Anything is Possible

Listening to: Kimya Dawson, "Tire Swing."

What to make of 2008? I can't say it's been a hard year but to be honest, it's been a hard year. If 2006 was the year of discovery, 2007 the year of recovery, then 2008 is the year of, well, something that rhymes with -covery. Whatever. I'm not even going to begin to complain because I haven't had a job for one day this year and the next time that'll happen will probably be awhile. Have I used all that free time wisely? Certainly not, but it hasn't been totally unproductive.

I've been going over past pictures, blogs, and journal entries in an effort to encapsulate what 2008 was about. For the most part, it felt disjointed, like big momentous things happened but then sped by to be replaced by long lulls where I sat home and itched for action. Let's just start with the stats of it all.

Best movies: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Iron Man, Planet B-Boy
Best books: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay (M.Chabon), Love is a Mix Tape (R.Sheffield), How to be Alone (J.Franzen)
New friends made: Six
Contact lens prescription: -5.00 (left) and -4.75 (right), both increased slightly
Car odometer reads: 206,632 miles
Money wasted on online dating sites: $34.99
Web addresses bought: Two (jonwow.com and exclusivelychloe.com)
Twitter updates: 459
First five picks, fantasy basketball: C. Paul, A. Jefferson, C. Billups, A. Jamison, C. Anthony (currently number one)
First five picks, fantasy football: S. Jackson, L. Fitzgerald, M. Colston, R. Bush, J. Cutler (ended season in third place)
Buy a copy of EC (May 2009) and I earn: $0.40
Tagged photos of me on Facebook: 145
People kissed: Four
Music on repeat: Adele, Shortbus soundtrack, Girl Talk
Days I've been 30 years old: 122
MVL stock bought / sold: $30.25 (May) / $32.81 (Sep)
Money made from MVL stock: +$230.40
Colored iPhone apps: 18 blue, 8 red, 7 green, 15 orange/tan, 8 purple, 4 steel/neutral
Lowest Brain Tuner time: 15.62 seconds
Moblog entries: 293 (73 in August)
Blog entries: 63 hyperwest, 109 jonyangorg, 30 next thursday
Journal entries: 79
Movies seen in theaters: 37 (10 A, 12 B, 11 C, 4 D)
iTunes: 25,049 songs, 106.2 days, 123.84 gigs
Haribo gummy bears consumed: Infinity plus a handful

I collected approximately nine months worth of unemployment -- originally only six months, but George W. was kind enough to sign an extension during the summer. That allowed me to not only increase my savings but combined with living rent free at home all year, I didn't think about money once. Actually, I thought about it a lot but only how to use it. Would I buy new clothes, could I take more trips, should I buy trinkets? In the end, I didn't exactly splurge on anything, in an effort to conserve money for when unemployment ends, but I didn't penny pinch either. It was fun. For so long I've lived with the specter of having no money, or having to borrow, that I really enjoyed not even blinking at paying for things, or paying for other people's things. It's nice to buy people stuff, even if it's just a drink or dinner.

Unemployment ends in a week or so. My job hunt begins soon and barring a miracle, I'll be back at some terrible entry level job I hate. The trade off will (hopefully) be that I'm out of San Diego and moved up to somewhere like San Francisco. I dread the prospect of returning to a job but I won't even bitch about it because everyone else is dealing with real adult things like layoffs and keeping their jobs while still juggling bills. I have no job sure, but I also have no bills. And yes, I'm thirty.

As for writing, I've begun to become comfortable saying that I'm a writer. Until I could see the finish line for this book, I wasn't willing to say "writer" to describe myself unless pressed. Now, with it finished and completed, I'm willing to say, "I'm a writer," when someone asks what I do. I still feel like a sham about it but you are what you say you are. Unless you aren't. Either way, one of my goals for 2008, to actually try and start freelancing, failed miserably. I haven't technically had any writing responsibilities since July or so but I never got my act together to even try submitting articles, queries, or anything of the like. That goal will have to rollover I guess, like my minutes.

I attended four weddings this year (Stacey, PZ/Amy, Tien, Susan). I was not a bridesmaid for any of them, despite the release of Made of Honor in 2008 -- which I never saw, perhaps my fatal mistake. I guess that life goal will remain unchecked. My list of potential female friends who might even consider me to be bridesmaid status is quickly getting pared down though. So far nobody's been woman enough to shake things up and throw a great guy friend up there. C'mon people, someone be original. I'm running out of time! I've got a few dear friends planning weddings for next year so I'm keeping hope alive. I'm a size six and I look good in white (t-shirts).

The amazingly hopeful beginning of the year, filled with plans to travel to Southeast Asia with my fellow Dirty Thirty club members (James, Lynn, George) fell through. My grand plan to move to New York for the summer? Also fell through. The end of the year finds me where I swore I wouldn't be at the beginning; back at home, slumming in San Diego. Basically I'm all talk. I didn't move anywhere. No Hawaii, no overseas, no big international trips. I did manage to spend August in New York, make four separate trips to San Francisco, and a side trip to Washington DC. I could rally and go somewhere in January but that might cost me a month or two of rent when I move. Rent, trip, or new laptop? No brainer: laptop. Real brainer: rent. Not coming soon to an airport near you: me.

I guess it's okay though because now 2009 can start fresh and alive. "Hope" you know? On the very last day of 2008, the people I've called or talked to tonight to wish Happy New Year and such, the people whom I'm in constant daily contact with, are an entirely different group than a year ago. In fact, it feels a little bit like my close friend circle has changed. The old stalwarts, the people who've long dominated my late night, daily, and random but strangely consistent phone calls have all changed in the span of twelve months. This might not seem like much to you but for me, the bedrock of my general happiness and mini-socialness lies in these phone calls/texts/emails. So to have the whole bunch switch over has been really interesting.

It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I realized this had happened, when I'd fully replaced my habitual almost daily phone call person with someone new, that I saw the changes for what they were. The people I interact with, talk to, or know what's going on the most, are mostly people I didn't even know (or barely knew) last year. I'm not sure what that means exactly except that people move on, habits change, and my list of frequently dialed numbers has been altered for better or for worse.

On a sidenote, I'm currently working on a personalized friendship roles thingy based on this NBA Archetypes Hierarchy. More on that when it's done. I'm excited about it because I'm a retard and I get psyched about this stuff.

Part of what has made this year seem so topsy turvy is that matters of the heart have taken me far afield and into places I'd never expected. Technically speaking, I've been single for about a year and a half. As I navigate a continued friendship with my ex, I'd resolved to stay single for as long as possible to avoid hurting others (and myself I guess). Well that didn't exactly work out.

In the middle of the year, two really close friends and I got into this big old messy situation where we basically played two boys, one girl. As you can imagine, it was an awkward and emotionally wrenching couple of weeks. Not only was I facing the prospect of feeling alienated from my absolute best friend, it was also tied into complications and a new definition of friendship with my other friend. We sought solutions other than the obvious one of backing off, or having her choose, but in the end, I kind of just decided that I couldn't do it. Three way, open way, no way. I stepped out of the situation and to be honest, the awkwardness and emptiness of it all hasn't evaporated yet. C'est la vie.

I was either not brave enough or not crazy enough. Take your pick.

What I've learned (not necessarily from this situation), or hope to learn, is that it's not necessary that every time there is mutual attraction, there has to be a jump to hyper speed and a relationship. That's not an easy lesson to let sink in after years of indoctrination in the "date for marriage" school of thought. If anything, I'm incredibly fearful that I only know how to react to romance seriously, instead of lightly or from a "let's see what happens" approach. It'll be a nice lesson to explore and learn because I freaking suck at serious romance.

I tried to stay attachment free heading into 2009 (and flippantly I always said 2010) but in the end, I kind of failed. But happily. I'm sort of, kind of, definitely dating someone now and while that's an entirely scary thought with my horrendous track record, it is exciting and hopefully results in only the best. I think I learned quite a bit from my last attempt at a relationship and those lessons will ideally carry over into the new year, and into this new thing. "Keeping it real," as a friend of mine always wisely says. Wish me luck.

I guess that about covers it. 2008 in a nutshell. I'll end this with five great times, in chronological order.

(1) Going to the Super Bowl in Arizona with James, as an indentured servant for Okapix.
(2) The Celtics win their 17th championship. I misplace a $1500 winning ticket. Whoops.
(3) PZ and Amy's Wedding and the New York trip in general. Seeing Amit every day for like a month.
(4) Re-meeting my cousins, Cleo and Tiana, after seven years. They're totally grown up now and super fun and amazing.
(5) All the San Francisco trips, complete with oyster shucking, mash up parties, Little Mermaid sing-a-longs, 30th birthday celebrations, and Stevie Wonder-full.

Melancholy & the Infinite Sadness

I had a poetry class with Charlie (Black Eye Sunrise) years ago, at UCSD. I'd never written any poetry before, not really, and it's absolutely criminal that we were in the same class. I think his pieces are incredible and I could read them all day, which I basically do.

No More Poems to the Dead
Listen,
Be still for a moment.
In the year that I lost you
I drank more than I ate,
Roads stank of curbs
Which reeked of red
And peered over
Looming space.
I said:
Hear now, in the hour of my undoing,
I reject you, oh my dead friend,
Your fearful symmetry cannot fold me
Into the syllogism of paper cranes.
We are done,
Finally.
There is nothing left of us
Not even a memory,
Not even love,
And this evening is just
Another crest
Against the chest
While my heart still beats
To be broken.

Tweet Tweet

Just in time for California's enactment of the ban on text messaging while driving, I changed my texting plan to unlimited. This was inspired by George stating that she was really close to her 1500 texts limit. I casually checked how many I'd used and was shocked to see that I was already 150+ over for the month -- at three cents per -- with another whole week to go. 1500 sounds like a shit load of texts (average twenty five a day) but when you have Twitter, and Loopt, dumping into your text message cue, that can add up quick.

Two years ago, I was texting with a closet friend a ton. Like at least ten times a day, which I thought was a lot of texting. (Recently I've been cranking out 50+ texts a day to just one person, I'm breaking new personal records). That volume of texting would get me in major trouble from my then girlfriend because she couldn't understand what there was to talk about every day -- and I couldn't properly or patiently explain that it was all trivial details but part of a larger important over-arching conversation. I just told her to please make it not bother her, which didn't work in the slightest. I kept texting though since I'm an ass and don't like to concede things.

One thing I love about eating dinner with guys (or techie and phone addicted girls) is that nobody gives a shit if you're not looking at them directly. With my Sidekick keyboard I could hold a conversation and text at the same time. Sure it was a bit rude but seriously, I was capable of paying full attention to both. I can multi-task... sort of. Fiddling around on the phone while eating dinner with a girl, or the girlfriend, will get you stared down and hated on. Truth. Anyway, I'm ready to be an unlimited texting machine. Bring it on.

Our week/end spent as the Fantastic Foursome (George, Dann, Steve, and I) was great because we always had iPhone or G1 in hand. That's not terribly different than when we hang out with the San Diego boys, but this was like a new tech grouping and not only were people constantly on their phones -- George was probably a bit too much actually, she is seriously super addicted -- but it got a bit crazy with us Twittering mundane things upstairs and downstairs to each other, or through bathroom walls. Other people following our Twitters must have been like "What the hell is going on here? Why are they talking about if they're awake or not?!?" Basically, since our Twitter circle is so small at the moment, it's just serving as a platform for mass public texting. But seriously, it's pretty addictive and you can't really understand the impact of how it brings you together into the day to day aspects of your friends' lives until you actually try it and make an effort to get involved. Twitter combats loneliness man, it makes you feel like part of a team.

Everyone get on Twitter right now, find an appropriate Twitter app for your smartphone (I like Twitterfon best for the iPhone), and then friend me -- or go create your own Twitter community and see how fun/useful it is.

Day 114

Listening to: Usher's Caught Up. I wonder how long it would take me to learn how to head bob like they do in the video. And if I would ever want to do it in public.

It's the night before Christmas and all through the house, everyone is sleeping, and well, I'm up I guess. Dann is crashed out on my bed and he just rolled over to announce something like, "DSL6. Do you use it to get special privileges? Because I wouldn't." I didn't grab my camera in time but I'm poised and hoping that he says something cryptic again. Perhaps he's revealing G**gle secrets. I should mic that boy up. He showed up at the airport packing a brand new G1 Android Phone. He's been leaving a trail of bread crumbs about his awesome new toy but we, his Twitterati, couldn't figure it out in time. So now I might be a little bit jealous. I mean, the phone seems pretty awesome. I'm almost afraid to play with it in case I like it.

He's gone silent. Must keep camera on high alert anyway.

Since spending the month in SF with George, I've gotten into the habit of checking up on her in the middle of the night. She tends to read before sleeping and falls asleep with her glasses on and the lights bright. I sneak in there, take off her glasses, turn off the lights, and if I were really nice, would probably think about sliding a bookmark in for her. But I'm not that nice. Strangely, she's still up right now (3:57am), working through the last pages of "The Time Traveler's Wife." Must be a good book. I'm going to go check on her again.

She's out. But as soon as I turned off the light she woke up and startled me. "What're you doing?! Where's Dann?" I assured her nothing exciting was going on and walked away. "Don't close the door!" Fine, fine, sheesh.

Tomorrow the holiday festivities start. My mom has two huge Chinese dinners scheduled for Wednesday and Thursday. She's stressed about hosting, I'm stressed about entertaining the kids (anyone 30-under), and George is just stressed to have people everywhere -- plus she's kind of had a big day. I'm looking forward to it all though. There's a sense of mystery about how the dinners will go and once the weekend hits, the SD folk will gather post-holiday obligations and Steve from LA will be driving down for major debauchery.

More like video games, bowling, karaoke, food, and movies, but we'll just call it debauchery okay? Dann's never been to San Diego before so it's paramount that we show him a good time. I can't decide if him passed out face down on my bed counts as a good or bad start.

I've been alternately on the phone and emailing. I've got my late night people and everyone's up. Plus a few randoms. A friend texted me because she went to the bathroom and now I'm keeping her up with a flurry of replies. We'll see each other tomorrow so the conversation could really wait. But that's the fun isn't it? Amit commented on my Facebook status change at seven in the morning his time. I wonder what he's doing up so early. I hope he was out late and causing social ruckus or something. Generally speaking this week, I know it's time for bed when Mary (who's in Darfur) logs onto Gchat. But I just remembered she went off on some treacherous expedition or something. A vacation she called it.

Time to call it a night then. Happy pre-Christmas.

"The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter."

Day 112

I've had a few conversations recently with some guy friends about our lack of older male role models. (Very) generally speaking, most of the guys I know love and respect their fathers but don't necessarily look up to them. I chalk this up to the big generational gap between Chinese kids and their parents. From an early age, you sort of gain this awareness that while your father is definitely an authoritative figure and brings bread to the table, he is also lacking in certain areas. For example, the classic Asian father is uncommunicative, never shows their emotions, and is generally just around. There's a huge world of difference between the traditional father-son relationship in say, Caucasian families, and many ethnic families. I don't know how to put it into words exactly but I think you know what I mean.

So we grow up a generation of fatherless sons. We don't want to be like our fathers, because we see them as either (a) out of touch or (b) leading a life that we'd never want to, and we generally don't have other male role models. Some people might find an uncle or a church leader or a professor or something to look up to and emulate, but generally speaking, we're alone and unguided, probably mostly due to our dismissive attitudes of our fathers, but also because they might just be lacking in that sense.

When I get asked now what I miss about my dad, I think the answer nowadays is that I feel like he was on the precipice of passing on his wisdom and adult knowledge. At twenty two, I was starting to get old enough to not be a kid anymore and I think he had been waiting to take me into his world and to start treating me as a (young) man. That or he was just getting worried about my I was floundering and had to reach out. Either way, the things that I wonder now are what he might have wanted to pass down to me.

My father wasn't unemotional or uncommunicative but he definitely picked and chose his spots. I remember specific moments when he'd pull me aside to say "I'm proud of you, I like how you handled that, etc." but overall we were hardly in conversations that evaluated my life decisions or in spaces where he pushed advice on me. I think he was waiting for me to figure out what I was looking for (because maybe that's what he'd done) and then to step in and guide me when I truly needed him or was old enough to accept guidance.

So that's what I guess I don't know. What he would have counseled me about career, relationships, happiness, mistakes, and life. I mean, I think I can kind of extrapolate if I think really hard about it, or try to gather an idea of him and think about what he might have said, but that would probably mostly be way off the mark. Even worse, I'm more sad at the idea that I won't get to ask him about why he did and what he did.

So I'm not sure if that counts as missing him. I equate missing with the past, sort of. So I think what I'm missing more is the relationship that would have grown out of him being around for my twenties, and it's hard not to think about what would have been different, if anything, if nothing.

We were at a Chinese dinner party this past weekend and over dinner we were listening to one of our old family friends pontificate about life. This uncle has known us since we were teenagers and has three sons of his own (all older than us). I asked him lots of questions about if he was ever worried about them, what he had worried about, and what sorts of advice he gave to them, or if they had ever come to him for advice. That led him to talk about these sorts of things for over an hour and a half with us, a rapt audience of four, aged thirty to sixteen.

I've had this sort of "lecture" before but in recent years, I drink this shit up. I don't necessarily agree with the message or hear anything particularly different from the various uncles, but I'll sit there and listen all day. I crave that nugget of wisdom that might pierce through the storytelling and the jokes. I'm digging around for anything that fathers might tell sons, perhaps in some hope that I'll grab some insight that way.

While I can't say I'll necessarily take the advice and implement it, any more than I would have earlier, I'm all ears and so much more open to this idea of seeking older male role models, if only to fill this void that I'm sure I have and I'm beginning to suspect that filling this hole might be useful and important in further growth as an adult.

Luckily, it's the holidays and we're slated for Chinese dinner after Chinese dinner. I've got to remember to pack a notebook.

Know Thyself

Listening to: Paul Tiernan, "How to Say Good Bye."

I spent most of the afternoon organizing my Google Reader, trying to figure out what I'd like to read every day versus crap that just crosses my desk. I considered cleaning up my del.icio.us too but that seemed pointless because I rarely reference it. Basically I'm trying to streamline my Internet time heading into 2009. Hours and hours spent online would better be used writing, or at least, reading. I've found that being back home, sitting in my preferred chair, enables me to not budge for five or six hours at a time. While my little desk at George's house was nice, it wasn't quite as comfortable as my setup here. It's been two days and I'm already back to my standard San Diego routine. Up at two, sleep at dawn, accomplish nothing. Yup, I'm definitely home.

So Leslie sent me an interesting article today about how watching rom-coms (romantic comedies) can spoil your love life. Fascinating that they do studies on this sort of thing. I should have gone into social anthropology or something, I could design these types of experiments all day.

It's hard to argue that these movies don't create unrealistic expectations for your real life but the article doesn't go into enoough depth anywhere to back it up with solid evidence. I mean, one of the parts of the study they mentioned was having students watch Serendipity versus a David Lynch movie. Of course the students watching John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale were more likely to believe in fate. Shit, it's fucking John Cusack/Lloyd Dobler! Plus the only thing people usually feel after watching a Lynch film is confused, and not just about love.

A quote from one of the researchers: "Films do capture the excitement of new relationships but they also wrongly suggest that trust and committed love exist from the moment people meet, whereas these are qualities that normally take years to develop." What I take from this is that movies can give us this idea that amazing relationships can spring forth from a singular, instantaneous, moment of chemistry. If that's what they're arguing, that movies have fucked with our perceptions of the beginning and end of relationships (from magical circumstance to happily ever after), I wholeheartedly agree.

I'm a victim.

I mean, I've long treasured my Before Sunrise moments and have almost consciously made that part of my relationship (and friendship) pattern. But maybe there is something to the idea that trust and commitment can't be built off one weekend's sparkle. I don't know though. I'd like to equate love to religion and if you want to trust and commit to someone, you just do it, damn the torpedoes. Faith as it's called. And it's so much more romantic that way, to fling yourself into the great beyond don't you think?

"I guess when you're young, you just believe there'll be many people with whom you'll connect with. Later in life, you realize it only happens a few times."
-Before Sunset-

Anyway, at the bottom of the article is a link to this new study these researchers are doing. It's called "The Media, Personality, and Well-Being Study." I guess they're looking for some link between your media consumption and your love life. Well, of course I'm gonna do that. Fifteen minutes later, I was still in the middle of the longest relationship questionnaire I've ever done. So many damn questions and all of them of the "strongly dis/agree" variety. And each one probably worthy of a good conversation.

So if you want to find out how you feel about romantic partners, try this thing out. It's like a relationship DDT with yourself. You don't have to sign up for the rest of the study either, or submit any information, despite the info page up front. Just take it so we can talk about it later. Here's some sample questions:

• I often worry that my partner doesn't really love me
• If your partner expresses disagreement with your ideas, s/he probably does not think highly of you
• I do not expect my partner to sense all my moods
• Sometimes romantic partners change their feelings about me for no apparent reason
• My desire to be very close sometimes scares people away
• I feel comfortable sharing my private thoughts and feelings with my partner
• Damages done early in a relationship probably cannot be reversed
• Misunderstandings between partners generally are due to inborn differences in psychological makeups of men and women
• One of the major causes of marital problems is that men and women have different emotional needs
• People who have a close relationship can sense each other's needs as if they could read each other's minds

Day 106

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, day. On my first full day back, I mustered up some motivation and headed out into the rain, driving an hour all the way down to Chula Vista. Amanda's holed up there because it's easier for her to recover from her recent back surgery in relative peace and quiet at her grandmother's. I hadn't talked to her at all over the busy weekend and the rhythm of knowing what was going on had momentarily slipped away.

We drove around doing her errands for a bit, which mainly consisted of trying to find hair styling supplies. The beauty supply store was so serious. A giant double sided row of brushes, insane amounts of hair dye all stripped of their packaging and offered up in "Don't buy this unless you know how to use it already" bottles. I could go on but overall I was just staggered by the sheer number of options. Girls do not have it easy do they? What the hell isn't ionized or tourmalined or whatever? It doesn't help when the saleslady clearly didn't know as much as Amanda. I guess the experience is like taking a (typical) guy into Fry's or Home Depot. Everything looks similar and offers the same options but there's a world of difference if you know what you're looking at. On a sidenote, is there a comprehensive site that offers reviews of womens' products similar to how electronics and gadgets are reviewed? Is this already done or is this possibly a business idea?

And let me just tell you that looking into a 10x mirror is frightening. Who'd ever want to subject themselves to that daily? Ew.

During dinner, twin spaghetti's at Macaroni Grill, we read each other's tarot cards. We both have the exact same Albano-Waite decks, hers are older and more well worn than mine -- even if I insist that I've been taroting longer. Her cards are wrapped lovingly in a scarf from Japan. Mine sit in my trunk along with all my other gaming supplies. Other items in this cardboard box include electronic Catchphrase, a bag of Squabble tiles, a chess clock, two decks of cards, and a lipstick holder containing various dice. I won't even go into what those dice are used for. You either know or you don't.

I was recently at a museum where they had some old tarot cards exhibited and I finally learned about the artist behind the iconic Rider-Waite designs. Pamela Colman Smith was her name. Good trivia fact.

Spreading the Amanda shuffled cards out on the table, I took careful notes of which cards were displayed and then used a tarot book to jot down notes on the individual meanings. I know and like tarot but I've never been able to commit the symbolisms and significances to memory. My divination process involves lots of time and scribbling short hand on paper. It's not very mystical but I assure you it's very accurate.

There's a moment in every fortune telling when you see the story you can spin. I love that moment. Sure it's usually pretty generic, sure it's mostly contrived, but there is actually a sense and a meaning there. What I suck at is arriving at this sense and meaning without showing all the cogs and pulleys behind the process. My inner wizard doesn't even bother with the facade or hide behind smoke and mirrors. I tell it like it is and just stitch a few interpretations together. Amanda was much better at reading, not to mention quicker. She laid the cards out in the cross formation and began revealing my future immediately. No twenty minute period of page flipping or note taking. She had to refer to the book once in awhile but the story she told was compelling, semi-detailed, and would have me convinced. My story telling was a lot less specific and magical even if it was undoubtedly true. Her style was certainly better but I'm still positive my third eye is stronger than hers.

I asked about my writing career and the upcoming release of the book. She asked about her love life. We both have good things coming around the corner apparently, mine in mysterious form and hers through a letter or email. Can't wait to prove that I'm right.

Say It Ain't So

Do you believe the saying, "Once a cheater always a cheater?" What if it's just one mistake? Does it matter how many times a person has cheated? Is it like killing someone. Do it once and it might be an accident. Do it twenty times and you're probably capable of continued killing? After all, the thinking is, "If someone's done it before, what prevents them from doing it again?"

It's about strength isn't it? If you're not strong enough to resist once, what kind of assurance can your partner have that you'll find the strength to resist next time? If there's one thing that's as certain as death and taxes, it's that the opportunity to cheat will always be there. Temptation is never far.

Askmen.com has helpfully compiled a top ten list of reasons to tell her you've cheated. It's not a bad list and covers the bases.

1. (1) So she hears it from you
2. (2) Because it's the right thing to do
3. (3) Because you want to make it work
4. (4) Because you care about her
5. (5) Because you don't want to make a second mistake
6. (6) Because it was a mistake
7. (7) So you can live without paranoia
8. (8) To regain the respect of your peers
9. (9) Because the guilt will drive you mad
10. (10) Because you can't count on your partner in crime

I've cheated before and my nature is to hide it and cover my ass. I mean, one of the bigger reasons that people feel compelled to tell their significant other is guilt (I think this should be higher up on the list). I don't have it. I don't often feel guilty about things and in this particular case, while I knew cheating would be horrible, I did it with a clear mind. And even if I wasn't clear of mind, I would never blame anything else or try to pawn off responsibility. That's just despicable.

Originally, I didn't break up with my girlfriend by announcing that I'd cheated on her. My reason for breaking up was that we weren't working out and that I was over the relationship. All true and for the most part, both of us could live with that answer. But later on that day, I told her about the cheating. My reasons? Basically I didn't want to have to hide it, from her, from other people, or to force the "partner in crime" to have to hide it either. That's not fair to anybody. I don't have a particular attachment to truth but in this case, it was necessary.

It crushed her, of course, this admission, and she was disconsolate and annihilated. She wouldn't even believe me at first, until I laid down when, where, and maybe why. We'd been together for roughly two years and we'd only ever been apart for a few week/ends. She thought it was maybe another girl, another weekend. She couldn't believe I'd actually done it. She blamed herself, and then blamed the other girl (still does). And she hated me. But this post isn't really about that.

For my part, in the aftermath of all this, I got a tattoo on my finger, and one of the reasons I chose that particular symbol was because it's a reminder of what I've done. I don't always explain that portion of it, of course. Usually I go with the others reasons I got such visible tattoo. But I know what it also means. Actually, I don't hide the cheating reason much. I have no reason to. I'm not ashamed that I've cheated. It's probably incredibly common -- not that it makes it right. I'm not proud of it obviously, but I also don't want to forget it. And more importantly, I don't want to be tempted to tell other people I get involved with that I've never cheated.

So that's what that tattoo is for.

Dilate

"this other friend, i painted glow in the dark shapes on her black, steel toed, doc marten boots. a half moon on one boot. three stars on the other. four years later, the moon and the stars were still there. we hugged whenever we saw each other on campus and passed along our phone numbers as a yearly ritual. but we never once got together to talk. and now, our friendship has waned and i don't know what she does. or where she is. or what we used to talk about. or anything. but she gave me ani."
-April 2002-

Walking down the street the other day, just one block away from George's apartment, I ran into an old friend from college. Even though we were quite a distance apart, she recognized me while I kept staring at her in shocked, slowly dawning, recognition. As we approached, I heard her say to her companion, "We went to college together." Immediately, I grasped for memories about her and feared that I would say something totally weird. Mainly I was just so excited to see her, it's been nearly ten years, and she was one of those friends from college that I thought I'd lost forever. In the age of social networking sites, I guess it's not that uncommon to find long lost friends anymore but to actually see them just randomly standing on a street, it's overwhelming.

We didn't have much time to talk, aside from a few flubbered "Why are you here? How long? What are you up to?" before she and her husband had to catch the bus. For the next few minutes I was still totally out of it, as the memories dredged up washed over me and I reminisced about how important she was to my early freshman year experience. It's a feeling impossible (for me) to describe and I couldn't help wondering if we'd get to actually meet up and talk at some point.

There was a moment in there where I was so afraid that she had forgotten me, or forgotten my name, or something like that, and if she had stumbled introducing me, I might have been crushed. Instead, later in the day, she Facebooked me and now we're reconnected forever. I'm hoping to meet up with her when I get back and catch up then.

It's incredible when you think about the odds of such a thing happening. One friend, one corner, one bus to catch. If I wasn't headed to KFC at that very moment, I would have missed it all. The odds are incomprehensible but things like this happen so often (relatively) that everyone has stories like this. That's why sometimes I'm out and about and I swear I'm going to see someone I know, or I hope to see someone I'm missing.

In this case, I was thinking in my head, "Wow, I wonder if we'll see anyone we know right now." For kind of different reasons, true, but it's still somewhat magical and fate-like.

Also, I discovered that this long lost friend has the most awesome tattoo. Look at it, isn't it beautiful and original?

Adventures in...

Over dinner with a friend I haven't seen in over a year, a period in which he had picked up and moved to Shanghai, leaving behind his apartment and long term girlfriend (they're doing the long distance thing), it occurred to me that he had done exactly what a large part of me wants/needs. He left a comfortable environment and challenged himself by going to a place where he knew no one and had no safety net. He did move overseas for a job but even then, it took some time to acclimate himself, to force the issue of being social among strangers, and in the process, he grew and spread his wings. Even from something as little as learning to eat by himself, he found strength and courage he never knew he had -- or lacked.

After I revealed how his experience made me jealous and slightly in awe, he encouraged me to move out of the country too, to pack my bags and go somewhere with no friend or life foundation in place. But I'm afraid of it. Despite having no attachments or monetary worries at the moment, I'm afraid of leaving. I don't do well by myself, and given the choice, I'm more likely to hole up in an apartment looking for Internet than wander out to explore a city.

But it's exactly because I'm afraid that I need to do something like this. As they years skip by, I'm running out of opportunities to expand my horizons, to challenge myself (socially and in life), and to take a leap of faith. Even if getting terribly lost, kicking up dirt, and not having a nearby support system could prove to be catastrophic, it's all low risk and high reward. It's called self reliance and I don't have it, and the last time I arguably had to challenge myself in this way, I utterly failed.

This friend is also embarking on an interesting business idea that combines extreme teamwork, meticulous preparation, far reaching goals, some venturing into the unknown, and preys on the "no cost is too high" attitude of parents concerning their overachieving kids and their chance for getting into the best colleges. Of the many random business ideas I've heard, this is the most personally engaging one, and one of the few that doesn't involve the Internet. I hope it works out for them.

Day 92

My big event of the day was driving my mom and Jimmy's mom to the airport. It seems like a simple enough task and one that shouldn't be a big deal. Well, it wasn't, not in principle, but it kind of was. I mean, I hate driving in the city. I fear hitting things. While SFO is hardly very far away, I thought I would just to dropping my mom off where Jimmy's mom was. As I navigated our way from the Marina to Chinatown, I got a tad lost and increasingly annoyed. My mom hinted that maybe it would be nice if I could just take them instead of having them bus/BART it.

What sort of self respecting child doesn't take their parents to the airport when there's no transportation or time conflict?

Originally, my mom said that she'd just say I was busy and couldn't take them to the airport. I think it embarasses her (to her friends) when she has to admit that we don't do certain things for her. So I think she prefers to make up excuses for me. Like even though I've lived at home for the past year, I'm always so gruff and curt with her when she asks for "favors." I mean, these aren't even favors. Driving her around someplace, doing something that could take a few hours, might be a bit of an inconvenience, but at the end of the day, isn't that big.

I hardly offer to go out of my way to do things and when directly asked, I sort of get all annoyed. It must hurt her, somewhere. I wonder if she wonders how she raised such ungrateful kids. And it's not about the closeness or the relationship even. It's about empathy, care, and unselfishness. Most of our other friends seem to do things for their parents, on differing levels of course, but I'm sure I'm pretty low on that spectrum.

A thankful son would say something like "Let me carry your bags while we walk to return them." Bags containing stuff she had bought for me that I didn't like and rejected nonetheless. Instead I holed up in the car because I was essentially surly and not being helpful.