Living my best life.. in America

 In a dream you saw a way to survive and you were full of joy
-Jenny Holzer

Just got back from drinking at a bar and chatting with a good friend. The bar was across the street from my apartment complex; I can literally hear the music on weekends when I'm working overnight from home. Working a 7-on-7-off schedule has felt like living half a life over the years: one week I'm on parole, the next I'm jailed for bad behavior, lol.

A couple of weeks back, I came home from a concert with the same said friend. That night, I felt this moment of clarity that this is what I dreamed of as my best life in America. Like that Ice Cube song, chilling in my foreign coupe:

I gotta go cause I got me a drop top
And if I hit the switch, I can make the a-- drop
Had to stop at a red light
Lookin in my mirror, not a jacker in sight
And everything is alright..

Why can't I feel this way all the time?

--

Then as I sober up, I get the same creeping sensation that it might be impossible to have this feeling all the time in America as an Asian American male.

Do I ever get this feeling of belonging, of my best American life when I'm not under the influence? Truth is hardly ever..

What is it about this country that f-cks with its minority population? Though I'm not being targeted by the police, it certainly doesn't feel good to have the continual subconscious reminder that I am an asexual, non-threatening male in this society.

There is also this limiting belief that my writing isn't good enough. That I'm not worthy enough to express myself after years of continual self-rejection. And that's probably true that my writing isn't where it should be. But it is a skill that comes with practice. And I'm going to give it a shot.

Because I have a plan, a dream, a way to survive. And I am full of joy.

-ji

SPIDER: Signs

A few weeks ago, I had remembered some word or phrase I felt I had written somewhere. I had hoped it had been on this current blog, but it wasn't. So I searched through the archive of my past one that I saved on my desktop.

I didn't find that word/phrase, but I did spend more than several minutes reminiscing about the moments in my life which was the genesis for those words. And I came upon the introductory post of the Dreamer's Son which is as follows:

--

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

After a little more than a month after coming to the realization that I wanted to become a writer and that I would become a writer, this is the first thing I've written. This blog will be my canvas and easel as I attempt to compose my first work, the story of my life.

I've always had this vague notion, a semi-conscious desire of writing of my life, if only just to sort out all the details that I've managed to repress. The personal journals that were started and stopped lay in the wayside of my closet or in the recess of my filing cabinet or in password-protected files whose passwords are long forgotten, held in secret because of their contents as well as the poor prose. Those aborted media may come back to become integral parts of my novel/memoir as I explore myself, my innermost workings, my long-held secrets. This time, there will be no lies, no dishonesty, no shame; only truth shall remain.

Back in senior year of high school, I was faced with a decision between following my parents' dream for me and my English teachers' dream. The English teachers saw some potential in my writing skills, though these skills were incomparable to my math/science skills. I ultimately chose to follow my parents' dream. In English Literature class, the teacher would put up daily prompts for us to write a page-worth of words of what we thought it meant. Before coming to the decision, and after the decision, I felt that those quotes were meant to persecute me. They came in the form of 'you are a poor show of character if you can't handle a little adversity,' 'the best things in life don't come easy,' 'it is not good enough to say you are doing your best; you have to succeed in doing what is necessary,' and the like. Thinking back, these were some random, inspirational quotes, meant to kick us lazy seniors from our reverie, but I felt they were aimed at me.

Oftentimes, I think we observe things in nature, in our school, in our work that seem to remind us of what we need to do or what we have done wrong. I felt that I was the subject of inquisition because of that gnawing feeling that I was wrong in following my parents' decision for me. I saw signs everywhere of my betrayal to myself, my passion. Words became bland, authors mocked my cowardice, teachers glanced askew.

This time around 5 years later, I feel the world around me telling me to write my story; in reality, it is really me telling myself to bear and bare my soul. Recently, a band called Shinedown wrote a song called Second Chance in which the chorus goes

Tell my mother, tell my father I've done the best I can

To make them realize this is my life, I hope they understand

I'm not angry, I'm just saying

Sometimes goodbye is a second chance

What really got to me is this line in the book The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers that reads 'Because in some men it is in them to give up everything personal at some time, before it ferments and poisons--throw it to some human being or some idea.' This is my chance to tell the truth, to tell my parents I am an individual, and to apologize to myself for the sins I have committed against myself.

This is my story; this is my truth; this is my soul.

--

That was 2009. This is 2015. What has happened in these six years? Well, I don't think I'm nearly as melodramatic (hopefully). And I have gained a sense of perspective. Those words had been written in a fervor of woe-is-me mentality. Though that past self did possess a vague notion of responsibility, he seemed to only acknowledge said responsibility because he felt it was the "right" or "appropriate" or "accepted" thing to do.

He did not feel it in his heart, that "[t]his time, there will be no lies, no dishonesty, no shame; only truth shall remain." Since ultimately, as I came to find out, truth did not remain. Just another form of rejection of past, rejection of self, rejection of soul.

I cannot claim that only "truth shall remain" going forward. I can only say that I will try my best to live life today how I feel it should be lived. I am learning to accept myself for who I am and for what my past has been. One cannot erase one's past, and neither should one attempt to. To negate the bitterness is also to negate the sweetness.

So I embrace the thorns of my soul. This fleeting pain will remind me that I am alive at this minute, in this hour, on this day.

Breakup Music Therapy: Lazaretto, Hurt, Fever, Madness

I am going to try very, very hard to not put my ex on blast. That's not going to be my style moving forward. After the initial breakup where things were said which should not have been, I feel I've taken the high road. I offered to remain friends, which she rejected. Which is fine, because it will allow us to heal more quickly- a rapid, unexpected rip of the Band-aid covering over 21 months of relationship which in hindsight should not have lasted that long.

I still love her for the reason that she was the first female to recognize and love me for who I was and not what I was. And for that I'm grateful. And though I feel we both agreed moving on was best for both of us, being together with someone for that long creates a void of time and emotion when that person leaves.

At first, I tried cold-turkey, trying to focus on self and self-improvement. That lasted all of one day. The next night, I experienced unsettling insomnia, thinking about if I had made the right decision in letting her go. Then I remembered the better technique of substitution- after perusing some Facebook profiles I hadn't visited (stalked) in a long while, I cheered up thinking about potential prospects. After realizing that was a bit (very) creepy, I turned to music: lots of alternative rock and trashy club hip-hop music.

Music is a much better e-cigarette than being a creeper, post break-up.

--

Along the way to work one night, 94.5 the Buzz played a nice quad-set of songs which matched my mood exactly: Lazaretto, Hurt (Johnny Cash), Fever, and Madness.

Jack White - Lazaretto - "When I say nothing, I say everything"

I had heard her ultimatum to make the relationship more of a priority before, and I dismissed it off-hand again. "Where are we and what are we doing?" is a dangerous question which I will address more carefully in the future. Women may complain that relationships are not things to be planned, not something to schedule. I argue that it is, and I did not place the right priority. 

It is here where I will interject that she did not place the right priority in the relationship either. I will refrain from dredging examples, but we both failed each other in the relationship. And we both deserve better.

Johnny Cash - Hurt - "What have I become, my sweetest friend?"

When I first met her, my life trajectory was finally on target. I started a job with long-term prospects, I was continuing my weight-loss goals, and I had finally glimpsed the "end-game" as it were. It was around this time when my apartment lease was finally up on the darkest chapter of my life. So when I met this girl of my supposed dreams, it seriously felt like the start of my happily ever after. But real life doesn't have storybook endings.

I had a conversation with a really interesting guy a few weeks ago. One thing he said that stuck out was, "You know, after all the butterflies settle down, after the mystery and mystique is gone, it kinda becomes just work."

And I had an excessive amount of work already. I credited it to making the down payment on the house and the appliances and the furniture and etc. But in honesty, I had enough to get by. Perhaps in my subconscious, I knew things weren't going to work out, so I turned to work instead.

But along the way, since I had no one to impress (me: "Would you stay with me if I was 250lbs?" her: "Yes! But I'd put you on a diet.. fatty :P"), I let myself go. At the end, at my prompting, she said my weight and health had become an issue. Fair enough. Pain and Gain.

The Black Keys - Fever - "You shook me like I've never been | Now show me how to live again"

If you ever break up with someone, steel yourself and ask what went wrong and what you can do to fix things in the future. And take it as priceless advice from someone who knew you and knows you well enough to be dreadfully honest. Since at this point, she kinda hates your guts, lol.

She said some other things besides the weight which I've ingrained for personal development. Humanity's foremost technology are the ideas and knowledge we gain and share. Firsthand acquisition is generally better than learning from keyboard jockeys.

Muse - Madness - "I'm not expecting you to care | That I have finally seen the light"

After reflection, the relationship was comfortable- too comfortable. We were vulnerable enough to reveal our fears and dreams, and the other person was accepting and non-critical, non-judgmental. As I embark on the single-life again, I know I will face much criticism and rejection. That, however, is how we grow and develop the alchemy of the soul and spirit. And along the way, I'm sure I will find the person who will accept me for who I am, but will also help me to grow to a better man and better person.

Text from a friend: "Find someone who wants to have fun and explore life, I know you actually want to"

I hope the guy she's currently with helps her grow as well. Love is intoxicating, but love doesn't pay the bills and love doesn't always make a person stronger. Even though she rejected my olive branch, I will always love her as a friend. This will not end up in my huge pile of regret which I am chipping away.

--

And so this ends a chapter of my life. I ended the break-up with, "Nice to know you | Goodbye" from Incubus, which quite offended her since she didn't know the reference. Which is unsurprising since we didn't really care for each other's music. But anyway:

Perspective pries your once weighty eyes and it gives you wings

I haven't felt the way I feel today

In so long it's hard for me to specify

I'm beginning to notice

How much this feels like a waking limb

Pins and needles, nice to know you

Goodbye! Nice to know you!

Goodbye! Nice to know you!

Goodbye! Nice to know you!

Goodbye! Nice to know you!

To know you..

fin

After the bildungsroman ends

As a younger man, I was obsessed with bildungsromans. They were fantastical escapes from what I thought was a dreary, boring existence of my own. But the unsatisfying thing about all those books was that they inevitably ended. And that was where I was supposed to get some fanciful message about life, the universe, and everything.

My last post was two years ago. At that time, I struggled with the weight of things I realize now I chose to carry unnecessarily. But with the relief of excess work and "figuring things out", I did not have time nor energy to address it. They weighed me down, and I lived with that weight.

Fast forward two years. It seems that I still carry the same emotional weight, but had tacked on 40 extra pounds of the excuses I made to be unhealthy. A younger g would have declared at this point something along the lines of "No more! Today is a new day. A new beginning!" A whole lot of drivel and wasted breath.

This older, more wizened g will simply state that this is a time for reflection, not spiraling depression nor grandiose predictions. This is a time for addressing problems with a clear head and conscious decision-making, not inflating petty annoyances or dwelling on past mistakes.

My house will close a week after it was supposed to, and the appliances had not been installed on schedule. I had driven in excess of 200 miles in the interim to check to see the work that had been done. It's okay, and it will be okay. If they don't fix those paint marks, I'll survive. Even if they don't have the stove-top installed, I'm pretty sure I can make due with a microwave. No worries.

I guess I feel like Ralph Ellison's protagonist in Invisible Man: "How had I come to this? I had kept unswervingly to the path placed before me, had tried to be exactly what I was expected to be, had done exactly what I was expected to do – yet, instead of winning the expected reward, here I was stumbling along, holding on desperately to one of my eyes in order to keep from bursting out my brain against some familiar object swerved into my path by my distorted vision."

I am not an invisible man (a pun about my weight? lol). Ellison's protagonist railed against the injustice he felt throughout his entire life. Perhaps that was what made him invisible- that others failed to perceive him because he failed to perceive himself in his own eyes. I will try to not make that mistake.

I will not let my motivation be the revenge or I'll-show-them-all attitude that precipitates more dysfunction. My motivation will simply be my own well-being. So join me for the ride. Or not. I've taken this ride several times solo before.

And with that, I will calmly grab some dumbbells, do some curls, get some endorphins flowing, shower, and sleep. Tomorrow will be another day, and though the Sun Also Rises on those that have fallen down, only those that are awake and alive to see the sun will appreciate it.

Do you know what happens after bildungsromans? The protagonists move on. And so will I.

First Do More Harm

Hello strangers,

Last night was probably one of the more stressful nights at my job, and it really wasn't all that bad. Considering the amount of prescriptions we run, it's surprising that there aren't more problems than there are. If people would just hold out for a while, problems will take care of themselves. The check is in the mail, and your drugs are on their way. Trust me--I'm a doctor.

I got home, decompressed with a really fatty roast beef sandwich decked with melty cheese and mushrooms. So good and so bad and the perfect reward for a job well done. Afterwards, I enjoyed Dragonball Z on the CW. Yes, I still watch cartoons once in a while even though they're silly. Reminds me of simpler times.

Then around 10:30AM, I hear the door open and heard the scuffling of more than one person's shoes. So I peered around and saw my bro and this girl, whom I supposed was his girlfriend. Eh, whatever. He didn't say anything about bringing her home, and so I didn't feel obligated to cease making a nice mold of my butt-cheeks onto my favorite part of the couch. That is, I stayed seated enjoying my toons.

--

After introductions,

some girl: so your brother tells me you're a pharmacist

me: uh huh

some girl: where do you work?

me: in hospice at an independent

some girl: where at?

me: (gives locale)

annoying girl: (etc etc etc) why don't you work at a large hospital like MD Anderson or somewhere in the Med center? (etc etc etc) the benefits are better for when you retire.. (etc etc etc)

irritated me: (silently) who are you to tell me what I should do within 5 minutes of meeting me? (spokenly) I really like my job. They treat me well, and there's not much stress.

more annoying girl: (acknowledging and ignoring my comment) It's good you like your job. Not many can say that. (but wanting to reiterate her point) but you know, large hospitals generally have better benefits and such.

irritated me: umm, are you a pharmacist?

annoying girl reveals herself: oh, no, I'm a psychiatrist.

me: (silently) it figures, an MD and a shrink. (spokenly) oh okay. The benefits aren't really that much better. I worked for [large chain retail], and although pay is less, benefits are about on par.

shrink: (etc etc etc, reiterates point and acknowledges that there's politics when working at large facility, but still maintains her initial suggestion that I should try working for a large facility)

me: (maintain almost-rude indifference by watching TV and ignoring the girl in the room)

--

Thankfully my brother gets done doing whatever he needed to do and they left. I'm generally a very nice person when meeting new people, and I generally make a good impression, but not when I'm tired and not when your opening remarks criticize what I do for a living. 

Goodness, I thought shrinks where supposed to make you feel better about yourself. She made me want to ask her to write me a prescription for Paxil, take 1 as needed post mindf-cking.

But I wasn't so mean as to ask her, "Biological clock ticking much? You know you're dating a guy without a college degree, right?" No, no, my parents have messed with my head long enough for any shrink to make a dent in this impenetrable defense of perpetual self-doubt. It's like when virus-infected cells can't be infected by subsequent viruses.

--

much later,

me: you missed your future daughter-in-law by 30 minutes?

Mama: oh, really?

me: uh huh. Brother brought his girlfriend home. She's a psychiatrist. Do you know what that is?

Mama: Yes, 4 years medical school and then residency. (not impressed) She must be old, right?

me: (laughing) probably around brother's age.

Mama: (as if he had brought home a crackhead) Well, he can do want he wants. I can't stop him from doing anything. (her typical passive-aggressive way of disapproving)

--

Yep, in a battle of wits, I put money on Mama!

Gaining Traction

Really quick. Since I'm in 3rd or 4th gear right now. It's remarkable how more productive you can be if you have just the right amount of work.

Since I've started my new job (loving it btw!), I get a couple hours before and after work to run errands, etc. And because of the time limit, I get things done without any excuses. When I was just chillaxin' (ie voluntary unemployment), stuff could wait because I had time the next day (and the day after that).

Now I feel wasteful if I just sleep away those free hours. This morning after work, I've answered a couple emails, made plans to maybe watch a football match next weekend with a good friend, curse the slowness of my 8 yr old PC, transferred-organized-&-updated some files, and cleaned out some notes from my phone. Pretty decent for an hour and a half.

Yesterday, I returned something to Amazon for the first time (didn't need it). I've been meaning to do it, but it takes a vanishing window to actually whip me into completing it. The vanishing window was both that it was nearing the 30-day limit for returns and that I only had a limited amount of time before I had to sleep to be ready for work.

Quite a pleasant side effect from having a job.

Before you came into my life, I missed you so, so bad!

So I dig junky female pop ballads. It keeps me awake. That's my excuse :)

Blot Out The Sun

Mr Burns would be proud. The only remnants of the sun is a thin sliver of light that managed to escape the fabric covered cardboard I had measured to fit the window opening.

Windows in a vampire's abode is like an appendix; at one time it served a useful purpose, but now it's just a nuisance to be dealt with.

Just figured out there was a blogger app for the iPhone, so I should be posting more. The operative word is "should."

Pictures, yes?

(my room at the noonday sun)

(surprisingly messy for someone who has such severe OCD)

Some first impressions of the blogger app: doesn't allow horizontal typing on the iPhone, picture formatting is iffy (haven't figured out how to post pics inline), tags don't appear on a drop down menu. But pretty cool nonetheless, and it takes away my excuse for not blogging on the regular.

I know you're all so super psyched for more me!*

--
*sarcasm :)

Paper Chasing

Tomorrow I will get something I haven't had in over 9 months. Don't queue the porn music; it has nothing to do with that. I'm getting paid, son! The news was very good, and I started my new career this past weekend and worked into this Tuesday. Days off are so much sweeter when you have to work the other days. And this Wednesday was wonderful and certainly needed.

I tried to sleep in after coming home from work around 2AM. But antsy to start the day, I woke up after only 6 hours. Got a bunch of stuff done that I've been putting off like cleaning my room, paying bills, and organizing files. It's probably a bit weird to be excited about being able to put things in their right place, but I'm a bit strange after all. Also got in a little gunpowder therapy* followed by some country fried steak.

Helped Kratos savagely rip the legs off of Hermes to steal his winged boots, then settled in to PC time cleaning out emails while drinking a beer and watching the Thunder take down the Spurs.

And did some laundry.

It's boring, but a little boring is good sometimes.
--

Not sure what I'll do with the money, but daddy does need some new kicks.

(Reebok realflex)

--
*just a 9mm, but it makes a nice bang

Roller Coaster of Emotion

As logical and rational as I appear to be most times, I am a swirling vortex of wild emotion. It's like I'm Spock in a way. These past few days, I've been facing off with the latest bouts of inadequacy but like all things, it came to pass. This time was because a waitress was extra nice, and I probably could have gotten a date. But she was not my type at all. It's like how my married friend, a skinny Anglo with light blue eyes, is catnip to thick African-American servers at Popeye's. We're just fishing with the wrong bait!

And just this morning, I received news that the trajectory of my life may finally be heading in the right direction. But even if that doesn't pan out, I am confident there will be brighter days ahead. Not to say that these are dark days (I mean how can a month in Europe be dark? Well besides those crappy days when it was cold, wet, and overcast).

This afternoon, I'm turning in the 60-day notice for the apartment which was witness to possibly the darkest time in my life. In a way, it was the necessary year of purgatory needed to rectify many of the issues I had put off in a fool's quest for fame and fortune, such fickle and fleeting mistresses.

All I want now is a sense of wholeness, of the pieces finally fitting together to make the Picasso-portrait of my self-image. Though I am not where I want to be, I know that I can and will get there. It has become no longer a question of "if?" but "when?"

(if things turn out well, I may have to wait 2-3 hours on a weekend to ride this again)

So here is to the roller coaster ride that is my life and my psyche. Hopefully the peaks and valleys will be much less pronounced from here on out. I'm getting too old for this mess! I just realized I can no longer classify myself as "early 20s" anymore :(

Summer is Blazer Prepping Season

Okay, transferring pics from the iPhone isn't as bad as I made it out to be. It is definitely more difficult than it should be, but it's probably because I'm used to picture files appearing as an external hard drive rather than a camera wizard. If that sounded confusing, it's because it is. Anyway.

So when I came back from Europe, I weighed in expecting about 5-7 lbs weight gain from all the booze, carbs, lack of protein, and messed up sleep patterns. But it was only 2 lbs! We did walk a lot, which probably resulted in the loss of a couple of inches around the waist. I almost fit into my favorite bootcut jeans that I had to retire back in 2nd year of grad school. And it turns out that I fit into my cream/beige blazer that I bought around that time!

(me, 25 lbs lighter)

I never got the sleeves fitted because I have never worn it outside. It is physically impossible to wear a blazer for 10 out of 12 months in this Texas heat, and so there was never the occasion to pimp this rocking jacket with the salmon/red/pink shirt.

And if you look really closely, that pocket square is made from a very thin piece of 8.5"x11" printer paper. We met this very metro Swede on our eurotrip who reportedly spent the equivalent of $40 on a hot orange pocket square to complement his blue blazer. And though I almost vomited at the thought of spending that much on a piece of hemmed fabric, I must admit that combination looked spectacular.

So when I do get my jackets altered (I also have a blue blazer with brass buttons), I'm getting a few pocket squares to go with them. I'm thinking white, blue-green or turquoise, orange, and pink.

I saw this outfit while window shopping in France:

I dig the waist-hugging fit, but this jacket is a bit more white than cream; cream allows for more combinations in my opinion. Plus, I only spent $40 on my jacket in 2005; the price for this French one is obscene!

iPhone, It Mostly Works

Okay, I'll concede that the iPhone 4/4S is damn sexy, especially the white one. It's extra sexy when combined with a barely-there case. A good many people put those large, clunky otterbox cases, but it's akin to putting a supermodel in an XXL puffy jacket. Why, people, why? And those with no protection leave nothing to the imagination. So yes, I bought into the flagship of the Apple culture, but after just a couple months, I'm ready to jump ship.

Some gripes:

No app cache clearing. Facebook and other large apps can take a huge toll on the non-expandable 8gb (6.4gb actual) memory allotment. It would be nice to have the option to clear cached memory from time to time to increase speed, which is a standard option on the Android platform. iPhone, nope. It will automatically clear it whenever it feels like it, which is almost never. And I'm not doing the delete & reinstall workaround. It defeats the ease that Apple promises.

No forcing of full sites. I think Safari is one of the best smartphone browsers available. And surfing on the iPhone is vastly more pleasurable than using Android's default browser. But you can't force the iPhone to display full sites natively; you always have to click the "Display Full Site" option from the default mobile site. Now Chase.com refuses to offer such option so you're stuck with the crappy mobile site. Android has a workaround to always display full sites for that stupid company that refuses to acknowledge the computing power of newer smartphones. (I guess this is more of a complaint against Chase).

No sorting in packaged Reminders app. Every other pre-installed app has an option to reorder items, why not this one? For such a sleek & elegant system, this is a glaring omission/mistake.

Ease of transferring photos & creating albums natively. I spent a good couple hours trying to figure out how to get pictures from the phone onto my PC in an efficient manner. If it just works, then it should be intuitive to figure out. I'm far from a techie, but I'm no idiot when it comes to technology. Suggestions: list the iPhone as an external HD (Apple will never do this), show pictures tab in iTunes like they have for ebooks & music, have an import/export feature from iTunes. Oh forget about creating albums from Camera Roll on the phone itself. Not an option. UPDATE: I take this back. You can create albums in Camera Roll. Don't rely on discussion topics from 2009. Oopsy! :)
--

I've looked and there are countless discussion topics dedicated to these issues. And unlike Android which seems to be a more open platform, with Apple you're stuck with what they give you. There is an update I'm currently downloading (taking forever, btw), but I doubt it will fix any of these problems no matter how much demand there is.

For me, the iPhone is like a really attractive trophy wife who is extremely uptight and stubborn. The things she chooses to do, she will do well and quite elegantly. But there are things you know are possible that she will absolutely refuse to do, no matter how much research & finagling you try. You just have to enjoy her beauty and live with her faults. Or divorce her in 21 months and get the newer, sexier Android model.

Failed Pickup in Prague

Oh man, Prague was ridiculously fun! But the best parts are secreted between my travel companions, my journal, and myself. If you want to read about a fun Prague experience, go yourself then write about it. Trust me, it will be so much better that way.

I'm healing (hopefully) from this objectification-of-women disease I've been suffering from as of these past couple of years. Well really I've probably had it my whole life--I just didn't realize it until a couple of years ago. To be fair, I objectify dudes too, just not in a sexual way (though one could doubt that considering the Nice post). It's so much easier to view people as a collection of traits: physical, mental, and material. But that's wrong. I don't want to be viewed as some muscle-bound (getting there!) smart dude who makes a six-figure salary. While those things do describe me, I am so much more. And people are so much more. Please excuse the armchair psychology/philosophy.
--

So I did intend to meet people on this Europe trip. If it was a bad experience, it's not like I'd ever see them again, which took away from the awkwardness of talking to random strangers. It was surprising the number of cool people (men and women) whom I didn't keep in touch with through Facebook or other means. It made me realize that there are nice, friendly people everywhere if only you were nice and friendly. As the saying goes, "It's nice to be nice."

But of course I am a dude, and try as I may, there is always that undercurrent sexual tension whenever a man talks with a woman. And that undercurrent becomes a raging river once a little alcohol gets in the way. One bit of advice for Prague: try not to get too drunk off of the really good $1.50 beers.

Fortunately, concurring with my desire to not be that guy anymore, I won't go into the blow by blows. I hesitated to write this post, but I just had to immortalize the stupid drunken notes I made on my phone while on the Drunken Monkey Pub Crawl. It's 400-500 Czech kronas which translates to $20-25. Do it! If the fellow pub crawlers suck, then drink some more until they don't suck or until you just don't care anymore. Disclaimer: g does not advocate drinking as a way to solve problems, though it can help immensely.

(I'm surprised I actually don't have a pic from the place, so this will have to do. Notice the dude rocking the Astros cap in the bottom right pic. H-town represent!)

Note 1 (on Reminders iPhone app): Oh snap theyre playing dreamland!

After playing beer pong the weird UK way (bounce-ins only, no shooting directly into the cup) and the American (the real) way at the opening bar, I was sufficiently sauced when we started to crawl. And in one of the other bars, they played a song from Robert Miles's Dreamland. Really trippy when you're not expecting techno/trance/New Age, but oh so welcome. I really dig chill-out music.

Note 2: Don't call a Brit an ahole for stealing a Finn :(

By the third or fourth bar/pub, I slowed down the alcohol consumption to practically nil. The power-2.5-hour was over, and I didn't quite feel like paying for drinks that I wouldn't remember, even if they were only the equivalent of $3. With increased sobriety, I also gained increased wherewithal to notice all the hot girls all around me. Again, go to Prague!

So I approached a few of them sitting on a nice comfy couch, with the excuse that I was just resting. Struck up a conversation, then encountered the dreaded s-- test: "You know I'm not going to sleep with you tonight."

Casually, smiling, "I don't want to sleep with you either. I'm here for the culture. Besides, I'm not an easy guy; you have to work to get me into bed!" With that, I did a takeaway to talk to the other girl. But a couple minutes in, I see the first girl making out with a skinny Clark Kent looking jerk replete with large, black wayfarer-like glasses. Totally distracting, and upsetting to me since I was still buzzing hard.

A while later, we all make our way outside, and I complimented the guy on his victory by calling him an a--hole, which apparently to Brits is a severe insult. Guy was about to start a fight then and there. Being a lover and not a fighter, I offered a defusing apology and stepped away from the pugilist. Not worth my time.

Note 3: Don't drink when you're running game especially when you have a chance

The next place I was still distracted from the earlier proceedings. That's my excuse for fumbling through conversations, etc. The other pub crawlers bought me a drink which helped ease the pain and frustration. Again, alcohol does not solve problems! :)

Note 4: Being drunk and or buzzed makes you vulnerable to old habits

We eventually called it quits and walked along the main thoroughfare of Prague, to enjoy really delicious  drunk junk food from street vendors. I had a fried cheese sandwich with a Duff beer*. It was like a giant mozzarella stick garnished with a tartar-like sauce and encapsulated in a hamburger bun. And if that sounds utterly amazing, it's because it is! Kind of like having a Spicy McChicken & Double Cheeseburger after a night out, except I washed it down with more booze.

When we got back to the hostel, I apparently recounted the Brit/Finn story a number of times to my bunk-mate, because a couple days later when I told the story, he shook his head saying, "Dude, you're still on that?"

And so that is hopefully the last time I tell that story. For all I know, the Brit and Finn could have came together and I was the jerk for trying to make a move. Oh well, I had a great time regardless. Her loss, yes?

--
*The beer was awful even after a night of drinking, so I can't imagine how much it sucks when sober

Not Top 100 Bucketlist

More posts on Europe, I promise! ...maybe :)

First off: the cleansing of random notes I've had before the Eurotrip. Whilst making the pseudo bucketlist, I also came up with some other goals which didn't quite make the top 100. Since there aren't even 100 items on the list, these just sucked for one reason or another. Without ado. (Note: these numbers are also made up)

#115 Get a 15-star rating on PlayStation Network. I currently have an 8-star rating after completely beating 7 games. This was during my slight video game addiction phase. I'd play about 4 hours a day and would think about playing for the other 20 hours (sometimes I'd even dream about game sequences). Eventually like with most things, I got bored and stopped. Another 7-stars may not seem like a lot, but the system is progressive: I'd have to beat another 25-ish games in order to get to 15-level. I may get there in the end, but it's definitely not a goal I strive for.

#108 Qualify and play in the U.S. Open (of golf). I'd have to get ridiculously good or all other golfers have to get ridiculously bad. I'll definitely try, but items on a bucketlist should be reasonable. My first golf goal is to break 100. Then it will be to consistently beat my brother.

#118 Become a competitive eater. On Sundays I eat whatever and however much I want to reset my metabolism (aka a cheat day). And the meal can get pretty massive. Emboldened by these epic pigouts, I attempted and completed a 4-lb pho challenge. While initially delicious, it started becoming work and eventually started to hurt. Don't do it. Not worth a free gigantic bowl of pho, which was my prize. Maybe worth the picture on their wall of fame though :). After that experience, I gave up on considering competitive eating.

#132 Finish the Star Trek series on Netflix. For awhile, I was also hooked on Netflix streaming. It was disgusting: I'd wake up, and the first thing I'd do was watch a couple episodes of series XYZ. While some were worth it (like Lost and Battlestar Galactica), others were definitely a waste of time. Currently progressing through Scrubs now, but only a couple episodes here and there. When Netflix announced their partnership with Star Trek, I was initially excited, but there's absolutely no way I could watch that and the other things in my queue. So Star Trek, live long and prosper without me.
--

On a sidenote, I'm going to try to treat this blog like she being brand new:

"i was back in neutral tried and
again slo-wly;bare,ly nudg.       ing(my
lev-er Right-
oh and her gears being in
A 1 shape passed
from low through
second-in-to-high like
greasedlightning)"

Taking it slower, steadier, and consistent-er. Versus my track record of being quick, labile, and capricious.

So I say.

Brave Old World

I am back! And though Europe was quite a blast, a month in foreign lands is long enough for this Texas boy. I've been dying for a good chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes (with cream gravy), mac & cheese, and fried okra, but I will have to wait just a bit longer while I get back into my workout/eating right rhythm.

A month is far too much to encapsulate into a single post, so just some thoughts about how the Old and New World can learn from each other.

New World pro: free water. In the States, there is almost always a water fountain just outside public facilities. Though it may not be the cleanest, it is certainly available, and it's free. There is almost no free water in Europe. Order water at a restaurant in Europe and you'll likely pay a few euros for bottled. They also like their fizzy Perrier-like water, which can be pretty awful if you're not used to it.

Coming from a place where I was regularly consuming about a gallon of water a day (16 glasses), I felt so dehydrated most times. After only a couple days back, my hands are soft and moisturized again (and I don't use hand lotion). The lack of readily available water is also one of the reasons why I didn't work out much in Europe. That's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it. Fortunately, I only gained a couple pounds. No worries; those pounds and its friends will be leaving soon enough.

Old World pro: The price you see is the price you pay, ie tax and gratuity included. You can't imagine how convenient it is to pay straight sticker price. If the price is 4.50 euros, then you're going to pay 4.50, not 4.87 with 8.25% tax. And not having to tack on 15% gratuity is amazing. Europeans were shocked to learn it's standard to tip 15% on okay service in the States. "At restaurants in the States, you look at the price then add another 25%. That's the real price." "What? Really?" "Yep. If you can't afford tax & tip, you can't afford the meal."

My traveling companion did make a good point, "In the States, you have the option of not tipping them if you don't want to. Here, it's already included in the price." But living in such a tip-driven society, it feels awful not tipping, like if you were to ignore the collection basket at church.

At a steakhouse in Amsterdam, I think the waitstaff was extra friendly to me as an American, thinking I'd leave the standard hefty tip. In hindsight, I should have left a couple euros, but I needed them for FEBO! An American waiter/waitress would probably have run after me screaming obscenities had I stiffed them.

Another thing, they do have 1 and 2 cent euro pieces, but its use is much less common than the penny because of the tax included thing. Though to be honest, it doesn't matter too much to me since I use cards for pretty much everything.
--

How scattered are my thoughts tonight? At least I'm not drunk to the point of amnesia! I made a $10 bet shortly after that last blog post that I would not get back to the hostel 3 hours after my travel companions without good reason. And so for the rest of the trip, I respected the effects of alcohol. That doesn't mean that there aren't stories which have been safely sealed away under the principle of Mutually Assured Destruction. What happens in Europe stays in Europe :).

(attempted photobomb which actually turned out to be a nice contrapposto pic)

Le Royale Cheese

I am going to ignore that I somehow got back to my hostel without getting jacked. I believed before I passed out that I was following a gay Brazilian and a New York girl to some club. I managed to dance somewhat successfully given my intoxicated state and I might have even kissed a gay guy(s). But the recolllection now that I'm safe in my hostel, locked outside of my room is a bit fuzzy, like all good drunk stories tend to be a bit non-kosher. It is almost 7AM.

It is warm, and the only difficulty lies in a funky keyboard which is almost QWERTY but not quite. Did I mention that I cannot get into my room? Anyway. The events of the last 2 hours are significantly strange to me. I gained consciousness somewhere on the outskirts of Nice, France, without the benefit of a map. My iPhone does not have GPS nor unlimited internet as it does in the US. I was following some girl and a gay guy trying to make progress with said girl, but as we see from this post, I had most likely failed (or had failed or will have failed). So I made my way to landmarks, most notably the Mediterranean Sea.

In the daytime, it is a brilliant shade of azure blue, a color which you can't imagine without seeing it in person. At night, it taunts you of your own frustration in finding a place to rest your head.

But I conquered this foreign obstacle even if I cannot get into my bed. I have reached my final destination to blog at 6:30AM local time. I cannot get into my room, but I am not dead or missing. I am alive and well, and surprised that I somehow made it back to where I should be.

Which is quite beautiful in the daytime with its azure waters, but in the night, it is a bit bland, especially when you're trying to find your home for the next few days. It ended up being okay, since Europeans are quite nice, even in the darkness.

--

I honestly cannot believe that I let myself indulge in crazy matters that I have done in this foreign country. I had fully intended to eat a nice dinner of pate and cheese on French bread and maybe have a glass of wine to unwine before going to bed.

But I ended up putting on my pink dress shirt. slacks, and dress shoes not very much later. Which was quite fun when I knew what was going on. Somehow, my separation of reality and extant reality kicked in, and I panicked.

I figured out where my hostel was and I trucked back home in the dark, guided by the sound of the crashing waves on the gravelled shore. Even without a cell phone, I somehow remembered the name of the hostel where I was staying, though I cannot call nor text my friends to open the door.

Which is fine, because it is my own damn fault.

--

It is okay, because Europe has treated me grandly so far.

I had hoped to get my Royale Cheese whilst on my quest for home, but alas, I may have to do that tomorrow.

No worries. The last dude in Barcelona had a saying: No pasa nada. Loosely translated to don't worry about the past.

And I am not. I live in the present, and the present is quite fun, even if a bit unexpected!

I will get my Royale Cheese before I leave France though!

-g

What's Luck Got To Do With It?

...got to do with it? What's luck but a second hand-ed notion?

Did you see what I did there? I subbed "-ed notion" for "emotion"? Please excuse that bit of ego-stroking.

--

I don't have very many pet peeves. I don't know or care about the proper use of nauseous vs nauseated. But one of my main ones has to do with the correct use & meaning of words. Luck and fortune can easily be mistaken for good decision-making. But it is a severe disservice to dismiss tough, difficult decision-making as a simple smile of the fates.

As mentioned in the last post, I'm departing for the Old World in a couple days. It's been fun making friends turn that lovely shade of gangrene, and I revel in the "I'm-so-jealous!"s. But I silently bristle when I hear the oft-said "Oh, you're so lucky!"

"No. I made the right decisions; some of them were very hard. Please don't belittle the things I had to give up to make this month-long trip that I may never be able to do again." That's what I want to say, but I'm not that much of a jerk. And they mean well, even if they equate my choices' outcome with that of the Mega Millions winners.

There wasn't a Eurotrip lottery. There weren't cross-Atlantic plane tickets in the middle of the street for any lucky fool to pick up. How is it luck? Not to bore you with details, but suffice it to say, I made several sacrifices including several grand, willing unemployment and time.

--

The second part of my annoyance comes from the sometimes tragic reliance on luck. It's sad to see people suckling on the addictive teat of casinos' false promise of wealth. Though some may win big at the house games, most leave broke when they don't regard the trip as entertainment. The simple fact is that the odds are always in the house's favor (with the exception of poker, etc). The right decision is not to play the games.

We are in control of a large number of our actions even if it may not seem like it. You can quit your job if you so choose (though it should probably be for a very good reason in this economy). You can go to Europe for a whole month. You can lose all the weight that you resolved to do every New Year. You can get healthy. You can always try to do everything you want to do. It's not about good nor bad luck.

It's about belief. Then, and more importantly, it's about proper decision-making. If you're a single parent living paycheck to paycheck, then no, you probably can't go to Europe this year. But you can go back to school, get a well-paying job, save up, and when your kids get older, you too can see Barcelona, Paris, London, Berlin, etc. It's not about luck.

--

Back in high school, a teacher ventured a guess that I liked chess:

me: Why is that? I don't really care for chess.

teach: That's surprising, since you seem to like to be in control. And chess isn't a game of chance.

me: Hmm. Never thought about it that way. But I think chess sucks.

--

I think it's because I didn't and don't have the patience to learn all the moves & gambits & such. And it's probably because I can't quite control what my opponent is doing. And it's a stretch to make chess lessons applicable to life situations. I'd much rather play golf. It takes longer, is more expensive, vastly more frustrating, and hence immensely addictive.

As I get older, I recognize decisions and see the hidden choices I can now make. I understand the consequences of my actions, and I forgo immediate satisfactions for more profound rewards. I'm starting to challenge the accepted 9-5-with-2-weeks-vacation-per-year-white-picket-fence-2.5-kids norm. I'm not doing what everyone else is doing (or should be doing) because I'm not trying to be everyone else.

I'm trying to be the best me. Forcing myself to recognize all options and sequelae has helped me tremendously this past year: what works, what doesn't work, what will never work, and what may work in the future.

It's not about luck. It's mostly decision-making and a little skill.

-g

Bucketlisting: #42 Backpack Europe, almost check!

This morning, the sun and heat creeped through the blackout curtains in my room, jarring me out of my strange visions of Supernatural-esque motel-hopping in which my father and I connected over our experience of watching Lost. We both thought Locke was badass and hoped that Kate would just die already, knowing full well that she would never be killed off. As of late, probably secondary to my increased health & metabolism, I can't sleep-in after waking up. It is an unwelcome side-effect that I'll just have to get used to. Small price to pay for my future 8-pack.

Part of my morning ablutions includes a cleansing of overnight emails via my smartphone. But today, I chose to turn on the TV to view the Today show (no ESPN in my room). And a quad of metrosexual guys* greeted me with talk of their bucketlist. The coolest item was to hoop it up with the Commander in Chief, President Barack. Part of the inspiration behind the endeavor was they felt inundated by the random stuff that just didn't matter. They were lost; they lacked direction. The list was the cure. Or something like that. I am a guy after all, and I am not immune to that male-centric disease of only hearing what I want to hear.

I've been trying to find direction in my life too. Most of it had been appropriated as an outgrowth of my father's desire to become a medical doctor. And when it wasn't him, there were (and are) plenty others willing to chip in their unwanted 2-cents. But I am the master of my domain, in the narcissistic, non-autoerotic way. When I realized that, my outlook changed. No, I can't be whatever I want to be (such as a PGA tour golfer), but I have the power to do what I want to do, and inversely and perhaps more importantly, not do what I don't want to do.

So a bucket list would be perfect to progress this do-or-do-not-there-is-no-try mentality.

--

#42 Backpack Europe. I've kinda been wanting to do the Euro-trip thing, complete with hostels, tattered foreign language dictionaries, friendly & unfriendly locals, and sexy females with exotic accents. During my experiential training, my classmate and the professor casually suggested that I should backpack Europe, in a tone which you might use to suggest to the naive guy that he should experiment a little before proposing to the first girl who would have him. At the time, I didn't think I'd have the chance, given the rigid, unwavering path my parents had laid out for me. But "behold, now is the accepted time" with two good friends, a big guy noone would mess with and the other with little hesitation for chatting up new folks. BTW, I'm leaving next week for a month, so you may not hear from me besides posts like "Such-and-such is amazing!"

#15 (quarter) Cross-country road trip. The bad part about having stable, responsible guy friends is that they're highly desirable to stable, responsible women. My friends' wives are awesome, and they probably wouldn't stop the dudes from having a grand adventure to Vegas, but my friends aren't going to neglect their duties for a spontaneous weekend getaway. But a perfect excuse will be when some chick finally bags herself the big one, moi. And by "big one" I mean my enormous melon of a head. The Hangover, part g, anyone?**

#69 Nookie in 15 different countries, preferably with local(s). But taking the same girl to multiple countries would still count in my book. So to all the sugar mommas out there, baby I'm still free, take a chance on me. Planning to make progress on #69 while on #42. This is dedicated to a fallen comrade who recently proposed. His noble dream was to father a child in every country and name the kid after himself, boy or girl. As of this post, he has zero kids (that he knows of).

#23 Apply for the Amazing Race with one of my best friends. We will be billed as the two doctors who somehow manage to do an inordinate number of stupid things because that's just good TV. He has the planning, leadership and determination, whereas I'll bring the muscle and indestructible stomach. And if I succeed in #8 (below), I will try to spend a large amount of screentime doing my best emulation of Daniel Dae Kim with his shirt off. I say apply only because I'm not leaving my Bucket List up to chance--it's not my fault should they fail to recognize greatness when they see it!

#4 Bungee jump, then skydive. Fear of heights is a good thing. Stretchy things have stretchy limits, and parachute packs are sometimes filled with silverware. But I will do these one day, alive or dead. My last will & testament will have a clause stating that to release funds, my heirs will have to tandem jump my putrid corpse gently (or ungently, for that matter) back to earth before putting me six feet deep.

#16 Complete the Big Texan 72-oz steak challenge in Amarillo, TX. I know it's a spectacle and gluttony is a deadly sin, but I'm an exhibitionist and steak is delicious. It isn't a nicely marbled ribeye, but we're going for quantity over quality. My only food challenge thus far was a 4-lb bowl of pho which I demolished in 45 minutes at Pho 24 in Houston. The largest steak I've had was 32-oz, and I felt I could easily pack away an additional 8-oz.

#73 See a live performance & get a kiss from Iliza Shlesinger (a comedienne--get your minds out of the gutter!). The goal is a peck on the cheek, but if the lady should opt for a full French connection, a gentleman should always oblige. She's another blonde-haired, blue-eyed piece of kryptonite, a weapon of my destruction. And I'm a sucker for sharp wit, snarky comments, dirty jokes & killer legs. I almost forgot about her if not for Excused, a spiritual successor to Blind Date. I also want to see Daniel Tosh, Mike Birbiglia and Demetri Martin one day. (Thanks to the commentator who posted about Martin. His comedy has that intelligent word-play I crave!)

#8 Get an 8-pack & benchpress 2 plates or 225-lbs (1-rep max). My current workout regimen is intense, and I'm sad I'll have to put it on hold for a little bit while in Europe. I didn't think a 6-pack was possible for me, but my faith is growing. Besides, if those meathead drunks on the Jersey Shore can do it, certainly I can! Thus the 8-pack: set 'dem goals high, big swhoal***. I've maxed out at 185-lbs in high school when I was a scrawny 155. So 40 extra pounds should be within reach.

#100 Finish the Modern Library's top 100 novels of the 20th century, whether I understand them or not. I've read about 25 so far, including everything in the top 10 except for Ulysses. It will be my capstone and is the reason for the condition "whether I understand [it] or not." Portrait was difficult but intelligible. Ulysses must be some odd mixture of Greek, Esperanto, Elvish, Klingon, and Na'vi with a light smattering of English to gel it all together. Damn you Joyce! I'm sure I'm not the only one to curse your masterpiece of literary masochism.

The numbers on the list have been brought to you by Lost, Sheldon Cooper (73), and a well-known position. Disclaimer: Numbers shown may not actually reflect the numbers on g's list since said list has yet to be fully written.

-g

--

*I think all these guys are straight, but I wouldn't be surprised if all swung the other way (not that it matters, of course).

**At this rate, I'll never sucker anyone into marrying me! :D

***my version of swoll

The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

The prodigiously prodigal blogger returns!

This time, he has forced himself to write at least one post of explanation before pretending that the long absence hasn't happened. Boyfriends who are okay boyfriends (based on the fact that they're still boyfriends) frequently ignore their girlfriends. So who am I to question this logic? Distance--and silence--make the heart grow fonder as the drivel goes. Oh how I love the silent treatment when Sportscenter is on! DUH da DUH, DUH da DUH!*

Posts will continue more or less sporadically, though it is unlikely that readers still check for new posts on a daily basis (and have resorted to the Feedburner link which I am not sure still works).

So the explanation? 1) Better things to do, 2) sloth, 3) increased reliance on smartphone and less on actual PC and 4) less instances of being drunk. You can't imagine the number of almost drunk posts that I've had the wherewithal to coitus interruptus to prevent their existence. I'd say one out of every 4 drunk posts slips through. The truly drunk ones don't have their time-stamps doctored. (the previous is mostly facetious).

--

I thought tablets (iPads et al) were stupid. I realize now that they do fill in the void between the smartphone and full-fledged PC/Mac. An instant-on device with sizable real estate was a largely undiscovered niche that needed filling**. But a tablet would have the same effect on my blogging as those silly ab-belts would have my my one-pack. Web-surfing would be helluva more enjoyable though.

--

Sloth. Lazy. Done.

--

Better things to do? Highly debatable. I finished all 120 episodes of Lost; about 5-10 anime series (about 24-26 25-min episodes each); thought about working out; read zero books; platinum trophy'd Tiger Woods 11, Resident Evil 5, Heavy Rain, Infamous, God of War 1 & 2; thought more about working out; had GOW 3 but thought platinum-ing it would count as a sign of impending gaming addiction; actually started working out again; picked up golf again; cursed golf's very existence; liked golf; hated golf, repeat; and really got into working out again.

----

Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul is a comedic-mystery novel by Douglas Adams, probably one of my favorite authors. He may not be as deep as those literary figureheads, but I'd like to think it was because he was too light-hearted and self-conscious to express his inner Fitzgerald (one of my other favorite authors***). You may know Adams more from the Hitchhiker's Guide, but the Dirk Gently series is more satisfying plot-wise: each novel is complete in and of itself.

The title of the book suggests a somber story ("dark") coupled with reflection ("of the soul") set in a rather drawn-out ("long") English afternoon ritual ("tea-time"). And it is. And it isn't.

And so this little absence of mine is a long, dark tea-time of my soul. It is what it sounds like, but then it isn't what it sounds like.

The story of such events (if I can find the motivation to blog about it) may be 1) silly, 2) stupid, 3) enlightening, 4) humorous, 5) all of the above, or 6) a grand waste of time. Hope it will be 5, but it will probably be 6.

-g

--

*Some people leave on CNN/news while doing stuff around the house. I leave on Sportscenter. Much less depressing.

**A less refined blogger would exploit this easy double entendre. I will merely point to its existence.

***My literary taste has lost some of its diversity as of late, but Fitzgerald is a fine if common choice.

The French-Asian Connection

Hello again! Long time, yes?

I've been suffering from a bitter ennui, not unlike those suffered by young male antagonists/foils who have not-very-attractive-but-devastatingly-smart-governesses who are remarkably similar to the intended readers of such novels. Confused yet? So am I! Victorian novels a la Bronte and Austen are the Dickens! And Dickens is the Dickens too!

To the heart of this post: so I meet this moi qua* girl at a random event and we eventually agree to exchange emails because she's interested in applying to pharmacy school. Before anyone gets their hopes up (mines included) that this is going to be some sordid, embarrassing tale in which I perform an auto-foot-in-mouth procedure, I must say that I only go for the girls who have the keen sense to not go for me. That is, I want what I can't have, and don't want what I could have. However arrogant that may sound, it is the truth, and it probably applies to a whole lot of folks.

Anyway, as a test suitability or a test of curiosity (or a lapse in judgment), this girl sends me an email in Vietnamese. I take my time reading the Viet without the diacritical marks, which I suppose is how Viet people email each other since it would suck to stop every other letter to insert a symbol. And as I near the end, I see some intelligible words! English, alas! Who other than an English-speaking person would ever call English intelligible?**

[paraphrased] "Please let me know if you can't read it. I'll send it again in English."

Oh how you underestimate the virile, semi-intelligent man. I would have learned Swahili by how if there were fine Swahili chicks to ogle outside my door.

--

end what g thinks is humor, and start what g thinks is educational and insightful

--

So in Vietnamese, it is vitally important that one address another person with the proper title. It is a sign of respect and gives context to the situation. Using the equivalents for 'you' and 'I' is highly disrespectful, and if there's a familial relationship, it denotes ignorance since you didn't know how he/she is related.

Not very important for our American tourists, but probably important for someone who wants to marry into this crazy culture.

To be safe, most MQ who are learning to use the concept of 'you' and 'I' simply use the English 'you' and 'I' instead of the Vietnamese equivalents. For example, ten cua you la nguoi doc chu, ten cua mi la g.***

But to be safe (and cute), some girls use the term title em, and address the guys as anh. Which can mean simply that she is younger, but also implies that you may have a chance to be more than that (because she could have used some other title instead)!

Do I overthink things? Most deftly and definitely. But the punch-line of this super long and boring setup is nigh, the reason for the 'French-Asian' part of the title.

Instead of using anh throughout the email, she shortens it to a simple A. near the end. It reminds me of the single French M. as the abbreviation for monsieur. So in addition to the French baguettes, those colonists also gave the Viet people the idea for abbreviating titles. Or perhaps it's the modern American influence: Anh makes 141 characters, A. makes 140!

I know, the punch-line, set-up, and everything in between were terrible!

--

*MQ, moi qua, Viet for 'just came over'

**Say 'car' and then say 'cat.' Why is the 'ca' in both words not sound the same? There you go.

***Your name is readers, my name is g.

Convalescence Week 2

To the recovering,

The first time I heard the word 'convalescent' that I cared to look up the meaning** was in 2pac's I Ain't Mad At Cha.

'Til God return me to my essence

Cause even as an adolescent, I refuse to be a convalescent'

It's a killer rhyme, but even in context, I still doesn't make sense to me. So even as a kid, he'd rather die than to be holed up in a hospital recuperating?

--

I have a peculiar tendency to turn ever so mildly into a seething psychotic when my sleep gets out of whack. But I am Asian (and DSM-IV-TR is as real to us as Snooki's* tan), and we hold and bottle our problems only to vent them in a self-destructive cataclysm of drinking and gambling-- at least that is what the Viet do.

But I've grown increasingly unaccustomed to alcohol, as the two bottles of premium single malt that have remained half-empty for a nearly a year can attest. And I've never been much of a gambler, since I think it's really silly to play something for the long-term that probability states I will lose in the long-term. So it builds and it swells until it can no longer be ignored.

And after the sound and the fury, there came a darkness upon the land. And in the cool, drizzling breeze of the night, the parched earth was flooded then rejuvenated with life-giving waters. And when the ground was quenched of its drought, it was ready to approach the light of day with renewed vigor.

Very poor imagery aside, I must have slept for about 60% of last week, which is absolutely amazing for the mind but terrifically terrible for the lower back, especially on a faux memory foam mattress topper. I did some golf and fishing. I tried reading a little bit, but my attention waned in favor of serial watching of anime. But most importantly, I did not do what I didn't want to do or have to do.

I am an invisible man not because people refuse to see me, but because I refuse[d] to see myself. More on this and other thoughts/ideas later.

--

I was taught as a child that I must do what is necessary***. That 'necessary' was to redeem some archaic notion of family honor. It's a story taken straight out of a cheesy Chinese Kung Fu flick complete with bad voice dubs. Though I have (for the most part) shed the burden of hundreds of years of tradition, that mantra still remained: to do what is necessary.

Except what was necessary did not include my own well-being. It should always include one's own well being, or there should be a damn good reason it doesn't.

But there is no use in armchair psychology-ing yourself all the time. We should all all take it easy, be the optimist hole mole, and get tatted up with 'THUG ANGEL' on a whim. Because it is 'pretty cool'!

by Austin Havican, from UH's Daily Cougar. Sadly, holemoles.com doesn't exist anymore.

(I would be concerned about the scattered thoughts, but it makes perfect sense [to me] how this bit about hole moles connects to 2Pac, which connects to the rest of the stuff because of the convalescing thing. And besides, I can't exactly end on such a dreary note!)

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*I cannot stomach Jersey Shore, and I am bemused that so many of my FB friends keep up with that show.

**When I read novels, I skip most unknown words since the context usually gives the meaning.

***"It is no use saying, 'We are doing our best.' You have got to succeed in doing what is necessary." - Winston Churchill