The Next Episode

Okay, get over to jonyang.org to find out about "Exclusively Chloe," my next book, coming May 2009. Because this place is dead anyway.

Before Sunrise

Listening to: Madeleine Peyroux, Don't Wait Too Long.

I'm taking hyperwest down, yes, again. The last time I did this it lasted like minus a week as I kept blogging anyway. But I've discovered that maintaining two public blogs is almost pointless. I was trying to keep all my non-personal stuff on jonyang.org and my life stuff here but really, what's the difference? For the most part, I just kind of felt this push to have to blog on both every few days. So instead of an urge to blog on just one blog every forty eight hours, I'd think about doing a post for each. Then I'd freeze and not blog on either. Then again I've had 375 posts on both since Jan 2007 and that comes out to about 0.60 a day. Maybe I need to cut down on the blogging to do some real writing...

Anyway, I've been toying for a bit with the idea of being able to blog about anything I want again, and going semi-private seems safer. I don't really value my privacy that much per se, but I would value other people's. Plus, even though this forum is entirely mine, I feel like I've lost my voice somewhere in here and I'd like to experiment and find other voices. It can only help.

This domain will stay up of course because everything I have is up here but I'm pretty much just going to switch everything that woulda been on here to jonyang.org and anything that's not really for total public consumption, or will bore the hell out of everyone, will go elsewhere. And I'd love to come back to hyperwest once I can figure out how to password protect, easily change designs, and have fun widgets at my disposal.

For the new blog I almost ditched Blogger for Wordpress but decided against it in the end. I'm a Blogger loyalist and it would be too big for me to change over. I really hate some of Blogger's design issues -- or my ineptitude -- and the fact that you can't password protect select posts but whatever, I'll make do. I can totally make commitments, see?

There won't necessarily be that much exciting stuff on the other guy but if you'd like to tag along, just email me (with your preferred email of choice) and I'll send you an invite. Unless you are my archenemy then maybe I wouldn't want you to read about my plans to destroy you. Which isn't nice but it's either me or you and I'd probably prefer it to be you.

"There's no point to any of this. It's all just a... a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes.

So I take pleasure in the details. You know... a quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter becomes a cackle... and I sit back and I smoke my Camel Straights and I ride my own melt."
-Reality Bites-

Me and You and Everyone We Know

"You always feel like you are the only one in the world, like everyone else is crazy for each other, but it's not true. Generally, people don't like each other very much. And that goes for friends, too. Sometimes I lie in bed trying to decide which of my friends I truly care about, and I always come to the same conclusion: none of them. I thought these were just my starter friends and the real ones would come along later. But no. These are my real friends."
-Miranda July, No One Belongs Here More Than You-

More Than Meets the Eye

A few months ago, while we were all at a bar in DC, the topic came up of "Who is your nemesis?" In fact, it kind of became the question of the week as we tried to figure who each other's nemeses were and such. It was a pretty exciting question. The problem was, people were kind of confusing nemeses with archenemies. My definition for nemesis was basically that while you may not necessarily like them, they are certainly in your life in this way that's unavoidable, and thus you kind of tolerate each other. Also, it's very likely you share a similar social niche -- or have fought over a girl (guy). You don't hate them though, because then that would be crossing the line from nemesis to archenemy.

Well, leave it up to Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs author Chuck Klosterman to have already covered this exact topic four years ago. Shit. I can't even talk about this topic anymore because Chuck already broke it down so well. So read on and then think about who your nemesis might be. And should you find that you've also got an archenemy, it goes without saying that I will help you defeat him/her/it. After all, knowing is only half the battle. The other half is us teaming up and kicking ass.

"What you need is a) one quality nemesis, and b) one archenemy. These are the two most important characters in the life of any successful human. We measure ourselves against our nemeses, and we long to destroy our archenemies. Nemeses and archenemies are the catalysts for everything.

Now, I know that you're probably asking yourself, How do I know the difference between my nemesis and my archenemy? Here is the short answer: You kind of like your nemesis, despite the fact that you despise him. If your nemesis invited you out for cocktails, you would accept the offer. If he died, you would attend his funeral and -- privately -- you might shed a tear over his passing.

But you would never have drinks with your archenemy, unless you were attempting to spike his gin with hemlock. If you were to perish, your archenemy would dance on your grave, and then he'd burn down your house and molest your children. You hate your archenemy so much that you try to keep your hatred secret, because you don't want your archenemy to have the satisfaction of being hated."
-The Importance of Being Hated-

Silly913

Listening to: Brett Dennen. Dude sounds like a lady. And looks like this. Kind of good music.

It's over. All 2008 wedding festivities are attended and done with. In the aftermath, I stand strong like a sycamore despite my worries a few months ago that this might be a difficult time. Again I state that my speed dial came under heavy assault this year from Cupid and his machinations. But I've learned that it's not so bad. Really.

This weekend, I went to Susan's wedding and it really came into focus that this was it, she was married. I mean, she was technically married a few months ago but this was their celebration/declaration to the public. Her reception in Hollywood was quite different than most weddings. For one, there was no banquet hall or whatever. Susan and Tony simply rented an art gallery for the evening, had photos and exhibits of their life together on the walls, and invited their friends and family for cocktails and h'our dourves. It was casual, unique, and quite a nice change of pace. All the traditional things were cut out and this was exactly what Susan wanted because it allowed the couple to spend time with their guests in an unhurried manner.

In terms of number of years, I actually haven't known Susan that long, relatively speaking -- only since the very tail end of 2001. I mean, we didn't attend college together, certainly never shared an office, and never lived in the same city. Much of our friendship was maintained over emails, AIMs, and phone calls. There was a time when Victor and I would consistently be in LA to hang out with Susan and her friends on the weekends, usually for clubbing reasons (or they might come down for sun and relaxation), but that tailed off eventually.

So it's like kind of a big success for our friendship to have come so far. I mean, it's been a long distance friendship more or less, and the way I am, that's usually difficult for me to maintain day to day closeness. In the beginning, the thing that drew us together was our shared experience of having lost a parent -- mine very recently, hers a few years in the past. It kind of jump started our friendship on this serious and trusting plane that just kept accelerating. Soon, she became my Go To Girl (a useful acronym even if it looks stupid in print) for all sorts of trivial and serious matters.

One of the things I really like about Susan is her willingness to say what's on her mind. There's millions of times she's called me out on my shit and since I'm usually full of it, that's a very useful thing to have in a friend -- especially one that I feel like "gets" me so I don't just reactively dismiss everything she says. She's supportive but in a devil's advocate way, which is extremely valuable

Susan and I have talked about relationships and potential mates for so long that it's funny in a poetic way that she's ended up with Tony, whom we had all met on one of our first clubbing expeditions in LA. All these years of searching and there he was. It's pretty romantic right?

We used to "celebrate" Valentine's Day together during the times we were single and I'm delighted that she's now got a Valentine's date for life. So yeah, my February 14ths are free.

Point and Shoot

I recently purchased a new camera to replace my beloved Sony DSC-U20. I think I suckered George into getting it for me in 2001. Seven years later, it's clearly outdated. It doesn't have zoom, the viewing screen on the back is maybe a half inch square, the most advanced technology went into making it blue, it's a mere two megapixels, the list goes on. All these faults aside, it does have one great asset: its tiny size. The camera is about half the length of a candy bar and perfect for on-the-go. Of course, whenever I would take it out to capture an essential moment, people would invariable say, "Wow, it's so small!" There's not much to say after that except, "Okay, let's take that picture..."

After seeing seniors, women, and the occasional child outclass me in the camera technology department, I decided I should really get a new camera. My geek cred was at stake. Meet my new best friend, the Canon SD1100IS. Near infinite zoom, video capturing abilities, eight megapixels of madness, facial recognition, and a (relatively) more manly size. I'd go on about how pretty it is but I don't want to gush. But seriously, it's so pretty and silky smooth. It reminds me of drinking a chocolate Silk soymilk. Ummm.

I feel like Clark Kent post transformation. It's amazing. Needless to say, I operate the camera with the wrist strap tightened at all times for safety. My only regret is that I didn't upgrade before I went off on weeks of traveling. I guess it was just one last ride into the sunset for the Sony.

The photo with this entry is the first picture I took with the tiny camera. Note that George is already regretting buying me anything -- or just being really grabby. A coerced gift is still a gift, George. Here is the rest of the pictures I first took with this camera, from a trip to Taiwan that made me and Victor swear off visiting our homeland for the foreseeable future.

And while we're here, the pictorial history of George's hair, with some updates!

All my bags are packed...

Here's kind of an underrated but telling indication of how close you are to someone. How far are you willing to go for airport duty? Or how far (or often) are they willing to do it for you? On the surface, airport duty is more about convenience than friendship. Some friends are just available for that kind of stuff. But then you get the experience one of my friends had awhile back and you really have to evaluate your getaway plans -- to/from the airport and to/from your friendship.

This one particular friend asked his roommate -- who's really more of an acquaintance -- to take him to the airport and she basically charged him a tank of gas. A taxi or shuttle might have been cheaper. I'm fine with the charging if it replaces money you would have spent anyway but seriously, what's the deal with charging gas money?

For me, the ultimate sign of how much I'm willing to go out of my way for someone is when they say "I'm flying into LAX, can you pick me up?" Some people don't realize that LAX is a good two hours away from San Diego. I understand that though, I mean, I totally have no sense of geography and suck at knowing what's convenient or not. But there's a very small list of people I'd go pick up in LA, and then immediately turn around to bring them back down south no questions asked. A very small few. Like maybe two. Unless you're dying or just that desperate to see me, I'll just catch you post-airport.

I'm not cold hearted or anything. I just think there are probably better options than someone who lives a hundred miles away. I've got this other friend, a friend whom I consider decently close, who likes to call for an airport pickup when he's like just landed. That's a tough one to pull off. I'll do it when I can but seriously, some forewarning, some foreshadowing, some fore-anything would be nice.

I'm positive people innately understand that "Hey, can you pick me up?" is a seriously loaded question. The mental math that goes into a pickup can occupy a good ten or fifteen minutes, minimum. It's nice to be considerate too. For example, when your friends live in San Francisco, it's much better if you fly into SFO versus Oakland. Flying to New York? Even a good friend should hesitate to drive out to Newark to scoop you up. Traffic, time spent before/during/after, and the cost of pickup just starts to get astronomically high. God forbid a long delay...

Then again, I'm totally not above bitching and complaining when I don't get a proper pick up. I'll let a few of those stories pass since I know I was probably being unreasonable, plus I have some negative karma to pay back. Once we left a few friends chilling at the airport while we sat down to Cheesecake Factory. Two hours later we're like, "We're coming!" I still feel kinda shitty about that one.

My life might have hit a travel low when James and I returned from some trip or other and had to cab it back up to Del Mar. I mean, we're from San Diego, our friends and family are here, we don't have anyone capable of giving us a ride? It's depressing taking a cab back home in your hometown. I had to reevaluate a few things right then and there. First on that list was, "Why are we the only two people who don't have anything to do on a Monday afternoon? Are our lives going the wrong direction?" Followed quickly by, "We should probably never travel together again to ensure we always have an airport buddy. Either you go or I go. We can't both go. We just can't."

As an add-on to all this, do people even park and arrive early for airport duty anymore? Short of maybe a significant other or a parent, is that even something normal people do? I'm all for getting in and out without parking but I remember many times feeling so special that people had actually gotten out of the car and waited. The roses were a bit over the top but I think I liked blushing.

...c6

It was pointed out to me that I haven't had a weekend to myself in two months. Normally this would be an amazing thing, and it still is, but I'm kind of in need of a free weekend. What would I do on this free weekend? Probably turn desperate mid-Saturday and start to call people to see what they're doing. But I hold out hope that I can hang out by myself for more than forty eight hours. I've grown up that much at least, right?

I've recently decided to dedicate the coming months of my life to a few very specific things: reading, writing, movies, basketball, and chess. These aren't any different than the things I've generally prioritized but I'm doing everything more focused this time. The last one, chess, I've decided will become my new number one hobby. Faced with declining physical skills, an inability to motivate friends to play board games, and a need to get away from video games, I've decided that I will now dedicate my gamesmanship to chess.

I consistently lament the fact that all the things I'm into, few of the people around me are into. Well, the solution to that has always been staring me in the face. Why try to get your friends to (reluctantly) play chess with you when you can just hop online and play with strangers? So that's what I did. I'm such a go-getter these days that I immediately signed up for a Premium membership on www.chess.com and have been steadily getting my ass handed to me nightly. It's super thrilling.

In thinking about some past relationships, I realized that one of the biggest problems I've had as a potential mate is that all my favorite things to do are essentially solitary activities. I mean, look at what I just dedicated the rest of my 2008 to. Nothing requires another person around (except strangers) and most of them are actually better done alone. During my stroll through the Internet, I've discovered that the majority of single women like doing social things. They want a guy who has a sense of adventure. Whether that be going to new places, hanging out at places with people, doing some hiking or running, these are all things that involve being out and about.

I like staying at home and doing nothing. What's dateable about that? But I know the dirty secret of active people. They are only active some of the time. It's nigh impossible to really be exploring a city, hanging out late at night, and then waking up early for a beautiful run on the beach. I call bullshit and say that most people are actually at home watching TV.

I know this is totally not true but I'd like to keep believing it.

It's like blah, blah, blah

There used to be a time when I had at least one long email writing session a day. Meaning one huge long conversation email exchanged back and forth with a friend. That friend always rotated of course, as people came in and out of my life, but it was something I felt a connection to and built up a habit with. I stopped for awhile though, maybe because my main email buddies did their thing, or I did mine, but now I'm sort of back in the habit and I find that I really missed it. I occasionally go through this apparently, this detachment from personal emails.

I think I communicate so much better via email, and writing, I've realized I prefer it oftentimes.

Along those same lines, I used to have certain phone calls I'd make every day. Some to just say hi and check in. Some to shoot the shit. But again, that disappeared somewhere along the way too. And now that I'm trying to become a phone person again, I've discovered that I've lost the knack for it. The phone became a communication tool instead of a conversation device. A quick three minute call to set up something to do, ten seconds to say "I'm here, where are you?" But never any long phone calls anymore. There was a time when 1500 minutes a month was just barely enough (just daytime minutes mind you) and now I'm not even close to using up my 450 a month. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I kind of liked being a phone person, sort of.

I do dislike the "What did you do today?" phone call though. It smacks too much of just retelling often mundane events that usually border on the uninteresting. I'm not one of those people who can really relate in an interesting way what I do on the daily and unless the other person can, I kind of mentally zone out sometimes. I realize, however, that this is possibly an important aspect of maintaining a relationship. Both relationships and Relationships. This is where I think technology could really help me. Someone can just see what I've been up to by following along on Twitter or the moblog and I can do the same. Then if that sparks any fun conversation, perfect! Basically this is my weak PSA for Twittering, Loopting, and moblogging.

One thing that I am psyched about recently is that as I turn my attention to reading and writing, I have some (new) people to share that with. It requires someone who reads, of course, but also someone who wants to write, wants to explore, and more importantly, wants to share and critique. The one thing I've never experienced is having writing buddies, or a writing circle. I've taken one writing class in all my life, a children's story class at UCSD, and I found the experience novel, if not terribly helpful. It's hard to say negative things about someone's story when you barely know them.

You would think it's easier to critique (even constructively) a stranger's work but I found that in a classroom setting, everyone just pulls their punches and keeps this distance from actually engaging in talking about someone's work. Or maybe this was just the case with this particular class. I do recall a poetry class I took and this one guy said that "cacophony" should never be used in a poem. It was my poem of course and I was initially like, "Oh, duly noted." Then I thought about whether or not I actually respected this guy's opinion -- his poems were good -- and decided that I really didn't because I knew nothing about him. Plus, how can you say a word should never be used? It's all subjective isn't it? Then again, in retrospect, he was right. "Cacophony" should never have been used in that poem. For sures.

They Say Vision

The rain is gone, I can see clearly now. I had my eyes checked out today and it turns out that I've been seeing blurry for quite some time now. I have a slight stigmatism in my right eye and my left prescription has been underpowered. Now I know why things turn fuzzy after being up and about for awhile. Usually when I put in my contacts there's an adjustment period before I can see totally clearly but now I realize it's not me, it's the equipment.

My mom loves to tell me to not fall asleep in my contacts because it'll ruin my eyes. "You only have one pair of eyes for your entire life, you have to take care of them." Of course, she says this about everything so I tend to ignore her. Maybe I shouldn't discount the advice of someone who was prudent enough to have two kids for the price of one...

If I had to rank the five senses in order of importance to me, it would go: Sight, Hearing, Taste, Touch, Smell. Re-ordering that in order of what I think works best for me naturally, it would probably be: Touch, Smell, Taste, Hearing, Sight. Basically biologically I'm failing myself. Or maybe I only value the things I suck at. Like six years ago I had an ear cleaning at the doctor's and it pretty much changed my life. Maybe now that I have new contacts I should also clean out my ears, stop smoking to recover my sense of taste, and then I'll be a new me.

I'm hoping to buckle down over the next few weeks and get some writing and reading done. The biggest impediment to this -- aside from distractions -- is the need to eat once or twice a day. In order to combat that, I swung by Costco and purchased warehouse sized portions of essential foods. Sadly, those essential foods turned out to be clam chowder, chips and salsa, iced tea, brownie bites, cans of corn, and ice cream.

Sometimes I wish I could just take a pill with all the essential nutrients and vitamins you'd need for a balanced meal. Then I wouldn't have to go through the process of eating. Between the preparation, the actual eating, and the coma afterwards, it's a good couple of hours out of the day. Imagine if you could just pop a few pills, save that time, and only eat when you want to taste delicious things. Clearly, I don't live to eat, I just eat to live. Do you?

Tick Tock

I'm wondering where the hell the summer went. It's creeping up on October already. I mean, it's not like I haven't had an enjoyable few months but how can it be time for people to return to school already?

I think one of the overlooked reasons for why life after school is this endless mashup of time is because we don't have clearly delineated seasons. There's no summer to hang out, there's no winter break. Everyone is just doing their own life events, going on their own vacations, all of that. Where's the communal solidarity? Crike, I'm even repeating myself. I think I covered this gripe in my timeline post. Geezes.

Anyway, I guess summer is pretty much over and it's time to turn my attention toward serious things like finding out what to do next. In good news, my unemployment has been extended another few months, I sold my stock at a profit, and I'm flush with optimism and cash. Such a dangerous combination don't you think? Far better to be full of cash and pessimistic, because then you'll spend less and save more.

But I've never been a hoarder. My money goes flying out of my pockets all the time. What's the opposite of frugal? Wasteful?

One of the things I admired about my father was that he wasn't your typical penny pinching Chinese person. I mean, I'm sure he knew how to save a few bucks (at least I assume he did) but he also knew the value of money -- or more importantly, what it wasn't worth. I never got to ask him his philosophy on money, the making or keeping of it, but from what I saw, he wasn't afraid to be comfortable and even extravagant. I'm not sure if that comes from a space where he had money and could afford to be "loose" with it or if that was just the way he handled things.

I wonder if he did it because he liked the pleasure of life and didn't want money to get in the way. Or maybe he did it to maintain a social status? Or maybe he did it because he was a generous person? Or maybe it was because he was accustomed to a certain lifestyle? Did he ever worry it would run out?

I guess I could ask my mom these questions, I'd assume she knows. I guess I could ask my mom a lot of things actually. But then she'd ask me things right back. And her questions aren't as fun or innocent.

I spent a few hours this weekend huddled up on my couch reading "Watchmen" in anticipation of the movie. It's not your typical superhero story by any means and it's definitely worth a read. I've heard that it needs to be read a few times in order to understand all of the allusions and symbolism but I think I'll just cheat and go through it with the help of the Annotated Watchmen site. I don't know why I've never read this thing before but it's pretty damn good.

"This Hugo Award-winning graphic novel chronicles the fall from grace of a group of super-heroes plagued by all-too-human failings. Along the way, the concept of the super-hero is dissected as the heroes are stalked by an unknown assassin.

One of the most influential graphic novels of all time and a perennial bestseller, Watchmen has been studied on college campuses across the nation and is considered a gateway title, leading readers to other graphic novels."
-Amazon product description-

What Women Think

Listening to: Adele Adkins, whose album is named "19" in apparent reference to her age. Yet another English import but this one I like. Kind of Winehouse-ish but also got her own twist to it. Currently digging on "Best For Last."

So I'm sitting around at home, trying to decompress after San Francisco, flicking channels and hoping for some mind numbing fun. I get to "What Women Want," a Mel Gibson vehicle that explores (in a romantic comedy way) what life might be like for a chauvinistic man's man after an accident allows him to tap into women's inner thoughts. Think Professor XX. I just had to watch, for research of course.

For the most part, Mel hears one of two things from the women around him: "Man, what an arrogant asshole" or "Wow, he's so hot, I'd totally do him." With his new found insights, he chooses to become a womanizing nice guy who plays the Mr. Sensitive card to great effect. Women melt before him as he says all the things they want to hear. There's a few running sub-plots about a strained relationship with his daughter, an overlooked and possibly suicidal office assistant, and the obligatory "business or pleasure" romance.

At first, I couldn't get over how familiar the actress that played his daughter looked. Then I imdb-ed her and it turned out that Ashley Johnson was Chrissy from Growing Pains. Then I found out there was a Growing Pains reunion movie in 2000 and I immediately thought that Lilly and I should probably clear out a night to watch this thing, unless she's already seen it of course. I wouldn't put it past her actually. She has read Kirk Cameron's book.

Anyway so I'm wondering what would happen if men actually could listen to women's thoughts, and vice versa. Would we finally be able to bridge the gap? Would we fully understand each other if we didn't have to second-guess, interpret and re-interpret, or pay attention to context and body language? Would it be heaven or hell? Then it dawned on me that for the most part, the movie nailed exactly what most men are wondering about women, or rather, woman. "Does she think I'm hot?" and "Does she think I'm an asshole?" All of which boils down to "Does she like me and do I have a chance?!" Boys aren't stupid, they're just shallow. Keep throwing those rocks though.

In this way, the movie was entirely illuminating and it gave me some serious doubts about whether being able to hear a woman's thoughts would actually be a good thing. I mean, as annoying as it might be for males to constantly have to feel lost in the ocean of a woman's subterfuge and emotions, it might very well be a good thing because at least it allows the room for hope right? After all, the mystery has never been about what women think, but rather why they think the way they do. And that was something the movie didn't cover, much to my disappointment. The sequel opportunities here are huge, where are you Mel?

I can't even figure out who I'm insulting more with this conclusion, men or women. Probably both. Next up: Do women really want a man who thinks like a woman? Stay tuned.

"I think of a man, and I take away reason and accountability."
-Melvin Udall-

thirtysomething

So I'm 30 now. Writing-wise, you're supposed to type out small numbers and only use numerals for big numbers, but "thirty" doesn't look as imposing as "30." People have been writing out "The Big 3-0" to me so I should give it its proper due. As I'm writing this, Louis is asleep on the couch next to me, breathing heavily and occasionally snoring while I'm wide awake with the TV on. It could be a scene from 1998. The more things change the more they stay the same I guess.

I was trying to think about the best way to take stock of my twenties but it's been hard. Looking over old entries, browsing through pictures, and just trying to bring back memories from when I was still considered a newish young adult, I couldn't come up with anything. And I guess that's the theme of my twenties. I'm still nearly the exact same person. My interests are similar to ten years ago, the circle of my friends are roughly the same, and I'm still searching for the same things: Fun, friends, and freedom.

One of my best friends said that my quirk or weirdness is how long I've been in "this" stage of my life. Despite the end of college, moving all over the place, (some) jobs, losses and deaths, a few successes, and a gentle rocking as the world turns, I've remained early twenties in spirit if not in reality. My other best friend has often said that she's long admired my ability to stand above all worldly pressures and be unaffected by traditional stresses. I'm not sure that's a trait to be admired but both of their statements are true, I'm still closer to twenties Jon than 30's Jon.

Somehow I doubt forties me will be able to say the same thing. If the twenties are a transitional age, the thirties are traditionally about coalescing. It'll be hard to stay unchanged for another decade, if only because expectations and realities for a thirty year old are way different than it is for a twenty year old. Mostly, you're still full of promise in your twenties while any setbacks in your thirties can be more readily interpreted as straight failure. And forget this thirty is the new twenty stuff. It's a marketing ploy and soothing only topically.

If the fear and anxiety of some newish thirty year olds around me are to be believed, it's still the same old panic age it's always been. The good news is that I have company. A few of my peers are comparably confused and perhaps even lost. Any stability found in the past ten years seems temporary and up for debate. That means I'll still have people to swim with; that means I'll still have a few more years to get it right.

Our actual birth date was celebrated together, out among a gaggle of friends. The early part of the night was spent at Tien's wedding, which was beautiful and impeccably organized and decorated. Tien and David looked like leads from a Wong Kar-Wai movie and they had hired a kick ass live band. One guy had three saxophones, a trumpet, and a flute just to himself. The band was nine people deep, it was that serious. At one point they covered Journey, then Michael, then Black Eyed Peas one after the other. Like I said, super serious.

George threw herself a little birthday party and we were united a bit after midnight for some hugging (me) and deliriously happy "Happy Birthdays!" (her). The weekend before that, we also had some birthday celebrations in combination with all of the Virgo birthdays around us and we blew out candles together. I probably should have taken a moment to make a wish but I totally forgot. What would I have wished for? Well, I guess a pony would be out of the question at this point. So maybe a unicorn?

Speakeasy

I went to a secret bar just now and we all know how much I like secrets. Here's how it works. You walk up to a random door in the Tenderloin and ring the bell. A nice girl answers and says, "Password?" You confidently give her a wink and one of two passwords: the password of the day or the generic one that gives you normal access. She gives you the once over and then lets you in. You're instantly cool. Like instantly.

Okay, the actual location of the bar and the password(s) aren't necessarily super secret in this Internet age but it's still pretty awesome. When's the last time YOU went to a secret bar?

Once you get inside, the decor brings you to another world. Dark oak everywhere, a whitewashed brick wall, dim lighting, and rules you need to follow to maintain the ambiance. No cell phone use, no asking for "a cosmo," no photography, and no standing at the bar. I know, I'd seem to be a poor candidate to be a patron here but whatever, I was just thrilled to be in a secret place. I barely used my phone and I didn't take a single moblog picture. Who am I?

Gemma told me she usually goes to the back room -- accessible through a secret book case! -- but tonight we just chilled at the bar. The bartenders are knowledgeable and seriously dedicated to their craft. We watched them shake the crap out of mixed drinks, very very vigorously, before pouring them out as works of art. I wish I had more tolerance so we could have drank more. This particular bar is the perfect setting for grand conversations because it's really intimate and the environment just screams "Tell me your secrets!"

Maybe I'll be looking for a secrets bar everywhere I go. A place where deep dark things are divulged and revealed. In SF, this shall be the place. Come with me, let's swap some skeletons.

By the way, Gemma also took us to a delicious Filipino breakfast place on the way to the airport. It was located in the back of a casino. On the list of life axioms to live by, "Trust Gemma" should definitely be high on that list. She's like flawless when suggesting fun activities to do. Hell, I trust her so much I even turned and drove down a one way street (into incoming traffic no less) just because she said, "Take this right."

Sideways

The bagel store girl said, "Here you go gorgeous," as she handed me my bag. I thought to myself, "Wow, gorgeous is such a wonderful word! Why don't people use it more often?" The only time it really gets used is in describing the weather, like "It's a gorgeous day." What a waste of a beautiful word I say. My hope is to replace my incessant use of "fabulous" and/or "beautiful" with "gorgeous." Note to self: Find gorgeous people/things and say it to about them.

So right after the trip to New York was a one day layover in San Diego where I did some laundry, made sweet reunion love to my dual monitors, and said hello and goodbye to my mom (she's off to Africa for a month). Even in that short thirty six hour period home, I could feel the itch to keep moving. Luckily, San Francisco was on the immediate horizon. In evaluating exactly where I'd like to be for the upcoming fall and winter, San Francisco is the destination that makes the most sense. The weather sucks but isn't horrible. I have friends and family here. It's a city with enough of everything to keep things interesting. But I've never been able to sustain much interest in the Bay Area.

I don't feel alive and energetic the way I do in New York. I don't see how that would change if I moved here. Still, it would still be an improvement on San Diego now wouldn't it? Then again, living anywhere but San Diego would probably require me to get off my butt and get a job. Rent here is just as steep as Manhattan and it seems like you'd need a car to effectively get around. That's staring at maybe $1500 a month for rent and parking and then add some bills and utilities and you're SOL. The minimum I'd think you need to live an adult lifestyle in either New York or San Francisco is about $50,000 a year. And that's cutting it low. I've never made that in my life, much less a whole year. Quick, cash in that life insurance policy. Sell off that comic book collection. Mine for gold or build a railroad.

You know how they say living in New York for seven years makes you a New Yorker? Is there a similar thing about becoming a San Franciscan? Do people become San Franciscans? I feel like they don't. In my generalization, New York molds you, whereas you have to mold San Francisco to your liking. I want to be molded, I think, because I don't have the foresight and drive to mold something myself right now. Hum, maybe that's the problem.

Anyway, we arrived last Thursday and immediately launched into a long weekend full of activities. The Little Mermaid Sing-A-Long, my first ever trip to Napa for wine tasting, shopping on Haight, partying and drinking and a few late night shenanigans. Karaoke, of course.

Coming straight from New York, the most drastic change is this 2am closing time thing. It's just killer. The city goes to sleep and by association, so does everyone else. I don't even know where I would roam at four in the morning. I haven't seen a single sunrise out here yet. San Francisco is literally putting me to sleep.

Let's talk about Napa real quick. I was a bit underwhelmed. I'm not a wine drinker, nay aficianado, and couldn't tell you much else besides "This is a red, eat it with meat. This is a white, eat it with fish." It seems like somewhere along the way though, many of my peers picked up wine knowledge. What the hell, why's everyone getting all sophisticated on me? I personally find the whole wine culture to be a bit pretentious and ridiculous but no more than someone who's a dedicated foodie or something. All that swishing and smelling is so hifalutin isn't it? Then again, I do similar evaluative acts with my movie popcorn so who am I to judge?

I'd personally rather really get into coffee but that's just my own tastes. I wonder how much the appeal of wine is mixed in with the idea of it as a high-class item. It bothers me a bit that knowing about wine is equated to being grown up -- or maybe that's just in my head. On the other hand, I do really enjoy how we've kind of evolved to uncorking bottles instead of popping aluminum tabs.

I did enjoy the overall Napa experience, if not the actual physical space, mainly because we went with so many people and had a chance to play some car games, to get into random conversations, and to just get out and do something different. Even though it was hot as hell that day, we had such an enjoyable and wonderful afternoon driving around collecting wine merit badges. It was, in a word, gorgeous.

Oh and I totally got a number too. No, not from the bagel girl. It was from one of the wine server guys who gave me his card so we could play video games together. We had a little talk about how we both played lots of online games and some MMORPGs. I swear I must have "geek of the universe" written on my forehead because within ten minutes of talking to people I get their geek cred spilled out and into the open. Seriously, just in the last two weeks I found out that this one girl is a super video game and comic book fan, and her friends of many years knew nothing about it. And then a boyfriend of a friend revealed his secret obsession with Magic and D&D to me during a smoke break. I must be doing something awfully right. Or wrong?

Break It Off

So I've been karaoking a lot the past few weeks and have been carefully observing how the magic of karaoke happens. First off, I love karaoke. In an age where people want bars, clubs, and over-21 fun, it's a refreshing change of pace. Plus it's usually a guaranteed great time, it brings people together, it brings the energy up, and you always leave happy, especially if you end with one of my patented closers: That's What Friends Are For or Puff the Magic Dragon.

What I've noticed recently is that the makeup of the karaoke room is so key. Everyone knows that karaoke is conducted in private rooms right? My experience with public karaoke is pretty much nil and karaoke to me means renting a room and singing your heart out for a few hours among friends. Drunken strangers need not apply. If you need a guide to exactly what public karaoke is and how to excel at it, check out Raina Lee's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot," a fantastic and hilarious book.

Anyway, the first key to a successful karaoke time is having people who want to sing. It's not even about who wants to get on the mic but the background singers. Nothing makes a karaoke room feel more dead than when the crowd is distracted, tired, or not into it. There are two ways to combat this. Either have a banging song where everyone just has to sing or have the type of people who just sing because music is playing and words are on the screen. Synchronized noise is good.

Obviously, you can't control who's going to be karaoking. It's by nature a group activity and you never know who's going to be into it or not. You can, however, control the banging songs. So what I'm going to try to construct is a karaoke script. I'm taking this idea from football and more specifically, Bill Walsh's West Coast offense. Back when the 49ers were winning everything in sight, Walsh included in his innovations the idea of scripting the first fifteen offensive plays of the game. This allowed his team to have a consistent strategy to start games. Mike Holgren, coach of the Packers and now the Seahawks, took this idea one step further and scripted the first fifteen plays of the second half too.

Therefore what I propose is constructing a playlist of five songs that's always thrown immediately into the que as soon as you step inside the room. See, what usually happens when a group of people gather together to sing? Ten minutes or more of poring over song books as precious time and money seep away in silence. The scripted songs will eliminate that. Also, there tends to be a warm up period before people find a groove and really start blasting out their lungs. It can be really hit and miss early on. As all karaoke veterans know, the first few songs in can really set the tone for the night. Why leave that crucial first step up to chance?

With that in mind, what songs will be in this script? Well, it's obvious that all five will have to be crowd pleasers. A few common songs that everyone can't help but sing along to. It's more complex than busting out simple crowd pleasers though. First, you don't want to use a money song too early. For example, Living on a Prayer is a karaoke staple but it requires maximum energy and is best left as a third-to-last closer so everyone can walk out hyped up. Along the same vein, a classic like Hotel California, while a good song, isn't appropriate to start things off because it's just too damn slow. Obscure songs are out. Along with all foreign songs. English motherfucker, do you speak it...

Another important factor in selecting songs to script is that they can't be overly difficult to sing. Anyone of mediocre singing ability should be able to pick up the mic and start things off. It helps, of course, to have amazing singers on hand but short of that, you have to create a safe space for amateur singers to sing. This also gives the dual benefit of getting everyone involved from the beginning. Don't let anyone turtle up. Karaoke energy is a shifting and tenuous thing. Participation must be encouraged.

So, no performance numbers where the skill level is too high or the song too well suited to only having one person sing. Anything Mariah Carey is a bad idea. Or Michael Jackson. Anything with deceptive scale changes is out too. Lastly, songs that are only good for their well known choruses shouldn't be considered. The entire song needs to be a hit.

Now, while I'm trying to construct a master list of the same five songs to put in for every karaoke occasion, it's doesn't mean you have to sit through all five songs in full. Feel free to skip some if the energy is already high and the que is bursting with great songs. But this idea is seriously genius because it'll be guaranteed to start your karaoke experience off right.

With that in mind, here's the outline of the five songs I'd like to come up with.

1. This song might be playing in the background a bit as things begin and so should have lyrics that people will most likely know without even having to look at the screen. Put two people on the mic immediately. It doesn't have to be high energy but it shouldn't be slow. Worst case scenario, go Disney (A Whole New World perhaps but nothing Little Mermaid until later, trust me).
2. A high energy rock song. Perhaps a little Journey (Don't Stop Believing), Aerosmith (Crazy), or Stone Temple Pilots (Plush).
3. A kick ass girl song. Do a classic like Madonna. Actually, just do Madonna. Britney or Spice Girls might do. Might.
4. Guy's turn. Boy band or R&B standard. Guys love to croon and girls love to sing along. Think Boys II Men, N*Sync, Backstreet Boys, K-Ci and JoJo.
5. Pop in a semi-recent upbeat number. Maybe even rap if you're daring. Otherwise one of Ne-Yo's popular songs. It gets people up out of their chairs and dancing. The key is this song needs to get butts moving.

These are just my initial thoughts of course. I'd like to refine the outline and then come up with some actual songs that would be readily available in most quality karaoke establishments. Then I'd like to have a backup song for each in case a particular selection is unavailable. I'm wide open for suggestions to the outline and specific songs.

Beautiful Island

Traveling with a suitcase outfitted with four multi-directional wheels is the truth. In the past, I always had this big duffel bag looking thing that had to dragged along with much effort. I knew this New York trip would require better equipment. Four wheels made dragging my silver suitcase up and down streets, into and out of trains, incredibly easy and comfortable. Lugging that sucker up six flights of narrow stairs to Mike's apartment? Different story. Overall however, the importance of good luggage has finally been highlighted to me.

Since I'd decided to go open ended for the trip, I knew I had to travel as light as possible. Weighed down by only three pairs of shorts, one jacket, a pair of jeans, and a dozen white tees, my suitcase was as slim as could be. That's discounting the suit and dress shoes I had to lug around everywhere after one night's use -- I wish I could have airmailed it home. My one pair of white Chucks started off cleaner than sin and got incredibly dirty after one night of semi-dancing at APT. Luckily I acquired multiple copies of white Chucks months ago, at the incredibly cheap price of seven dollars a set so these guys will be retired as soon as I get home.

I may have looked the same every day but I traveled in style.

Three weeks anywhere seems like it would be a long time. Truth of the matter, I usually get tired of a place after ten days or so. This time around, I wish I didn't have to leave New York so early. I got lucky with housing. A few nights at various friends' places, a week spent using my god-sister's apartment on the Upper West side, and then another week at James' friend's huge apartment on the Upper East, two blocks away from Central Park. The original idea I had was that I would have to rent a place in Brooklyn for a few weeks, just to have a place to crash and not bug people with my weird hours.

Instead, there people available at all hours of the night. The entire first week after the wedding, I don't think we missed seeing a sunrise. Dann may or may not have jeopardized his job by hanging out all night long and then stumbling into work. I feel like the other people who actually had work in the morning suffered a similar fate. I love it. One day karma will demand that I have a nine-to-five job when people come to visit, but until that day, I'll play by night and wake up at three.

The strange thing about the trip was how different it was from last year. The people and groupings were different, the length of time extended to include more low energy moments, and a definite sense of physical fatigue near the end. Fatigue from DDTs, fatigue from karaoke (three times in a week is apparently one too many), fatigue from having erratic schedules. Maybe even fatigue from just living in the New York bubble, one I'm desperate to return to actually.

We managed to accomplish a lot, I think. The Web was key to many discussions and shenanigans. Large groups will always lead to attractions and hook ups. Now it's all been documented and will be a living, breathing, growing testament to the power of alchohol. Talks of auto-fails led to diagrams of cankles and f.u.p.a.'s, all sketched out for eternity in the back pages of Leslie's Switzerland journal. The story that wouldn't die, about a certain someone peeing all over an ottoman as someone else snapped his fingers and said, "What are you doing?! What are you doing!?! Wake up!" Forget sleep walking, sleep peeing is super serious. And hilarious. Sort of.

We tried to rack up all the normal food haunts and only halfway succeeded. Cafe Habana was the first off the list. Bonchon chicken wings was a revelation. Ramen was had a few times. Falafel, kati rolls, soupy dumplings, hot dogs, peanuts, and cupcakes were consumed. Even a dinner at Pam's place of work, Tailor, came about (absinthe gummies and amazing pork belly). Late nights were reserved for K-Town and the discovery that is birthday soup. But somehow I feel like we missed out on a whole bunch of delicious foods.

I really needed this trip. To get away from San Diego, to finally check off one of the things I wanted to do this year (be in New York), and to be around the large social settings that are still a huge part of me. I needed to meet new people, reconnect with some old, and just feel inspired. It's maybe a sign that I still haven't matured much, or learned to live with myself, but I need the energy of people and a setting to fuel feeling completely alive. Or maybe that feeling is distraction, and I needed distractions.

It's all not over yet, even though the East Coast is done with for the moment. There's two or three weeks in San Francisco coming up and a big ass birthday when maybe midnight strikes, or nothing at all happens. If home is where the heart is then I feel like my heart's in New York. Which is so ironic because, damn, I used to hate New York.

8 Seconds to Sunrise

For James' birthday, we rode a mechanical bull. It was colored like a Holstein and we'd spent an hour or so at the bar before I even knew it existed. Standing outside smoking and getting into a bit of conversation with Sam, we were summoned inside by the cry of "James is going to ride the bull!" This I had to see. Earlier in the day, I'd been worried that there would be no memorable happenings to commemorate his big 3-0, even if a birthday party was being planned for Labor Day weekend in San Francisco. That bull wiped away all those concerns.

I almost said "That bull gored away all those concerns" because how often do you get to use "gore" in a sentence these days? But bad puns are, well, bad. The mechanical bull, cow really, had plastic wrapping on the sides to make the bull easier to clean from all those sweaty thigh grips. Very sanitary and highly commendable.

Anyway, somewhere along the way, in all the excitement, it was decided that all the guys would have to ride the bull. At first, I vehemently said that I wouldn't do it, no way in hell. But I'm prone to peer pressure I guess. Plus, it was James' birthday and he insisted that everyone cowboy up (the puns can't stop, won't stop). The prospect of getting on an aggressive reverse Lazy-E Boy, of having friends cheer and jeer, it seemed the exact opposite of anything I'd enjoy.

But if you're going to step outside of your comfort zone, you might as well do it on a Monday night when the bar is only a quarter full and nobody's really paying that much attention. Any dignity lost would only contribute to your friends' amusement and fond re-tellings. It's weird and funny to me that the mechanical bull strikes me as the girliest thing to do in the world. I'll happily order a pink colored drink in a stemmy glass but riding a mechanical bull? Too feminine. Maybe watching a video of George ride one made that impression on me. Only drunk girls get on bulls in bars, am I right?

To be honest, it didn't really matter the whole falling thing. We were more concerned with style. One handed. An arm in the air like a real cowboy. I noticed Sam took the rope grip with his fist clenched fingers facing up, instead of down, like most people would naturally do. I remembered that that's how real bull riders did it on ESPN. That's when you realize someone notices the little details about life. I thanked god that I didn't go first.

For the record, James was the only one who stayed on the whole time. So I guess he's not quite over the hill yet. I got gnarly skin rubs on the inside of both knees from wearing shorts while kung fu gripping leather and plastic. Sam's hair swished to and fro like Tristan's in Legends of the Fall. Amit offered his usual panache and quips. "Let's not tell anyone we ever did this."

There's probably a metaphor somewhere in this story about aging, about facing challenges, and about hanging on, but it's not really that deep. The real moral of the story is: when in doubt, find a mechanical bull.

Dancing Through Life

"Everyone should have at least eight friends, one for each day of the week, and a spare in case someone gets sick."
-Attack of the Theater People-

I've been hanging out with Amit a lot over the past three weeks in New York. During this time I've paid attention and tried to pick up a few of the finer points of living a life that is Amit-esque -- which can be most easily summed up as a life lived with pleasure. There are many reasons I admire Amit but his je ne se quois flair and ability to infuse any situation with the right amount of sarcasm, positivity, and galaxial appropriateness is high on that list.

Something important I learned is that waiting is bad. I mean, I knew this before, but with Amit, waiting is the bane of his existence. Life is way too short to sit around waiting for things/people. Subway trains come sporadically every eleven or seventeen minutes? Local or express? Switch here or there? Screw it all and take a taxi. I was in the subway once this whole trip and while that may sound extravagant and wasteful, the extra money spent translated into being (mostly) on-time and a stress free travel experience. You can make money and with it you can buy time. You can't do the reverse.

Another example: the train to DC costs three times as much as the bus? No contest. Take the train for its ambiance and luxurious comfort. I learned this lesson the hard way. On the way back from DC, Victor and I's bus was late, cramped, and smelled like feet and cheese. The promised WiFi was nowhere to be found either. I don't want to get into socio-economics and prejudices but there's a reason certain people are on the bus and not the train. I deserve a little convenience in my silver years. Convenience good, waiting bad.

This credo extends out to social situations too. People struggling to make a decision, loitering on the curb, or unable to come to a consensus? Forge ahead like the brave explorers of yore and don't take a look over your shoulder. The best decision I made all weekend in DC was to jump (into a cab) when Amit jumped. I blindly followed where he led because it all made so much sense. Don't fear inactivity, embrace it. And then give it a pat on the back, let go quickly, and get the hell out of there.

A few other things I learned, which I'll summarize quickly in vague yet specific statements:

• Celebrating for any reason is a good reason
• Don't be afraid to encourage and disparage at the same time
• Own your space
• Always make friends with bartenders and doormen
• Greet people like they're your best friend
• A look can be worth ten times more than a comment
• Prosecco is the grown up's 7-Up
• Late to arrive and early to leave, makes a man (socially) healthy, wealthy, and wise
• "Not pretty enough..."
  

Master of the House

Let's talk about social manipulation. What you say? Manipulation of any sort sounds terrible. Well, I've been carefully studying some friends of mine who happen to be amazingly effective socializers and trying to figure out what tactics and techniques they use to get people to like them. C'mon, be real, everyone needs to do a little social manipulation. Or rather, everyone wants people to like them, on some level. But how do people who are great at getting people to instantly connect do it?

The short answer is they manipulate. Whether it's through something as simple as innocuous flirting, extensive amounts of eye contact, a barrage of "tell me about yourself" questions, everyone's got a thing they do to get other people to pay attention. The most basic way to create a bond between two people is to fashion a little safe space where people get comfortable talking and revealing. Even a simple statement like "So, tell me about yourself," creates this opening for someone you just met to talk and to maybe bring something up that will pique both your interests.

Actually, the main categories of social manipulation line up neatly with The Five Love Languages: Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Receiving Gifts, Acts of Service, and Physical Touch. I'd re-interpret those as Words of Encouragement, Intense Face Time, Compliments, Doing Things, and Touch. For example, when meeting someone a master of Intense Face Time might make that person feel special by repeatedly devoting time concentrating on their conversation to the exclusion of whatever else is going on. Note that this excludes people trying to hit on others. That's a whole 'nother ballpark of love languages. People gravitate toward those that make them feel good about themselves. If someone can give off the air that they think you're really a great person, you'll naturally find yourself liking them.

Two factors that are really important also are enthusiasm and entertainment. Some people are just hugely entertaining and that alone makes people love them. However, being entertaining doesn't necessarily create a bond, it just creates invitations for future hang outs. Nobody's going to deny bringing someone around who's consistently funny and amusing. The enthusiasm part is something overlooked perhaps. For example, I have a friend who everytime he sees someone he knows (even barely), greets them with a huge hug and exclamations like they're best friends. That action creates a feeling of warmth and acknowledgment, even if you're wondering "Wait, why is this person bear hugging me?"

The best social manipulations combine a few methods at once. Not everyone reacts the same to each method obviously. The simplest example is someone who's extremely flirty and touchy might not get the same results from using that on people of the same sex. In fact, in this exact circumstance, it can often turn people off. "Ew, why's she always touching everyone?" But that's just hating. Recognize the power of social manipulation and either jump on-board or figure out how you can incorporate it into your game.

Of course, much of social manipulation is contrived. By definition it sort of has to be. You have a goal, you have a method, and you implement it for success. Some people may not be aware of exactly what they're doing, but ask the people around them and the peanut gallery can usually break down what makes them an effective socialite. Observe, study, incorporate. Or just roll your eyes and say "Omg, they're doing it again."