"in the sense of that personal answer. what you feel in the presence of a thing you admire is just one word--'yes.' the affirmation, the acceptance, the sign of admittance. and that 'yes' is mroe than an answer to one thing, it's a kind of 'amen' to life, to the earth that holds this thing, to the thought that created it, to yourself for being able to see it. but the ability to say 'yes' or 'no' is the essence of all ownership. it's your ownership of your own ego. your soul, if you wish. your soul has a single basic function--the act of valuing...."

-probably something randian-

girl you know it's true. oooh oooh oooh. girls can be many things. smart. pretty. soft. entrancing. contagious. obnoxious. giggly. annoying. emotional. moody. sweet. beautiful. delicate. motherly. intelligent. wise. ridiculous. annoying. difficult. standoffish. voluptuous. the list goes on. but the thing that i think girls are the least is: funny. girls aren't funny. for the most part. allow me to explain myself before i am pilloried by the females in the audience. hi baby, i'll see you after the show. and after the party it's the hotel lobby and.....um. right. aniwaise.



in my experience (narrow as it may be, since i only know maybe say two thousand girls in the world, including the ones on tv. which works out to about 33.3e-7 of the entire female population), girls are not funny. they can laugh alot. they can be cutesy funny. or clumsy funny. or be fun to have around. or be fun to play with. or be fun to talk to. but they aren't straight up funny. not like a guy might be funny. when a girl is funny, you are usually laughing at them or with them but not necessarily because of them. you know?



i have a theory why. funny girls are not something society wants. at no time was funny a necessary trait for a girl to have. did we breed for funny? no. we bred for beautiful (since i'm being shot after this i'm just gonna go all the way here). in fact, a funny girl can be almost counter productive to biological goal of passing on genes. funny girls sometimes can come off as too smart or too lewd, depending on the type of humor they possess. this scares some guys off. i know i know, fuck the guys, it's wrong. we're all jerks. whatever. anyway. i don't think funny is necessarily a trait that guys look for or want in an ideal woman. dispute me if you want to lose.



now a guy, we are all ugly by design. well most of us. i can't speak for the 33.3e-7 percent that i don't know. anyhow. guys who look weird and unsightly must evolve some sort of way to get into the sack. otherwise we would all die out eventually. so biological and social mutation took over and things like "nice", "rich", "stable", and "funny" came to be interchangeable with "attractive." sorry girls, you are mainly worth what you look like (i prefer drowning to a fire death and a quick over a slow death. thanks.). it's a double standard, it sucks, i feel your pain. anyway.



to prove my first point, how many times have you heard in response to the "why are you with him?" question: "because he makes me laugh." because-he-makes-me-laugh. that is enough to overcome most cases of physical disgust. incredible. this does not mean that all funny guys get the hot chicks ("hot" being used here symbiotically with the word "desireable"). the only thing a funny guy might get is a girl. simple and plain. the funny guy stands a chance. hallelujah. go jerry seinfeld go.



another example perhaps? let's astound with this one ladies. which friend would you prefer? (assuming they were real people and not fictional characters being played by real life actors.) chandler, ross or joey? none are blazingly great looking. none are rich. they seem to all be nice. which one would you choose? sexy joey, witty chandler or sensitive ross? i'd bet most girls would go with chandler. after all, monica did! why? because he's funny! i'll take the trophy now, thank you very much mr stern, see you next year.



i know personally very few honest to goodness funny girls in my life. perhaps my standards are high. after all, i am not amused by the antics of dumb and dumber nor austin powers. call me blind, call me hard to please. but most girls i know, are not funny. not funny like the guys i know that are funny. the girls that i do find funny are hilariously funny. and top rate. and i love them for it. but they are a rare species of bird, the funny girl.



actually, i have another theory that goes along with this one. there are many funny girls, but when you put them into mixed gender environments (that means boys and girls in the same room), they clam up. they go from hilari-fucking-funny to cute and flirty. because they know, if not consciously, that that is what guys want. they want cute and flirty, not funny and loud. to drive the final punishing nail into my stunningly logical presentation, i asked a knowledgeable insider (president of a sorority) to give her insight into this matter. this is what she had to say. keep in mind this is an anachronic exclusive. you will not find this type of honesty anywhere else.

i absolutely agree. girls are not funny. i do however have a friend that is hot (csuf dance team, huge boobs), smart (english major book nerd), and very funny at her best. however, around guys she usually just plays the "aren't i cute" role and funny just isn't a highlight. but girls aren't suppose to be funny anyways. we're just suppose to be pretty. boys aren't pretty so they need something else to make up for it. hah. and just the same with witty guys eventually being coined as "jerks", witty girls eventually become bitches.

-lil'ho-

if the glove doesn't fit, you must acquit. i rest my case. i think that in order to remedy this problem, we (males) must promote and nurture funny girls. a girl says something even slightly funny? laugh uproariously. laugh more than you need to. say things like "that was a knee slapper honey, you sure are damn sexy!" after a few generations of this i feel like girls will be funny. what do you think?



my casket size would be around six foot two and i prefer redwood or oak to balsa. thank you. did i mention that girls can also be forgiving? most girls i know are definitely forgiving. very forgiving.

once an hour i light the flower and burn baby burn. it's difficult to be a wannabe performance artist. very difficult. even with all the talent in the world you need some luck. somebody who notices you at just the right moment in time. someone who believes in you and can see that you are right for super stardom. someone who can see through the mediocre sound system, the apathetic crowd and the terrible wardrobe. you need someone who will give you your shot in the dark. talent and luck, you need both if you're gonna make it big. so why are some people forgetting that you need the talent before the luck comes? shit.



last night was the debut of gene kim on the big stage. he was large and in charge. the lighting was very impressive, the crowd was receptive. he had his hair style going on. gene was kinda nice. and people were feeling him i think. at least they gobbled up the free CDs we were handing out afterwards. (side note: girls actually take stuff from you when it's offered, like a reflex. might this strategy work with non-promotional items? to be researched later.) i like pimping out my friends. it's so much easier to be gregarious and stupid when you are trying to get attention for your friend. the index finger pointing action followed by the "it's him! it's him! it's dave's son!" yelling tends to draw attention well and elicit moans of embarassment from said friend. even if the method is tired and cliche. and annoying for others.



but seriously. some of the people up on stage. i could of cried. do you ever get that painful feeling watching someone just be totally suck? man. i can't even look up. it's painful to watch. it's almost as bad as being embarassing yourself. i mean, let it all hang out there but dude, stop it! the worst was when a "spoken word poet" (and i use the description only because that's what he called himself) came out and read two pieces from his book. it was the most terrible thing i've ever heard recited. the definition of poetry is broad but it's not that broad. and spoken word is partly about the performance of the artist, but that does not mean just shake your head and make dramatic pauses. and when he busted out his flute (an instrument i have an affinity towards) i just about died. and then when the celine dion background music cued in? i thought i would melt into a puddle of shame. and i didn't even know the guy! strangely, i think my talents and skills are tailor made to be a terrible spoken word poet and flautist. this is the cross that i must carry. i am a flautist. and sometimes i write poetry. but i don't do it on stage for god sakes!



future generations will thank me for my restraint. if not the current ones.

the uber-talented sister of lilly has been revealed. say "hello susie." she draws, she designs, she writes, she sings. pretty much whatever one person could possibly humanly do, she's doing. so dig in. boy girl party. it's not just a site, it's a life.



if you have spare money lying about -- and who doesn't in these days of economic abundance and reckless peace and prosperity -- you should probably visit her shoppe and buy one of everything. maybe two each of the buttons because they are such a nifty deal at fifty cents apiece. which is really so much more affordable than buying an actual ghahremani sibling. plus i've heard that they are in somewhat of a big demand. just get the buttons, it's easier all around.



you all know and love dave's son already. but he's back with a new album (downloadable tracks!) and a nifty map that you can use to create miniature versions of yourself. what's not to love? next dave's son show is tomorrow at sycuan casino. did i just say casino? yes i did. see you there. free cocktails on the waitress. i'm broke man. but i'm still gonna be buying boy girl paraphernalia. who said you can't eat merchandise?

her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever. all man may be created equal but artists are not. we know this. i won't name names here but as we survey the art scene we see frauds and charlatans everywhere. i visited my friend at art school once and i was able to listen in to a conversation about the difference between an artist and a craftsman. i hope i'm paraphrasing this conversation correctly because my memory could be jumbling up the terms and the distinctions and if that's the case, disregard this entire entry.



anyway. an artist can be just about anyone. if you paint, sing, dance, perform, write, sculpt or basically use your imagination or talents in any way, you can be called an artist. a craftsman on the other hand is someone who is not just an artist but one who respects and is able to achieve a high level of skill in a particular art form. what kind of art they produce may not matter, but the skill level they achieve does. there are many artists who make wonderful affecting things but they are not necessarily craftsman.



it's a tough line to draw because even the word "artist" can mean one of great skill. like you are "an artist in the kitchen." but that's not the definition i'm clinging to. i'm trying to separate out the creativity from the skill. artist meaning imagination, talent, and creativity; craftsman indicating great skill. it's hard for me to put this idea into clear concise form because i am not an artist or a craftsman. i have not personally experienced it as much as i have conjectured from looking at the world around me.



perhaps to bring it down to my level. a basketball player -- were sports to be considered an art (which it easily could be) -- can be a great artist based on natural talent and extensive experience. but a craftsman basketball player would be the type that really gets into the mental and strategic game, understanding every facet of what happens on the court. these craftsmen players could move on to become coaches, because they want to be well versed in not just being the best basketball player they can be, but in deconstructing the game of basketball and then perfecting it.



i don't know. does this make any sense at all? perhaps some of it has to do with the idea that as an amateur, you can make some great things, but a professional will understand what makes it great and can do it consistently. that might be the difference between an artist and a craftsman. maybe. there is also a question of technique. you can put paint to canvas, but can you do it with technique?

"it is, therefore, important to always stress craftsmanship along with creativity, because craftsmanship, the thing so foreign to much of our generation, is what allows an artist to unleash his gifts. stick to these stresses, and continue setting a good example, and never accept all art as equal. doing so in politically correct these days, but deep down in our heart of hearts, we know some art is of better quality. right on with your observations! don't back down now."

-(weblogs and) the mass amateurisation of (nearly) everything...-

i know you heard me on the radio (true). we were on the radio yesterday! we got a shout out! woo-hoo! times like these i wish i was in high/middle school again so that this could be the coolest thing to happen to me all week. but instead, i have to pretend that this wasn't so cool because it was just a shout out on an internet radio station. and it wasn't because i was special or different or famous, but because i aim-ed the DJs and asked for a shout out. still. it's pretty exciting sitting in on a monday night, getting shout outs for me and my undisclosed (read, embarrassed) friends. yeah i know, the pinnacle of my life has been reached. there is only a mind numbing series of lows and questionably mercurial highs after this. but for tonight we're famous!

love is a chameleon. whence how, there fore, how to, blue cow? attraction is the strangest thing in the world. for example, movie stars. some are undeniably beautiful and most people would agree with the statement that "yes, nicole kidman is beautiful." however, not everyone would be attracted to her. "she's not my type." not your type?! what kind of crack are you smoking? in what world is nicole kidman not someone's type? oh, hi tom. actually, she's not my type either, although really, she is about the most the sublime definition of beauty and grace you might ever find.



for girls, take exhibit a: brad pitt. you either adore him or you think he looks like an upright ape. i don't see how brad pitt looks like an ape but some people do. must be something about the chiseled frame, the long flowing locks and the stellar movie roles that turn certain girls off. who knows. hope for all malekind is lost if brad pitt is not 99% attractive. and can you believe that he's forty? there is life after forty, for the genetically blessed.



anyway, some people are just attracted to weird things. you can't define who you are attracted to because you just either are or aren't. guys are better at this than girls. or rather, guys tend to be attracted to all sorts of "types." it must be a natural selection thing. guys who cast their attention nets into a smaller pool probably died out rather quickly. but those who were inclined to hit on anything that moved probably increased their chances of procreation and the passing on of genes. alternately this might explain why you ladies get hit on by all the sleazy guys in public places. it's natural selection baby. can i have your number?



who's someone that doesn't seem objectively overwhelming attractive but you're just simply attracted to? for seemingly no good reason at all? i have a friend (name withheld out of respect) who said "joan cusack." that pretty much ends the conversation right there. joan cusack? joan cusack is a wonderful woman i'm sure and she's made quite a living hitching a ride on her brother's coattails but really, she is not a looker. but that i suppose, is the ultimate power of random attraction. it's random and unexplainable. this applies in real life too. sometimes you just can't explain why you're attracted to somebody. even if faced with a mexican firing squad. you just can't explain it.



i have one theory on this type of "blind" attraction involving the real time interaction of mass pheromones. but it's not all that complicated, or at all original. so by the mere admission that my theory is pheromone-based, you should be able to deduce what i'm talking about. the other more original theory is still under construction, to be revealed to the world at the proper time. most likely at a parade with lots of balloons, banners, bands, confetti and a ridiculous amount of ticker tape (is ticker tape just confetti?) and fanfare.



oh the other thing i was gonna say about girls is that they tend to stick to their types better. "i like small scrawny men with braidable back hair and a pink eye." this then usually eliminates most of the population who doesn't fit this criteria. girls are much better about defining their types and actually being only attracted to their types. exceptions exist of course (as with everything) but for the most part, girls have a type that is readily identifiable and preferred. we males are again, just whores with no idea behind the meaning of words like "restraint" or "criteria." "now does that come with the mashed potatoes or the freedom fries?"



the one celebrity i've never heard anybody say isn't attractive is charlize theron. she seems to be universally considered hot and attractive. by men and women of all ages. so she takes the booby prize. we'll take her booby prize back if we can find someone who doesn't find her attractive. so until that time, her boobies are hers and not ours. or yours.



i think my strange yet true attraction has got to be scarlett johansson. maybe it's her characters, maybe it's just her. i'm strangely compelled to be attracted to her. in a curious cross-referencing of attraction, i think she has some joan cusack-ish qualities. what does it all mean gene?



update: i've actually just been updated on ms johansson's presence at the golden globes. in which she looks a right bit more fine than in her role in ghost world. so my strange yet true attraction may no longer be all that unique.



there is also a huge difference between being attracted to someone and saying that someone is attractive. to be expounded upon later if there is any confusion about these compeletely different statements.

here's looking at you kid. it's occurred to me, every so often, that maybe i could be a psychologist. sit around all day, have people tell me about their problems, give my advice and prescribe some medicine (actually only a psychiatrist can do this). bill them for ungodly sums. i mean, isn't this what i do anyway? except for the prescribing of medicine and the ungodly sums parts. but really, if i had to create a list of skills that might lead to a future career or occupation, i think "listening" would be high on that list.



i am a pretty good listener. worthy of professional status even. i'm nearly world class at pretending to listen. it seems perfect doesn't it, for me to become a psychologist? except for a few things. first, becoming a psychologist requires a few years of medical school (fallacy correction: no, psychologists don't have to go to med school). um, no. second, becoming a psychologist would mean having to sit there and listen to people's problems all day. no matter how ridiculous the problem or how trivial, i would have to keep a straight face and force myself to care.



let me state now that i think psychologists and therapists are great. i think everyone should have one. an objective person to talk to about everything. someone who will listen and analyze with you, without actually being in your life. too many times we are restrained from pouring out our hearts and minds, even with our most trusted friends. remove the barriers created by a personal relationship and everyone could expunge that much easier. as far as i'm concerned, if psychologists didn't cost so much, every person should get one. the world would be a much better place. and people would be happier and healtheir. trust me.



i'm also kind of a big believer that as people, our form follows our function. or rather, our neuroses are shaped by our experiences. so if you have someone who can indicate which neuroses emerged from which experiences, we would again, be that much better off. don't you want to know precisely why you are the wack job that you are? exactly. we are not just a conglomeration of random traits and disorders, there are linear, logical reasons behind our psychoses.



having said all that, the main thing keeping me away from a career in psychology would be the inability to restrain myself from going "dude, shut up already, suck it up. stop complaining!" i have a high amount of patience and tolerance but at some point, we all gotta blow. and i'm afraid that with certain people, i would just be forced to tell them "look buddy, you have super issues and if you don't stop complaining about them and start dealing with them, i can't help you. i'm really sorry your hamster drowned in the toilet and that it's not actually like butter. but get over it. " i'm thinking that the one hundred dollars an hour would increase my patience a little but a hundred dollars only goes so far.



so thus, another career choice down the drain. i must return to my all important typing and faxing now. happy friday.

birds of a feather flock together. but do they have rhythm? yesterday we went to a dance class. intermediate hip hop to be exact. at the sparkling new culture shock dance studio. it's actually quite nice what they've done. it feels kind of cool to have san diego be the home base for this dance organization that is really on the cutting edge of what a non-profit dance company can be like. anyways, they just got a new dance studio and after some time speculating about it, we took a class. i would have wanted to opt for the beginner dance class except it starts too early. so intermediate class it was. we puffed ourselves up by watching and mocking the "cardio-basic hip hop moves" class. let it be said, never make fun of other people because karma is apparently an unrhythmic unforgiving bitch.



i haven't danced in a long time. like actually stand there and try to learn things in eight count segments. in fact, any previous experiences i've had with choreographed dancing was really not based on any talent i possessed but rather bestowed upon me by the mere coincidence of being in the right place at the right time (this being michigan, turn of the century, circa 2000s). it was horrifically fun at the time; to learn, to perform, to suck. but it's also something that i happened to catch the initial wave of, before being violently blown over by the ensuing generations of dance gods and goddesses. i'm what you might delicately call a "back line" dancer. yes. in fact, i've even read a poem from an enterprising freshman (at the time) detailing exactly how bad i really was. his/her reasoning was that if i was dancing up there, he/she/it should've been up there too. no names disclosed of course.



anyway. i found out yesterday that my questionable skills have not exactly improved since that time. talk about lost. when they start teaching and taking for granted the fact that i can move three things at once -- on beat no less -- i get a little flustered. when they start counting off the "one e and a two..." i'm pretty much looking around for the nearest exit. slow it down man, i'm old and uncoordinated. my mind don't move that fast and my body moves even slower. shit. at the end of the hour, the instructor split us up into three small groups to "perform" for the others. the reasoning (we think) behind his separation of the small groups was based on demonstrated knowledge of the routine. with group one being the best group and so on. guess which group i was in? if you didn't guess correctly, you aren't following my story close enough.



anyhow. long story short. it was fun. it was new. it was exciting. it was frustrating. it was fun. i think we'll do it again. if they don't demote or ostrasize me. which is quite possible. so anyway, come on down to join us. humiliation is exponentially multiplied the more friends you have around you. trust me, i did the math.

i found the writing and rhyming surprisingly moving and meaningful. ... i thought the rhyming style of nas' "ain't hard to tell" was awesome. the lyrical content was also unexpected. there are references to greek mythology -- "i drink moet with medusa" and "not stories by aesop" -- juxtaposing words from modern life like the pain killer motrin, moet champagne, glock pistols, and sylvester stallone.

-conflict honored, jewels kicked and hope elevated-





you have a life. it's a precious thing, and it's yours. make the most of it. don't give it up, don't waste it on things you don't value, regardless of what others demand from you. work with others when you can, love and give yourself to them as they deserve, but always by the standard of what is best for your own life. the purpose of ethics is to help you find and enjoy what is best, not to sacrifice it. pursuing your happiness, taking full responsibility for it, is a worthy and challenging task. it will take thought and effort, it will take ambition and courage, it will take everything you have, and if you succeed you will have the right to be proud, morally proud, of what you have accomplished.



"our first rule ... is that one must always see for oneself. consider the reasons which make us certain that we are right, but not the fact that we are certain. if you are not convinced, ignore our certainty. don't be tempted to substitute our judgment for your own."

-a philosophy for the 21st century-

a paradise for idiots. there are some people, whom you know, but you don't really know. i feel like this is a theme i've explored before. but oh well. anyway, there are people that you've had around for whatever length of time that you squarely call "friends" but in reality couldn't recite the most basic information about them. when asked about what you "know" about them, you are at a loss.



some of these types of people, you keep on that level on purpose. say maybe, a friend with whom you share only one activity. you don't need to be friends. not the type of friends anyway, who exchange in actual information or contact. over time however, you grow to be friends with them because you've partooken of that one activity so much and seen so much of them that you feel friendly. this is always nice.



but sometimes there are friends that you actually are friends with but know nothing about. like the friendly vibe outpaces the brain knowledge. and then you are left to go backwards in your relationship. from feeling friendly to getting to know them. usually it's the other way around, you get to know someone, then you feel friendly.



when this happens too much, i think some people start to think about "who are my friends? the people that i feel friendly with or the people that know me?" there's a case to be made for both. the people that know your basic facts obviously show an appreciation and an interest in you. but that can be so superficial. sometimes knowing things about someone, is not knowing them at all. on the other hand, don't you have to wonder about someone who is friendly yet doesn't know the first thing about you?



sometimes it can be shocking to learn that someone doesn't know your last name, or a trait about you that you thought was obvious. and you go "wow, they know nothing, yet we're friends. interesting." there is no point or conclusion to any of this. my mind is too fried to think of something to wrap this up. other than the idea of knowing a person versus knowing the information on a person. i guess i'll have to revisit this again at a later date.

my hotmail account says that i am over the email sending limit for any given twenty four hour period. i did not know this was possible. there's probably a correlation here between amount of email done versus amount of work done. but we are all familiar with that particular relationship.

he's so cool sheep count him. some people are shy. i used to be shy i think, as most small asian children are -- especially those with an imperfect command of english and cultural barriers to overcome. i might have some remnants of shy left but i think i've outgrown that classification. i tend to think of my current shyness as more quiet than actual shy. over the years, i've met a disproportionate amount of non-shy people. so somewhere along the way i got really used to everyone being outgoing and extroverted. people who just talked and talked and wanted to get to know you right off the bat. lots of smiles and eye contact and loud conversations.



then, a few years ago, i started to feel a distinct shy population edge into my world. at first this was strange. does this person not like me? why are they so quiet? are they bored?



it was then that i realized hey, shy is a lifelong trait, not something to be outgrown or shed. shy people just open up slower. they aren't reserved or standoffish, they are just shy! some people are more comfortable around strangers than others. but behind every shy person is a loud person waiting to explode. that's been my experience too. not many shy people still remain shy when you get close to them. there's also something to talking to shy people and realizing that hey, they are talking to you! for more than two seconds! it's like a great battle (or a small civil war) has been fought and won. they are talking to me! i feel special!



six reasons to like shy people: (1) they are unobtrusive (2) they aren't generally annoying (3) if festooned with the proper outfit, they make good complements to your furniture (4) they are easy to leave behind (5) they seem mysteriously observant and intelligent (6) they make the best mafia killers, if not the most entertaining players. i'm just joking about numbers three and four, kind of.



some people, like me, aren't overly outgoing but they aren't shy either. they don't take over a room but neither are they hesitant to join in. this begs the question, are they (am i) more shy or outgoing? i think there needs to be a term for this type of person, since it's so common a description. a term for the type of person who is willing to engage in other people if approached but not really seeking conversation if it's not right in front of them. what do you call these people?



and isn't it surprising when you hang out with a friend, an unexposed shy person who you've never perceived as shy because the two of you met under non-shy circumstances, and then you go out or introduce them to your people and you realize exactly how shy they are? so this person who previously talked a mile a minute with flamboyant hand gestures suddenly clams up and becomes stunningly shy? totally makes you see a new side of them. love it.

north versus south. brother versus brother. do you ever wonder which side of the race divide you would have been on, if you had grown up forty years ago? would you be one of the majority marching with the minority? or would you have been one of the majority suppressing the minority? this is assuming your skin color was the majority.



i think we take it for granted that we would of been on the side of the "right." but that's probably not the case. after all, we wouldn't all have been open minded and revolutionary. some of us had to be bigots and retards. or merely pawns of our upbringing and culture. right?



additionally, you have to wonder about which assumed truths today will be overturned and proven to be fallacies tomorrow. something like the world being round as opposed to flat. i need earth shattering news in my lifetime. and since this space exploration business is clearly going anywhere, i'm hoping for another continent to be discovered (one populated exclusively by giant mammals, birds, fungi and reptiles would be a bonus). or something to prove that cigarettes are actually beneficial to your health would be nice too. but that's a long shot. rationally speaking. but i'll keep my fingers crossed regardless.



i've begun the habit of smoking with a sanitary glove on. like the ones doctors and bio lab workers use. this may not do much for my social cache but it nearly eliminates the post-cigarette stink on my hands. it's pretty incredible actually. after testing out socks, tissue paper and leather gloves i may have finally found an economical solution to my problem. that problem being i hate the smell of cigarettes on my finger but yet i smoke. the sanitary glove cuts down on at least 90% of the odor. pretty amazing eh? i might be on the verge of starting a trend. watch out.



if someone could find me some dowager like cigarette holders, those ivory or plastic type ones, that would help too. otherwise i'm about to take my sanitary glove to the clubs and to the streets. and how much more embarassed would you be to be hanging out with me then?

just when i thought i was out, they pull me back in. noteworthy lifestyle change. i (excuse me, we) have television back in my life again. the clouds have parted and my ship has finally arrived. for many eons -- about one year -- i have suffered from a state of no television, a state of dis-illusion if you will. i have missed out on all the political debate that swirls around our great country. i have missed out on all the late breaking news on cnn. i have missed out on all the local news that affect my loved ones and my closely knit community. i have missed out on the justice meted out on court tv and the religious babble that rages on early morning sundays. i have missed out on, most importantly, jessica simpson and nick lachey. i wholeheartedly agree with the ads, "if they were any cuter, they would be puppies."



this weekend, we got extended cable. just in time for everything my life was missing. my new year's resolution was to "educate myself and to expand into a greater person." now with a tricked out tv, i have the means to achieve my goals. i'm thinking i'll gain at least a half pound (rounding up) over this next year due to sitting around watching tv. and my mind cannot help but retain all the information about who won what when. expanded and educated, that'll be me in 2005.



a quick rundown of what i watched in my first seventy two hours -- commonly referred to as "the honeymoon period". nba basketball (spurs - pacers). sportscenter. discovery channel program on bluefin tuna (stop hunting them, they are dying!). newlyweds marathon. all three previously aired real world san diegos. queer eye for the straight guy - half of an episode. friends and seinfeld rerun. two nfl football games. nfl primetime. sportscenter. premiership league soccer. world poker championships. celebrity poker championships. commercials. some other random riff raff.



in short, i had a very long weekend. as excited as i am about having cable, it is clearly the death of me, of us, and of all that hotel pan stood for. we were for extreme boredom and wiling the hours away doing absolutely nothing. now with a tv, we are always "doing something" while wasting our hours away. gone are the moments of quiet desperation: "what do you want to do? let's do something! aaaarrgghhh!" now that we have tv, there is always something to do. a high cholesterol alternative to healthy boredom. some people may not like it much but it's still there as an option.



how will this transform our lives? only time can tell. there is already talk of canceling the cable or having a pay-as-you-watch system to eradicate this cancer that will surely threaten our previously placid lives. but i think we are acting too soon. we must give ourselves time to adjust to the presence of the box in our living room. we will learn to coexist peacefully with our long lost friend. or we will die with infinite knowledge of pop culture and entertainment trends. if we do go down, at least we'll go down up to date.

school of rock. i saw jack black tonight. all five feet two of him. he is a very small guy. impressionably more wide than tall. and he had a shifty kind of superstar aura about him. actually no he didn't. he blended right in with all the other shifty people. he just avoided eye contact more than most. oh jack black, how i've admired your work in.....um......high fidelity? i've only seen one of his movies. but i've seen parts of the tenacious d dvd. and he's supposed to be a big star on mtv. and i do admire his rise from b-actor obscurity. and it's been well documented that jack black is a rock fan so his presence at an urge overkill concert made perfect sense since "uo" is supposed to be one of the greatest rock bands ever. a review i read said that they personify "rock band." the only problem is that nobody knows who they are. certainly not i nor the other males in my party.



so the question was, "it makes sense that jack black is here but what am i, jon yang, doing here?" and the simple answer is: lilly. on yet another mission to conquer san diego, we (lilly, hong, galvez and i) venture out on a work night in search of the heart of rock. apparently the heart of rock is a bit smelly and located next to the airport in a red bar called the casbah. suffice to say, i've never been around a rock crowd, to a rock show, or done anything remotely similar to this entire experience. tight jeans, dirty hair and mismatched clothing seemed to be de rigueur. we were wearing non-tapered jeans and "normal" casual wear. we sat in the corner and pretended to be foreign exchange students. which we were -- if not foreign in nationality, at least foreign in musical culture.



as a young lass, lilly found and loved urge overkill and has remained titanically in love ever since. fueled by her excitment and nervousness, i was ready to expect anything. urge overkill did a re-make of the "girl, you'll be a woman soon" song for the pulp fiction soundtrack but that song is not representative of their work at all. rarely am i led into events or situations in which i know nothing. but tonight, i knew nothing. and then when nothing became something, it was loud, rawkus and rock. i must admit, i was a bit overwhelmed and lost. i don't understand rock music. at all. i can sort of appreciate the instrument work. i can dig the energy. i like the drums. i cannot understand what they are saying. i cannot figure out how they flip that long hair around (headbang?). i cannot fathom why they don't shower more. it's a dirt thing i guess. pert plus anyone?



truly, as lost as i was though, i was experiencing the moment. taking in all the spasmic bopping heads around me and trying to find my rock and roll and super soul. i didn't find it but i did have my eardrums blown out for me. and urge overkill were really very good (or so i'm told) and the one that lilly is in love with, nash kato, does have the aura of a rock legend. he played most of the set with his fingers bleeding all over his guitars -- somehow managing not to splatter any of it onto his white on white ensemble. they also had roadies switch them guitars every other song. very rock star move.



i can't say that i'm a rocker or a fan of rock but it was ultimately something new. and something's new doesn't come along so often anymore so you have to go searching for it. even if it's on a weekday. even if it's in a dirty bar you never would of normally given a second thought to. san diego 2004 is looking more interesting already. vive san diego. vive le rock.



ps. lilly got her golden moment picture and hug from cato after the concert. i have never seen anyone so nervous or so starstruck before. well, except when people meet supermodel hong, song slinging gene or i-am-peace babbs, but that kind of starstruck tends of wear off after five minutes. lilly was "oh my gawd" starstruck pretty much before, during and after the entire concert. when i meet and propose to kristin kreuk, i hope to have better composure. not to mention more lip action.

well our love was often a verb and spontaneity has brought a third. in a high school math class, my teacher wrote this on the chalkboard: 1+1 = 3. figure out what it meant and get the extra credit for the test. only one person got it. it meant that my teacher was soon to have a baby. bonus points for that super intellligent guy who got it right (no, this is not one of those stories where i'm the smartass who got it right. if i was the one person who got it right i would of told this story many times over by now.). ah children. love'em and leave'em. ex to the next. oops. that's women, not children. either way, in the event of an emergency or a water landing, they go first. the men stay behind to man the door and push people out of the way. hum, does "man" the door come from this type of thing? because to "man" the door is to protect it? so it's seen as a male thing to do? someone who studied linguistics speak up.



anyhow, children. don't want them. i have this recurring panicky fear that i will somehow magically impregnate a female and then i will have a child on my hands. not just any child, my child. actually, this scenario would be pretty damn magical because no woman will let me close enough for physical contact. so this impregnation would be right up there with the immaculate reception, conception. i don't know how this virgin birth would work but if god can make it happen once, he can do it at least twice. so practice safe abstinence people.



recently there have been a bevy of "we're expecting" announcements. congrats all around. champagne champagne, keep on pouring. some of these are from married couples, some of them are not. the commonality between all these potential parents is that their lives will change. for the better i'm sure. some couples i know were totally not expecting and are ill equipped to handle the coming intrusion. but they will battle on. some couples are very ready for their combined genes to manifest in physical form. they are settled financially, emotionally and physically. either way, there will be new lives entering the land, score one for hormones.



i for one, am trying to think of the exact word which conveys my absolute fear of having a child. i can't do it. my lexicon is not extensive enough and my thesaurus is broken. my feelings on it are too specific to use the wrong word yet also general enough to just keep on repeating, "fear, fear, fear." i think part of the issue is that having a child is about a committment. in all my theories, in all my philosophies for how the world works, and how i want things to work, the exception is always the relationship between parent and child. in order for me to pursue my life, i have to be unburdened by a child. because once i have a child, all philosophies go out the window and i must think of only one thing, "what is best for my child." i'm so not ready for that. i so don't want that. however, it's good to know that other people do. without new babies, our preschool and kindergarten teachers would soon be unemployed. and i know some kindergarten teachers so that would be bad.

hello butterfly a voice said

slip on some duds comb out your fro and

slide on down to my pad

the vibe here is very pleasant and i truly request your presence

a problem of great magnitude has arose

and as we speak it grows

damn, what could it be i thought

a juice i bought and rolled on down to her pad

-digable planets, femme fatale-

placebo effect. see those people? the ones who are more into the idea of something rather than the actual something? the classic "more in love with being in love" than actually being in love. what causes this? it's supply and demand. economics. you demand this certain thing and you supply it even if it's not there. psychologically this is clinically termed "desperation" or "settling" or "faking yourself out. philosophically there are no words for this phenomenon. mathematically this won't happen either.



in the real world though, this happens all the time. people have certain ideas of where they should be, who they should be, what they should be. and they have certain ideas of how this should be achieved. so they want to actually have these things, without the patience or the opportunity to actually wait for the real thing. or the ability to recognize or be exposed to the real thing. and so, they create it for themselves. like if you want to be happy but don't have anything to be happy about. you start to say "the flowers are nice, when flowers are nice, i am happy." thus, you create artificial happiness. which, over time, transforms into real happiness. there is something to be said for positive thinking i suppose. but i won't be the one to say it.



i have these too of course. foremost of which is traditionally called "cigarettes." it's not the cigarette i'm affected by. but the thought that having a cigarette will cause me to "calm" or to give me a "peace of mind" or "clarity of vision." perhaps the same with coffee too (although i only drink coffee for the taste). although there are some active ingredients in these drugs, i think really what i'm attracted to is the mindstate i reach after indulging in these vices. so really i could substitute "licorice" or "orange juice" and achieve the same results over time. yet somehow sitting on the grass on a weekend sipping on orange juice and chewing licorice just isn't quite the same as smoking sun and coffee. i never said substitutes were equal. actually, that's more my point, the substitutes are most often not equal to the real thing. only in middle or high school are substitutes (teachers) better than the real thing. heads up, we're not in middle school anymore.



so pretty much what i'm saying is that people sometimes, often(?), introduce something into their lives that will carry them through to a goal or expectation they had in mind. whether or not this thing fits is almost secondary. they want to reach the goal first, and will snatch at the closest thing. or they will equate nothing with something (or is it something with nothing?) and thus feel satisfied. like using a kitchen cleaner. 409 may not do any more cleaning than regular old water but since they market the product as sanitizing and gave it a cool scent, i think it's actually cleaning. but really, the germs are still there and laughing at the remarkable ploy they've concocted. so really, happiness is really just about marketing. as is most everything in this modern world.



disregard me, i am just a bitter, cynical small man. is life better as an optimist? if it is, it must be a hell of a lot more boring. although it's been said to me that the fact that i would want to categorize myself as cynical would mean that i'm not cynical at all. there is a whole metaphysical explanation for that logic that i really can't go into here. mainly because i don't quite understand it. and if i did, i'm not sure i would want to understand it either. blindness also leads to happiness, just in case the afore discussed plan A falls through.

and i do know this. i know you usually fail before you succeed, truly succeed, succeed with any depth and substance to your success, and not the usual superficial temporal brevity that characterizes much of what we call success these days.

-some article on espn.com-

on bloggers.... others are simply social outcasts who have never received quality human attention and to them, the weblog is a vast unknown audience that actually listens to their thoughts, cares about their opinions, and listens to their jokes. all of these persons are reaching out into the void in the hopes that someone will read their digital thoughts and the thought that they are communicating with others (even though no one else may be listening) is comforting. it is the same phenomenon found in many religions, as followers pray into the void, knowing the communication is one way, but the hoping that their thoughts are being received by the heavens brings them peace in some way. these people should be shot on sight and all their genetic material vaporized...fucking losers.

-why i hate weblogs-

live in your world, play in mine. it's friday and in layman's terms that means "extreme boredom day with nothing to do." here is what i used to do at home, pre-job: i surfed the web and endlessly read about sports, news, blogs and whatever happened to strike my fancy. i could do this for a good five hours without moving. here is what i do at work: i surf the web and endlessly read articles about sports, music, pop culture and blogs. i have to avoid the websites with shiny pictures so i covertly (and quickly) copy and paste the text from everything to an open email message so that it looks like i'm only doing email. it's not a fail safe system but at a sideways glance it looks like i'm only reading lots of email. the difference between web surfing at home and web surfing here is that i get bored. like really really bored.



i never understood it when people said "i'm bored with web surfing." to me, the internet had everything i ever wanted: hours of endless entertainment and knowledge at your fingertips. but now, forced to sit in front of a computer for eight hours, my patience for web surfing has been challenged time and time again. this is kind of a tragedy. i feel a part of myself dying. but i attribute my lack of enthusiasm for web surfing not to any changes in me but rather to my fear of getting caught reading stuff online. i believe in my heart of hearts that i could still surf the web all day and given the right opportunity, and a crack of a chance, i will live up to that challenge. but "working" under the untiring glare of the office lights, i am afraid to surf with impunity. i am weak and fearful of that great eye in the sky, sue me.



the only way i can properly entertain myself at moments of extreme boredom is to set up little projects for myself. for example, yesterday was greek mythology day. i read all about herakles and his twelve trials plus all the stories of the olympians. a few days ago it was arnold schwarzenegger day. before that i believe i was on hip hop lyrics as poetry day. basically i'm working on my degree in the world wide web. i will graduate in five to seven years, if my michigan experience was any indicator of my ability to perform and concentrate concurrently.



so far today i have been reading articles like "why i hate weblogs," because a class i re-take over and over again is "articles about blogging." and this is not on any curriculum but more like extra credit: "accept jesus and receive a playstation two." happy friday.

can i get a minute to breathe? when people are in a relationship, they often discount the perspectives of outsiders. outsiders being anyone not part of the dynamic duo currently engaged in a relationship. i am here to point out the obvious. outsiders always see more than you know. sure we trust the opinions of others, we want to hear their "objective" viewpoints and open our minds to what they are telling us. but, often we discount what they have to say. it's easy to dismiss the negative opinions of others because we feel that "they don't understand, they don't see, they don't get it." or the ever popular "he/she is different when it's just us." this is of course true, nobody should know better about your relationship than you.



however, in trying to affix a percentage to how much you see compared to how much they see, i would say it's about 60-30. you see sixty percent, the outsiders see thirty percent and the missing ten percent, nobody sees. i think what is at the root of this "mindset" or "problem" is pride. we are all great at tearing apart the relationships of others. but once engaged in our own relationships, we tend to think that our viewpoint is the best. only we understand. i mean honestly, aren't you in a relationship because you want to believe that "we understand each other the best, above and beyond everyone else's ability." in my short time on earth however, i've found that the peanut gallery is often very dead-on in their assessments. but we tend to think that they only know ten percent as opposed to the more generally relevant thirty percent.



i am just as guilty of this as anyone else. i tend to not give two hoots about what other people say they see. believing -- trusting -- that my insight and knowledge are vastly superior to anyone else's. clearly, this is not the case. when you are in a relationship, you are blinded. the god of love, eros, is depicted blindfolded for a reason. two people in a relationship like to pretend that they are high above a mountain, able to look at everything with an eagle eye and from a superior viewpoint. but i think it is more likely that when we are in a relationship, we are really in a valley. we cannot see the mountains for the foothills or something like that. that made no sense. if i'm going to paraphrase popular sayings i guess i should try to paraphrase the right thing. but i can't remember it.



anyway. my point here is that once you engage into a relationship, you often engage into an unspoken pact with yourself to overlook certain things. it's about using the optimistic third eye, as opposed to the realistic two eyes. this tends to result in later epiphanies and "oh i never saw that but it was so obvious." we/i never saw that because we don't want to believe that. we only want to look for the good, we want to ignore or obscure the bad. but the outsiders, they see it all, and they are much more removed and critical about analyzing it. count on the people around you to state the obvious, because sometimes you can't. not for lack of vision or ability, but for lack of trying.

accept the fact that your mind works by choice, not automatically, and that your life depends on choosing to think. learn to trust your mind and to act by your own independent reason, not on the basis of authority. seek moral perfection in the unbreached exercise of rationality. learn to distinguish errors of knowledge from moral evil. choose happiness as your moral purpose and give it your full commitment. learn to value yourself by rejecting humility as a virtue and seeking pride. give help to others when deserved, but not on the basis of need alone, or when demanded as a right.



fight for this world, in the name of the best within you. you will win when you are ready to pronounce this oath: "i swear -- by my life and my love of it -- that i will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine."

-ayn rand-

if i only had a heart, a brain, a television. i cannot sit idly by when real world invades my city. the real world san diego premiered last night and i missed it. in fact, i miss every premiere since i have no tv. but this is much bigger than missing the premiere of joe millionaire: hawaii. this is real world man! i have so many questions. some are answered, some are still hanging. where do they live? what do they do? when were they here? do they go to all the cool places i can't go? are they cute (the girls)? are they interesting (the entire cast)? was a girl really raped in the house? i am a real world whore and while this may shock you, i get much joy out of watching the lives of others unfold before me. i haven't really been caught up in a real world season since new orleans and possibly new york ten but i'm ready to devote my tuesday nights to real world san diego. now i need to get cable......



and of course, as always, there are no asian males on the show. there is regretfully yet another asian female. another korean i might add. this real world cast seems to be the most boring based purely on appearances. i haven't seen more than three minutes of the show so i can't say if they actually are boring but damn, they sure look boring. and really, enough with the obligatory minorities. stick in one black male/female, add one asian female, woila, culture. um no. where are the latinos? the indians? the anythings? and pray tell, where are the asian males? there has to be at least one asian male on real world at some point right? and how're you gonna come to california and not have an asian male? and yes was asian but he was on road rules and really, entirely too good looking to be asian.



we need a normal looking asian guy who somehow by the end of the show gets super popular because of his stellar personality. and then the fan club would form and flourish and support him the rest of his life. all other asian males on mtv shows have been ridiculous. the only asian male that comes to mind right now is scott from the tough enough show but he was a total retard so i'd rather not have him as our sole mtv representation.



i also realized recently that i have reached the "unapplicable" age. i think the cut off age for aspiring real world people is twenty four or twenty five. my life has now become too old to be deemed mtv worthy. if the age limit is indeed twenty five, i may still have a chance. i think what the real world needs is someone just like me. i've already been training for it. i hear they don't allow tvs in the real world house. we don't have a tv in the hotel pan! coincidence? unlikely. how great would it been to have a local san diego boy such as myself guiding these boring teenagers around the city. wouldn't you rather have watched that? my biggest question really about this whole real world process would whether or not i could blog while living the "real world life." that's very important to me. i think a real time blog would be an innovation that mtv cannot afford to pass up.



this cast is also apparently very young so i'm curious what they'll do. they can't go downtown can they? or maybe now they are super privileged because they are "famous" and shit. damn. my chance at everlasting fame has passed me by. at least i can watch it all unfold before me. if i could only get past this no television hurdle.



i'm reading the episode one synopsis off of mtv.com and am surprised by how mocking it is. mtv is sanctioning an episode review that is quietly supporting all the criticisms directed at the show? interesting. whoever the reviewer is, he/she/it sounds like a jaded real world viewer who is way aware of the "let's get drunk and make out" aesthetic that bunim-murray is still using. i think i'll have to read these reviews more.

we both like soup. here's another "two types of people in this world" theory. type one: people trying to stand out. type two: people trying to get in. brilliant. absolutely brilliant. i marvel at the way i can simplify the complexity of the world sometimes. "we could just not talk or talk forever, and still find things to not talk about."



i think that the foundation for most people starts from a base of either fitting in or feeling left out. this to me defines all. this conclusion is somewhat of a bold assertation for pre-nine am but i'll go with it for now. in america -- bastion of individuality and birthplace of the cowboy -- i think most people are conditioned to want to be type one's. "i want to be unique, i want to be special, i want to stand out. look at me look, at me." in my opinion, most asian cultures are quite the opposite. as most asian-americans know, parents are constantly berating, and shaking their heads, at their americanized children for "why you have to look/act/be different?" i think an extreme of this type of type two tradition can be seen in japan, where the older generation is all about conformity. actually, the whole matrix flash mob thing just got infinitely more amusing. japanese automatons dressed up as identical agent smith's. okay, maybe only amusing to me.



anyway. i've been thinking all morning about who tries to be in and who tries to be out. real life examples for my revolutionary idea. and i have reached some stunning conclusions. everybody does both. the great answer to every question in the world? both. are you an introvert or an extrovert? both. are you secure or insecure? both. is there a god? both. where do you want to eat? both. did you pee pee or poopy? both. fuck the both's. make a decision.



now in order to facilitate typecasting yourself into one of my two categories, i want to make some things clear. trying to stand out is not invalidating the fact that we are all still snowflakes. everyone is different, everybody's unique, every single one of us is special, every life is precious, mommy and daddy love you very much just the way you are, yes. but aside from the individual traits that we may exhibit, are you clamoring to be beyond a snowflake? do you want to rise up and stand out? you might be a type one.



on the b-side, a type two is not a person who conforms automatically or on purpose. type two's are not bland boring people. they just happen to value being with the group more than they do being individual. this is not a value judgement, just a public service announcement. type two's feel left out or "different" and want to achieve sort of inclusion. and/or they are big believers in the powers of social clumping. an army of one they are not. but this is not a bad thing, even though i think i'm (unfairly) presenting it as such. people who want to be in just want to be in for whatever reason. but don't jump to conclusions, even though type twos may seem like herd animals, they are not lemmings running off to their doom.



fundamental problems encountered by both types. while there is a wide spectrum of both types, oftentimes, type ones feel the fear of not being "quite special enough" while type twos quite often feel "different" even when they are already in. i've done it again, reduced a world of grays to arbitrary black and whites. i'm going to spend the rest of my day categorizing everybody. i mean, sure i have a job and work to do but is my responsibility to my blog or to my cash producing employer? blog obviously.



it occurs to me that the easiest way to talk about type ones and type twos is to refer to them as "outties" and "innies." much like belly buttons. apparently however, some people have both an innie and an outtie (hi james), and that would just screw everything all up. so for the purposes of my life, there are only outties and innies, not james'.

i've been signing all my documents at work today "january 4, 2003." i guess i should just be thankful i got the month right. welcome back from vacation. nose to the grindstone, let it begin. i have no holidays until memorial day. apparently presidents and martin luther and such are not celebrated in taiwanese companies. but by that reasoning shouldn't we be celebrating lunar new year? i work for illogical fascists.

she float-ed. i went old school on saturday. like old school magicians. there's not "street magic," no floating over the grand canyon, no sitting in a box for however many days. there were just birds, top hats, cards, coins, balls, rings, strings and all of them classic magic things. for stacey's birthday i was lucky enough to get the chance to enter the infamous magic castle. at first i thought it sounded incredibly cheezy and hokey. c'mon, disneyland is down the street, how cool can a magic castle be? but then i read up about it and thought that this might be the coolest thing ever.



the magic castle is an actual castle nestled atop the hills of hollywood. inside are real live magicians that train and learn their craft. it's like a hogwarts but with older students. they have a dinner show and performances year round but the only way you can get in is by knowing a magician. now i'm not important enough to actually know anyone, much less a magician, but stacey is. so, we got to go.



at first the castle was a tad underwhelming. it wasn't really nestled into the hills. it was just one street above the kodak theatre. i was expecting extravagant views of the city, instead we overlooked some medium rise apartment buildings. the castle wasn't a castle as much as it was a low ceiling mini-mansion. think the jekyll and hyde restaurant in new york. sort of like that. this place was old school, with pictures of magicians and their famous posters. the only person i recognized was houdini.



but the magic lay not in the decor or the building but within the magicians themselves. and let's just say that these magicians were pretty spectacular. we saw a total of maybe six shows and most of them were downright astounding. birds popping out of thin air, balls appearing every which where. mind reading card tricks. classic magic stuff that you think you know but really haven't seen. and never have you seen it all performed so well. and with so much humor. magicians are funny folk. who knew?



by the end of the night i was deeply impressed with the place. there weren't any hidden trap doors to find (or we just didn't find them), or scary hallways to explore and many of the magicians seemed downright plain but to be that up close and personal watching cards change before your very eyes is sort of unbelievable. we will have to go sometime. i didn't meet any magicians, as was my intended goal, but perhaps i can borrow stacey's.