. But from where I am standing, it feels shitty. I have a history. I feel I've been used. I don't want to feel that way again.

The History...

In 1995, when I was only 22 years old, I felt rushed into a marriage. The man who rushed it was her father. I didn't know the reason back then, but when he impatiently rushed for green card application for him and his wife, I felt used... but I didn't say a word. I quietly did everything I was told. I even took time off to complete the paperwork personally.

During early 2004, the company where I had been working for little over 4 years began shutting down. My former boss foresaw the inevitable end and he did what he thought was best for us; he gave us severance package that included a quarter of our annual salary and let us go so that we can dedicate our time on looking for a job while collecting unemployment checks. As a man, being without a job can be devastating. Being a software engineer who worked during the Dot-Boom days, I was used to receiving requests for interview within days of sending out my resume, followed by job offers within a week. This time, I was out of a job for several weeks. I was devastated. It was a definite blow to my ego. After some soul searching, I thought about going back to school... or going into business with my brother. But no... she wouldn't have any of it. She was adamant. I had to get a job. And soon. It seemed she didn't care. She didn't care about what I was going through. All she wanted was the financial security. We had a relatively expensive condo in a great neighborhood with a good amount of equity, enough cash in the bank to last a few years, and unemployment checks coming in for the next several months. It wasn't like we were going to starve... but that didn't matter. I felt as if I was nothing more than a source of income. I felt used...

Recently...

I have a few personal effects that are remnants of the days of abundance... the Breitling watch, the Coach bag, the frivolous belongings that I thought were part of self-expression. Maybe women see these things and believe them to be indicators of financial prowess. Perhaps the fact that I choose to live in Back Bay could be another misleading indicator.

I was telecommuting from Starbucks when I decided to help out someone who needed directions to a theater. I fired up my Safari to Google Map and showed her the way. But she was leaning. The telltale signs of interest were all there. She even volunteered her number. She wasn't my type, but I thought we could be friends. That very same night, she called me; I felt obligated to give her my number when she gave me hers. She turned out to be a student at a English language school who wants to work in the U.S. Warning signs... started flashing in my mind. During our conversations, I casually (and intentionally) brought up my current financial situation and that I will never marry another person (a possible lie) just to see her reaction. The reaction was so obvious. With each bomb I dropped, the level of interest dropped visibly. I felt sick to my stomach. Even the person I wouldn't want to be romantically involve myself with is only looking for what she can gain (aside from love) from me. Just to make sure, I invited her to have lunch with me a few days later. Surprise, surprise... she didn't return my call.

Here are the facts: I live in a tiny room in the attic and send most of my disposable income to Seoul so that my little ones can have a comfortable life. I have VERY little room for any extravagance. Even if my financial situation were to change, I will always feel compelled to severely misrepresent my worth in fear of being used. I don't ever want to feel used again...

My Ideal

Summer Street, Boston, Massachusetts
73° F

Long ago my heart and mind
Got together and designed
The wonderful girl for me
Oh what a fantasy

Though the ideal of my heart
Can't be ordered a la carte
I wonder if she will be
Always a fantasy

Will I ever find the girl in my mind?
The one who is my ideal
Maybe she's a dream and yet she might be
Just around the corner waiting for me

Will I recognize the light in her eyes
That no other eyes reveal
Or will I pass her by and never even know
That she was my ideal

Will I recognize the light in her eyes
That no other eyes reveal
Or will I pass her by and never even know
That she is my ideal

My Ideal by Chet Backer
Chet Baker Sings

Related Entries:

• woman of my dreams...
• woman of my dreams... part 2

Blog Silence

Starbucks, 755 Boylston Street, Boston, Massachusetts
73° F. It's a picture perfect day...

I have been in blog silence for almost 10 days... and for some reason, I feel myself avoiding my own blog. Perhaps, it's because I feel my life is in a loop... "Gentle Kryptonite" began as an outlet for the thoughts that had been overcrowding my head... To be absolutely truthful, I wanted to share my life with the world... I wanted to add a little something to readers' lives. As time passed, I began to feel that it had all been in vain. Countless hours molding the mosaic of words into comprehensible phrases...

I feel blogging is a lot like singing. Singing enriches one's soul. The feeling of complete immersion into the song, where everything fades and all that's left is the music and your voice, can transcend you into peaceful exhilaration. But... as the intoxication of music begins to wear off, singing in solitude begins to feel hollow...

Chicken, Egg, Sex, and Intimacy

Beacon Street, Boston, Massachusetts
61° F

I must warn you, the following content can be a little dry.

Thursday 2006.06.01

09:15 AM. I need to leave in 15 minutes to get to work by 10 AM. As I put myself in slow-motion to shave the trickiest part of face, I overhear a statement along the lines of "men need sex to feel intimate and women need to feel intimate to have sex." My mind wanders away from the task at hand and I cut myself. Blood starts trickling down my face. 'Damn...' I whisper to myself. As I dress and rush out the door, the comment on intimacy and sex begins to gain momentum in my head.

I had an inkling this might be the case for a long time. Having raised in a family where women were loved and protected, I was never one to demand sex from my significant other. I believed in respecting her wishes and waited until she felt ready. But in someway, what I believed to be the noble approach could have been the very source of my own demise. I would try to initiate physical intimacy, but if I am met with any sign of disapproval, I settled for non-sexual expression of intimacy... but when dry spell is prolonged, being a man, I just could not shake the feeling of isolation. She could be right next to me, but I felt a mile apart from her... and each time I felt this way, I felt a carving knife digging deeply into my heart... leaving behind a hollowness that rippled to my extremities.

According to Sex and Intimacy section of SOLO for Singles, men become emotionally vulnerable before, during and after sex. It's when most intimate bond can be forged or broken. Women, on the other hand, are more open or interested in sex only when they feel the closeness (emotional intimacy). There in lies the dilemma. If a woman wants emotional intimacy before intercourse, and a man is most likely to forge the emotional bond through sex, how can both man and a woman get what they want out of the relationship? It's like the proverbial "chicken and egg" question. Which comes first?

Sex-Intimacy Cycle

It's quite simple for a pre-coital relationship; it is culturally accepted and even encouraged to form the emotional intimacy prior to the first copulation (the amount of time a man is willing to postpone sexual intimacy may vary greatly depending on the man). However, once the initial phase of coital bliss passes, work is required on both man and woman for relationship to continue.

Here's an example of Sex-Intimacy Cycle in positive feedback mode:

1. man: initiates (as a man usually does)
2. woman: accepts him (possibly because she feels the emotional closeness)
3. man: feels loved and forms / enforces emotional bond
4. woman: feels the emotional closeness
5. man: initiates... (back to number 2)

Here's the opposite example where the relationship spirals into eventual ZERO sex relationship:

1. man: initiates (just because men think about it quite a bit more than women)
2. woman: doesn't feel up to it (possibly due to lack of emotional closeness or fatigue)
3. man: feels rejected becomes a bit emotionally detached
4. woman: emotional closeness diminishes
5. man: initiates (and back to number 2)

Sex and intimacy feeds off of one another. Without effort, a relationship can easily spiral out of control when the negative feedback cycle accelerates and builds momentum. So... who's fault is it when a relationship falls apart? Both man and woman. It has to be a collaborated effort to keep the cycle moving in the positive direction since other factors (such as diminishing excitement associated with new relationship) constantly provide negative feedback. Both man and woman must be willing to sacrifice him/herself if the relationship is to continue. Like everything in nature, without work, relationships will almost always fall apart.

Feeling Brisk Under My Pants

Summer Street, Boston, Massachusetts
88° F and pleasantly muggy outside (pleasant only because I'm inside a well air conditioned space)

I know it's time to detoxify my body when the sweat is sticky and the face looks like I haven't slept in ages. How do I detox? Torture. I mean "Bikram Yoga." It always works like a charm. Granted that yesterday wasn't ideal for 90 minutes of 100° F room (~ 37.8° C) -- it was hot and humid -- but there was no way around it.

As always, I started out pretty strong with decent form, but pretty soon, I was concentrating on getting one pose absolutely perfect: Savasana ("dead man's" or "corpse" pose). Translation? I was on my back lying very still, trying not to pass out while others were hard at work. After a quick shower, I just wanted to get dressed and get out... but something was missing. My underwear. 'Wait... I don't remember NOT wearing any underwear' I thought. I definitely did enter the yoga studio with one on... I thought I might have dropped it when I got my clothes off the rack. So, I got dressed--less the underwear--and looked around for it. It was gone! There were only couple of steps between the shower room and where my clothes were... and I'm definitely not blind. I was almost tempted to say... 'has anyone seen my underwear that I have been wearing most of the day?' But, I opted not to make a big fuss about a pair of underwear that may or may not carry a distinct aroma of my... manhood(?). So, I got out, quietly, feeling a little brisk under my pants. For some reason, I was somewhat glad I wore my cleaner hole-less Polo boxer briefs just in case someone came across it.