Turn the radio up for that sweet sound

We slow crawl down the PCH, adhering strictly to the speed limit. Driving with no purpose is a pleasure I haven't had in awhile. Journeys have tended to have destinations recently. Not a lot of down time for aimless wandering. Having the opportunity to do so -- in a car, with coffee, music, conversation, and open windows (tragically no cigarettes) -- it brings back memories you know?

With new friends, you tend to talk about the past a lot. I mean, there's not much present to cover and the future is unknown so you talk about where you've been and what you've done. Make enough new friends and you're constantly rehashing your life story like it's a performance act. You know which parts of your story are the most applicable or interesting so you talk about those things exclusively. This verse coming six times rehearsed. Once in awhile you'll get a question that's never been asked of you before and that breaks you out of the monologue. And you realize therein lies the fun.

Dumbledore Mifflin

Today at 3:03 pm: Staring at a giant Tigger balloon while waiting for ice cream cake

At work I'm a one man peer-to-peer music distribution center. When Ameer left, he gave me the gift of his PC. It's the fastest computer in the office and most importantly, it's armed with a CD burner. I had a co-worker buy me a spool of fifty blanks and a month later I'm down to four. That means I should probably start looking over my shoulder for the RIAA, or charging. Music sharing is like a sickness for me. If someone listens to a particular genre and I know I have a great album they'd probably like, I have to give it to them. It's my way of generating good karma. Now let's hope that positive karma translates into winning McDonald's Monopoly game. I'm looking for everything but Continental. We can split the winnings 50-50.

Top five albums I've been burning for people
Lauryn Hill (J.Period & Best of)
Jason Mraz - Live
Feist
Blue Eyes vs Bed-Stuy (Biggie and Sinatra mash-up)
Colbie Caillat

I'm a bit ashamed to admit it but when another friend quit the company this past Monday, I immediately raided her office. Well, after being shocked and sad of course. My intention was to secure some mementos that I think she should have but I also took the opportunity to swipe a red Swingline stapler off her desk. I might have also dug through her drawers looking for other assorted goodies. Maybe.

Office raiding is an important survival skill in a corporate environment. I learned that at Rockstar. Whenever someone was fired or quit there, they had their mouses, keyboards, game controllers, speakers, headphones, chairs, everything jacked before they had even pulled out of the parking lot. It's also totally within the rules to anticipate a firing and start stealing things as they're being called to the big office. In the art of office raiding, it's best to be a Ranger and lead the way.

I've also been using my access to people's iPods to evaluate them. Since I only get to see people in the work environment, it's very important to judge people on their musical tastes. However, what I've learned is that I'm way behind the times. Half the music on their iPods I don't even recognize. I did manage to steal some fun new music but to be honest, I've never felt so out of touch with the younger generation. Who are these bands? What are these genres of music? Luckily my immaturity makes me seem younger than I am. Thank goodness for that.

I've decided that I need to start blogging more again. Putting off blogging in order to concentrate on the book is actually killing me. It's like now I avoid writing in any form because it's got the same connotation as working. So I need to make writing fun again -- emails, blogs, whatever. I need to trick my mind back into thinking of writing as something I like to do.

The other reason I've stopped blogging frequently is because life is pretty routine. I work, I go home, I write, I work again. I had wanted to avoid writing about work but to be honest, so many amusing things happen here that not to blog about it would be a sin against humanity. I feared public scrutiny and having work and life intermix but really, who cares? So yeah, there might be lots of work related stuff going up here. Sorry. One day I hope to write a tell all about this job but until that day comes, this will do. Sorry if I make fun of anyone and you're reading this. Don't take it personally, I'm just looking for inspiration.

One band, one sound.

U.S.S. Entrepreneur

Growing up, most of my parents' friends were hustlers. They had ideas, they researched markets, and then they launched businesses. Some of them succeeded, many of them failed, but at the end of the day, somehow, everyone made it. Sure, some fathers (and mothers) were relatively much more successful than the others but everyone succeeded -- they got the American dream as it was originally conceived. They went from nothing to something. Something being defined as middle class, or upper middle class. It's quite an achievement and one most immigrant children are familiar with. It's no big shocker when generation 2.0 children are most proud of their parents. They work hard for their money.

As a kid, I wanted to be an entrepreneur. By my definition it was like being a business man except more varied and exciting. Tragically, there's no training to become an entreprenuer. I guess, at the minimum, you need smarts, dedication, and a willingness to engage in some risk. But what beyond that? A college degree, a partner, a plan, does any of that really matter? There's no formula for success here and it's not something anyone can just do. I wonder now, if given the chance, I would still want to be an entreprenuer. I'm not so sure.

Most of my peers are the same age -- if not older -- than my parents' friends were when they left their home countries to come here and make a life. They were saddled with a language barrier, a wife, kids, little (if any) savings, and a whole bunch of things I can hardly conceive of. Yet they made it. Restaurants, liquor marts, random retail stores, furniture outlets, everything under the sun. I doubt most of these young men chose their path to success, they just took whatever opportunities presented themselves. They didn't really have a choice right?

Any time that the Chinese dads got together, at a party or other social gathering, all they did was sit around and talk business. They exchanged ideas, helped introduce contacts to each other, and generally talked money, money, money. It seemed so boring then. Much more exciting was the social gossip that the moms engaged in. Now though, I wish I could rewind to that time to see if these dads knew what they were talking about and to maybe glean some knowledge. Perhaps even an informal manual of "This is how we did it." Or better yet, "This is how you do it."

Fish Out of Water

Last week, I found myself at the Chinese supermarket waiting in the express line and literally preparing to revert to my "single diet." "Single" meaning living alone and not having the company or the energy to bother eating anywhere or anything except steamed white rice topped with a can of tuna and corn niblets. Pepper to taste. I had four items in my basket: a rice cooker, tuna, corn, and a personal sized bag of rice I almost managed to leave behind.

My heart really goes out to single guys when I see them at grocery store check outs. It's so obvious. And really pathetic. Like, "Wow, so this is what you eat every night? Seriously?" It's similar to watching teachers eat lunches. It's so disheartening that this is what lunches and dinners have been reduced to for adults. Microwave meals, soda, and sandwiches. With the occassional side of fruit or dessert. You would think that as you move up in life, lunches get better. Definitely not the case for most jobs.

The times I've reverted to my single diet aren't times when I've necessarily been single. In fact, most of the time, I've been in a relationship at the height of this particular diet, meaning I should probably call it something else entirely. Or re-examine my relationships. Or both.

This kid tested mother unapproved diet was invented when I first lived in New York (ok, fine, New Jersey) with Hong and Lynn. They went out to eat a lot together and Angie usually worked late, leaving me without dinner partners. So in the late afternoons when I woke up, I'd make two cups of rice, crack open a can of corn and a matching one of tuna, and then use that to roll through lunch and dinner. Simple, right?

The big advantage of the single diet is that I hit the basic food groups, it's easy to make, and the clean up afterwards is non-existent. When I'm on this diet, I feel like I'm either buckling down to do something important -- in this case cutting out extraneous time spent at sit-down meals -- or I'm lonely and unable to justify going to a restaurant by myself.

Either way, it doesn't seem like this loner diet is particularly good for me. But damn it's tasty.

What's funny is that tuna also plays a big part in Hong's single life. When Hong starts eating cans of tuna and doing sit-ups at random times during the day, you know he's about to launch into another one of his "I'm Hong and I'm single" periods in his life. Tuna must have magical powers for single men. Or for un-single ones in my case.

Heart of the City

It's happened again. Just as I move to a city, Ameer moves away. A year ago, I shuttled up to the Bay and before he could take me to the Korean restaurant located in a garage, he jetted down to LA. Now, he's U-Hauling his way back to San Francisco and leaving me behind. It's not personal, he assures me.

In our short time here, we've managed to set up a nice routine of places to eat after work. The sticky rice noodles at Dragon, the boba at Little Bean, the late night standards, Asian Denny's and Carrows. And of course, the one burrito place up here that serves an acceptable carne asada. All of these places may never be the same. Then again, maybe I'll be getting a real room out of the whole deal.

The good news is that I (and we) can all follow along on Ameer's new adventure through the power of moblogging. I'm a little jealous that Ameer's moblog is about to get a thousand times more exciting. West Covina and Rowland Heights can't compare to the sights of the city. People come and go but with iPhone in hand, nobody is ever very far away.

(on living in san jose, too far away from san francisco)
"it's rough to be so close, and so far at the same time... i go see her weekly and there's a tingle in my spine from the bottom up to the back of my neck that gives me goose bumps and forces my hands to shake when i drive up the freeway and see the noble lights of the financial district buildings next to the lights of the bay bridge... i will prove my love to her, and we will be together one day."
-high entropy-

Walk the Line

Here's the thing about work friends: I usually avoid them. In just about every job I've ever had, I've kept a safe distance from any co-worker. Not because none of them have been cool or worthy of knowing as people, but because it's just weird to get close to co-workers. I mean, doing the drink thing after work, talking about your personal life, mixing business with pleasure, that's just all weird.

However, with my current job, by the nature of it, we're allowed to be a little more relaxed as far as our relationships with co-workers go. For one thing, my fellow managers are amazingly cool -- inside or outside of work. And since everyone spends 12+ hours a day together, it's natural to want to get along when each day feels like a lifetime.

However, when there are heads to butt, or business type things to deal with, it can become a barrier when you're friends on the side. It's not that separating friendship and business is difficult but it's definitely a different way of approaching things. I'm naturally inclined to befriend everyone around me, mainly because it's better (not to mention more fun) to be around people you like. But when you have to judge people on their work personas versus their regular personas, it can kind of get mixed. A great person doesn't necessarily make a great worker.

Especially when you get into the area of supervisor versus supervisee. While being friendly with your superiors is never a bad thing, there's always that cloud hanging over your relationship that when it comes down to it, one person can dramatically alter the "friendship" by firing the other party. Usually this isn't a problem at all. With most co-workers, it's usually safest to get close to those you trust and respect anyway. The distance is there for people who aren't likely to be around, or for individuals who aren't that savory in either respect.

But to have this artificial barrier of work hanging over a potential friendship is strange for me. Where's the separation? Does hanging out after work make sense if you're just going to see them again in eight hours? Is it possible to build a relationship that isn't work related? Of course, many normal people consistently find their friends through a work place so clearly the answer is "Yes".

I just don't really like having to evaluate someone based on the normal factors plus this weird grey area of "are they good workers?" It certainly adds a new dimension to the term "value add," which we use to judge people in a typical social circle. It may be time to bust out the friendship report card and make some work-centric modifications in order to create the "Are you my perfect co-worker?" test.

Number 2

Kokopelli
[ Nov 1, 2003 ] - Right Calf
Sometimes, you get attracted to a symbol or an image and then find out that, for whatever reason, that symbol is a good representation for you. I guess that's how people pick their totems -- their favorite colors, animals, cars, constellations, everything. You're mysteriously attracted to something and then bend your preferences around it. For me, one of those symbols has always been Kokopelli -- a Native American deity commonly seen in the Southwestern United States. The quick description for him is that he's the god of fertility and trickery. Like Loki with an endless supply of Viagra.

Kokopelli is typically depicted as a hunchback playing the flute. The hump is there for him to carry unborn children, which are then distributed to women. This would logically imply that Kokopelli is some sort of Casanova, or at least, a Travis Henry, but as we all know, that's the direct opposite of me. Hell, my greatest single fear in life is probably having children. If I woke up one day and was suddenly responsible for the care and upbringing of a child, I'd freak out big time. Thus, having a god of fertility on my leg highly amuses me.

Since I was highly attracted to Kokopelli before I even knew what he was all about -- a god of fertility that doubles as the god of trickery -- hopefully that's the universe's way of telling me that I'm sterile. Hopefully.

"Known to some as a magician, he is known to others as a storyteller, teacher, healer, trickster, or god of the harvest and is often credited as being the 'original' journalist.

Believed to bring fertility and good fortune to whomever he met wherever he chose to roam, Kokopelli, with his hunchback and flute, was always welcome.

Kokopelli possessed a playful, carefree nature that seemed to be able to bring the good out in everyone. Cousin to the mythical gods of the ancient world, Kokopelli is believed to represent the fertility and the untamed spirit or nature. Because of this and his sexy, joyous, uninhibited ways, his wisdom, magic, and simple nature have often times been overlooked. This masculine casanova is famous for his prankster ways and one is often warned to beware for he is likely to trick you. It is all in good fun, though, for especially in today's world, his humor is refreshing and delightful.

The stories may differ depending on the storyteller and tales shall be told for many, many years to come. Yet through it all, Kokopelli shall remain an inspiring figure with a passion for life."