I Write to Save Myself

i nver thought a single entry would take more than two months.

2012-03-08T12:52:00.001-08:00

crazy.

Facebook Public Relations Consultant II

2012-03-02T06:59:00.002-08:00

This is a continuation of this, and now we will move on to the next chapter of Facebook- commenting and liking. Now remember, what I am telling you is considering the fact that you are a 28year old Asian American man living in New York..

Commenting is a difficult skill to master. To who are you allowed to comment? When should you comment? How often should you comment? Should you comment at all?
All these questions are valid. To answer the last question, yes you should comment. Commenting is a way to communicate that yes you are still alive, yes you are an active facebook participant, and yes you appreciate the posts from your friends.
Constantly changing your profile pictures but not saying a word to anyone else, if noticed by others, can come across as sketchy.
"Oh, he is changing his profile picture, so that means he's active on facebook, but he's not saying a word anywhere. He's just going around looking at things."

Just going around looking at things.

Just going around looking at things.

Just going around looking at things.

Do you want to be thought of as the guy who just goes around looking at things?

Now the tricky part is determining to whose updates you are allowed to comment on. In the ideal facebook world, you should be able to comment on every single one of your facebook friends' updates. But the truth is that you barely know most of them. That means you cannot include yourself in an ongoing commenting conversation thread between that girl you had World History class with eight years ago and her friend.
Yes, she's cute. But no, you can't.

The bottom line is, in order for you to be allowed to comment, you either need to have had some sort of mutual facebook contact (wall writing, comments, messages) with that person in the past couple years, or you currently see that person on a regular basis. If not, then no you are not allowed to comment on their new profile picture out of nowhere.

Comments are appreciated though. Hearty comments are friendship maintainers, witty comments are friendship builders. So go leave a comment when you could. Just remember that since you are a grown man, you shouldn't be commenting around the block too much. You want to be seen as active on facebook, but not as a guy who lives on facebook all day, talking your ass away.

"Liking" is a more flexible than commenting. It's cheaper, easier, and has minimal value to it. It could mean anything. You can "like an article or a video of someone you are not too familiar with since the focus is on the content of the post, not the person posting it. This provides you a broad range of options with your "likes."

"Liking" is another way of indirectly saying one of the following-

* We both looked at each others Facebook page to the point where Facebook selects your postings to show up on my news feed.
* I did not hide your newsfeeds
* Maybe we should catch up sometime.
* Your thing is cool but I'm not cool enough to say anything to it.
* After four more "likes" I will eventually comment on your stuff.
* If you never "like" my things back, then I probably should back up off you.

There aren't too many restraints for "liking" things other than that you shouldn't "like" something that was posted more than a week ago. And if you need an explanation as to why not, then I give up.

an NBA "piece"

2012-03-01T11:56:00.002-08:00

This NBA season (2011-2012) marks the sixteenth year of the famed 1996 draft class. Most of the legendary players from that class are long gone from the court, and the few remaining are on the verge of retirement. Only Kobe Bryant, Ray Allen, and Steve Nash are defying father time and producing at an All Star level, but that could go on for so long. This is why we’d like to take this opportunity to discuss and compare two illustrious players, two players who played the same position this past decade and a half. Both left a permanent imprint on the NBA, and so we will re-examine their careers to appreciate and digest what they have done, and determine once and for all who was the better player.

Steve Nash, or Derek Fisher. Who was the better player? Here’s our take.

Passing Ability:

If you have watched just one All Star Game Skills challenge competition that Nash competed in, you will know immediately the answer to this question. Nash is the best passer in the history of the NBA. His crisp bounce passes are always exactly on target, and the speed of his chest passes are always perfect. He occasionally breaks down passing lane blockers by passing in between the legs of that defender, and also probably has the most alley-oop assists of all time. Also Nash is sixth all time in total career assists, and second among active players behind Jason Kidd. He posted seven double double years with points and assists. From a statistical overview, Nash has no equal.

Fish was never known for his passing ability. Kobe, a shooting guard, has more assists than Fisher.

Scores: Nash 10, Fish 6

Shooting Ability:

Nash has always been among the league leaders in Free Throw Percentage, while also posting respectable three point numbers. The same could be said for Fisher.

The difference between them would be in their shooting form. Fisher’s form is more dependable- his sturdy upper body and the elbow of his shooting arm is never protruding. As a result, Fisher’s percentages are consistent, and is also a marvel to watch. Nash’s form on the other hand, while proven to be effective, is a bit unorthodox, and as a result produces those occasional ‘0-4 from the 3 point range’ games every once in awhile. Fisher gets the edge here.

Scores: Nash 8, Fish 9

Leadership

Both players are great leaders, as such is the characteristic of their position. Nash has led his Suns teams to great success for many years, where he was one fluke-Tim-Duncan-three-pointer away from probably winning the NBA championship in 2007. Fisher, while never the best player on his team, was unquestionably the vocal leader for his teams on and off the court. He was the heart and soul for five championship teams. Fish also served as the President of the players union for several years, and played a crucial role in ending the 2011 lock out.

When all is said and done, Nash never won anything. Fisher clearly wins this category.

Scores: Nash 7, Fish 10

Clutchness

Fisher redefined the word “clutch.” His buzzer beating three point winner over the towering Duncan and the defending champion Spurs in the 2004 playoffs is one of the best clutch shots in the history of the league. The shot was a direct response to Duncan’s clutch shot of his own, where Duncan made a long fade away two with 00.4 seconds remaining on the clock. The game was held in San Antonio and the crowd was buzzing over Duncan’s shot. Fisher, in response, made a shot, placed one finger on his mouth and literally silenced the entire building, then ran out of the court. He one-upped the legendary future Hall of Famer Tim Duncan in clutchness. Nash never did.

Scores: Nash 6, Fisher 9

Biceps

Derek Fisher’s arms deserve their own uniform number. The size and shape of each arm is a thing of wonder. The muscle and fat composition is at the very peak of what a human could produce. His arms are both literally and figuratively ripped.

Nash’s arms looks a bit like Scott Skiles’.

Scores: Nash 6, Fish 10

Rings

This category will be scored by how many rings each player has.

Scores: Nash 0, Fisher 5

Physique

Nash’s body, while proving to be very dependable, is not imposing. He is fit, but there is no bulk to his pecs. Fisher’s body looks like it was created to play basketball.

Scores: Nash 8, Fisher 10

Scoring Ability

Nash, as a high IQ point guard, always pushes for the right decision in each given moment. When in games it becomes apparent that he needs to score, he does so at will. Scoring ability is Fish’s biggest weakness, as he struggles to score and pretty much made a living off wide open spot up threes. Nash takes this one.

Scores: Nash 9, Fish 6

Defense

Both suck. A tie.

Scores: Nash 4, Fish 4

Exceeding Expectations.

Not much was expected of the skinny Canadian from Santa Clara University. Nash was picked as low as 15^th in the draft, and even for such a low pick, he was mercilessly booed from Phoenix fans. 15^th picks usually do not pan out in the NBA and is a low expectation pick to begin with, but apparently Nash was a terrible choice for even that. We all know how this turned out. Nash is a sure fire Hall of Famer at this point. Nobody expected this.

Even less was expected from Derek Fisher. He was the 24^th pick of that draft. 24^th picks usually never make it in the NBA. A case could be made that Fisher is the best 24^th pick of all time. Below is the list of 24^th picks from 1997 (the year after Fisher) ‘til 2011.

1997: Rodrick Rhodes

1998: Felipe Lopez

1999: Some Russian

2000: Dalibor Bagaric

2001: Raul Lopez

2002: Nenad Krstic

2003: Brian Cook

2004: Delonte West

2005: Johan Petro

2006: A point guard

2007: Rudy Fernandez

2008: a one dimensional player from africa

2009: BJ Mullens

2010: Damion James

2011: Reggie Jackson

This category is a close one, but the edge goes to Fish, as he was drafted much lower than Nash.

Scores: Nash 9, Fish 10

Off the Court Activities

Fisher served as the president of the players union and ended a devastating lock out. Nash appeared in Vitamin water commercials and some youtube videos. Go figure.

Scores: Nash 7, Fish 10

Intangibles

Do not think for one second that this category overlaps with any categories above. It doesn’t. This category is for the intangibles that are not measurable with stats, that aura that cannot be captured with mere human words. This is for the “it” factor. Lebron has “it.” Kevin Durant has “it.” Allen Iverson has “it.” Michael Jordan has “it.”

You may ask what this “it” is. I cannot explain with unsophisticated human linguistics. We, as a society have reached a point where our communication abilities and tools are advanced to a point where it is unprecedented in human history. But unfortunately, we still fall short.

We should not penalize “it” for our own collective shortcoming by excluding “it.”

Therefore, “it” is included in our analysis, and will be used to measure Nash and Fisher.

Nash has “it.” Fisher does not.

Scores: Nash 10, Fish 0

Summary

Our analysis shows that while Nash is clearly better in some categories and even has the “it” factor, Fish edges out Nash. Like as in all other basketball player debates, the decisive factor lies between the two players' difference in total ring count.

Final Score: Nash 84, Fish 89

I cannot pity you.

2012-02-03T07:51:00.000-08:00

Don't get it twisted girl-
pity is one thing I cannot do.

I cannot perform that verb to you.
It's technically impossible.

I can listen to your story.
I might even cry.
I can talk if you want me to.
I can share my deepest secrets- to make you feel less insecure from sharing yours.
I can empathize.
I can willingly feel your pain.
I can identify with your experience.
I can co-experience your emotion.
I can even sympathize.
I can support your situation.
I can feel for you.
I can care for you.

But I cannot pity you.
That is one thing I cannot do.

Pity is when a more fortunate person feels sorry for a less fortunate person.
It is a verb that is only possible when there exists a permanent class difference between two people.
Such difference does not exist between us.
We are equals.
There is no more or less between us.
There is no better or worse between us.
Maybe you could be a bit weaker than me right now.
But I could be weaker than you next summer.
It changes.

So don't you try to stand all by yourself.
Because I will not pity you.

I can't.

blank.

2012-01-08T22:43:00.001-08:00

I don't know what I was thinking when I kissed her. I probably wasn't. Thinking.
I was left completely unguarded from my emotions- drunk- and she happened to be sitting there next to me.

So I turned to her, smiled, then kissed her.

The fact that there were two other friends next to us didn't matter.
The fact that she was not my girlfriend didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.
Only her lips. My lips. mattered.

So we kissed.

Facebook Public Relations Consultant

2011-12-21T03:12:00.001-08:00

The title says it all. I give you advice on your Facebook activities. If I were to be specific, I can tell you that I specialize in "Profile Pictures."

I represent the mass- what I see and think is what most normal Facebook users see and think. My credentials? Well other then the fact that I provide that neutral, unbiased, third person voice of reason and perspective that everybody needs for themselves, I can proudly tell you that I have been a very active Facebook user since 2005, ever since Facebook decided to expand its network to small liberal arts colleges and accepted my school email address as a valid joining credential. Back then it was still "the Facebook," and Mark Zucky still included his own favorite movie quotes like "I don't even know what the fuck a quail is" on the bottom of the main login page. That was more than six years ago. Since then, not only have I been an active user, but I saved my password and refreshed facebook.com at least eight times a day everyday to actively check what's been going around the Facebook block, which I have now slowly but surely built up to what is an above average number of seven hundred and eighty five friends.

Read more »

The Forehead Tournament

2011-12-13T11:45:00.000-08:00

Who has the densest skull in our school?

It was in the earlier phases of fall, when this question sprung out of nowhere and swept through our grade school like wildfire. The source, reason, and rationale behind the creation of the question, or the significance of it, we had no idea. We were in the fifth grade, so admittedly not everything we thought about necessarily needed to make any particular sense. But even to us it was obvious that this skull question was not deserving of any additional attention or human thought, albeit a child’s. Yet we made it our goal to find that out.

And unfortunately, I, was determined to be the answer to that question-

I wanted to be ‘The Skull King’ of our school.

Traffic is Life.

2011-11-26T02:05:00.000-08:00

I'm tired.

Driving.
In traffic.

Just waiting.
To be done with it.

Having temptations of quitting altogether.

But knowing.
That's not going to solve anything.

So just.
Staying in my lane

And just.
Waiting for things to get better.

I guess that's what life is.

새

2011-11-13T20:13:00.000-08:00

나는 가끔

아무 이유 없이

아무도 없는 곳으러

떠나가 버린다

바람따라

구름 따라

나무 있는 곳을 찾아 간다.

그리고 잔디에 누워

하늘을 바라 보며

상상 한다

새가 되는 것을

바람을 타고

하늘을 누비는

새가 되는 것을

The Gentleman's Loser's Club

2011-11-09T19:37:00.000-08:00

We were bored.

Mikey, Andy, and I did not have the faintest idea of what to do. We were broke. We were unemployed. We were single. We were lonely.
So really, we could have right there and then went ahead and call it quits in this thing called life, but unfortunately we were still breathing. So we had to do something.

It was a lazy Monday night and we were gathered at Andy's studio apartment as usual, thoughtlessly watching TV and shoving carbohydrates mixed with high fructose corn syrup down our mouths. After several hours of repeating this activity, we finally realized we were wasting our time. Then what do we do?

Mikey shared a story he heard from Johnny (a mutual friend who wasn’t accompanying us at the time). He said that Johnny and his friend Sunny went to the 'White House Night Club (WHNC),' a dying social night club near Shinchon subway station. Their expectations were low, but they soon realized that WHNC was the perfect place they were looking for. Drinks were cheap, and the waiters were actively booking* them- waiters brought girl after girl to their table constantly. Most of the girls were not cute and a bit on the older side, but there were a few girls that could pass as 'hot' in the dark. And that’s all that mattered really, if you were looking for a one night event. Which is exactly what they got that night.

*booking: a common practice in Korean style clubs where "waiters/busboys" yank a random girl from the dancefloor and "force" her to join a table/room of men. The girl is not really forced- she can stay or leave depending on how much she likes her new company.

After hearing Mikey’s story, we decided to go to WHNC. It was a Monday night, which was not a party night, but we figured there was nothing to lose. I mean, we were choosing between either watching a re-run of a Korean sitcom, or checking out a club.
We chose the club.

Happy Birthday Sharon

2011-10-26T18:52:00.000-07:00

Happy birthday. And happy birthday.

Some years I gave you a small gift. Other years I wasn't able to.
It looks like this year will be one of those other years.

But I hope you know I still think of you though. And I hope knowing that will be somewhat comforting to you. It's a good feeling you know.. to have somebody think of you.

It doesn't matter if you don't do the same for me. You don't and I know that and I accept that.
I guess that's what it means to be an older brother, an actual blood related person.
It's not just about the moments we shared together. It's not about those fights or good times or memories (or lackof).. we probably don't have many pleasant memories together.
But it's not about that.
It's about sharing the same blood, the same nose, the same face, the same last name. We are family, and the value that comes from that blood relation transcends everything.

I hope you come to understand this as you age. 24 is a quite adult age. I hope you are ready for that age.
I hope you are ready for the world after college.
I hope you are ready for life.

And I hope you are happy.

Love,
오빠

Day in the Life of a

2011-10-22T22:37:00.001-07:00

MAMUT POKER from Graham Mooney on Vimeo.

Last Stand

2011-10-19T21:15:00.000-07:00

It all begins with winning. It’s the same for everybody.

You win once, you take one step in.

You win again, you take another step.

When you continue winning, then you begin walking.

Walking… without even thinking about it.

And that’s the trap.

But by the time you realize this, it’s too late.

You look around… but there’s no way out.

There’s no turning back.

So you just continue to walk, no run, into a world of nothing but darkness.

And just hope… that the best will come.

There’s no other choice.

혼자 앉아 있는 방 안에서

2011-09-20T21:35:00.001-07:00

아무도 없는 방 안에서
혼자 앉아 있을때면-

찾아오는 손님들이 있다.

처음에는 바쁜 삶의 일상에 치여있던 나를,
'안정'과 '여유'가 반겨준다.

그러나 그들이 지나가고 나면,

곧 '외로움' 이라는 오래된 친구가 찾아온다.

그래, 너라도 있으니 다행이다.
너 마저 없었으면.

그런데 '외로움' 마저 떠나가버리면..

'허전함' 이 방 가득히 채워지고

그 무서운 '허전함'과 싸우고 있다보면

'그리움'이라는 낯선 녀석까지 찾아온다.

그렇게 허전함.
그리고
그리움.과 시간을 보내고.

또 보내다보면-

언젠가는 우리가 그렇게 갈망하던 '깨달음'을 만날 수 있지 않을까..

그리고 '깨달음'은 우리를 '행복'으로 인도해주겠지.

Ugly Gary

2011-09-19T00:10:00.001-07:00

We try not to judge people. That's what grown, educated, mature adults are supposed to do. We have been taught that way, to search for the inner beauty in every person we meet, to avoid equating value as a person to surface level things.

But most of the time we give in to our instinctual yearnings and go around judging people.
If a grown woman's email address is 'missbiotch,' we are going to judge her.
If a working man openly shops at Claire's for his own earrings, we are going to judge him.
And if we see a guy driving a car with a shower curtain duct taped in place of a rear window, then yes, we are probably going to judge him.

Claire's

But we try not to. Not just because it's what we were taught to do, nor because it's the nicer thing to do. No. We try to not judge because we don't want to forfeit the chance of meeting a valuable person. While most of the time our pre-conclusions are most certainly correct, there are those few times when our initial judgement of a person turn out to be false. We realize the potential immeasurable loss of missing a valuable and interesting person. So we continue to try.

But what I am about to share is not about one of those valuable persons. It's about one of those "most of the time" persons.

Read more »

How To Be A Loser

2011-08-30T23:09:00.001-07:00

Seven years ago, I was the captain of my high school basketball team, was named All-Conference and All-Tournament Team, and was honored with the MVP award at my school's sport banquet.

Today, a twelve year old Mexican boy beat me in a game of one on one.

The game was up to 11 points, the score was tied at 10-10, and the boy had the ball in his hands. Technically, the score should have been 10 me, 8 him, but he fudged my score. I did not contest him from doing so though. I mean what was I going to do, argue with him? No. Plus I was already embarrassed that the game was this close. So I didn’t.

Well I should have-
the boy drained a three point shot in my face as soon as I finished my sentence above.

Read more »

Olden goes to Starbucks

2011-06-30T08:53:00.002-07:00

“You can hang out here ‘til I come back. K? Bye!” my brother announces to me as he drops me off at Starbucks.

How nice of him. Now I am forced to drink some overpriced coffee at a place filled with people who feel rich about themselves for drinking four dollar americanos.

Which is ridiculous. Who in their right mind can afford that? That’s $120 a month. I would rather pay for an iphone bill with that kind of money.

There are a total of twenty six people in this Starbucks at the moment-

3 workers, 5 guys, 18 girls, 4 couples, and 10 laptops.

I am always fascinated by the laptops at Starbucks. Why do people bring their laptops to a coffee shop? What are they trying to accomplish? Do they really believe they will be getting any work done at a place with so many distractions?

And why do girls like chilling at Starbucks? It makes no sense unless the caffeine used here is some sort of special kind that excites girls or something. That’s the only explanation for why girls go ape shit for Starbucks.

But enough about them. I see a group that really needs my worrying and full attention right now.

Three girls are sitting at my immediate right. The first girl is overweight, pimpled, and not attractive. The second girl is overweight, glasses, pimpled, braces, and not attractive. The last girl is glasses, pimpled, and not attractive. A very, very, sorry group. Why are they hanging out together? Couldn’t they have found a cooler person to hang out with that would make each one of them a bit cooler?

I guess they find refuge in each other. I guess they find comfort in the fact that there are other people in the world who are equally sorry and therefore will not be judging them. And I guess that’s a good thing.

The three of them are sharing two drinks together. That’s another good thing. They really don’t need a full drink of Caramel Frappuccino for themselves.

They are locked in their conversation right now, looks like they are having a discussion, probably about something useless. But I'm curious. So I put all my attention to my right ear so I can listen in to what they are talking about.

“... I am going to have to disagree with you there, Jess. Yes, Slam Dunk and Vagabond were very impressive. But I cannot agree that Takehiko Inoue is the best Japanese manga artist of all time,” girl #1 declares.

“Then who is the best in your opinion?” girl #2 asks.

“I have to give it to Satoshi Tajiri, the creator of the Pokemon series,” #1 answers.

“But he’s not even a manga artist! He’s a video game designer!” girl #3 points out.

“Yes, but he is the main person behind what I would call the most successful anime ever.” #1 calmly says.

“True. But commercial success doesn’t equal best ever,” #1 reasons.

“Right. Now of course that is not what I am basing my entire argument on. If you actually read the manga version of Pokemon, you will discover that the series is actually a very fine piece of art. The abundance of rich characters, the development of those characters as the story progresses, the witty dialogues..”

“Hmm. That is very interesting,” #3 says.

“Here, why don’t we actually read the manga then?” #1 suggests.
She then pulls out volume 12, 13, and 14 of pokemon manga version.

And they begin reading pokemon together.

I gotta be honest, that is actually kind of cute.

They really are happy and satisfied with themselves, their lives.. They have a common interest and have things that keep them interested in life. They really are good friends. Sure, it’s a sorry group, and sure their common interest is not what the rest of the world may find interesting. But hey, who am I to judge what gets them excited?

Yea they will probably never get a boyfriend unless they break away from each other and go through an extreme makeover, and never again discuss pocket monsters in public.

But.
Who says they need a boyfriend?

A Black Night

2011-06-21T02:44:00.000-07:00

'Blacking out' is a fascinating experience.

It is also an ill-advised experience, a spooky experience, a dangerous experience, and a humbling experience. Nevertheless, there is no denying on how interesting the night will become the moment you lose your mind.

You never reach this stage intentionally. You never plan on experiencing temporary memory loss. You never anticipate these moments of complete idiocy. They just happen.

The slightest of slip-ups is all it takes to invite these moments of blackness to your night. It just takes one. One last cup. One last shot. One last drink. One last drop.
The moment your blood vessels receives that one last drop of alcohol above what it could handle, you can pretty much kiss your night good bye.
Adios, you.
Hola, idiot.

Well why do I bring this up now?
Because I blacked the fuck out last Friday night.

Read more »

We Live In Hope Of Becoming A Memory

2011-06-20T01:08:00.000-07:00

"Hey Baby!! I really can't believe dat we went through all these high school years but I'm glad I was able to go through them with you. When I first met you back in 9th grade, you seemed kind of a mysterious chico and we weren't that close as frenz, but now that I know you a WHOLE lot better, I'm seeing behind that black curtain you used to hide behind. Anyways, now that I'm in this special relationship with you, I'm the happiest girl in town! lol.."

***

They say boys never forget their first love.
I don't know if that's true. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't.
But then again, I do, find myself thinking of my first girlfriend every now and then.

I wonder how she’s doing. Then I wonder if she wonders, too.
Probably not, I always conclude... which is a shame because we shared some meaningful moments together.

Our separation was circumstantial, really. If situation permitted, we, could have continued 'til who knows when. But there was no point of dwelling on things that couldn’t, shouldn’t have happened. So through time, we naturally erased each other from our lives, that now, she was simply a little footnote from my past that I re-visited every once in awhile.. whom I always wished the best for.

But I heard she died the other day.

Read more »

Wanderlust pt 2.

2011-05-19T23:36:00.000-07:00

(Wanderlust part 1)

Part 2.

So why exactly did I come to San Francisco?

I didn't have a reason to come here, really. I guess I was searching for something.

And maybe I’d find that in San Francisco.

But if you were to ask me what it was exactly I was searching for, I wouldn’t have been able to give you an answer. Because to be honest, I didn’t really know what.

I guess I kind of thought maybe I'd become a different person once I got here. I would find something new, and that new discovery would contribute to my improvement as a person. I would discover a new emotional side of me that I did not know of before. I would become smarter. I would become more sensitive. I would be more creative. I would discover new ideas, I would have a new perspective. I would have a broader perspective. I would have a better understand of things. I would have figured out where I was going. I would have figured out life.

Then you might say, “How would you know where to find that? And why would that be in San Francisco among all places?”

Well.

I didn’t know anything about San Francisco (of course besides the fact that there was that big red bridge, and that gay marriage was legal), and that’s exactly why San Francisco had that special luster to me. Having no knowledge of the place made me imagine and wonder what San Francisco would be like. The entire city would be there for me to discover. And that would be exciting. Even the little things would impress me. I wouldn't know what to expect, I wouldn't know what I would find, and I wouldn’t know what would be there waiting for me.

And that feeling was quite similar to how I was feeling about this other journey I was a part of. ‘Life’ is what other people like calling it. I prefer to call it "drifting-until-a-destination-is-found," or in short, D.U.A.D.I.F. Because I refuse to give such a bland and tasteless name to what may be the most exciting, and yet most important journey I’m partaking in.

So this trip didn’t necessarily have to be to San Fran. It could’ve been to Vancouver. Or Paris. Or London. Or New Zealand. Or Greenland. Or the South Pole. It just had to be to a place unknown to me.

And it also needed to be geographically far from home. By 'far' I mean somewhere one cannot travel to and back comfortably within any given day.

Why did it need to be far from home? Because anywhere near would look too familiar and similar to where I'm from. I would recognize things I recognized back home. I would predict and prepare for things based on my experiences back home. Then I would feel as if I knew the place even before seeing it. And I would probably be right.

Therefore this place, wherever it was, needed to be somewhere far enough so that it was a different world from my home.

It makes sense.
If I’m travelling to discover, I shouldn’t be familiar with where I’m going. I shouldn’t know what to expect.

Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with travelling to places you are familiar with. But it wouldn’t be discovering something. It would just be admiring. And that's a whole different thing. That is simply "relocating your body for recreational purposes." And that is different from what I'm aiming for.

The act of discovering something new, the act of looking around a new place wouldn’t necessarily answer questions regarding my future. But the act (of searching) in it of itself would be one step closer to it. Even if what I was searching for was completely different.

So in other words, I travel, in hopes of discovering myself. And in the process maybe I might find the answer to life.

Does it now make some sense as to why I came here?

Being ugly is okay as long as you are good looking

2011-05-17T07:56:00.001-07:00

Hi, my name is Jinho, and I am a very good looking guy. That's an undeniable fact.

The thing is, nobody else knows.

Why? Because I do a very good job hiding my good looks.

I wear raggedy clothes and rarely wash myself, I never comb my hair and barely shave my face. So if someone were to take a quick look at me, they would think 'Oh, an ugly person.'

It's only the people who put in the effort to squint their eyes and study my physique long enough that could see my hidden potential.

Now I'm not saying this is an intentional effort on my part, that I am trying to look ugly on purpose. It's just that I do not care much. I am okay with looking ugly, or people thinking I am ugly, because I know that in reality, I actually am a good looking piece of flesh. I am completely confident in myself, because I know for a fact that I will be the finest looking male in town the moment I groom myself. It's as if I have 'good looks' in my pocket and I can bust it out whenever I want to, thinking to myself that it's use is for special occasions only. I'm saving it, you can say. And that is why I do not mind everybody thinking I am ugly- I know better than them.

But I am curious- what if I no longer have 'good looks' waiting for me in my pocket? How will I feel if I can no longer be good looking whenever I want to, that I will be stuck looking like this (horribly) for the rest of my life?

I don't know how I'll feel 'bout that. Best that I know, I'll make sure to never lose this gift that I have.

Probably Tapeworms

2011-04-21T01:01:00.000-07:00

I feel dumb. Real dumb.
I mean, I have been sitting on a desk with a paper and a pencil for the past thirty minutes now, but I am not able to write anything down.. when it doesn't even matter what topic it is that I write about. Everything, anything on my mind will work.
But I cannot write. It's probably because I cannot think. I am just sitting.
So then I try to at least recognize what I have been thinking about for the past thirty minutes. I mean, I couldn't have been just sitting mindlessly right?
But it seems like I did exactly that. Because I cannot think of a single thought or idea that went through my mind in the past thirty minutes.

I blankly stared out the window.
Then I looked at my fingertips.
Then I scribbled some words on my notepad.
Then I crossed off everything on my notepad.
Then I looked at the edge of my pencil.
Then I peeled off some wood at the tip of my pencil to make it sharper.
Then I looked out the window again.
Then I fixed the bottom of my sweater.
Then I finally said, 'Wait. I should be able to write about something. I have a couple dozen saved drafts already.' (Which was true because I had 47.)
But then I could not think of any.
So then I tried thinking of anything, any new topic that might be interesting.
But I failed.
Then I tried to at least think of what I thought about the past thirty minutes.
But I could not think of anything.
Because I thought of nothing.
I just blankly sat in my seat.
And realized.
That I am dumb.
Real dumb.

Tapeworms in the brain, maybe?

Just a matter of time.

2011-04-21T00:05:00.000-07:00

I wonder how long this will last- whatever I am doing.
There will be an ugly ending to it. That much, is inevitable. Because what I'm doing is unsustainable. I know that. If anybody else were to take one quick look at me, they would know that too.
But I continue anyway. Why not? It's working for now and nothing horrible is surfacing.

Not that the collapse won't happen. It will.
But what good is worrying about what didn't happen yet? So I ignore what's waiting ahead and just enjoy what I have going now.

But I cannot help but wonder of my inevitable demise. Because it will happen.

It's just a matter of when.

Excuse me?

2011-04-20T01:14:00.000-07:00

"Excuse me? Can you watch my computer?"

I was ~~wasting my time away~~ studying at Starbucks, when a middle-aged European lady next to me decided to trust me with her belongings. This was a common and casual favor to ask a stranger wherever there were tables and free wireless.

"Sure," I said.

The lady smiled and walked out of Starbucks. I looked out the window and saw her walk into a Banana Republic across the street.
When she returned, she thanked me and said,
"My dissertation is in the laptop and is very very very important to me. So thank you very much."

A couple minutes later, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up and saw it was her again.

"Excuse me, but how do I do internet?" she asked.

I looked at her, then looked at her computer, then connected her computer to the Starbucks free wireless internet.

"Thank you," she said.

Two minutes later I heard the familiar voice again.

"Excuse me, but what's this blue screen?"

I looked up and saw that her Windows98 operating system crashed. I pressed on the reset button.

"Thank you, you are the best," she said.

The lady called for me again soon after.

"Excuse me, but where did my email go?"

I clicked on the 'back' button on her Internet Explorer. She again thanked me.

"You are a genius," she said.

As soon as I was about to sit back at my seat I heard her call for me again.

"Can I plug this off now?"

She was holding her laptop power cord and asked me if she could plug that off her laptop.

"Yes you can," I told her.

She unplugged the cord then asked,

"Why is my laptop color not bright anymore?"

"That's because most laptops, their automatic setting is to have a dimmer screen when there is no external power source, as that will expand battery life."

"What?"

"It's random. Sometimes it's bright, sometimes it's not."

"Oh, that makes sense."

Oh I'm sure it does.

I am curious though, what you would write a paper about.

2011-04-18T05:44:00.001-07:00

이제 내려놓는다

나라는 것을

버리고 간다

나의 모든 짐들을

그리고 날아갈 것이다

모두의 머리 위로

끝이 안보이는 저 하늘 속으로

I am not a creepy brother. Just a bad one.

2011-04-10T18:46:00.000-07:00

I saw my younger sister's personal notebook once.
It was purely out of chance, of course.

I was looking for something in her room when I noticed a small notebook that kind of looked like mine. I opened the notebook and quickly realized it didn't belong to me. But I continued flipping through the pages. Not because I was a creepy older brother or anything. No.
The notebook didn't have any dark secrets or anything like that. It was actually a sketchbook, where my younger sister filled the pages with her various drawings, sketches and such.

I was impressed. I knew very little about art, but I recognized that her work was pretty good.

On one of her latest sketches, I noticed she wrote a short note on the bottom that read-

Art.. will I ever get the chance?

Back when she was in high school, my sister once told me she wanted to attend one of the top notch art schools. I remember the nineteen year old Phila quietly listening, then looking straight into her eyes and telling her that her hopes were unrealistic, that regular people like her never went to crazy schools like that, that she should apply to normal schools and choose a normal major. He thought he was giving her good advice back then.

The problem, was that he said all this without ever seeing any of her work. He just assumed she wasn't very good. So did the rest of the family. They just assumed. And underestimated her. All her life.
Maybe it was because she was the youngest. Maybe it was because her grades in school were not as good as the older two..
Well, whatever the reason, my younger sister was just the cute little girl of the family that was never taken seriously.
So when my sister said she wanted to go to art school.. we didn't even give her a chance.
She was forced to just sit and watch all her other friends go off to those top art schools she had always dreamed of, while she went on to a college against her own will, taking classes she had no interest in.
She was lost. It seemed like.

I picked up a pencil and wrote a short note on the following page-

It's a blessing to have a dream. Dreams are what feeds us through life. And remember- it's never too late to chase your dream. Your time will come. Maybe now. Maybe later. So dream on, Sharon. And good luck.

- your favorite brother

My sister responded the next day.

"What you wrote was so gay. How do you say things like that with a straight face? And who told you you could come into my room? And go through my stuff?? Don't ever look through my stuff. That's creepy. And you have the worst handwriting in the world. It's worse than the little kids I tutor."

"But thanks."

Calvin, the Mass-Murderer Candidate

2011-04-04T12:00:00.000-07:00

I don't know how else I can say this, so I'm just going to say it straight up-

Some people just look crazy.

Be it the harmless, socially awkward, nerdy looking type, or the "I am mad and I am in a car and I am seriously thinking of running you over with my car" type, we could just tell if someone is crazy, simply by taking one quick look at them. This is a fact in life. We just know.
Why do I bring this up now? Because there is a crazy person sitting next to me at the moment, and he is making me nervous.

Read more »

Asian Guy and White Guy

2011-03-25T21:49:00.000-07:00

A candidate for an internship position at my company was scheduled for an interview at 1:00pm. In order to begin the interview exactly at 1:00pm, the candidate had to arrive several minutes before the scheduled time and call our office, like at around 12:55pm, since the candidate needed to be picked up at the lobby.
Well it was 12:58pm and we had yet to receive any phone calls. This did not bode well with the two analysts who were scheduled to conduct the interview.

"If you're not early, you're late," one of them said.

Now before I go any further, allow me to introduce the two ~~guys~~ analysts. One of them is Asian, the other white, so I will simply refer to them as Asian Guy and White Guy.

Asian Guy is short and meaty, bald and wears glasses, grew up in California and is interested in cars, computers, and computer games.

White Guy is broad shouldered with a full beard, grew up all over America as a "military kid," and is interested in rock climbing, football, and archaeology.

Besides the fact that they are both in their mid 30s, Asian Guy and White Guy have absolutely nothing in common. And yet they get along quite well, as they talk about everything and anything all day long.

A Day in the Hospital

2011-03-19T17:39:00.000-07:00

The Patient

I am sitting next to a person who is dying. Unconscious. Laying there motionless.
'She is sleeping,' the nurse says. Sleeping ever since the accident. Which was 26 days ago. Which is a very long time ago.

I wonder what she's dreaming about. Or can she dream?
I hope she can.
And I hope she is having a good dream. Like one of those happy ones where everything is perfect, where there is absolutely nothing going wrong so you begin to suspect that things are too good to be true, and then you realize you actually are in the middle of a dream, but then you don't care and you hope you don't have to ever wake up from it, and when you do wake up, you are sad all morning.
I hope she is in the middle of that.

She needs that.

The Nurse

Why am I here, sitting next to her?
After the accident, our church organized a schedule where volunteers have been taking turns sitting by her bedside, just in case her parents needed someone to interpret for them when communicating with the hospital.
Plus, she could use some company.

It's my turn today. Her parents are not here though, so it's just me, her, and the nurse in this room. The nurse is nice, and very caring too.

But.. why is she asking me what I do for a living, where I work, where I live, where I'm from, what Korean restaurant I like, and if I will be eating there tonight? There is a dying girl right next to us. I mean, I know she is used to this. But come on now.

The Father

We are sitting in silence- me, her, and her father. He came about an hour ago, soon after the nurse left.
He is quite tall for a Korean man, around 5'11, and is a bit younger than what I expected- probably in his late 30s or early 40s. He has curly hair, a wide face, and a pointy nose. He looks exactly like his daughter. Basically, his children are a younger clone version of himself.

He is busy at the moment. Ever since he entered the room, he began massaging the thin lifeless legs of his daughter.

I don't know the point of this. Her main injury is to her brain. Her legs are fine actually. He knows this.

But he goes on.. gently rubbing her right calf, then her left, her right foot, then her left, her right big toe, then her second right toe, then her third, then her fourth, then her fifth, then the toes on her other foot, and then her right calf all over again. He does this without taking any breaks, over and over again, for more than an hour.
He is persistent, and looks determined- lips locked, eyes focused, sweat beginning to form on his forehead..

Why? Because this is all he can do for his dying daughter.

I initially think maybe I should try to start a conversation with him. But there is nothing. absolutely nothing. I can think of saying at the moment. So I dare not say a word. I cannot even look up at him and her. I just sit, looking at the floor, trying to think of something else.. about work, about possible love interests, about basketball... anything that would take my mind off what I am now witnessing. Because I cannot handle this. I am not strong enough.

Not yet.

All I can do right now is sit in awe, and in admiration, of the strongest man of all-

A father.

And hope to become just as strong myself, when I become one.

And this, I realize, is just another regular Saturday afternoon in the hospital.

Never force me to do things I shouldn't, wouldn't be doing.

2011-03-18T08:14:00.000-07:00

In high school, I was forced to write some poems for class.

I guess you could say my English was pretty limited back then.

--------------------------------------------------

Girl

Hey pretty girl, you are too fine for me

Don’t look at me cuz shy is what I be

If you look at me, I will lose my mind

It will be gone, I won't be able to find (it)

So it’s a good thing that you do not care (for me)

Cuz then my mind will still be my share.

--------------------------------------------------

I apologize for polluting the world with such worthless garbage. But like I said earlier, I was forced to do it.

So please don't look at me like that right now.

Remember, shy is what I be.

Trinity's Advice

2011-03-15T00:59:00.000-07:00

Every Sunday, I have a roundtable lunch session with a very special group. Gloria and I are the "teachers" of the table- although I am quite unsure what exactly it is that we teach- while Trinity, Angela, and Matthew are the students. We used to have another student named Jimmy, but he moved to a far away place couple months ago. So for now it is the five of us.

Let's focus on Trinity.

Trinity is a white girl in her 20s. She is of medium height, plump build, blue eyed, and brown haired.. on her head, arms, legs, and the space between her brows. 'Grooming' is a sensitive topic for women so nobody every brings that topic up to her, but maybe somebody should. Like, as soon as possible.
Well at least she is a very confident girl, as she enjoys talking about herself and the many men around her who are dying to win her heart. Now when she talks, Trinity takes her time with her words- she pauses irregularly between words and takes extended breaks in between syllables. So it is somewhat of a challenge to carry out a conversation with her. But it is a very rewarding and pleasant experience, so I always enjoy my talks with her.

At the moment, Trinity and I are talking about Joseph Partanion, her current romantic interest. She blushes whenever she says 'Partanion,' and continues telling me stories about how Partanion did this and that for her. She says he says he loves her. Then she blushes again. After she is done, being the good conversationalist that she is, Trinity asks me in return-

"Do you? Have a.. girlfriend?"

Nope.

"Oh... that is.... sad!" she says, then makes a sad face (intentionally) by drooping everything on her face.

Haha, no I'm okay.

"What can.. I do.. for you.?"

Do you have any advice you can give me?

Trinity crosses her arms and closes her eyes. This means she is thinking.

"Hmm," she says.

I wait.

"Hmm," she says again.

Well?

"Give me.. some time.."

Oh sorry.

After a couple minutes, she finally opens her eyes.

"I think.. You should..."

I should?

"Pray."

Okay.

"And more... importantly."

Oh, there's more.

"Pray.. for Japan," she says.

What?

"Pray.. For Japan." she says, so matter-of-factly.

If I want a girlfriend, I should pray for Japan and their Earthquake recovery?

"Yes."

Are you sure?

"Uh huh."

How does that work?

"Because the girl will see your good heart, and she will fall in love with you for that."

Wow.
That's a great answer.

Now obviously, that is not the reason why I'll be praying though. I'm a better person than that.

But yes, I have been praying for Japan.
I'm just sayin.

The Accident

2011-03-14T02:19:00.001-07:00

1.

I was driving to Los Angeles on my way picking up some Kyo-Chon Chicken when I first heard of the accident. Why I drove all the way to Los Angeles- a 30 minute drive from my apartment- to pick up some fried chicken isn't the point here. The point is that I was driving when I first heard of the news.

I was just about to arrive at Kyo-Chon when I received the following text from a friend-
Did you hear about the accident?
No, I did not hear of any accidents, so I called him immediately.
The friend told me he just saw on the local TV news that there was a serious car accident two hours ago where a church bus carrying more than twenty passengers crashed and rolled off the highway. And that bus seemed to be our church bus.

'How serious?' I asked him.

"Serious enough that as of now there are 2 confirmed deaths, more than 10 critically injured, and most of the passengers are still stuck on the bus as we are speaking," he answered.

What?
I couldn't believe him. This sort of thing couldn't have happened to people I knew. Now since my friend wasn't sure, I didn't want to come to any conclusions yet. I told him I will look into the situation and give him a call back. I then began calling other people from my church. To my relief, nobody had heard of any accidents.

Good.
I was just about to conclude that nothing ever happened, but then I decided to ask one last person, just to double check, if there were any church events this past weekend.
I did not get the answer I was hoping for.

"Why yes, the youth group went on their winter retreat this past Friday. They should be back home by now."

What?
Okay, now I really wanted to look into this situation myself, but I was driving.. I had no access to the internet or television. And this, drove me crazy. At this point I had already made a U-turn and was driving back home. And for some strange reason, almost every other driver on the streets of Los Angeles were driving like maniacs (Well, worse than how they normally were). It was crazy. I barely dodged three accidents in a span of ten minutes. Come to think of it, maybe I was one of those maniacs myself...

During that drive back home, I repeated the following phrase over and over again-
Please not my church. Please not us. Please not our kids. I know those kids. I played baseball with some of them. I bought lunch to some of them. Please not them.
Then I made one last call to a friend in Chicago, someone who was completely unrelated to my church. I wanted him to look up online if he could find anything.

"Is the name of your church Light of Love Mission Church?"

Yes.

"Is it based in Pasadena, street address 2801 Colorado Boulevard?"

...Yes.

"An accident really happened, there is a huge picture of the totaled bus that clearly reads 'Light of Love' in Korean. This is your church. I am very sorry. I will be praying for your congregation."

Shit.. really does happen.

2.

I realized I was being extremely selfish for wishing 'please not us.' What exactly did I mean by that? I mean, even if the accident wasn't related to my church, it was still somebody else's church. Kids still died. Lives were still affected. Shit still happened.

I guess I was wishing for my own happiness. I would've been sad and stressed and what not if it was my church. But if the accident turned out to be some other church, I would have thought-
"Oh that's unfortunate. But yea. Accidents happen. Statistically they occur all day every day, every hour, ever minute.. So yea I feel sorry for them. And I will think about them, too... for about two seconds and then move on. Because that's just life."

But that's not 'just life' when it's my life.

3.

It turned out there was only one victim from the crash- the driver of the bus. Everybody else was going to be okay. Everybody, except for one girl, that is.

Jae-yoon Ha, a thirteen year old girl had her skull crushed and barely, just barely dodged death. The night of the accident, the entire church gathered together to pray for the children. We were all quietly praying, until one of the deacons who were in contact with the hospital entered the sanctuary. He announced that Jae-Yoon was about to die, so that we should especially pray for her. That news drove us into a frenzy, as we all began crying and shouting and praying at the top of our lungs. We did that for a good two hours and then went back to our homes.

The next day, I had to go to work and act like everything was normal. And I did, try to carry out myself as if nothing ever happened. But I really couldn't. My co-workers tried to begin our daily basketball discussions with me, but I politely excused myself from it. I kept to myself all morning.
When it was finally time for my lunch break, I decided to go for a drive.

I entered my car and began crying. I drove up the Pacific Coast Highway and cried some more. Why exactly I was crying, I wasn't quite sure. It was strange because I never met the girl before. And yet thinking of her, thinking of the accident made me cry.

How else do you deal with death?

4.

I wrote a letter to this girl I never met. I imagined what our relationship would have been like had we knew each other.

I heard she was in middle school. I also heard she was a younger sister. And I remembered she was an only daughter.

That was all I needed to know about her, as I imagined what she was going through in her life as a young teenager, what she meant to her parents, and what she meant to her brother. As I wrote the letter, I thought of my parents. I thought of my younger sister. I thought of myself in middle school.
By the time I was done with the letter, Jae-Yoon was a close friend of mine.

5.

It didn't matter that I never met her before. It didn't matter if she was a member of my church or some other church, or if she was Christian or not.

She was a young girl, a daughter, and a sister.
Isn't that enough information, for you to begin caring about her too?

* Jae-Yoon defeated immediate death, but still is in serious critical condition. It has been 21 days since the accident now, but she has yet to wake up. Please remember her in your thoughts/prayers.

Get well soon Jae-Yoon!

Why I write.

2011-03-07T20:54:00.000-08:00

me: I remember several years ago

a Wheaton classmate died.

4:52 AM I never met her, I never knew her, but I did recognize her face since our school was so tiny.

But yea, when she died, I was curious what kind of person she was. And what kind of life she lived. And what she liked. So I looked for her xanga

4:53 AM I soon found and it and fortunately she wrote a lot in her xanga.

I read through it. Read about her struggles. Her inner thoughts.

4:54 AM And after I was done reading through her entire blog, I felt like I knew her. That I met her.

4:55 AM So in that sense, to me, she was alive, more so than when she was actually living.

That, is why I began writing.

Valentine's Day

2011-02-14T20:59:00.001-08:00

Valentine's Day of 1996 is when I experienced my very first official rejection.
Well technically I wasn't rejected. But I had to witness the moment where the girl of my dreams gave her heart (chocolate) to one of my friends.
As she was handing her gift of chocolates to my friend, she said,
"I was thinking about giving this to Jin-Sung*, but lately he's been really mean to me. So here, I'm giving this to you instead."

*My Korean name

I didn't know what to make of that. Was she just bullshitting because she was too shy to admit that she liked my friend? Or was this a sign of hope? Maybe she liked me too and I should step it up? Or maybe she didn't and I should forget about it?
I never figured it out.

I continued thinking about her until we graduated from grade school.
When I learned we were assigned to different middle schools, I finally decided to give up on her because I thought I would never see her again.

I thought wrong.

It wasn't destiny or anything, but through chance I met her again nine years later. This time we quickly became friends. We watched a movie or two together, had dinner here and there, but everything was strictly platonic. Obviously this was true friendship, and I was happy to find it in the form of my long lost crush. But after about a month of friendship time... out of nowhere she blurted out,

"I like you!"

What? This girl, whom I had a crush on for three whole years, was telling me she liked me? And she wanted to be my girlfriend?
After some deliberation, I politely thanked, then declined her invitation.

Why?

In all honesty, I was very flattered. I really was.

But it's just that those words were nine years too late.

Funny how time changes things.

Elevator Day

2011-02-09T20:58:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was just like every other day. Or so I thought.

Tuesday, February 8th 2011

04:50 Alarm went off

04:50:00.01 My arm reacted (Snooze button)

05:00 Snooze

05:10 Snooze

05:20 Woke up

05:55 Left my house for work

05:56 Barely dodged a pedestrian

06:06 Narrowly missed an accident

06:25 Exited highway and entered Los Angeles (short cut)

06:29 Exited Los Angeles and re-entered highway

06:45 Arrived at Santa Monica (work)

06:50 Morning Coffee

08:15 Engaged in daily morning sports discussion with co-workers (Topic: Kobe Bryant is/not the best player in the NBA)

08:30 Engaged in daily sports email discussion with friend in Chicago (Topic: Fantasy Basketball Team Management)

10:30 Made a bagel-run to Panera (Morning 15 minute break)

After the bagel-run is when things were not so regular anymore.

10:45 Noticed several firetrucks, ambulances, and even a forensics van parked outside of my building as I returned from Panera.

10:46 Noticed/joined long line for elevators in the lobby of my work building.

10:50 Still in line

10:51 People, including myself, complained/wondered why it was taking so long- normally there were six elevators running simultaneously. But for some strange reason only one elevator was working.

10:55 Finally made it to the overcrowded elevator. Heard more complaining from people.

10:56 Came back to my desk and saw my co-workers gathered around speculating what the elevator situation was all about. Did not join the discussion.

13:00 Lunch time. Elevators were still packed.

14:00 Returned to work. ~~Elevators~~ Everything was back to normal.

And then.

15:30 Received the following email-

"An unfortunate accident occurred today in the building. Police and fire officials are continuing their investigation throughout the day and ask that employees and visitors to the building please not gather or congregate in front of the building during breaks or as they leave for the day.
Also, if you are feeling concerned or upset about the accident and would like speak confidentially with a professional counselor, please call Lorraine Kirk at x77856 or Gary Stone at x22422 for contact information.
Our hearts go out to the family and friends affected by today’s events. Thank you for cooperation today with building management and our local authorities."

**

Yesterday was just another day in the office for the elevator maintenance man. Or so he thought.
The day began with the usual regular daily routines, the normal things he had been doing all his life, day after day, month after month, year after year.. servicing elevators.

But to the man's surprise, yesterday was the strangest day of his life-
It was his very last.

It would've been nice if he knew of this earlier, so he could have planned it out. But unfortunately that was not the case, as the announcement came crushing down on him with absolutely no warning whatsover. The man learned of his fate only a second or two beforehand, which really was not enough time for any sort of mental or emotional preparation on his part.
His only choice- which is no choice at all- was to accept what was coming, and simply hope for the best. Which he knew was not there.

So for the elevator maintenance man, yesterday was the worst day of his life. And the same could probably be said of his wife and children he was leaving behind.

But for me, yesterday was just another day in the office- besides the fact that I had to wait an extra ten minutes because for some goddamn reason all the elevators were shut down.

동전의 달인

2011-02-07T22:48:00.000-08:00

오늘 동전을 주웠다.

바닥에 덩그러니 떨어져있던 quarter를 우연히 발견했는데, 나는 그것을 주워서 내 호주머니에다가 넣었다.

사실 나는 요즘 신들린 것 마냥 동전을 자주 발견 하고 있다. 어제는 dime을 주웠고, 그저께는 nickel, 또 그 전날에는quarter를 주웠다. 나흘 연속.

스물다섯살, 아니 한국 나이로는 올해 스물 일곱이 되면서, 나는 '동전의 달인' 이 되버린 것이다..

그러나 당연히 마음이 그렇게 들뜨거나 흥분 되지는 않았다. 사실 이 동전들을 주워도 그만, 안 주워도 그만, 내가 현재 가지고 있는 재산에 전혀 보탬이 되지 않는 것들 이니까.

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Now or Never

2011-01-31T21:24:00.000-08:00

"Jimmy had a heart attack couple days ago. He's in ICU right now."

To be honest, it wasn't all that shocking news to me when I heard Jimmy Ewers had a heart attack. His body was extremely frail- he had been making frequent visits to the hospital all year long. It was only several weeks ago when he last stayed in ICU.

So I guess I kind of grew numb to it.

"Oh, I hope he is better," I said.

And then carried on with my life.

Several days later, a mutual friend approached me and said,

"I am forming a group to visit Jimmy in the hospital. Please join me."

I wanted to visit Jimmy. But I remembered I had a previous appointment.

"I really want to go. But I have something important I just cannot cancel."

This time, the friend did not back off.

"Jimmy's health is really frail. You know this. This might be our last chance to see him."

"I will visit him on my own tomorrow."

"No. Let's go now. This is a perfect example of a 'Now or Never' situation. It's now, or never, Phila."

I ignored my friend.

The next day, the day I was supposed to visit Jimmy, I forgot to visit him. Right before I was about to go to sleep is when I remembered. So I said to myself,

"Oh, I'll go see him tomorrow."

The next day, the day I was supposed to visit Jimmy, I was really tired after work.

"I am too tired for anything right now. I'll go see him on Sunday or something."

On Sunday, I went to see the mutual friend. I was going to suggest visiting Jimmy together. As I was about to make the suggestion, the friend told me Jimmy died the day before.

"What?"

"He died yesterday morning."

"But I was going to visit him today..."

" When you are in a 'now or never' situation, you cannot expect to have the same 'now or never' situation again, especially after you decided to pass on the 'now' long time ago. It's just 'never' now. "

How To Beat Traffic

2011-01-31T01:27:00.000-08:00

Crisis is upcoming and there are only three choices. Which one do we choose?

The situation is simple. We are entering a highway with four lanes. The lane on the far right is the exit lane, so there are only three lanes to choose from.

Lane 1 is the fast lane. It is on the far left and is for people who like to drive faster than the speed limit.
Lane 2 is the normal lane. It is the second lane to the left and is for people who like to go by the speed limit or slightly above it.

Lane 3 is the slow lane. It is the second lane to the right and is for people who like to travel significantly slower than the speed limit. This lane is normally reserved for the unfortunate who do not possess a functioning car, or the few who have acquired exceptional patience and mental peace within themselves (And no, we are not one of those people.).

Normally, our expectations are met. If we choose lane 1, we will travel faster than the other lanes. If we settle on lane 2, we will drive around the speed limit. And if we decide lane 3, then yes, we will be wasting everybody's time.

But this- having our expectations met- may spoil us. We may begin to underestimate the highway, when we really shouldn't. Why? Because the highway is no easy conquest. We won't always get what we want.

Life of Jimmy

2011-01-26T11:20:00.000-08:00

Jimmy Ewert was a moron. Technically.

The following chart was once the technical classification of mental deficiencies (mental retardation) that later began to be abused by the rest of society:

IQ Range	Classification
70-80	Borderline deficiency
50-69	Moron
20-49	Imbecile
below 20	Idiot

It is in just recent years the wording of this chart was replaced with the less offensive 'mild,' 'moderate,' 'severe,' and 'profound.' So yes, in today's terms, Jimmy would be classified as a "moderate retard." But when his family welcomed him into the world 61 years ago, Jimmy was a moron.

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Pimpin Ain't Easy

2011-01-22T16:34:00.000-08:00

"Man, it's hard being a player."

It was just another regular day in the office when I heard that phrase out of nowhere. I looked up. Dwayne Miller, the Mailroom clerk was looking at me, shaking his head.
I realized it wasn't any internal mumbling. Dwayne was hoping for some sort of response on my part. This dude wanted to discuss 'the art of playing' with me.
Sure why not. That happened to be my favorite topic of discussion in the office, especially in front of co-workers.

I'm just double checking- did you just give yourself the title 'player'?

"I sure did. I am a player."

Alright, just checkin.

I could see Dwayne being somewhat popular from his own people- black girls. He stood a good six feet and an extra inch tall, had ginormous pecs protruding through his dress shirt (which had me embarrassed at myself for sometimes admiring my own chest muscles after a good work out. He had pecs. I had pectoral muscles. Big difference.) He was also pretty fashionable. Dwayne did a pretty good job mixing in his own blackness with contemporary fashion- on office jean days, he wore Sean John jeans with topsider shoes.
But he didn't have cross-cultural appeal. He was more Chris Brown than Will Smith. And I did see him try his game with Kristen (a white girl) from Accounting. I saw the way he approached her and heard the things he said. It was a brutal failure. So it was obvious he was no true gamer. But like I said, I could see him being somewhat popular from where he came from.

"Yea. Playin around is hard, no joke. Especially when the holiday seasons are coming up."

Holiday seasons? Christmas and New Years is over now?

"No, I'm talking about Valentine's day."

Oh.

"So right now I'm talkin with three girls, right? Well not only do I gotta break some benjamins (spend money), but I gotta choose one of 'em to spend Valentine's day with. And I gotta come up with excuses and shit for the other ones. I gotta plan this out."

You are right, it is a difficult situation.

"Yea. For one of 'em I already told her I was gonna be out of town. So that's done. But I'm having trouble choosing between the other two."

How come?

"So the one I've been talking to the longest- I talked to her for like a year- she should be expecting something big from me, especially after taking me out to the Lakers game last week."

That was really nice of her.

"Yea. So it would be morally wrong to ignore her efforts like that."

Oh, you are trying to make a moral decision right now?

"Yea. But the other one is too dayum hot, if you know what I'm talkin about."

Then what now?

"So Valentine's day is a Monday, right?"

Right.

"Yea. So I'll tell the hot one that since Monday is a work day, it would make more sense to have our date on Sunday, so that we could spend more time together. And for the Lakers ticket one, I'll take her out to dinner on actual Valentine's day and spend the night at her crib."

You are all set.

"Yea. But all this money spendin is catchin up to me. Managing three women ain't easy. "

Like they say, pimpin ain't easy.

"Yea fosho. Haha. And then I got them other ~~nigg~~ brothers hatin on me and shit for playin around. I mean, stop hatin. You gotta let a playa, play."

They also say 'play on, playa.'

"How about you? I know you a player too."

Me?

"Yea man. I know a player when I see one. Players recognize other players, you know. No homo, but you are a decent lookin guy, and judging by the way you dress, by the way you talk to Kristen and all them other girls in the office.. I can tell.You are a player."

That, is the funniest shit I've heard in awhile.

... And who gets the girl?

2011-01-20T15:40:00.001-08:00

(Question: Who wins the girl's heart?)

Candidate #1

In the beginning, I had no idea what the fuck she was. The new girl at work, that is. At first I thought maybe she was Persian or something like the Kardashians, or maybe even Indian. But I figured probably not, since her name was Ellen Johnson. Then was she a very tanned white person? Nah. Too oriental lookin. But then she wasn't Asian. And she definitely wasn't black.

Then what the fuck was she?

Well it didn't matter, because she was hot. And that's all that matters, really.

I later found out she was a mix of Black and Thai. Ha! No wonder I couldn't figure it out. It was almost like a trick question.
Well anyways, I've never had that mix before. So now I'm curious.. I wonder what she tastes like.

Candidate #2

Grown men are not allowed.. to have crushes.

The last time I had a crush, and I mean a straight up, "wow I'm getting nervous just being in the same room with her" kind of crush, was probably when I was 15. But now, as a full grown man, am in the middle of some serious middle school-like crushing...?

Okay, so I've been in denial for the past couple days. But who was I fooling? I hate to admit.. but I have a legitimate crush on the new girl, Ellen from the Accounting Department. What a common, but wonderful name. Ellen Johnson. Wow I can say that name one more time. Ellen Johnson. And another time. Ellen Johnson.

Anyways, office romance is inappropriate at best and I will be

Ellen Johnson.

I mean, I will be working for a pretty long time

Ellen Johnson

Alright, I'll stop.

But like I said, crushes are meant to be crushed. However innocent and genuine they are, they never work. I cannot be already completely interested. Or at least I can't show it because being completely transparent is very unappealing. I have to be uninterested, but kind of interested. Not the oh, he is really into me kind of thing. In fact, it may come across as creepy at a certain point. That's just how this world is. Crushing as an adult is not normal.

If a 5 year old boy daydreamed about a girl, it would be seen as cute and innocent.

If a 35 year old man daydreamed about a woman, it would be seen as shady and creepy.

If I were to actually make anything happen with her, I would have to crush my inner innocence. I would have to calculate my approach to her, making it appear casual and natural, to make her feel comfortable. And that would increase my chances, but it wouldn't be very genuine though. Oh well.

Candidate #3

A new girl? Wow she's cute. Ehh, she's taller than me. Never mind.

(candidate withdrew from consideration)

Candidate #4

I interviewed three candidates for the new staff accountant position for my department. I needed to hire only one person for the job, and this person was to report directly to me. It was two girls and one guy. I didn't like the guy. So he was automatically out of the picture. But the other two girls had similar credentials- a white girl from UCLA, and a darker girl from UCSD. Both were okay, had similar work experience, were well spoken and such. But the darker one was far more attractive.
Obviously, I hired the darker one.

And now it seems as if everyone approves of my choice. ~~Everyone~~ Every male worker in the department is staring at this new girl. Every single one of them. Some take a quick peek at her, others are more blatant about it. She usually wears clothing that accentuates her very gifted, all-around features. Sometimes, she wears slightly low-cut shirts that show just enough to make things exciting. She wears dress pants that shows obviously she's been working out and practicing yoga consistently. Extremely sexy.

Well, the other guys can dream. I have the best chance with her. After all, I am her boss. I will see what I can do.

Candidate #5

It was my first day at the office, and I was being introduced to everybody. My boss showed me around the building, cubicle to cubicle, from the marketing department to the licensing department.

That's when I saw Ellen.

She was there, extending her bronze, athletic right arm towards mine, offering her hand to be shaken, acknowledging that it was, in fact, a pleasure to meet me. She was easily the most stylish person in the entire office. Actually she was easily "the most" for everything- the most attractive, sexiest, friendliest, prettiest, fittest, perfectest brows, perfectest smile, and the sexiest voice my ears have ever sensed. Perfectest.

Naturally, I screwed up our first encounter. So natural of me.. to screw things up.

I panicked and butchered my own freakin name.

It's your name. How do you forget your own name?

Well fortunately for me, her department's cubicle was right behind ours. So in a sense her desk was right behind mine. And this had been very, very good to me til now.

For the next couple weeks, whenever I turned around, I noticed she was looking at me. She would smile and quickly look away. And the few times that we did maintain our eye contact for an extended second, oh boy did that make my day. So yea, you can say I have a crush on Ellen Johnson.

---------------------------------------------------------------

So Ellen, how do you like your new job?

"Oh, I like it a lot. And it helps that everybody is nice and all."

Maybe it's because they are interested. Are you interested in any of them?

"Haha, they are good co-workers. I never thought any of them in that way."

No, but really, is there anyone in particular that stands out?

"Everyone at work is very similar to each other. They are all kind of.. umm... geeky? Reminds me of my younger brother when he was an awkward middle schooler."

(Question: Who wins the girl's heart?)

(Answer: Nobody)

((She deserves better.))

Is Old Tjikko cursed?

2011-01-18T06:01:00.000-08:00

Old Tjikko: http://philaa.blogspot.com/2010/10/grizzly-giant.html

Is living a never ending, but lonely life, a curse?

On average, a person lives around 80 years, maximum being 100 years. Old Tjikko lived 9500 plus years.

So compared to this tree, we live only about 1/95th of its lifespan.

The equivalent to that, would be comparing our life with a worker bee, of which has an estimated life span of around one year.

So the question is.. would you rather be a worker bee- free and busy, but dead after a year, or the human version of Old Tjikko- locked up in one place, but for a hundred years?

What it takes to be a cool man in 2011.

2011-01-11T09:33:00.000-08:00

"I want that hair."

That hair?

"Yes that hair."

How come?

"It looks good, and I think it would fit me well."

Go on.

"My current hair isn't contemporary. I had it since 2001. It's 2011 now. I wouldn't wear the clothes I wore in 2001. And yet I wear the same hair? That doesn't make any sense."

You do dress well, by the way.

"Yes, so there is a mismatch. Mark Twain once said that clothes (style) make the man.
Well, hair completes style. So in that sense, I am an incomplete man."

Okay. But I'm not so sure if you would really want that hair. Not after I tell you what it takes.

"Why?"

That hair requires a perm

"A what?"

A perm.

And you need to blow dry.

labels

2010-12-29T21:50:00.000-08:00

Meaning?

* (1985 - ): Real happenings in my life. Closest thing to a diary.

* Billiam: Little billiam story thing going on that will one day turn into something awesome.

* Family: family.

* Favorites: My personal favorites.

* Journal Entry: My actual perspective, thoughts, and ideas I guess.

* Creative Writing: Experimental. When I'm trying out something new. Never. my own voice or thoughts.

* Light Stories: Lighter tone, when I try to be funny.

* Life Stories: I'm not trying to be funny.

* Religion: Religion

* noigileR: Opposite of religion

* Somewhat philosophical: Some extra thoughts involved.

* P: When I try to rhyme. Not all the time.

* Wanderlust: Unfinished SF trip story.

* One liners that will be longer in the future: One sentence that may one day turn into something longer. Like this: http://philaa.blogspot.com/2010/08/catching-up-to-time.html

*한글: Korean entries

* 愛: love

* random: Anything else that I will probably remove in a few days.

Like this one.

Honey, Please

2010-12-22T23:15:00.000-08:00

Honey, please. Your lies are too funnyy.
Granted, everyone lies here, and for good reason, too. After all, this is a club, Velvet Room to be exact, and we have just met. We are not gathered here for the potential of soul mates. The idea of long term relationship is the last thing on our minds. But there are those crazy few who are looking for exactly that, and its smart to stay away from those lunatics, and the best for that is to give them the least amount of real information of our selves, so that they cannot get in touch with us after tonight, outside of this venue. So actually, it is dumb not to be a little cryptic.

But your lies are ridiculously unbelievable.

Other than the contact info part, there is no need to lie really, as we are not here to find a good wife or a husband with a stable job, but just for a passing night of fucking. So really I could give less of a fuck how old you are as long as you look fuckable, and what you do for a living as long as I wouldn't be getting Gonorrhea or shit like that from you.

But I guess you want to create this new persona of yours and carry it out or something. And to tell you the truth, I cannot take you seriously anymore.
Not just your skimpy dress, but the way you wear your make up and carry yourself gives away what you do for a living. There is nothing else. I know this, and you should know that I know this. It's obvious. And so I understand.. You don't have to tell me the truth in exactly what your occupation is or what industry you are involved in. So I don't know if you noticed, but I did not ask you questions, on purpose, other than the polite 'what kind of drink do you want.'

But you blurt out a story anyway, and quite frankly your story is wack as hell.
Ok, if you want to tell me a little bit about yourself, that's fine. Just tell me something believable. I mean, I will take any answer really.

But you aim too high!
You say you are 21 years old, when let's be honest, you are older than I am. If I had to take a guess, I'd say around 28- which is completely fine- hell, even if you are 36 I'm fine with that. And even if you did lie a little, say, 25ish, I'll take that answer too. But I cannot give you 21. It's like me telling you that I am 14 years old, with a straight face, expecting you to believe it. I can pass for a 18 year old, maybe, but if I say I'm 14, not only am I pushing it too far, but it just doesn't make any sense.

And then you say you are a student at UCLA.. Come on girl, you aimed too high again. I would have been completely fine if you said something like Pasadena Community College. But then I guess if you are going to lie why not aim high.

Well then at least claim a major that actually exists.
There is no such thing as simply a 'Business Major.' You could have said Business Administration, or Economics, or maybe even some hybrid form of Business and Econ, but there is no such thing as simply Business Major.

But even if you said Economics was your major, I would't have believed it.
I mean they say never judge a book by its cover, but if the book is extremely thin and the cover has 'Playboy' on it, then I'm not going to be expecting to find the definition of 'structural unemployment' inside the book.

But fuck it. Let me get you another drink.

Worth. What?

2010-12-20T23:10:00.000-08:00

I always thought I was a pretty swell guy, and I still think I am, but sometimes I wonder maybe I am not?

Then what determines a quality guy? I used to think it was some mix of honesty and talent. But my buddy Mikey tells me that it is not about those stuff, but rather about how popular you are from people. He says that we can come up with an equation.. For every guy who thinks you are cool, you get 1 point, and for every girl who thinks you are hot, you get 5 points.. that is Mikey's standards.

I think that is a bunch of bull. That can't be right. Because that means the richest fellas on earth are the ones worth the most! That is certainly not the truth at all. Or is it?

My other friend Andy thinks it is about how good you are in a skill, especially athletic skill. Andy says that because he is an athlete. So forget his idea.

Then what else is there to determine a worth of a person?

My bible teacher tells me everybody has equal worth, that all of us have the same destination unless we decide to stray away from what was meant for us. My bible teacher says everyone is given different amounts of different talents, so it is all about how we use those talents.

That sounds worse than horse manor to me. He is just saying that so he can make Robby feel better about himself. It's obvious that Robby adds up to no good. He's mentally retarded for christ sakes.

My mama says my relation to her, as a son, is what determines my worth to her. But I don't think that is the answer as well. Because then I can say something like.. does that mean I am worthless to, say Shawn's mama? Exactly. There must be some golden standard.

But i just cannot figure out what that is.

Oh well. At least Delores thinks I am a cute, swell guy.

I wonder what her standard is.

The Liberated Man

2010-12-16T16:07:00.000-08:00

I was driving through the streets of Santa Monica in what was another beautiful sunny day in Southern California. Palm trees decorated the streets, while little boutiques and foreign restaurants filled the buildings. Sartorialists occupied the outdoor cafes discussing tailoring and other important subjects of that matter, while fine European cars were lined up on the side of the road.
Life in Santa Monica is beautiful, I thought to myself as I approached a red traffic light.

A brand new silver Mercedes slowed down behind my car. It was a beautiful car, and I thoughtlessly looked into my rear-view mirror.The driver of that car was a neatly dressed middle-aged Caucasian man.

He looked like a free man.

The man was digging into the depths of his right nostril with so much vigor, with so much passion..
Apparently, there was some inner crisis in the upper section of his nose, and it looked as if he decided to take matters into his own hands. He delved into the issue beginning with his index finger, then casually switched to his pinky, then back to his index finger again, and then surprisingly settled on his ring finger. He rotated between his fingers with ease, which indicated he was no beginner in resolving inner nasal problems.

Kudos to this man. I never would have guessed a man with groomed brows would be an expert in the art of nose picking.

Now the foreign object obstructing his nasal air path must have been stapled to his nose or something, as the man continued the removal process even after the traffic-light turned green. The movement of his fingers were quite technical, but the procedure looked smooth and effortless. The man carefully nit picked with his pinky, violently attacked with his index, then gently felt it out with his ring.

After several more attempts, the man finally succeeded on his mission, as he smoothly lowered his window and quickly flicked away the nuisance. He seemed quite content with his self, as he double checked his nails for residue.

How is this man so shamelessly free? How is he mindlessly relieving himself?

I thought this man ought to very well understand, that most people tend to avoid people who pick their nose in public. And yet he still did what he did. He completely liberated himself from those social "rules," ignored the perceptions of others as if he thought of them as annoyances that restricted him from being who he naturally was. He broke away from these constraints and set himself free. But how? What made him so bold?

I noticed his windows were tinted.

Oh.

Well too bad he couldn't tint his windshield.

?

2010-12-13T23:55:00.000-08:00

1. ?

JJ was drunk, broke, and lost all at the same time. And yet, he found himself enjoying the moment. Why? Because it was an extraordinary situation, however horrible it was. His mind recognized the rarity of the moment. And so he delighted in it.

The night began with a drinking session with the buddies. What was originally supposed to be a casual hangout quickly transformed into a reckless drink-off. Someone threw out the question 'who could drink the most shots of Bacardi 151?' which was indeed a very pointless question. Not every question deserves an answer, and this was one of those. Yet they drank for a resolution, drank for their prides, and drank because they did not know any better.

After a certain point of drinking, JJ noticed his mind was having trouble storing additional memory to it. Not that he cared nor did it matter. He figured he just needed to be conscious.

Lesbehonest really. Mmemory storage is an extravagance after 8 bacardi shots.

Round two was Tinpan, one of the smaller clubs in uptown. JJ's memory was a bit unreliable after this point, as memories were stored in brief flashes. He did remember the loud rap music and the extra drinks at the bar. Oh and there was that brief dance-off he engaged in with a random girl at one point. And then finally the uncomfortable re-encounter with the ‘glasses girl,' someone he briefly met at Tinpan the week before.

What a beginner mistake.. Why did I come to the same place for two consecutive weeks? he remembered thinking to himself, as the Glasses girl recognized and approached him. JJ walked away.

Later that night, one of JJ's friends found a possible wife candidate that he wanted to bring elsewhere. JJ saw this as the sign to go back home. He looked at his watch. It was 3:45am. All public transportation was shut down and taxis were the only option to go back home. He looked at his wallet. There were only ten dollars left. Even in his intoxicated state of mind, JJ knew ten dollars were not enough money to deliver him home.

Whatever.

JJ signaled for a cab, hopped in it, told the driver his destination, also told him he only had ten dollars, and fell asleep.

2. JJ

I wake up to the sound of a cab driver telling me he is going to drop me off. He says I do not have enough money to get to my destination. But I should be fine though (he thinks) since I am very close to my home and all I need to do is walk just a little bit. What else can I do? so I get off the cab. The cab immediately speeds away.

I have absolutely no idea where I am. I do not recognize anything. So I look around to see if there is anyone I could ask for directions. None. The streets are soul-less. If I am going to make it home tonight, it is all up to me.

But "I" am not here though. My body is on auto-pilot mode at the moment. Something else is operating my mind. And unfortunately that something else does not have as much control over my self. It is inadequate. My body is collapsing over and over again. I try walking in a straight line. I fail miserably.

Whatever-that is-in-charge-of-my-mind recognizes I have a long walk ahead of me. Whatever-that-is-in-charge-of-my-mind also realizes it is not capable of such responsibilities. So it wakes me. And shakes me. Back to life.

So I am back now. No, I am not 100%, and my memory storing is still a bit shaky. But at least I am here.

I am not going to allow myself to make bad decisions... like taking a harmless nap in that ever so tempting telephone booth, or calling my mother right now to pick me up.

'Walking' is the best option, I decide, wherever it will lead me.

Uphill seems like a great place to start.

Day before 25

2010-12-09T09:20:00.000-08:00

* Essence: I make sure to congratulate my mother before anything else.

* Early 20s: 24.99726 years old at the moment. So no, I am not in my mid 20s yet.

* Crush gone bad: At my 5th birthday party, the girl I had a crush on tried to blow the birthday cake candles with me. I confronted her about this and made her cry. I like you, but today is MY day.

* Worst birthday present: When I was 12, my best friend gave me a used sketch book. It took me 2 years to forgive him for that.

* Victim: After my 9th birthday party, I discovered my piggy bank and some of my Lego toys were stolen.

* Low point: On the day I turned 13, my parents simply gave me $20-$30. I walked to the electronics store and bought two computer games for myself.

* Lower point: I tried buying friendship on my 14th birthday.

* Lowest point: I tried intimidating my classmates into giving me birthday presents on my 15th birthday.

I have come a long way.

A Thanksgiving Story: An American (Chicago) Experience

2010-12-08T02:02:00.000-08:00

I was trapped.

It was the fourth week of November 2004 when snowstorms decided to take over the small college town of Wheaton, Illinois. I was a freshman in college, and it was my first time living near Chicago. The winds of Chicago I had heard of before, but never was I warned of the murderous cold of the Midwest. Yes, murderous.

It was the early stages of Thanksgiving break and almost everybody was gone. Only a handful of people- the international students (orphans) who were staying against their own will- were left on campus. They stayed because they had nowhere else to go.

And I stayed, too, because I was one of those orphans.

On the first day of isolation week, I gathered two other orphans so we could together decide our plan for the day. After some discussion I suggested,

"Why don't we walk to downtown Wheaton and chill at Starbucks?"

We all agreed it was a good idea. Downtown Wheaton was pretty nice and only a 15 minute walk away, and the thought of warm coffee sounded great considering the weather. Plus none of us had a car so we had nowhere else to go. So why not enjoy the beautiful snowy scenery with a casual walk? Surely, it was a good idea.

Only if 'good' meant 'suicidal.'

We were about halfway to Starbucks when we realized my suggestion was actually a quest. The combination of wind and snow continually pummeling our faces and the "lower-than-what-it-should-be-in-what's-supposed-to-be-human-habitable-land" temperature quickly made us realize we were being delusional when we thought walking outdoors for more than two blocks in late November of what was America's version of the North Pole could be a 'casual' or 'good' idea. We, including myself, hated me for suggesting the walk, and continued battling our way for shelter formerly known as Starbucks.

자신감

2010-12-02T22:54:00.000-08:00

사실 저는 옛날부터 당신을 찾고 있었습니다.

그래서 어디 있는지도 모르는 당신을 찾기 위해

아주 오래 전 어느날, 무작정 걷기 시작했습니다.

이름, 얼굴, 그리고 어디에 있는지도 모르는 당신을 찾는다는 것은,

사실 어떻게 보면 굉장히 무모했지요.

하지만 저는 자신 있었습니다. 당신을 알아 볼수 있을 것이라는 것을..

얼굴도 몰랐고, 이름도 몰랐지만,

우리가 마주치게 되면 분명히 서로를 알아 볼 수 있을 것 이라는 확신이 있었습니다.

그래서 걷기 시작했습니다.

앉아서 기다리고 있기만 한다면,

평생 당신을 찾지 못 할 것을 알고 있기에.

This is about HJ

2010-11-15T20:18:00.000-08:00

There are 4 of us in the room: Me, Monica, Olivia, and HJ.

This is about HJ.

I am 23 years old, Monica is 16, Olivia is 14, and HJ is 9.

Monica and Olivia are sisters, but other than that, the four of us are strangers to each other and have absolutely nothing in common. We are gathered together in this room only because our parents are friends and are in the room next door.

But this is about HJ.

A Story

2010-11-15T09:31:00.000-08:00

An Introduction

When I am alone-

That is when Amy comes.

She creeps into my empty room,

And joins me in my solitude.

Amy is not welcome.

But I cannot push her away.

There is no one else without her.

So I let her stay.

Or I'd be a dead man.

A Summary.

What exactly was going on- I wasn't quite sure.

And come to think of it,

You probably weren't either.

The beginning of it was very sudden and unexpected.

Originally it was supposed to be harmless mutual interest.

Or so we thought..

Later we realized something had to be said.

And so we were about to discuss- but out of nowhere you just said,

The

End.

However confusing it was, I accepted and moved on.

Only.. it was pretty easy, because nothing actually had begun.

Nonetheless, it easily could've worked, as easily it could've failed.

Either.Or.

You think of me still.

A Dissenting Opinion

It was a real weird moment for me, really. I am usually pretty good at executing that last move, especially when I decide what I want. But I didn’t build it up. And because I didn’t build it up, I botched the delivery, twisting the words and regretting every word by word as it was flowing out of my mouth.

I fucked it up big time.

It was extremely puzzling because such was very unusual for me. Especially when I was so sure that I had everything under control, and knew exactly what thoughts were involved. Or maybe that’s what I thought.

After my botched attempt, I was looking for an opportunity to deliver it again. The buildup I completely destroyed from my previous attempt to deliver my “speech”, but I still felt the situation was under control and plus what I was about to say was pretty awesome. But that opportunity never came, and I never ended up saying it in that moment.

I still thought things were all good because I knew for sure a chance would come later.

But that chance never came.

Thank God it didn’t.

A Conclusion.

Because I'm no ordinary guy. I'm your 오라버니.

What My Father Saw

2010-11-11T14:51:00.000-08:00

My father once told me he was able to see things better than I could.

I thought it was very odd for him to say that.

Because quite frankly, my father was blind.

He must have sensed my confusion because he offered to be tested.

So I held up my hand and asked him how many fingers I was holding up.

He incorrectly guessed 'two,' when I had three fingers up.

I pointed that out to him.

But he continued insisting he knew what he was capable of.

So then I asked him the color of the t-shirt I was wearing.

"I know the color," he said, "but I don't know the name of it. I can't match the color and the name, because I never learned it. So I don't know what to tell you."

At this point I realized he was obviously just kidding around with me.

So I stopped asking him questions..

..for the next 20 years.

Throughout the years I have always assumed-

that I was able to see more than my father,

that I knew of the world more than him.

I figured out life.

I thought.

And then I hit a brick wall.

Now I was always an optimist.

But it was difficult to have hope,

when the walls were too high,
and there was no other way around it.

Then was I supposed to let go of hope?

That's when my father said,

"Why do you try to see with only your eyes,

when you are so small compared to the world?"

"Then how else can I see?" I asked him.

My father slowly got up from his seat. He took a step forward. He then gently swayed his arms to feel the walls and obstacles around him. There were none. He took another step forward. He swayed his arms again. There was nothing in his way, so he took another step forward.

"You are headed toward a wall," I told him.

But my father continued.

Step.

Sway.

Step.

Sway.

Several steps later, my father swayed his arms again. This time one of his arms touched the wall in front of him. He stopped and felt the wall with his hands. Then he turned and took a step to his right. But now- he held the wall with his left arm, for guidance, and swayed his right arm to locate the obstacles. One step at a time. He continued his slow, but steady steps. Until he finally made it to the door.

He walked out of the door and there was a whole new world in front of him- the living room. Obviously this new unfamiliar space did not bother him, as he began the entire process all over again. He soon walked into another wall, felt it and held on to it, and used it to guide him again. When he finally found the door for the stairway that led to the roof of the house, he opened it and began walking up the steps. I followed him up.

"You made it," I told my father.

He was standing in the center of the roof, with his arms stretched out. He was enjoying the moment, deservedly, feeling the gentle breeze between his fingers, content and relieved with what was quite the achievement. But he was not done.

He stepped off the center of the roof, and slowly walked a full circle around, as if he was trying to see the entire view from all possible angles.

Then he finally stopped.

"What I just did-"

"Yes?"

"Do that," he said,

"in real life."

What the S?

2010-11-09T00:59:00.000-08:00

I was at the library today, when somebody tapped me on my shoulder.

I looked up and saw that it was S.

S? Oh hey.

Wait. S?

S????!!!!??!?!?!

Who was S? I had the biggest crush on her back when I was a Sophomore in high school. That was 2001 in Korea. It's 2010 and I'm in California now. So yes, I was very confused. But even in that short moment of confusion, I thought to myself, Be cool, be cool while attempting to flash the most charming smile of my entire life. Which is quite difficult to whip out on a random Monday. You need to prepare for things like this you know.

She giggled.

I told her we should talk outside and led her out to the hallway. That walk from my library desk to the hallway had to be one of the longer ones of my life. What was I going to say? I had no idea. Maybe I'll ask how she's been from then till now.

But.

I never talked to her before.

I first met S in Geometry class. She was the new girl and her seat was next to mine (we had assigned seats for that class). I thought of introducing myself to her during our first class, but I missed my chance. It's okay, I'll say something clever tomorrow I thought, but the next day was the same. So was the next. And the ones after that. Until the end of the year. I never summed up the courage to speak up to her besides the following sad little phrase:

"Do you have an extra pencil?"

and as I was returning the pencil at the end of class,

"Thanks."

Sometimes I tried mixing things up by returning her pencil a day late, or asking for a pen instead of a pencil, or even bringing my own pencil sometimes. You know, to keep her on her toes. But that was it. I tried nothing else. But however short and unromantic they were, those little exchanges easily made Geometry my favorite class. It probably did not help with my romantic progress though, as she probably thought I was either a lazy pencil-less guy, or a complete geek that couldn't man up and make a move. Well, I was satisfied with those little moments, and secretly hoped Geometry was a three year course so I could have class with her until I graduated. But it turned out my secret wish wouldn't matter as she moved to America at the end of the school year. And just like that, my one and only little crush in high school ended.

Now.

She was here standing in front of me.

"Wow this is a pleasant surprise," I said.

Then I immediately realized I just had an In-N-Out Burger with extra fresh onions.

Phila, did you really need those onions?

I decided to talk anyway, even with my stanky fresh-onion breath, because I recognized the rarity of the moment, that this was my one and only chance to talk to one of the more significant persons in my life. So I continued talking. And for being caught off guard with a breath problem, I did pretty well. My questions were good enough to get her going, and I made great eye contact.

Her clothes and hair were more modern, but she looked exactly the same from nine years ago- same shy smile, small face, and perfect brows. When she began her sentences, she would look at me, then look to her right, then look at me, then look to her right again. She was still cute.

I dreamed of this moment back when I was fifteen. And finally after nine years, I was having an actual conversation with her that did not involve a pencil. So I enjoyed the moment, thinking of 2001, re-generating the feeling of innocence of that far away world of nine years ago.

But I realized that is what 2001 was- a far away world. I was fifteen then. It is 2010 now and I am twenty four. I am a different person living in a different world.

And S, a person from the past, had no place in it.

So I said goodbye to my past and hoped for the best.

With a smile, of course.

여행

2010-11-08T16:16:00.000-08:00

가끔은 혼자 떠나는 여행도 괜찮은 것 같아.

마음이 맞는 친구와 가는 것도 좋고,

사랑하는 사람과 가는 것도 좋지만,

결국에는 나랑 마음이 가장 잘 맞는 것은..

내 자신이니까.

I was always a dog person

2010-11-04T10:23:00.000-07:00

I lost a friend today.

I thought we were sharing a moment- I fed him with my hands for the first time.

After eating my treat, he rolled around on the ground, which I saw as an inviting gesture.

I rubbed his belly.

He scratched my hand.

I hit him back.

He ran away.

Goose was my neighbor's cat. My neighbor probably called him something else, but I named him Goose anyway, which was a reference to his grey coat. I originally thought he was a stray, but a very friendly one who wasn't scared of humans. He especially had absolutely no fear for me in particular; It was as if his animal instincts were telling him that I- a 5 feet 10.5 inches tall (with shoes on), 165 pound human- was incapable of physically dominating him- a 2 feet, 10 pound cat. Those were some crappy instincts on his part, which meant that he was probably not a stray.

I soon learned that Goose was my neighbor's pet, and that she just preferred keeping him outside. 'California is warm anyway,' she told me when I asked why.

I was happy she preferred to keep him outside because that gave me equal access and power over Goose, to the point where I secretly began thinking he was my cat as well. Well I guess Goose and I were more 'equals' or 'business partners' than 'master and pet.' Sure, I gave him food. But he gave me affection in return, however ungenuine it was. It was a give and take kind of relationship. We were simply making business transactions- food for affection, affection for food.

But as our transactions became more frequent, Goose started becoming more genuine. He would purr and meow even when I did not feed him.

And today.

So up until now when I fed Goose, I simply poured his food into his bowl. But today when Goose walked up to me with those green/black, puss-in-the-boots-in-shrek2-style eyes of his, I decided to feed him straight from my hand. At first he seemed to be a bit thrown off by this, but he soon came and ate his food from my hand. And afterwards, for the first time ever, he rolled around on the ground showing his belly and waving his paws. And then you know the rest.

So what went wrong?

I came home and googled 'Cat mannerisms'. It turns out that rolling on the ground was a sign of relaxation that only came from complete trust. After all these months, Goose finally trusted me. But the website also added that I should avoid rubbing the "inviting stomach" since it was one of the most sensitive areas for a cat. Oops.

So basically, Goose was telling me,

"You know what Phila? After all these months, I think I can trust you now. Let's be friends. Here, why don't you give me a hug?"

And I felt up his genitals.

4 months of.

Friendship. Trust

Shattered. Gone.

Just like that.

I'm sorry Goosie. Please come back home.

Old Tjikko

2010-11-02T12:31:00.000-07:00

The Old Tjikko has been standing tall and proud for more than 9550 years now.

How did he do it? How can anyone.. anything last this long?

I wonder how he lived through it all. He just stood there, forever planted to the ground, stranded all alone, completely oblivious to the world out there.

Maybe that's why it was possible- since he was limited to his own little world. He probably was the king in this small little world of his, his own god, his own whatever-else-title-he-could-give-himself.

Yes, he may have wondered once in awhile, of the world outside of his own, of what possibly could be out there other than the small bushes by his roots and the occasional clouds in the sky.

But he probably didn't care. Because what good was thinking and stressing about a theoretical world? Sure there might have been something else somewhere else. But that something else was not real to him. It did not matter to him.

So he did not think of those things. He simply focused on living.

And there is no stress in that.

Gilma

2010-10-24T02:15:00.001-07:00

1. G

Every morning, he come at exactly 6:50am. He always big smile. He look a little sleepy, but he still happy. And seeing him make me happy.

He leave at 12:55pm, come back at 2:00pm, then finally go home at 4:00pm. He one of the regular customers in this parking lot I have been working for the past 10 years.

He my favorite. He young. He happy. He have beautiful car. He have job. He look nice. He is nice. I like him.

What do he think of me?

He probably see me as a happy little old grandmama. and nothing more..

Everybody call me old grandma. Am i really old? I am 68. Actually 68 sound really old.

But I feel the same as when I was 12.

I can't believe I am this old. I never thought I be this old. But now, I am this old.

My mind still feel young. Just my body hurt a lot more. And my hair a lot more gray. And my eye can't see that good. And my knee hurt.

But I still woman. I still like flowers. And pretty necklaces. And shoes. And handsome men.

Because I am woman. I once was a young girl with dreams. I once was a young woman in love.

I once was something. But not anymore. Then what am I now?

I don't know.

2. P

My commute to work is the worst. I need to arrive at work by 7am sharp, so every morning I leave home at 5:50am. Which means I have to get up by 5:30 am at the very latest. And no matter what time I sleep the night before, it is extremely difficult and unpleasant to wake up at 5:30am. For sure. Period. Full stop.

So I am sleepy and grumpy and tired and unpleasant when I am driving to work. But that immediately changes the moment I enter our company's parking lot.

Why? Because I am greeted by the happiest person in the world. She is the ticket booth lady. I see her singing in her little booth, dancing and enjoying herself. Seeing her brightens up my day. She greets me with a smile, so I smile back. And that's when I finally feel ready to work.

I wonder if she was always this happy. She probably was. She probably was a very sweet little girl, then a sweet young lady, then a sweet loving mommy, and now she is probably the world's best granny.

Well one thing for sure is that she is my favorite person in the world right now.

Gilma-

You were, are, and forever will be, a beautiful person.

That is what you are.

Amy

2010-10-10T21:23:00.000-07:00

When I am alone-

That is when Amy comes.

She creeps into my empty room,

And joins me in my solitude.

Amy is not welcome.

But I cannot push her away.

There is no one else without her.

So I let her stay.

Or I'd be a dead man.

An experiment: Let's see what kind of inspiration alcohol brings

2010-10-06T00:21:00.000-07:00

Friday, July 23rd 2010

They say the great William Faulkner wrote many of his books while being under the influence of alcohol. So why not try this out for myself?

Saturday, July 24th 2010

3:20AM.

What does it take really

To finish what is done.

Who would notice raelly.

If I’m gone.

When I look up at the sky

All I see is the emptiness.’ir c

When others notice a clear blue s[otless sky. and Hope

All I seeis emptiness.

I need to continue to bedrunk

I ned more alcohol

But there is none.

Now what?

Maybe I should count the stars

Maybe I should be no more.

Maybe I should stop this war

Mabe I should drop away from all.

I can’t stand even one second being by myself.

I lonely.

I miss people. because I am one of them.

When I am alone

That is when the darkness comes

It fills up this empty room

And is the only thing keeping me company.

So I let it stay with me

Because of my loneliness

I cannot let it go. I cannot push it away.

I need at least something to be here with me.

Or Id be a dead man.

I look around in hopes of finding somebody. There is nobody.

---------------------------------------------

Conclusion: I shouldn't drink.

An Observation.

2010-10-05T22:22:00.000-07:00

Through my superior peripheral vision, I saw it all.

She was staring at me all day long.

It was obvious she couldn’t help herself.

Whenever I turned my face away from her direction, she turned her face towards my direction. She would look at me for a moment, then look away. She'd then look at me again, then look away again. And then look, and then away. Then look. Then away. She repeated this process over and over again.

I guess when you are young and interested in someone, you really can’t help it. You have to look. And look. And look. And look. Over and over and over again. And you feel quite safe- you think you are doing it secretly. You think the person you are looking at is not aware of what’s going on.

Well that’s why you are naïve. Because they always know.

I liked the fact that she thought I didn’t know. She just had to look at my face over and over again. With a cute smile too.

She studied every detail of my face, noticed the slightest changes in my expression, and carefully listened to my conversations with others.

I decided to be a gentleman and talk to her.

As we were talking, she inadvertently mentioned parts of my conversations with other people, then quickly blushed as she recognized her mistake.

How cute is that?

Church people gathering.

2010-09-28T20:21:00.000-07:00

Several members from my church gathered in Los Angeles for a Korean BBQ dinner.

I came straight from work to join in on this.

Never say no to free food. Never.

And no, I'm not the guy in the middle.

The Order of Things

2010-09-26T02:02:00.000-07:00

It is impossible to find happiness without knowing what it exactly is.

So in order to attain it, you need a better understanding of it.

And for a better understanding of it, you need a better understanding of yourself.

Recognize what is important to you. Identify the things that are the most valuable to you. Those are your valuables. Then repeat the process for the opposite- determine what are your non-valuables. After you have created a list of valuables and non-valuables, evaluate each item and reason the importance it has in relevance to you, of what it means to you. When you have completed the process for every item, organize them in order of importance.. in the different amount of value you have assigned to each.

When you are finished, you will have a complete set of values with a certain order to it- a value system.

Our value systems are highly dependent and affected by our culture (geography, family background, religion, education level, economic status, age, birth year (time period within history), etc.), and as a result, each and every one of us have a unique value system. There may be some popular items overlapping between our systems, but the amount of value each person assigns to each item- the exact order of things- will be different. In other words, what matters to me may not mean as much to you.

Who's value system is better?

Other than some specific groups who have the super unfair value system (the "our-value system-is-outer-worldly-above-everything-and-therefore-better-than-yours" value system), there seems to be a trend in modern western society to respect other systems as different, but equal, that different opinions shouldn't be condemned, but tolerated, unless they violate the common code of conducts (the law... which is a compilation of the common shared values in a given culture that are established with the purpose of "protecting" the values and safety of both individuals and community as a whole).

Then what is evil?

It is not when one breaks the common code of conducts.

It is when one confuses the order of importance within their own system. When they break their own system.

For example, let's create a fictional man (Joe) and create a value system for him. On the top of Joe's list of valuables is his family. They are the most important "items" in his life. Next on the list is his religion. Then it is his money. Then his house. Then his friends. Then his dog. Then his car. And so on. Those are his valuables in order of importance.

Now let's say that Joe was put in a situation where his valuables were conflicted with each other and he felt he had to choose one over the other. Say, one of his close friends wrecked Joe's car by accident. Joe obviously valued his car a lot as it was one of the top 7 items of value. So this loss made him angry, and in response he killed his friend.

That is evil: killing a friend, who was clearly more valuable to him, because of his hurt for losing his car, a lesser valuable. He clearly and temporarily confused the order of things. (Plus the act of killing also violates his religion, which ranks pretty high in the order as well.) So Joe probably regretted his actions afterwards as he came back to his senses and realized that his friend meant a lot more to him than his car.

For the most of us, we immediately recognize Joe's action as something evil. We don't have to put much thought to conclude Joe committed evil, because most of us value human life over material things, friends over cars, and the difference in amount of value we put between the two things are very large and firm. So we do not have to analyze this issue or contemplate on it for an extended period of time. We "just know" immediately. For the most of us, that is.

Now.

What if Joe had his car ranked higher than his friend? Well given the fact that it is rare to find a current human civilization or culture on earth that values material things above a person, such scenario seems very unlikely. So we usually can come to a quick decision for Joe's verdict. But what if Joe, however perverse and sick it may sound, somehow had a value system where his car was ranked above his friend?

In situations like these, we would usually label Joe as a lunatic or a criminal and lock him up from the rest of the world. Because he is clearly a danger to our being and will disrupt the harmony of our system. But who are we, to tell Joe that his system is crazy? Who are we to judge that our's is better than his? Most of us agree on what is right and wrong. Does that mean we are right?

Is there such thing as a universal evil?

The answer is easy for most, for they are either part of that super unfair group mentioned above, or they did not really think as to why they believe what they believe and simply assume what they feel as right is right. Or in other words, they "just know".

I prefer to avoid discussions from such thoughtless people who condemn others when they do not really know why they think what they think.

(I was originally intending on writing about 'happiness'. I ended up writing about 'evil'. Oops. )

If it was supposed to be like this, I would rather we have never met.

2010-09-25T21:55:00.000-07:00

I woke up to the sound of my favorite song.

I smiled and hummed along, bobbed my head a couple times and opened my eyes.

I realized the song was not playing from the radio.

A girl was singing it live. And she was resting her head on my shoulder and holding my hand.

The term 'wtf' must have been coined for moments like these.

What the fuck?

There were a total of four of us in the karaoke room. It was me, a friend, and two girls that I have never seen in my life. Who were they? And the more pressing question.. why was I attached to this girl?

I looked at the clock. It was 4:30 AM. I tried re-tracing the night.

Okay, so I met up with some friends around 9:30pm and we started drinking.. pre-game for a party at club Opium. We showed up to Opium at around 11pm. We mingled into the crowd for a bit and eventually separated, as we were meeting different people and seeing different old friends from the past. Whenever I talked to somebody, either I offered to buy them a drink or they offered to buy me a drink. Either way, I drank a shot every time. The latest drink I remembered was the one with S. He bought me a 'Black Russian'. I think that was around 12:30am. I couldn't remember anything after that shot.

So there was a 4 hour gap that I had absolutely no recollection of. For those 4 hours I was sleep-walking. Literally. And yet, I still managed to woo a girl to be my partner for the night, to sing me this song. I've always thought I was pretty 'hard-to-get'. I guess not.

My friend caught on to my confusion. It was quite impressive that he noticed my switch- from 'off' to 'on'- because I still looked and acted pretty normal when my switch was off. I guess he noticed that life, and some intelligence with it, had returned to my pupils.

He whispered to my ear,

"I know what you are thinking. You were being my wing-man tonight, and I'd really appreciate it if you continue. Please just go along with it for now. I really like this girl next to me. I promise I'll get you back. And her name is Ashley btw."

Ahh. Not again. I hate this guy.

And I hated myself for putting myself in this position. But what else was I to do, especially now that I was already holding hands with this girl and what not? So I remained in my seat and watched Ashley sing.

Ashley was a very good singer. She had a pretty voice, and an especially pretty look to her face. She was wearing a dark grey designer dress with a mini black blazer-ish jacket that had slightly pointy shoulder paddings. Her hair was straight, long, and dyed brown. She was slim, but fit, and I could tell she was quite tall for a Korean girl. I began wondering why my friend chose to go after the other girl instead of Ashley. Because to be honest, Ashley was extremely cute.

But she was also won over by a drunk, sleepwalking man that she met for the first time. So even if that lucky man was me... well I don't like that, I thought.

I mean.. I was probably nothing more than a human voice mailbox version of myself, giving her automated voice messages and generic responses that were probably less than a phrase long, for the entire night. And yet she fell for that?

Ashley finished her song, and the rest of us clapped our hands for her efforts.

She blushed.

"You just sang my favorite song," I told her.

She responded by giving me a kiss on my cheek.

I blushed.

I never should've met her.

If I met her anywhere else, seriously anywhere else but here, in a different situation, then I would've been very interested. Maybe something long-term could've happened.

But not like this. Long term wasn't going to happen.

Because I knew what I had to do. Which meant I'd probably never see her again.

Which is fucking depressing.

5. Billiam meets Michael

2010-09-23T21:16:00.000-07:00

1. Meet Michael.

Michael, 16.

It was simply..

lust.

but you gave me your..

trust.

and now i'm conflicted.

Michael, 24.

I only wanted one thing. But they gave me everything.

It's not my fault.

I may have made them feel comfortable around me. I'm naturally good at doing that and its something I can't control.

I never asked for it. But they gave it anyway. They should know better.

Yes, I hurt them. But it would've been someone else if it wasn't me.

Well, through meeting more people like me they will learn their lesson eventually.

So yea.

2. Bill & Mike

“I’m sick of this bullshit!”

Billiam cried out loud to himself, as he stood naked in front of a full body mirror, staring into his reflection. It was just a sad, sad sight- Billiam’s nude figure was a disgrace to the human race.

He carefully studied the details of his body. He began with his abdominals, then moved on to his pectorals. Then his legs. Then his arms. Then his privates. Then finally his face. To Billiam’s dismay, there was not a single detail of his liking. There was an abundance of flesh equally distributed throughout his body. Cross out abundance. There was an excessive amount of flesh distributed throughout his body, and not a single body part was cheated of their share. It was a difficult sight to stomach, even for his own eyes, so Bill quietly put his clothes back on.

Billiam was sick of this “bullshit.” He recently had an awakening. Until now, he believed that his lack of success with women was because there was something wrong with them. All of them. Women were weird and stuck up. That is what he told himself. But now he realized that maybe he was doing something wrong. Maybe he needed a change. But what did he need to change?

Billiam initially thought his failures were due to his obese figure. After all, he himself did not believe his own ‘keg theory’. Maybe if he lost some weight… maybe things would improve.

But he quickly dismissed that idea. He saw other men- men that he considered physical inferiors- have countless and unlimited success with women. So obviously there was something else to it other than looks. But then what exactly was he missing? What did women want?

Billiam decided to swallow his pride and ask a friend for advice.

Michael.

"...Like You've Never Been Hurt"

2010-09-19T22:56:00.000-07:00

We become numb to things- to those certain things that once made our hearts beat faster.

The initial exposure quickens the rhythm of the beating.

The second time is not much different.

But the third and forth are a tad bit slower.

And by the fifth our hearts do not respond at all.

The disappointment of growing numb to the things we love,

is somewhat compensated by the reducing amount of dislike we feel for the things we don't. There seems to be a balance of things.. however uneasy it may be.

But this so called 'perfect balance' does not exist.

Because there is one thing that we can never grow numb to-

Rejection.

It stings no matter who we receive it from.

And when it does come from the ones we care for,

it sharply pierces through the heart of us,

leaving behind a wound so deep that may never heal completely,

engraving a scar that will forever remain, and remind us,

of what it may mean.. to love

***

So we guard our hearts.

We build a fortress around us, thinking we are protecting ourselves.

The height and width of our forts vary depending on the depth of our wounds-

the higher and thicker the walls, the more fragile is what we are protecting inside.

And we say,

"How foolish are those who expose their hearts,

those who take their hearts out and hand it to others,

and simply wait for a decision to be made of themselves,

of whether their hearts should be held, or dropped to the ground?

Why allow others decide the fate of your own,

and become completely vulnerable to their decision?

People are fickle and unpredictable, the risks are too obvious, and they are too probable.

Therefore we shall guard our hearts.

We will keep our hearts protected inside our forts- nothing will come in, and nothing will go out. Because it is better to be safe, than to be left unguarded and exposed..

..to the risks of love."

***

But our hearts were created to love.

Love brings it to life.

It brings us to life.

***

Picture a young infant boy making a transition to a toddler.

It is during this time he realizes that crawling is inefficient,

that his knees are too soft and too unstable for him to rely on it as his primary mode of travel.

He then notices his legs and feet. Through his instincts he understands that his legs and feet were meant for him to use it.. to walk. So he tries to perform this act that he was never introduced to before, this function that he was never specifically taught. And yet he somehow knows the necessary steps to take in order for him to acquire this new skill- that he needs to stand on his feet and take small steps forward.

He knows 'walking' is what his legs were meant for.

So he gives his efforts, however awkward it may be.

And it is awkward. He continues to fall. Over and over and over again.

And it hurts when he falls.

Every.

Single.

Time.

But he gets back up. Because he knows this is what he was meant to do.

And eventually, he learns how to walk.

How foolish is it to give up walking,

because of the fear of falling?

And just as our legs were meant for walking,

our hearts were meant for something-

not simply to pump blood throughout our bodies to keep us alive,

but to Love. to give us a reason to live.

Locking up your heart may prevent it from some wounding.

But it will also take your life away.

So, Love. Like you've never been hurt.

That's what you are meant to do.

Love-

Before I find it, I devote my life looking for it.

When I finally find it, I devote my life living for it.

4. Billiam comes to grips with reality

2010-09-15T14:42:00.000-07:00

It was Friday night and Billiam was driving with loud rap music blasting in his car. He was violently rapping along the angry lyrics of Tupac Shakur, when another car started honking at him.

This irked Billiam as he did not like being interrupted when he was in his "Pac-mode".
Bill frowned and looked for where the honking was coming from.
The ruckus was coming from the car to his right, which was occupied by a young Mexican man in his 20s. He motioned at Bill to lower his windows, and when Bill obliged, the Mexican shouted,

"Where the girls at??!"

Billiam noticed that the Mexican man was driving alone in his car too.
This softened Bill's heart, and so he honestly answered,

"You are asking the wrong guy, homie. They are never around me, that's for sure."

The Mexican laughed at Bill's answer, then drove away.

Billiam was satisfied for possibly cheering up the Mexican's night.

Then he was sad for his life.

Union

2010-09-14T12:38:00.000-07:00

In our closest moment,

I give you what was always yours, while you give me what was always mine.

We return and receive our deepest parts, from and to each other, and through this connection, we become one.

It was Lust.

that had drawn us to each other

But Trust.

is what connects us together

Work

2010-09-12T13:12:00.000-07:00

I have to force myself to do things that have nothing to do with me,

just for the sake of existing.

Good Point

2010-09-10T07:16:00.001-07:00

"Good point" was probably Andy's favorite phrase. The thing was, he would use the phrase for things that were really obvious, for things that were just simple common sense. But the way he said it, not only did it seem like he thought what was being said was a good idea, but that it was the most creative and genius thing ever, that he could not have even imagined the possibility of the proposition that was being made to him. And that was just weird.

Like I would say..

"Hey Andy, why don't you get a Big Mac Meal rather than getting a Big Mac and french fries separately because a meal is a lot cheaper?"

And Andy would look at me with wide eyes, nod his head, point his index finger at me as if he was acknowledging a true genius, and with a very serious face he would say,

"Wow. Good point."

...

"Oh Andy, you have an interview for a paid internship position in PWC? Why don't you go to their website and study the company for a little bit, so that you'll be better prepared for the interview tomorrow?

Wide Eyes. Head Nod. Index Finger. Serious Face.

"Good point."

...

"Let's take one car to the beach instead of everyone driving there separately, so we can save some gas money."

Eyes.Nod.Finger.Face.

"Good point."

...

"You probably know this, but I'm just double checking with you- you should probably stop drunk calling my father's cellphone at midnight because that's been waking him up at night, and if you continue, it would make him very uncomfortable."

"Good point."

...

"Don't leave the fridge door open. The food will go bad."

"Good point."

...

"Wear a thick coat today. It's cold outside."

"Good point."

...

"Let's go eat, because we won't be hungry anymore."

"Good point."

...

"Don't stop breathing. You'll die."

"Good point."

...

"You thirsty? Here drink some water."

"Why?"

Whoa.

"Well because water won't make you thirsty anymore."

Wide Eyes. Nod. Index Finger. Serious Face.

And one truly Enlightened Man.

"Good point."

No it's not. And you are starting to freak me out.

You are always on my mind.

2010-09-04T16:51:00.001-07:00

I dream of my mother every night.

Then I wake up wondering- What am I doing here, so far away from her?

I should be there for her right now... but instead I am at a place so far from her... so impossibly far.. that she may wonder. if I can hear her. when she calls for me.

3. Billiam, Misunderstood

2010-09-01T10:20:00.000-07:00

Billiam could not believe what he was witnessing on TV.

He was watching MTV, a blind date show to be specific, and one of the girl's on the show was giving an opinion about her date. Bill took this as an attack.

"What is this bullshit coming out of her shallow mouth? Media these days are just brain-washing people... Bombarding the mass with these images and glorifying physical fitness and shit.. forcing them to believe what isn't necessarily the truth. Peoples gots to be aware and start thinking for themselves."

Whoa whoa whoa. Calm down there Bill. The girl just said her date had nice abs.

"Well six pack abs are worthless. If you like nice abs, then you are shallow."

Oh yeah?

"Let me ask you. Would you rather want to drink from a keg or a sixpack?

Probably a keg.

"Yes. Because a keg can feed everybody. It is the center and the essence of every college party. The keg should be preferred."

Okay.

Billiam's friends set him up on a blind date.

When he came back home from the date, he announced,

"I'm a kill everybody who set me up with that beast of a girl."

Date didn't go well?

"Simply put, she was a fat midget. She was like 5'2 tops. And I'm guessing she weighed around 175ish. What the hell were the guys thinking?"

Kegs over packs, probably.

Love

2010-08-29T20:22:00.000-07:00

Before I find it, I devote my life looking for it.

And when I finally find it, I devote my life living for it.

¿Donde?

2010-08-25T08:33:00.000-07:00

This past year I went from Chicago to New York to Los Angeles to San Francisco to even the outskirts of Wyoming and South Dakota,

to multiple cities in Korea, Japan, Singapore and even all the way down to the Philippines.

I went below the equator and back above it.

I visited cities on a whim and boarded random buses and subways.

For what?

To find you, of course.

2. More Adventures of Billiam and his Quest for Love

2010-08-23T20:58:00.001-07:00

So Billiam decided to try the whole 'clubbing' thing, and so one Friday night, he tagged along some of his friends to a club called 'Noise Basement'. Inside the club he spotted a girl who was very intoxicated. Bill's instincts told him that this was his chance, and so he crept up behind her and started dancing. The drunken girl turned around and looked down at Billiam, as he was shorter than her, and to everyone's surprise she smiled and continued dancing with him. This got Billiam excited and so he reached inside his pocket to take out two glow sticks he brought from his home, and he started swinging them around the air while moving his shoulders and shaking his butt and twisting his knees, as he was trying his best to emulate the rave party dance moves he had seen from youtube the night before.

Unfortunately for Bill, that is when the drunk girl's friends came to her rescue. They saw what was going on and quickly separated the girl from Billiam. They looked at him and shook their heads and waved their hands and squinted their eyes, as if they were saying 'Shame on you' to Bill.
This infuriated Bill. He started yelling and the yelling quickly escalated into a tantrum. He was jumping and spinning and rolling around, and being the circumference-ically large and stout man that he was, people were tripping over him (And of course only if 'circumference-ically was a real word). It was as if he was a bowling ball and everybody else in the club were pins, and he was knocking everybody down. It was quite the scene.

After he was done with his strikes and spares, he walked out of the club and muttered to himself,
"You can't see me. I am better than all these bitches in the club."

I gently tapped him on his shoulder and said,

"Actually, we can see you quite well, Bill. You are pretty hard to miss."

1. The Mystery of Billiam's Failed Romance

2010-08-23T11:42:00.000-07:00

There was a 26-year old man named Billiam who wondered why he never had a girlfriend in his entire life. He was a very confident fellow- despite his somewhat modest build of 5’6 (168cm) and 200 pounds (91kg) - and was pretty rich. And Bill very well understood that financial wealth and self-confidence were the two most important determinants of romantic success with the female species, so his failures were very confusing to him. Plus as long as he had his shirt on, he figured he was a somewhat decent looking fellow.

Now Bill had a crush on his best friend’s younger sister. So one day, he figured he should go visit their apartment (the friend and the sister lived together) for a week and maybe make some magic happen. This was possible because Bill did not have a job (since he was rich enough not to have one), and was just staying at home most of the time, or he liked to call it ‘chilling like a villain,’ and so he had all the time in the world to do whatever he wanted.

The friend and his sister both welcomed Bill to their home and were very hospitable. They shared everything in the home, telling him that he should think of it as his home, and they gave all their effort to make him feel comfortable. But they soon realized their mistake and wondered what they have gotten themselves into as Bill got too comfortable and stayed a month too long.

On the fifth week, or the fourth week since Bill was not a welcome guest anymore, the sister finally decided she could not take it anymore. Bill was not only over-staying, but was causing a mess in the house. Being the big guy that he was, Bill was cleaning out the food in the fridge, and being the villain that he was, he never did his dishes.

So she went up to Bill, who was half-naked on the couch watching TV, and said,

“Bill, can you at least wash your dirty dishes?”

Bill looked up, stared at the sister, then said with a straight face,

"That's what girls are for."

And then he continued watching TV.

Mystery solved.

It's just eight in the morning.

2010-08-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

1. Regret

Daniel looked a lot smaller than what I remembered.

He was slouched on his chair with everything about him stooping downwards- his head, shoulders, eyebrows, and even the corners of his mouth. He looked like he was trying to curl up and hide, as if the idea of exhibiting his body to the rest of the world was something he was trying his best to avoid.

It was a reunion of sorts. The last time we had seen each other was at the end of our sophomore year together in High School. I remembered him being a bit shy and quiet. He didn't talk much, and when he did he was very soft spoken. But he seemed relaxed and quite confident with maybe some poise even. It was obvious he preferred listening, but he was very good at it, as he would patiently nod his head and flash a likable smile at the end of every conversation. People liked him back then.

But now I saw that he had transformed into a completely different being. Yes, he was still soft spoken, but he looked tense, beat up, and nervous- to the point where it seemed like every single drop of self confidence was squeezed out of him.

Value

2010-08-18T07:31:00.000-07:00

What matters to me now, won't matter to me later,

and what matters to me later, probably won't really matter.

Purpose

2010-08-18T07:29:00.000-07:00

If you don't know why you want to go where you want to go

then you'll be in trouble once you get there.

Catching up to Time

2010-08-11T02:51:00.000-07:00

I have to accept the fact that I am aging.
And that times are changing.
Even if im not.

I have to catch up.

to Time.

I get the picture that Time is like a little boy running ahead of me.. trying to get away.

And it was cute really. He could try to run as fast as he’d like, but there was no way he was going to outrun me. So I took my time and let him run.

Well I now realize that Time has matched my physical progress. He is no longer a little boy now, but rather a full grown man running at top speed.

And he’s not making any sense at all. Even though Time had developed physically, it seems as if he did not develop mentally. The goal he set to himself as a boy- to run away from me (for who knows what reason)- was still his “reason of being”. You would think that after all these years of running, he would run out of breath. Or change his mind. But no.

He is sprinting faster than ever, and now I have to catch up to him.

I tried telling 'Time' to slow down for a bit. But he refused to be diplomatic.

It seemed as if he picked up his pace instead.

I gave my best effort to catch up. But due to his blinding speed I was only able to barely keep up with him.

I ran as fast as I could with only his back in my view.

Which made sense.. because the thought of catching up to Time was my only goal in mind.

So I continued to chase him.

Even though I was not quite sure where he was leading me.

When I finally caught up to Time, I slowed down and took a look around.

Well it turns out Time had brought me to a cliff.

What the f...

It looked like an obvious dead end.

Was this it? Was this why I was running all my life?

At that moment I felt sorry for myself. Let me rephrase that. I was angry at myself. Because there was absolutely no reason for me to sprint through my life. I could’ve taken my time, slowly walking, enjoying, and appreciating the world around me as I progressed through my life.

Why is it that you always realize something when it’s too late?

I took a closer look at the cliff.
There was a tree on the edge of it. I walked up to the tree and tightly held on to the branch to see what was below the cliff.

There was a whole new world down there. And it was inspiringly beautiful. Only if ‘inspiringly’ was a real word.

Unfortunately the world below looked unreachablely far (only if unreachablely was a real word). In addition to that, I was too high up on the cliff.

That is when I looked at myself. I realized that during the process of running, I have changed.
I looked different. I felt the same. But my body thought different.
I was fully grown, and was at a place in my life where I had this final decision to make.

Was I going to sit on this cliff and just dream of the world below? Or was I going to make the big leap?

##.

Go ahead, launch your wings and set yourself free.
You are now ready to soar beyond this tree.

I would've preferred to stay in Limbo.

2010-08-03T23:11:00.001-07:00

I found everything I will ever need or ever want in my life on August 1st, 7:06 am.

And then I lost it all at 7:07am.
It was one of the more devastating moments of my life when I woke up from my dream this morning.

So I made a rap song. Let me explain why.

2010-07-31T17:34:00.000-07:00

In a way, this song is an audition. Allow me to explain.

I've been listening to a lot of hip hop for most of my life. And by a lot I mean 8 years of intense listening to every possible kind of rap music in the history of rap (1979 to present), and rap only. I never listened to anything else. Yes, I have broadened my musical horizon recently, from Led Zeppelin to Corinne Bailey Rae to Justin Bieber, (JK. I don't listen to bieber.. but still a pretty darn wide range of music listening for anyones standard), but hip hop was and is still my main passion.

Well as you can tell from my post earlier, I've been suffering from a mini-crisis.

I guess I wasn't mentally ready and still a bit too free-spirited (toned down a lot though) for a regular job that required a highly repetitive life style. Hence the depressing post below.

Now I recently met a man who was older than me but was still living free. He didn't have a regular "respectable" job, but he was still living his dream. Ever since he was young he dreamed of creating beautiful music, and he still did not let go of this passion of his.

Couple days ago he invited me over to his house to share some of the beats he had recently made.

I was completely blown away. Simply put, his stuff was sick.

He was a legitimate producer. And now he was telling me that he was looking for a rapper.

At that moment something clicked in my mind.

I'm not a rapper. And I'm not a writer. But rap music and writing are two things that I am passionate about.

"I actually like rap music a lot. And writing," I said to him.

"You write or have any lyrics?" He asked.

"No. I actually don't have any lyrics."

"Then what do you write? Short stories? Scripts? Poetry?"

"Actually no, I don't. I guess I just write a lot of whatever I feel like writing."

"Okay. Well then let's listen to your stuff."

But I had nothing to show him at that moment. Because oddly enough, I have never wrote a rap song before. (Well technically I did make a couple joke songs with my roommate couple months ago.. but those were jokes, nothing more). So as soon as I got home that night, I found a beat and wrote a verse that I felt was fitting to the theme of the beat. It took me about 30 minutes to come up with it (suprisingly short).

Hopefully the guy likes it.

Or at least sees some potential.

Mind Tricks

I'm going crazy man.

Spare me from your mind tricks

Let me go, unless you gonna get with..

Me- gonna let me be your man

But you never will, this i understand

Both you and I know, "you and I" will never happen

So I ask nice can you quit the mind trippin'?

But you won't stop, you like to make my knees drop

So I won't quit, hoping i can get with..

You- And I continue to hope its true

That after all, you might be feeling the same way too.

Well Silly me, because we will never be.

It's just hard not to hope high, when you keep your doors open,

You make it seem like you want me to give you some lovin'

So I breathe and exhale to calm my mind

But when I knock on your door, you tell me 'maybe next time.'

Say what?

Edit

Bonus: the joke song.

Don't question the messenger.

2010-07-26T10:57:00.000-07:00

I am tired of unintelligent men telling me what to believe-

as if they were speaking the final truth,

using logic that is anything but,

with a sense of authority,

looking down at us from their podiums.

Standing on those elevated podiums,

which is above our heads,

make them feel like they are actually above us.

They start feeling,

they are doing something great,

that nothing else on earth can compare

to how out-of-worldly important they are,

when really they are only in this business,

because this was their only choice.

They choose to ignore the truth about themselves,

and go on feeling good about who they are.

They read books in hopes of becoming wiser.

But the books they "study"

are simply a combination of wishful thinking and fairy tales.

They read the fairy tales over and over and over again,

then they read the analyses of the fairy tales over and over again,

then they read the analyses of the analyses of the fairy tales over and over again,

until finally they can write up a simple opinion,

of what they felt from what they have just read.

Which is all good if they keep their little diaries to themselves.

But they don't!

They share it, read it out loud,

gather us together in front of their podiums,

and try to enforce their feelings to us.

Not insights or thoughts, but feelings.

The books they read.. carry no knowledge or wisdom.

But now they feel wise because they studied it.

They feel as if they are smarter than us,

because they knew more about that useless book compared to us.

And they go on ignoring and dismissing anybody

who has a different opinion or idea.

They are willing to listen to their superiors,

but never! will they stand a moment listening to their inferiors.

Which means in reality they will listen to nobody else

because the number of who they consider their superiors are very few.

For them, their superiors are:

1. Fairy tale writers

2. Fairy tale analyst

3. Fairy tale analysts analyst

They reject everything else,

dubbing it as false knowledge,

that it's a waste of time bothering to listen to it.

They only read and believe what they want to believe.

They only choose and select what they want to read.

Of course they would.

Thats how their fairy tale book was made in the first place-

a group of people with the same idea gathered together,

they hand-picked the books they liked,

removed the books they didn't like,

and came up with this one thick book,

that says the same thing over and over and over again.

And they go on with such exuberance

telling us how to live

telling us what to do

telling us we are wrong

telling us they are right

with no real logical explanation,

but incessant circular reasoning.

'We are the messengers' they say out loud,

while they think to themselves,

that messengers should be viewed

as the message sender himself.

But if you have any questions,

you should ask the message giver,

not the messenger.

Don't question the messenger.

Really?

All I can see on the podium right now,

is an amateur psychiatrist,

irrational philosopher,

shallow thinker,

borderline hysterical orator,

narcissistic tyrant,

and one sad little man.

I wake up once a week

2010-07-13T22:39:00.000-07:00

I sleepwalk through the week. And then Friday comes.

What happens in between the Fridays are a blur.

I make an effort to remember my thoughtless wanderings; of the passage and the happenings, but my mind can come up with only 3 images - or flashes - of a memory.

The first one is of me at work, sitting at my desk. When I replay that memory, all I can see is a computer monitor, a pencil case, a stack of folders, and piles of files that need to be worked on. My desk is in a cubicle which restricts me from seeing other people.

The next image isn't any better. I am in my car driving home from work, and the car is sitting on the highway. The landscape from my window is limited and unfortunately permanent. All I can see are miles of cars stretched throughout the road- to my right, left, front, and back. I am surrounded by cars that are refusing to fulfill its purpose.

And finally the last image. I'm back in my room, completely drained from the previous two events, sitting on a desk, typing and rambling away on my laptop, trying to make some sense out of all this.

I try to come up with a human solution.

But I fail miserably.

There's no point of staying awake or remembering things, counting the days, or even trying to differentiate between them. Because every day is the same.

So I go to sleep as I wake up for work on Monday.

And I wait for Friday to come, to wake up and be myself again.

Ant Man

2010-07-12T21:45:00.000-07:00

My roommate doesn't talk much. It wasn't until recently I realized how much the world was missing out.

I thought he was being his usual quiet self last week. So I let him be. There was no use forcing words out of his mouth. Asking questions were pointless efforts. So we were just sitting in silence for awhile.

But then out of nowhere he said,

“The kids from my old church used to call me ‘Ant-Man.”

Why?

“Oh, because they saw me eat an ant.”

Cool.

Wait. What?

“Yea. Couple years ago.. I was just chilling.. sitting outside of church.. And then I ate an ant.”

Why?

“I wasn’t really thinking when I did it. It was just out of impulse."

You had a sudden impulse to eat an ant?

"Yea."

Were you hungry?

"No."

Were you curious what it tasted like?

"No."

Were you really young and didn't know any better?

"No, this happened couple years ago. I was a college student."

I’m a bit confused here.

“Well I was sitting and I saw some little kids. So I was like, ‘Yo check this out.’ And I picked up an ant and ate it. It was something like… you know.. when you see little kids you want to freak them out. You know what I’m talking about?"

Actually no, I don’t know what you are talking about.

But it’s a damn shame you don't talk more.

Wanderlust: The Build Up

2010-07-04T01:25:00.000-07:00

Wanderlust: a strong longing or impulse to travel

Part 1: The Build Up

1. Shut up and let me go

June 29,2010

Tuesday

5:25am.

This is strange. I woke up extremely early.

This can mean only one thing- I should go to San Francisco today.

5:45am.

I’m driving out of my garage. The trip has officially started.

5:53am.

What were you thinking?

5:54am.

"I woke up early. Therefore I should go to San Francisco.?" Umm. How does that work?

How do you go from "I woke up early" to "I should go to San Francisco"?

You live near Los Angeles. San Francisco is not some place you casually drive to and come back. The place is 380 miles away. That's 616 kilometers. Or 6 hours of driving. Or 60 dollars worth of gas. And remember to multiply everything by two- you have to drive back home.

5:55am.

You have no reason to go to San Francisco. You don't know anything about the place. And you don’t even know anybody there. What are you going to be doing once you get there?

5:56am.

That’s exactly why I should be going there. I know nothing about the place. That means the entire city is there for me to discover.

5:57am.

Actually I do know that San Francisco has that Golden Gate Bridge (even though I don’t know why its famous), and that there is a high population of homosexuals. And that trolley thing. Oh, and it also seems like every Korean teenage girl loves the place. They always tell me how wonderful it is and how they would love to live there.

5:59am.

You also know that London has that big clock thingy, Rome has the Colosseum, Moscow is cold, Hawaii is an island, and Sydney has the opera house. So tell me smart guy, are you going to go ahead and claim that you know those cities as well?

Knowing one bridge doesn't change the fact that you will have absolutely nothing to do there.

I mean.. what's the plan? Are you going to drive there (6 hours), look at that bridge (5 minutes), and then drive back home (6hours)? Wow that is one unbeatable plan.

6:01am.

And you do know… that you have nothing in common with Korean teenage girls, right? Do you think you like what they like? Do you like Sex and the city too? Do you dream about Korean boy bands as well? Is shoe shopping a priority for you?

Plus, you don't even like homos.

6:02am

I guess I can always drive back home anytime I feel this trip won't work. So for now I am going to continue driving.

6:03am

There is a word for someone like you. Travel whore? No. Travel lust? No.

6:04am

Wanderlust. There you go.

6:07am

Just entered highway 5North. I have to drive on this highway for about 284 miles now. Nice.

6:15am

You should drive back home. It’s really cloudy right now. If it starts raining, this entire trip will suck. The drive there will suck, and San Fran will suck. You won’t even get to see that bridge of yours. And that would suck. A trip full of sucks. That is what this trip will be. And if you don’t agree with that,

You suck.

6:30am

Highway 5 North has been a steep incline, an upward drive into the mountains so far.

6:31am

I am now above the clouds.

6:31am

It's not cloudy anymore. The sun is blazing through the atmosphere.

6:32am

The sun can mean only one thing - it’s going to be a good day today.

6:33am.

Umm. No. That’s the same type of logic you used for going to San Fran. And there’s a word for it. It’s called ‘illogical.’

6:50am.

I see a naked hill with a field of black cows to my right.

6:56am
Just exited the mountains, and now the road is entering a never ending field. The field is filled with nothing.

6:58am.

I’m about to stop at a gas station and fill up my tank. This is the first stop for the day. I should get quick breakfast too while I’m at it.

7:28am.

Back on the road.

7:30am.

My car is getting great gas mileage so far! That’s exciting. Hyundai advertises that my car can get up to 35 miles per gallon, but I didn’t believe it until now. I’ve been getting 28 max. But now I can see that I am getting 36 miles per gallon.

7:33am.

I intentionally slowed down to 62 mph (100km/h) to test how high my miles per gallon would reach.

7:34am

40mpg. No. 45mpg.

7:38am.

55.4mpg?! I’m so excited that I’m not even using the air conditioner at this point.

7:40am.

I’ve been taking notes in this journal with one hand, but right now I’m using both arms. Why? Because the highway has been one long straight road so far. That’s another good thing about this trip.

7:41am.

You are being overly optimistic over everything (or nothing) to justify this trip. Why aren’t you mentioning that the field smelled like cow poop for the past 15 minutes?

7:54am.

I guess I shouldn’t have expected to stay at 55.5miles per gallon forever. Down to 45.8 now. I should turn the air conditioner on.

8:51am.

I'm fighting temptations of taking out a book from my backpack and reading it. The road has been one long straight line ever since I entered this “field of nothing” (6:56am). Really. I made zero adjustments to the wheel so far. Zero curves on the road. There aren’t even other cars to look at right now. I’ve seen like eight? So for the past two hours I’ve been just staring at this long empty road.

8:52am.

That’s why you’ve been distracting yourself with the ‘miles per gallon’ stuff.

8:53am.

And the first curve!! Wow as soon as I mention it a curve comes up. I just jinxed myself. But yea, for the past hour it’s been pretty boring. So my mind went blank for awhile. Like it was on auto pilot mode or something.

8:58am.

I’m driving on cruise control (70mph, 112km/h) minding my own business, but some guy started tailing me, giving me mad pressure to speed up. I’m ignoring him. But this guy wouldn’t stop.

8:59am.

Okay whatever.

9:00am.

I just went 120mph (196km/h) for a good 30 seconds. That was enough to lose him.

9:01am.

Now the highway has two lanes: the right lane is the slow one, and the left lane is the fast one. I was on the fast lane going 70mph. I guess that wasn’t fast enough for the guy. So I just showed him what ‘fast’ was.

10:22am

I just entered a new highway (152west). My mind was on auto-pilot mode again. For the past couple hours I’ve been just a driving machine- occasionally speeding up and slowing down, making slight adjustments to the wheel. I’ve been driving faster than the speed limit, because its pretty obvious there are no cops hiding near the bushes.

10:23am.

The signs on the road are claiming that the speed is enforced by radars though. The cameras must be super tiny because I don’t see any. I’ve also seen numerous signs that read ‘Speed Enforced by Aircrafts’ with a small picture of an airplane. I don’t believe it. Well, I don’t get it. How does that work? Would there be a plane just chilling in the sky, looking down at the highway? And would that plane land every time it finds a speeding car? How many times would a plane take off and land during the day? Would these speeding tickets generate enough revenue to compensate for the fuel costs? Wouldn’t it make more sense to use a satellite radar at this point? And wouldn’t that be more believable?

I definitely gotta look this up when I get back home.

10:29am.

The new highway (152W) is far more interesting than 5N. There are plenty of hills on the side of the road. I seriously considered stopping on the side of the road to hike up one of the hills.

10:31am.

Stronger temptations after I discovered a huge lake next to a hill. Fought it off though... I shouldn’t be stopping here.

11:16am.

Just switched highways to the familiar 101 N. Finally reunited with it. 101 N is the highway right next to my house. But I didn’t take it because it’s a much longer route. It has a beautiful view, but I thought it would be too inefficient.

*101 is the black line (orange at the bottom). Notice how straight the green line (5N) is.

11:17am.

Since when did you care about efficiency? If you did you wouldn’t have been on this trip in the first place.

11:18am.

That’s why I am actually considering taking 101N for the drive back home.

11:18am.

Wanderlust.

11:19am.

You might as well take 1S back home while you’re at it. The view is phenomenal. It’s along the pacific coast. It’s only 3 times longer than the 5S route. That’s only 600 extra miles for you. And I hope you properly comprehend my tone. I’m being sarcastic right now.

11:32am.

Exited 101N, entered 85N. I am seeing more ‘Speed enforced by Aircraft’ signs. There are way too many of these signs, so maybe it is true.

11:42am.

Out of nowhere, I just took a premature exit that leads me to the city of San Jose. Nothing against San Jose, but really what the random was that?

11:43am.

Wanderlust.

11:43am.

My younger sister lived in San Jose for two years. That is enough reason for me to visit. Don't judge me.

11:49am.

Is this it? Downtown San Jose is weak.

12:00pm.

I might as well stop by Stanford University while I’m at it. It’s on the way to San Francisco.

12:02pm.

Lunch Break

12:30pm.

Back on the road.

1:38pm.

I just got in to Stanford University.

1:39pm.

How awesome would it be if I were able to say the sentence above in a different context?

1:41pm.

I should leave now. I don’t belong here.

1:42pm.

No more stops until I make it to San Francisco.

2:38pm

San Francisco???!!!!

2:39pm.

SAN FRANCISCO.

2:42pm.

This city looks ridiculously cute.

2:44pm.

I'm smiling for no real reason.

2:45pm.

Okay I'm here. Now what?

2:48pm.

Hold on. I'm driving on ‘Taylor Street’ right now, and I can see ahead of me that this road transforms into a RIDICULOUS upward hill/road. Be careful.

2:51pm.

I’m driving up the ridiculous hill right now.

2:52pm.

That was ridiculous.

2:53pm.

How is that even physically possible?

2:53pm.

That was Ridiculous.

2:54pm.

The incline on that hill was like 60 degrees.

2:55pm.

Now I have to go downhill, which is equally ridiculous. This is both exciting and frightening.

2:56pm.

Mostly frightening

3:10pm.

It’s obvious that the trolleys are the king of the streets.

3:11pm.

You have to admit it. This is the worst place to drive. Ever. And you’ve driven in so many different cities before. Seoul, Chicago, Los Angeles, New York, Atlanta, and Miami to name just a few. None of those places are a pleasant drive. But now you see that San Francisco is worse than all of them combined. Those trolleys are getting on your nerves. They seem to pick and choose to stop only at parts of the streets where it would make everybody miserable. Like if there were 10 places they could possibly make a stop at, and 9 of those places you wouldn't mind them stopping there, its just that 1 spot you need them to avoid, and then they go ahead and pick that 1 spot. These trolleys seem to exist only to make life difficult. And your life in particular. And the streets are unorganized and in horrible shape. The electric cords for the cable buses are all over the sky, its very dangerous and looks horrifying. And these crazy hills are too steep which is dangerous as well. This is the worst place ever to drive your car. Please admit it.

3:12pm.

I don't like driving here.

3:13pm

Where are you headed anyway? You are aimlessly driving right now. You made it to San Fran. What's next now that you’re here?

2. Once I start even I can't get a hold of myself

This trip wasn't entirely unexpected. I had thoughts of visiting San Francisco for the past few weeks. About every other day I had that thought.

But every time I thought about it, I was harshly ridiculed from no other than my own mind. The logical part of my mind didn’t allow myself to even fathom the possibility of travelling to San Francisco. Not a very encouraging fellow- this logic guy was- but he was absolutely right. I really had no reason to travel to San Fran.

When I realized logical thinking would never get me there, I secretly came up with a plan behind my own logical back. If that makes any sense. I was going to find the specific moment where I could make decisions without going through the hassle and the process of debating with logic.

The window of opportunity was very slim, for I am one of the most logical and serious persons you would ever meet, but I still managed to find one. It was going to happen either very late at night, or very early in the morning. I figured morning would work best.

So I secretly thought to myself, behind my own back of course,

“Just wait until I wake up early on a vacation day. I’m going to drive out to San Fran, and nobody would be able to stop me. Not even myself.”

I waited for that day to happen, but that day never happened. I was never able to wake up before 6 am on a vacation day. So I thought maybe my desire wasn’t there. Or maybe I didn’t really want to go to San Fran.

And then this morning happened. I received two off days from work- today and tomorrow - so last night I secretly planned to wake up early. It didn’t seem likely though, because I went to bed around 2:30am.

But I woke up out of nowhere this morning. I didn’t even set up an alarm. It just happened. I looked at the clock. It was 5:25am. Now I never planned it out before, but I knew exactly what to do. I quietly took a shower, and quietly got dressed. I made sure I didn’t say a single word, not even within my mind. It was a very swift and efficient process. Which was necessary- I had to leave my house as soon as possible, before my logical side realized what was going on, before it could try to get a hold of me, before it could stop me.

And as you know by now, logic didn’t wake up until 30 minutes after I left home. And that is how I came to San Francisco today.