The Blogger In Me

Please, (Don't) Have A Seat

2011-05-23T11:20:00.000-07:00

For those of us who have office jobs, we sit more than 8+ hours a day excluding the amount of hours we then spend sitting at home in front of our computer, the TV, the coffee table. I don't know about you, but I'm tired of sitting. Next time you plan on offering me a seat, don't. Instead, please offer to take it away. As a friend, you can expect I'd do the same for you.

I've recently been juggling my way back into fitness lately, living a more active life, running around, lifting things, biking as usual, the whole six hundred and seventy nine yards. No, I'm not trying to become the next Governator. This fitness trend is rather drastically different than all previous fitness spells I've gone through. This one is focused on "energy output", or more simply put, getting my heart to pump more blood through my veins each day. Okay, the latter isn't necessarily more simply stated than the first, but the point I hope is clear.

I don't care about building muscle. I care more about how my body feels, and there's hardly a more revitalizing feeling than after having been chugging along outdoors, active, and mobile. Muscles will build on its own. In the meantime, for what seems like the first time, I get to decide wherever, whenever, and however to be active. Even lifting weights, which can seem incredibly regiment at times, instead feels freeing and presents itself as another opportunity to grow, cultivate greater self-awareness, and be more self-accepting and gracious to myself. I just have to keep my heart rate up.

Last week, I was sitting down on the toilet seat in the Seattle office when I noticed a great article posted in front of me on the door about our psoas muscles. If the first thought was, "what the hell is that", read it. I find it rather insightful and important to understand. Combine it with this infographic, and there you have it.

Let's go for a walk (or run)!

Breaking The Mold

2011-03-20T19:44:00.000-07:00

Last year, I went on a 5-week trip outside the states. I traveled across seven different countries starting in Sydney, Australia and ending up in Hanoi, Vietnam. I traveled on behalf of work, and I remember feeling incredibly grateful for the opportunity. More than once, it occurred to me that my life has been sheltered within the confines of the states. Confinements consisted mainly between both east and west coasts with a few years spent in between at the mid-west. Otherwise, I didn’t travel much at all. I hardly had the opportunity to. We didn’t travel much as a family outside our immediate time zone, and I’ve never flown outside the country.

On the road and over the course of five weeks, I captured literally hours of footage between my phone, digital camera, and a borrowed Flip MinoHD. I had some expectations for this trip to be life-changing and for it to serve as a continued experience I’d look back on years later to remember distinct moments and memories I’ve created. I set a goal to capture this experience in moving picture, then produce a video of my own to document it.

Video editing is something I thoroughly enjoy, even if it is an innately long grueling process and black hole for people with obsessive tendencies such as myself. It’s no secret. The beauty and transformative power when combining moving pictures with a mood set by your choice of audio soundtrack is simply amazing and incredibly profound. I remember envisioning the final product. I remember feeling so excited at the idea. The trip hadn’t even begun. Yet I was motivated. I was moved and inspired to create something meaningful, profound, and authentic first and foremost to myself. I was anxious to edit and produce my own trip documentary. All I needed was the footage. It’s exactly what I set myself out to do. Capture it.

I captured footage ranging from five second to five minute clips. I captured this, that, and everything in between. I captured everything with every chance I got. I snapped a few stills with my digital camera, put it down, whipped out the Flip, captured the same at a constant 30 frames per second. I captured lots of b-roll footage, knowing I’d need spontaneous footage to use during any number of video transitions. I was diligent and relentless. As I traveled through each destination, I subconsciously acquired a constant mission to capture as much on film everywhere I went. I frequently stopped, took a break to breathe in the air and relax. Then I’d whip out the Flip and get cracking.

I hit my goal. I captured something over 8 hours worth of footage. By the time I got home, I was left with a pile of digital media with less than a clue on what to do with them. I was within a state of organized chaos. I didn’t know how to get started. I was drained. I wasn’t an expert in Final Cut Pro by any means. I had outdone myself. The project quickly jumped from transitioned from being something incredibly exciting to things resembling more the opposite. I felt stifled, stuck, overwhelmed, and incredibly daunted by the sheer amount of raw footage I knew I’d inevitably have to sift through. It’s the equivalent of walking into a living space full of scattered objects, everywhere. I had to organize them all in some shape or form but didn’t know where to get started. I’ve worked on it here and there, but it never stuck. Not until now.

The other weekend, I buckled down and completed the very first of what I suspect will be seven videos total, one for each city and country I visited. My trip went onto the following after starting in Sydney: Manila, Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam. I started with Sydney and pushed through with undivided diligence. I organized and arranged clips from almost 100 clips of of raw footage. It was an incredibly challenging experience but not without a degree of fun and freedom because in the end, it produced an exciting feeling to see my project finally come to life.

While having so many options is often times liberating, it can on the other hand be very stifling. I’m not someone who thrives in situations where options are so plentiful. I thrive better in situations presenting with constraints, giving me the opportunity to problem solve and discover the most optimal way through it. When editing video, the possibilities are nearly infinite multiplied by the seemingly infinite number of routes to achieve each of those possibilities. What’s infinity multiplied by infinity? Eternity.

Needless to say, I finished the video in less than a week but not without sacrificing my physical and mental states. I stayed up till three, four, sometimes six in the morning every night. I mulled over the results, replayed the audio tracks and sequences in my head incessantly over the week. The music, the transitions, the transition durations, opening and closing sequences, you name it. There were critical transition points I replayed in my head constantly as if the more I thought about them, the closer I’d get to achieving perfection. It was the first and last thought of each new day. Every night, I’d edit till my body literally began to droop and fade in a half-upright position with eyes as heavy as sandbags. I didn’t eat dinner. I’d scarf down a few Samosa girl scout cookies instead, which Tricia so thoughtfully gave me as a gift the weekend before. Little did she know how important they’d become in fueling my obsession to complete this project.

Alas, I found myself once again striving for perfection despite my best efforts. I fell again into the never-ending black hole leading to self-deprivation, isolation, and obsession. Yet, I do have a video to show for it. Screw it. I’m happy and proud of myself for accomplishing it.

Shifting Gears

2011-02-22T09:47:00.000-08:00

I have never been more committed, convinced, and captivated to pursue a career in clinical therapy. Serious. People who know me I hope need no explanations or reasons why. I hope it’s evident in my way of being. I spend a very great deal of my time, energy, focus, and thought constantly analyzing and deconstructing the human mind, mainly my own. Analyzing the minds of others is a secondary goal which I admit inadvertently comes into play as a result of my sheer desire to understand my own. It’s a simple truth I’ve learned over the years, and I accept it.

I am influenced by people, and people are influenced by me. To understand myself, I seek to understand others. To understand others, I seek to understand myself.

For the longest time since far back into my youth, I’ve been very busy perusing the inner workings of my mind, experiencing a combination of both genuine fascination and confusion. I didn’t realize this back then, but I do now. My journey into working as a therapist started a long time ago. My first and longest client was, is, and will always be myself. I’ve acted as my own therapist in order to continue surviving, to continue thriving. I had to. I’ve learned how to rescue myself from my chronic dips into utter despair, apathy, and low self-worth. I learned how to sit with anxiety, to let myself experience it, and how to dissect it to expose the very core. I learned how I best relate to and with people. I discovered how much I thrive off of experiencing and witnessing authentic human connection with others through the power of vulnerability. I learned the mind truly is an amazing tool which can influence and reshape our bodies, its reactions, and its habits through practice. Throughout life, I felt my mind was trained to be in therapy. Finally, I want to face my fears and pursue the opportunity to leverage and refine this part of me.

The brain is a vast complicated world of possibilities, answers, and mystery. My goal isn’t to tackle them all, not by any means. I’ll leave this for psychologists and neurologists to dig through in their continued research. My focus and fascination lies primarily towards a specific portion of our human traits. Emotions. Though I'm intrigued to understand scientifically how or why we feel the way we do, I feel more drawn to gaining a stronger understanding and foothold around how best to cope with them. I know it’s a lifelong journey, but it’s one I’m clearly already on with no end in sight.

Therapy requires going back to school. It’s a two year commitment in a graduate program with multiple routes to choose from depending on what one wants to focus on. A long time ago, I promised myself I wouldn’t go back to school unless it was absolutely required and necessary to do so. The only reason fitting this bill is the pursuit of a career I’m genuinely and profoundly passionate about. To this day, I haven’t found or felt anything else which matched the same level of passion, curiosity, intrigue, love, diligence, and priority. I’ve found the reason. It’s time to act.

I’ve been mulling this idea over and over for nearly a decade if not slightly more. I’ve experienced the urge coming from my core, pulling me from the inside out, dying to get my attention. Finally it has it. The idea of pursuing a higher education around the field of human emotions, mental illness, and disorder is both incredibly exciting and slightly terrifying at the same time. On one hand, what am I getting myself into? On the other, complete liberation.

I’ve been training myself since as far back as I can remember. It’s second nature to me. A part of me knows I’m ready. I am ready, and the truth is I always have been.

Life

2011-02-16T21:23:00.000-08:00

Life may often times appear simpler than we make it out to be, but it ain’t that simple nor is it ever meant to be. Life is complicated, difficult, and gray. We best serve ourselves by accepting this notion.

Next time you’re feeling blue, hurt, anxious, angry, nervous, fearful, stressed, trapped, burned, burdened, or pushed to the very limits of your own sanity, remember this. Life is not meant to be a walk in the park. Life is sometimes a slow stroll, sometimes a steady jog, sometimes an all out sprint to the finish line, and all the time everything above.

It is Life.

Group Meditation Turned Single Interrogation

2011-02-16T01:21:00.000-08:00

I recently dropped into a group meditation class in San Francisco. The place was located in the Mission district, and the class offered to me as a gift from a friend. I booked my reservation ahead of time. I walk in and on time. Guess what? I’m the only person signed up for this week’s session. At the top of the staircase entered a young woman who greeted me promptly. She was the woman leading these meditation sessions. She was also overly cheerful and overly anxious to meet me. I couldn’t even walk up the set of stairs before being barraged with a plethora of questions and surface-level greetings from her.

“You must be Dann. How are you? Did you find the place alright? Hi, I’m ____.”

There was a certain aura about her which exuded mixed messages. It was slightly on edge, uneasy, and anxiety-driven. She was a tad overly perky, as if trying to overcompensate or overcome her own inner discomfort she was feeling. I felt her slightly forceful energy, filling the space with a subtle need to prove herself. Maybe it was just me. Maybe it was just this week. Maybe this is how it just is. Regardless. Give me a minute. Seriously.

By the time I reached the top of the stairs, I quickly realized I’m the only one here. Noticing my reaction, she reactively started to explain how I was the only one registered for this week’s session. The exact thoughts rolling through my head at the moment was “great” with an obvious sarcastic tone. Thank you for letting me know ahead of time. She told me I could come back the following week. I thought about it, but I was already here. I committed myself to tonight. I left work early and literally chased after the shuttle bus down in Mountain View in order to make it up here on time. After exiting the shuttle in SF, I walked at a brisk pace and hurried along the sidewalks. I arrived perfectly on time. Did I really want to come back and do this all over again the following week? I committed myself for this particular session. No, I can’t reschedule.

For the next 20 mins, I was getting hit with question after question after question. I kid you not. I was interrogated about my current feelings, goals, and aspirations in life. I was asked to describe my passion and how I was getting there. I’m not one to be shy about this information, but lately, I just haven’t been in the mood. Even still, I was completely bewildered by this woman’s tenacity, persistence, and lack of awareness. Anybody with the tiniest hint of intuition could have intuited my low energy, noticed the body language, and detected the disheveled tone of my voice. Bottom line is, I am fucking tired. Here she is, firing off questions after questions. She started at the surface level. "How are you feeling? How are things? Where do you work? What do you do at work?" Then she started diving deeper into more energy-consuming questions as followups. Looking back in retrospect, it probably would have been a better idea to have postponed the session till the following week.

What was I thinking?

I did not sign up for a therapy session! I have my own therapist, and you ain't him. I came here to meditate in a collaborative space with other people, with a shared energy. Instead I have only you. I was hoping for a beautiful experience regardless, connecting one to one instead of one to many, and appreciating the unique dynamic presented here. Instead, here she is, continuously putting me on the spot to socialize, to open up, to answer her questions. I’m convinced it was her own anxiety primarily driving this. Convinced. I tried to blame ignorance, but she wasn’t ignorant. She was well-aware, and it made the situation all the more frustrating. She was aware of my mental state and energy. She said to me multiple times, “Sorry I know I’m asking you lots of questions, and I know you came here to meditate and not be interrogated. [smile] Feel free to not answer them.”, which was quickly followed by “So what is your life passion?” Seriously? What the f__k. Her anxiety continued driving her actions while she continued firing off more questions even after apologizing for it. She would not stop. She could not stop.

Believe it or not, we eventually did meditate for 15 minutes. We sat there afterwards, and she proceeded to ask me how I felt. Again with the questions. I was brutally honest. I told her what I felt, which by majority was tiredness and sheer mental exhaustion. My brain literally wanted to simply shut off. We debated on several topics such as medicine and about her practice as a “healer”, which I admit to be incredibly wary and skeptic of. Self-proclaimed healers can go hug a tree for all I care, but you won’t ever get me to. We exchanged views on mental health, the state of well-being, and the intricate power of one’s mind. She elaborated about her belief in the mind knowing no difference between fact or fiction. For example, if you imagined yourself running through a field of lush green grass or throwing the last game-winning pitch in the world series, your mind will receive the same intensity and level of stimulation as if it really was running or winning the world series. She proceeded onto her belief in being able to recover from any mental illness, even genetic diseases like schizophrenia and psychosis, by sheer mental power and willpower. She takes the quote, “it’s all in your head”, to a whole new level believing sheer will can set you free. I challenged her on these notions, mainly to support my own belief in psychotherapy and mental illness. Perhaps in some cases, these things appear to go away or lessen in severity over time, but is it really because they thought of happy sunrises and loving thoughts all day? A little bullshit goes a long way. I subtly called her out on it in my own way.

We have differing views. I can respect and leave it at that.

What's Going On? Not Much In Your Eyes

2011-02-13T17:07:00.000-08:00

You hear it all the time at work, on the street, at home, at the local convenience store. “What’s going on?”, asks the clerk, the friend, the co-worker, the barista, the bus driver, the guy folding clothes at H&M, the stranger you accidentally glanced and linked eyes with momentarily. Well, I’m just a little tired of hearing it lately. I tried deconstructing the meaning behind the commonly used idiom to greet and acknowledge people, and seriously. What is going on?

Call it my rebellion. Call it my quest for truth. Call it my incessant need to be authentic and always mean what I say. Call it however you see it. I’m not perfect, and sometimes I’m just not in the mood to offer a predefined monotone automatic quick response to the question.

“Not much, you?”
“You know, the usual.”
“Eh, life.”
“Went to X bar and saw X.”
“Did this and did that.”

I’ve been feeling more irritable lately. There probably are a variety of reasons why, not all which I claim to fully understand. Lack of sleep is one large factor. There’s also stress, tiredness, and mental exhaustion from emotional turmoil. Pressure from work is building. Otherwise, life is life right? No, not really, but now isn’t time or blog post to discuss it. Point is, being asked this question or any other surface-level passing greeting (whats up, how you doin, how’s it goin) has lately stirred up more bothersome annoyance than usual.

Let’s start with this notion. Sometimes I just don’t feel like socializing. Period. When in public, I feel pressure to respond to anyone who asks me a question. Needless to say, this pressure is my own, but I do believe everyone deserves a response. I don’t care if you’re Barack Obama or a homeless person on the street. Responding to someone who’s asking a question is a fundamental acknowledgment of their human existence and worth. Everyone is worthy of a response, even if it’s a negative one. There are moments where I just don’t feel like being around anyone, and then there are situations where I have no choice but to be. The questions then come in, and I don’t always understand the point. Some interactions seem rather unnecessary. It’s a judgment on my part, but it irks me. After all, what is it really for? Rather, who is it really for? I say it’s more for them than for me. It’s so they can feel social, so they can satisfy their own personal needs to start conversation with anyone who walks down the street. Another time, another place. Someday I’ll again be in the mood to be chatty and exchange small talk, entertaining the questionnaire. For now though, please find and interrogate someone else to make yourself feel better.

These days, I generally have less things to say or rather less social activities to report I’ve been doing. When I was single, I did a lot to occupy my time. I engaged in a healthy mix of external activities. I engaged in yoga, climbing, happy hours, meditation classes, volunteering, one-to-one dinners, movies, clubs, bars, concerts. These activities seemed generally more agreeable or appropriate to respond with based on outside perspective. It felt more widely accepted as a productive way to spend time. It appeared I was living life to the fullest, embracing it, seizing the day. Well, my priorities have shifted. I’m no longer single, and I occupy my time very differently now. I spend much more time with myself, with my lover, and with loved ones. I meet less people. I do less social things. I don’t go out every weekend anymore. I drink less. I dance less. I simply do less.

Perhaps it looks or sounds like I’m not doing as much. The reality though is I’m always doing a lot. I’m always stretching myself thin, trying to do more, trying to be more, trying to ___ more. Am I really doing less, or am I simply doing more in the areas less visible or noted objectively by others? My point is, who says we’re doing enough? Is it our friends, our parents, our siblings, our coworkers, our boss, our local community, strangers in the neighborhood, Facebook news feeds, religious figures? Or, is it simply ourselves? I find myself constantly asking the self-imposed question, who am I trying to please? Who I am I trying to be good enough for? If I answer internally anyone other than myself, I immediately self-correct and realign my thoughts. The only person I ever want to be good enough for is myself.

What’s going on? I don’t climb as regularly. I don’t do yoga every week. I don’t volunteer anywhere. I don’t meet up with people as frequently. I don’t see as many shows, concerts, and movies. I don’t visit the local bars and clubs anymore.

What’s going on? I am constantly fighting and working hard to resolve issues in my relationship. I am constantly thinking about my future. I am taking proactive steps to realign my life towards the direction I want to go. I am improving my relationship with my brother, how better to relate, and how better to support and cope with his illness. I am undergoing therapy on a weekly basis, working diligently, and taking notes to uncover deeper truths about myself. I am writing, journaling, and now blogging more. I am hanging out with myself, giving myself the space to be creative, to rest, to relax in the moment, and to be free. I am learning to love myself more.

I’m doing more in the areas less visible, sometimes less appreciated, sometimes less understood, and sometimes less accepted by the demanding external world. It’s easy to connect with someone who does A, B, and Z every week and weekend. It’s not as easy to connect with someone who does C, D, and X on their own private time, alone. Subject matters focused around internal emotions, self-love, and self-acceptance tend less to be spoken of, less discussed, and less related to in casual settings. It doesn’t have to be this way, but it is at the moment, and I’ll object to it every time. Next time someone asks me what’s going on, I’m going to tell them. Depending on whether they want to hear it or not, I’ll probably feel rejected and judged slightly, at which point I’ll stop. The point is, I’ll always keep trying.

If you’ve been spending your time lately recuperating from work, finding your cave time, working out marital or relationship conflicts, grieving a loss of a loved one, working on personal growth issues, sleeping/staying in to replenish your soul, or simply taking private moments to yourself without jumping at each social opportunity which gets thrown your way, go you. I support you. I hear you. I respect you. I acknowledge your undeniable strength to stand up for yourself, to yourself, and with yourself against the world.

Be who you are. Do what you need. Always.

Jewelry Making 101

2011-02-03T02:59:00.000-08:00

At the end of last year, I purchased an introductory class to making jewelry for Tricia on her birthday. She’s mentioned it in the past. She's even declared it as one of her dreams to do. I thought it'd make a great gift. I booked months in advance knowing how arts and craft events get booked so quickly especially here in the bay. As part of her secondary gift, I purchased myself a class ticket to accompany her so I be in the moment and witness her live out a life-long dream. Little did I know just how much I would fall in love with the art myself.

A random moment of reflection enters. It never ceases to surprise me how good it feels to have something booked in advance ahead of time. The longer you have to wait, the longer the excitement, anticipation, and ultimately pleasure gets accrued. A long time ago, I remembered hearing a friend speak very vividly. I heard him broach the subject of something potentially crude and crass at the surface level, yet inevitably wise and applicable to all aspects of life. “If you’re gettin’ down with a girl and you’re about to blow, why wouldn’t you pull back, stop, and wait?”, stated bluntly without any shame, doubt, or uncertainty. The meaning behind it is simple. The point was to say, if something feels so incredibly good, don’t let it end so quickly. We’d be doing ourselves an incredible disservice otherwise. Instead, prolong it. Enjoy the ride. Don’t alleviate the discomfort so quickly to relieve the pressure. Know the difference between good discomfort versus bad. The pleasure at final destination is never as good or long-lasting as the moments building up to the apex. This would prove to be another important life lesson told through the unexpected. It’s a lesson I still hold to this day deep within me. The journey is the destination.

The Introduction to Jewelry & Metals class took place this past weekend. Tricia and I committed total 16 hours over the span of two days inside a warehouse, which felt like a second home for Burners. The place called The Crucible is located just over the bridge in West Oakland. It’ll go without saying, but this place is beyond amazing. Woodworking, blacksmithing, moldmaking, enameling, glassblowing, ceramics, and the list goes on. They even have a bike shop offering classes build your own bicycle from scratch. Bike frame, wheels, spokes, chain, seat post, the whole nine yards. Imagine riding around town. Someone specs out your ride and asks you where you purchased it. You respond back, telling them you built the beautiful thing with your bare hands from scratch. Priceless.

Being inside The Crucible for 8 hours is like being outdoors for 8 hours. The entrance way is through a giant warehouse-sized garage door, always left open to the public and large enough probably to lug 30 ft steel monster sculptures to and from the place. There hardly exists anything equivalent to a standard door entrance other than to various workshops littered within the place. Even still, those doors were always left open. Point is, if it’s cold outside, then it’s cold inside. It was really cold and brisk when we went. It was really cold and brisk inside for 8 hours.

There was a choice to elect a class meeting up once a week for 3 hours for over a month versus a weekend intensive course meeting for 8 hours on both Saturday and Sunday. Without a doubt, I chose the latter knowing how we both loving charging forward to new adventures with full-force.

Saturday, we had our heads pumped with basic fundamentals. This included techniques like annealing, sawing, texturizing, filing, and my personal favorite, soldering. We practiced creating a large variety of textures onto metals using a wide assortment of hammers and punchers. We created fishnet and snakeskin textures onto copper using a rolling mill. We learned how to solder butt joints, t-joints, and sweat joints. We learned about flux and how it protects our metals when heating it up using a torch. We learned how to detect metal as being properly annealed and how to clean the metal off with an acid bath immediately afterward. It’s quite a lot to take in on one day, and I was completely wiped out by the end. To be honest, I was slightly discomforted by the thought of coming back the next day for yet another grueling 8 hours.

Sunday rolled in. Everyone had a task the night before to come in with a few designs for rings. The idea was to spend all of Sunday to make them. Tricia and I arrive late. We had no designs. We just had ourselves. I remember my brain feeling fried. I remember feeling tired, drained, and weak. I haven’t slept much the previous week or nights leading up to the class. I was feeling low and filled with an empty feeling. Work motivation was up, but I was starting to feel the onslaught of apathy creeping in. I was fighting my depression once again and was hard on myself for not being more excited about the opportunity at hand.

I sat down. I isolated into myself and my thoughts. Designs started popping up out of what seemed like nowhere. I’d see a line there, a few holes there, a pattern there, words scribed across the middle. I took a look at some sample rings to help brainstorm. I saw a silver ring with a piece of brass and copper soldered onto it. I relished in the idea of juxtaposing small pieces of copper against the silver band. I thought about uniformity. I thought about order. I thought about patterns. In the past, my designs frequently revolved around lines of symmetry and intricate repeating patterns. I was conjuring up patterns in my head in addition to subtle but hidden words proving to be particularly special to me and potentially others. I started thikning about the words perfect and imperfection. I suppose it’s how I felt most in the moment.

We each received a sliver of silver and had the option of making two rings out of it instead of one. I was determined to do just that. I sawed the silver piece in half, then measured and sawed two thirds off the width. The wider piece was my primary focus while the skinny piece served as my backup and stretch goal. My motivation earlier was simply one ring, but I was now motivated to make something really beautiful and something which would carry lots of sentimental value. I went from crafting a plain blank piece of silver to one with two lines bordering up the edges. Between the lines, I cut out and soldered four small circular pieces of copper, all equidistant from each other. I punched a pattern of small holes surrounding the copper simply because it just felt right. After this, I couldn’t help but notice the seemingly perfect blank slate left for me to scribe two words along the ring, oriented in opposite directions. There were the four slots between each copper piece and then the four copper pieces themselves. Two words popped into my head almost immediately as if they were part of my plan all along. They were the two most prominent emotions in my current and past life always dominating my very core.

LOVE - PAIN

There is no love without pain. They go hand-in-hand. The greater you love someone, the greater the pain you experience through it.

I fit this for the ring finger of my right hand. Upon closer inspection of my ring, I’m tempted to draw an even grander conclusion from the design. This isn’t the first time I designed something for myself only to realize much later on an even greater significance and meaning drawn from it. The letters spelling the word LOVE is surrounded by lots of space. The space is a metaphor for freedom. It provides space to move around in, to be open, to be accepting, to be seen and free. It rests directly on the silver band. It rests at the core. On the other hand, the letters spelling PAIN are trapped within the confines of a tiny copper piece. The copper piece represents a prison. It’s a holding cell accompanied by four punch holes carefully placed at each corner. The holes are like watch towers keeping guard, making sure the prisoner, pain, doesn’t escape.

In life, I find this to be just as true. We prison our pain. We often hold onto it more often longer than necessary. Some people choose to hold onto it forever. For some, there is pain which will never, ever go away. Love on the other hand shifts in, out, and around freely. It comes and goes swiftly like the wind. It dances around. It sings. It moves. It frees. Love is freeing.

The skinny ring was a pet project and was one I told myself I cared less about. Looking back in hindsight though, I treated it with just as much care as I did the other. If there’s another thing to learn through this experience, it’s knowing it’d be almost impossible for me to half-ass any task. Even when I told myself the skinny ring didn’t matter, it truthfully still did. It usually does. I textured the metal by hand using a small wedge hammer, littering the small piece of silver with textures moving in every direction. I stamped the letters i-m-p-ǝ-r-f-ǝ-ɔ-t along the band, making sure to flip a few letters upside down to highlight its imperfection. Each letter was appropriately padded with an even amount of space on each side while its vertical orientation was all mixed. I wanted this ring to be imperfect, even though I had to strive for perfection while making it. I wanted this ring to remind me I am imperfect, to continue being imperfect, and to continue striving for imperfection.

I cannot describe the level of joy I have in my heart to be wearing rings I actually crafted. Everything from the thickness gauge, to the design, to the words, to the meaning. It’s all my own, and there isn’t a single piece of jewelry at the moment which can mean more to me.

Thank you Tricia.

Perfecting Imperfection

2011-01-11T11:57:00.000-08:00

It's true what they say. You are your own worst critic. Tell me about it. I took this saying to the extreme, and since early childhood, I've constantly bombarded myself with waves and waves of self-imposed judgment and proposed correction. I constantly held myself accountable up to the highest bar ever known to man (and woman). This bar was called perfection.

Growing up and having no choice but to spend almost 30 years with myself, it'd be a shame if I didn't have at least a little bit of self-awareness. Naturally, my self-awareness did grow and expand as the years went by, but more recently I've genuinely began fuller realization of my true self including my true potentials and pitfalls as well. I began working on myself and analyzing my very heart, mind, and soul at a fairly young age during middle school. Since then, I've logged an infinite number of hours to recognize a fundamental truth which has stuck with me since as far back as I can remember. I am really, really hard on myself.

I sort of do and don't remember the first time I ever came to experience the word "perfect", what it means and why it exists. Thinking about it now, I'm almost positive the first time I ever conceived the idea of perfection was within the church growing up as a christian. The word was used everywhere to represent the man upstairs and his beloved son. It was used in hymnals, praise songs, sermons. Apparently the man whom I share a birthday with was labeled as the perfect man. Perfection in this context meant a man who bore no sin. Not one, not a single one. How undeserving we all must be, and how lucky we all are to be alive because the perfect man rescued us all from our own sins by dying a painful death. If it sounds like the perfect plot to plant a seed of guilt in our minds, then you're hearing right. I remember constantly comparing myself to him, asking the common question. WWJD? I remember entertaining the thought of myself being a resurrection of him and imagining what it'd be like to be him. I remember trying hard, really hard. I tried to be "perfect" and failed miserably.

I am a strong perfectionist. Hours and hours of self-analysis led to lots of realizations and re-realizations about my perfectionism. Where does it come from? Why is it there? Why can't I ever change it despite my greatest and grandest efforts to do so? Is it good, or is it bad? Does it mean I'm strong, or am I weak? Over the years and recent events, I've come to one undeniable conclusion and truth. Perfectionism is bad. Let me clarify. Perfectionism is bad, for me.

Based on the definition given by the pre-installed Dictionary app on all Macs, perfectionism is defined as the refusal to accept any standard short of perfection. What a terrible display of using the root word as part of the definition, right? Let's go one level deeper. Perfection then, is defined as the condition, state, or quality of being free or as free as possible from all flaws or defects.

I hit a giant milestone near the end of last year and finally put in some really genuine effort to find a therapist. I've thought and talked about finding one for years until one fateful day, I made a firm and adamant decision to find one. I was filled with sheer determination and will alone, and failure was not an option. After a dozen calls to a dozen therapists and session visits to half of them, I finally found my therapist and have been seeing him weekly since. A common theme consistently bubbling up during my sessions is perfectionism, how deeply rooted it lays within my mind, and how it touches just about every aspect of my life. I have a pattern of thought which he commonly refers to as black and white thinking. For perfectionists such as myself, we're inevitably training our minds to believe and think in dyads. It's either one or the other, with no in between. For any given situation, we perceive two interpretations. When engaged in conversation and hearing something ambiguous, we interpret it in two opposing ideas. She loves me always, or she doesn't love me at all. I trust her completely, or I don't trust her at all. I'm a good person, or I'm just weak. If she cheats on me, she never loved me. If he rejects me, I'm not good or deserving enough to get it. These are typical scenarios which have inevitably at one point or another ran its course through my own head.

Black and white thinking does me no good and is a very destructive way to perceive the gray world I live in. My mind splinters off and interprets high-risk situations with as little as two options when in reality, I know there are infinitely more. Not so surprisingly, this style of thinking only kicks in whenever the situation pulls in my own sense of self-worth into the picture. It's like a thick giant fog rolling in, and suddenly you don't know which way is up or down, left or right. I can assess other peoples' situations very objectively, compassionately, and empathically. I'm quite good at it, but when it comes to giving myself the same amount of grace and compassion, I simply don't. It's like a bad habit, which despite everything I know about self-worth, acceptance, deservingness, and compassion, I fail time and time again to break the spell. It's equivalent to being unable to kick the nicotine habit while knowing crystal clear without a single doubt, it is killing me. I'm my own worst critic, and I'm always fighting to break down and away from this destructive habit.

In the old cartoon show, GI Joe, the motto always was "Knowing is half the battle." Well, thank you very much Mary Jane, but shit, what's the other half? It's like telling someone a pot of gold exists somewhere without leaving them a single clue. It's true though. Knowledge does help, and there's no way you can work to obtain something if you don't even know it exists. As for the other half, I'm learning and accepting that some things are just impossible to do through sheer will alone. Will power regardless of how much knowledge I possess is just not enough to change. The answer? Practice. It takes practice, repetition, and consistency to build new habits over the old. You want to change something, change the way you perceive situations, move past old thinking patterns, and get into the new? Then practice is your answer.

The human mind is incredibly complex as is the human spirit. How can anyone believe we can classify something so complex as the human mind into just two motives? Well I obviously can, but I know it's a false perception and simply not true. I know we're all truly unique and come in all different shapes and sizes. I know I'm really hard on myself more than I am on others. I know I hold high and unrealistic expectations of myself, often ending in disappointment within myself. I know I try to be perfect while knowing perfection doesn't exist. I know.

I wanted to be perfect when I was young, and I tried to be perfect since. It's a mental fixation, similar to OCD, where I can't help but want everything I do, say, produce, create, etc be the very best, be perfect. Well, I'll say it loud and clear. I'm done trying to be perfect. I'm done trying to be in control. Practice makes perfect? I don't think so. Practice makes imperfect. I'm practicing to be imperfect. I'm ready to wake up every day, chant mantras in my head if I have to, and practice getting my mind to let go, to ultimately accept my imperfect nature. I will be late, most of the time. I will sometimes retract and be unreachable. I will have a difficult time keeping in touch with people. I will respond to emails from three to six months ago because of procrastination. I will judge myself harshly and hold myself to high expectations. This is me. I'm not perfect. I acknowledge I want to be, and I acknowledge I never will be. I am just me.

Anger Leads To Growth

2011-01-07T02:24:00.000-08:00

I grew up with a lot of anger within me starting from an early age. I can hardly remember how young I was the very first time I simply "lost it". Thought it wasn't only me. In therapy, I'm learning how significant genetics can influence and play a big role in establishing our emotional blueprints. Maybe it seems obvious when you put them in a sentence together like that, but it wasn't to me.

Anger, depression, compulsiveness, perfectionism all run in my family amongst other emotions. The walls inside my old home in Bethpage were riddled with bumpy plaster covering up all the gaping holes and dents made by our fists. Our knuckles are permanently swollen and discolored from the constant abuse. Jason held the top position on the leader board while I followed closely behind in second place. Both of us have been suspended from school for violent behavior in classrooms, around students, and other faculty members. Doors were slammed, desks were thrown, lockers were punched, teachers were sworn off. He's got more interesting stories than I do, but I had my fair share of violent outbursts. I didn't think I was doing anything wrong. What do you think?

I've had many years since then to dissect my anger and think about where it comes from, why it's so explosive, and what I can potentially do about it. While I've significantly mitigated my explosive temper over the years, I'll admit to undergoing only a handful of relapses since, almost always within the context of a romantic relationship. The other place was at home with my mom. Just recently, I've been relapsing again with some very serious explosive anger. The intensity would be so strong, it'd overcome my entire mind, body, and heart. I became completely overtaken, powerless, and possessed by the intense anger coursing through every vein. I became verbally and physically violent, unleashing the excess anger with my fists against walls and marble countertops to my dismay. Not even physical pain from the throbbing contusion in my hand was enough to distract my anger. There was just so much of it with nowhere to go but out.

The last time I can remember losing myself to anger like this was just over five years ago. Does this mean I've regressed? If this was the first, second, or third time it's happened, maybe I'd think so. Knowing this has been a chronic issue throughout my life, I know better.

My therapist recently told me I might be chronically depressed. In fact, he simply stated, "You are depressed." There wasn't a single doubt in his voice as he followed it up with, "I think you may be chronically depressed." Depression can intensify anger by altering both my perception of experiences and my own emotions to seem worse than they actually are. Depression can result by believing there are a lack of options in any given situation. Many times, it feels like there are no options. Black and white thinking contributes to this. It's either right or wrong, either my way or your way. I am a perfectionist, and I have gone in and out of depression my whole life. Here's one clue behind my anger.

Being born into a Christian family, growing up in a church, and being faced with some very adult bullshit was great at cultivating a life constantly immersed in guilt. I felt guilty for many things. I felt guilty for not praying before a meal, for not reading the bible, for wanting to skip out on church, for not feeling devoted enough to my religion, for not crying at retreats, for not raising my hands and sobbing like the person next to me, for not wanting to clap my hands and sing, for not being strong enough to approach the alter asking for forgiveness, for not honoring my parents, for masturbating, for having sex before marriage, for having sexual thoughts, for feeling really happy, for feeling really sad. The list goes on. I never had anyone tell me it was okay to be human, to be imperfect, to simply be. Instead, guilt was tactically used against me to manipulate my mind into believing I had to do things to be a good person, to go to heaven. I've had quite a few experiences during my religious days from intense retreats and revivals, to demonic and spiritual possessions, to exorcisms, to people speaking in tongue. It was all very confusing looking back in retrospect.

Overall, I felt a lot of guilt. Subsequently, I also felt an incredible amount of shame. Shame didn't help me speak the truth or speak at all. Back then, I was too young and perhaps weak to know how to harness the power of shame. I didn't know how to empower myself through shame with vulnerability. I was a terrible communicator and expresser of emotions back in the day. I was terrible at it because I didn't know how. I never practiced. I was always too ashamed to express my true feelings, my doubts, my questions. I lacked confidence and self-esteem. I didn't feel deserving of being listened to. I didn't feel like I had anything useful or worthwhile to say. I didn't feel I'd make any sense at all. I didn't feel anyone cared. I didn't believe I was strong. I didn't speak.

Over the years, I've cultivated a personality trait where I kept things inside myself. I bottled things up and convinced myself the bottle will never fill up. I trained myself to hold my shit in, sometimes literally, and to be strong by sparing others the burden. It was perhaps the only way I could feel strong.

Of course, my bottle isn't infinite, and my bottle does fill up. Eventually, the bottle shatters, and my anger comes out. When it does, there's different degrees of anger I experience. Much like hurricanes, there are various categories of intensity. Similarly, it's downright scary when it happens. When a CAT 5 storm hits, I'm frightened for my myself, by myself. When my mind blows, the whole world changes color. A different pair of lens falls over my eyes, and the world looks like an altered version of hell, if there ever was one.

This past Sunday on the second day of 2011, my bottle broke. My mind blew. This time was different. This time, it broke completely with nothing to replace it. There weren't any bottles left and until I could find a new bottle to replace it with, my anger was completely exposed, out in the wild, gusting, swinging wildly, madly, lashing out on everything it can find to release itself, from itself. It couldn't take the work of just one person to calm the storm, to dissipate the anger. This time was different. I needed more. It took my lover, my friends, my family, my coworkers, my acquaintances, myself, and most importantly, time.

Asking for help can be humbling. It is also incredibly liberating. Having another set of eyes, ears, and shoulders bear witness to my anger, hear the frustration, and feel the gusty winds blowing is truly liberating. Asking for help is empowering more than anything else. One can never feel loved if one never grants themselves the opportunity to be loved. I granted myself the opportunity to receive love and support from those around me. I got it. I've relearned this very important lesson yet again, and I am truly grateful. Truly grateful.

The Black Swan

2011-01-06T01:29:00.000-08:00

When I watch a movie with substance, it takes at least a full day to process not just how I feel about it, but what I think about it. I can take almost any situation, any story, parable, movie, book, you name it, and find meaning from it. I can find a way to apply it to my own life, to make it significant, to make it *meaningful*. It's how I transform another person's piece of art into my own. There was no difference with the Black Swan. I was locked, engaged, and completely immersed in Nina's character. I was in her head. I felt her every emotion. For 108 minutes, I was her. I sometimes think of empathy as one's ability to leave their own minds and be completely immersed in another's, feeling every emotional heartbeat, feeling every push, every pull, and every drop of emotion. I empathized for Nina.

Walking out of the movie, all I had then were my feelings. There was no thought yet applied. It's like I said. I need at least a day for my brain to process and interpret my feelings. What did I feel? I liked it. I identified with it. There were moments where I saw more than mere glimpses of myself up on the big screen. Though I didn't know yet to what degree, and I didn't know how to explain it. Not yet.

The first question in my head was this. What is the black swan?

There were logical and scientific answers coming to mind throughout the movie. Things like schizophrenia, paranoia, and psychosis were all real explanations of what Nina was experiencing. However, it's a movie. It isn't real. It isn't based on true events or an actual person. This was a story where metaphors and symbolism take precedent. It's obvious she's delusional and psychotic. What's not so obvious is what lies beneath it. What does it all mean?

There is the phrase, where there's a heaven there is a hell. Where there is darkness, there is light. Where there is man, there is woman. Black or white. This world of dyads we live in is built off of this idea of polarity. Though just like there is a north and south pole on the earth, there also exists everything in between. This movie touched upon the very extreme polarity between the two opposing sides within every human being. I'm referring to our minds versus our souls.

There is a black swan within me, within all of us. It's what takes us to the very edge of insanity. In fact, it is our insanity. It's pure feeling absent of any bit of thought or rationale. It's the intense fire of emotion, blasting through every vein in our body when we're pushed to our limits and our blood boils beneath the skin with anger. It can change our every perception of the outside world. Our vision, our touch, our hearing, our sense of smell and taste can all transform at the blink of an emotion. The girl we once trusted and saw as the most beautiful woman in the world can suddenly become a demon with a cruel face you no longer recognize wanting to take something from you. The fresh air we breathe can suddenly thicken and feel like an invisible suffocating cloud. The sounds of a song we once used to comfort us can suddenly pound against the insides of our heads like broken bells. A once delicious sample of food can taste like cardboard, bland, stale, and undesirable.

When the black swan fully reveals itself, we no longer have control, no more thought, no more logic. We become all emotion, driven by one and only one thing. Our soul. Our soul becomes unbounded, freed, and relinquished from all thought and reason. It's pure emotion, feeling, and instinct. It's our most inner, most true, and deepest core of who we uncontrollably are as unique individuals. It's the root and birthplace of our entire sense of existence. The human soul.

Come to think, this isn't a new theme. I've seen various versions of the black swan before. Chances are, so have you. Smeagol and his alter ego from Lord of the Rings. Jean Grey and Phoenix from X-Men. Deprive, resist, and attempt to control your own soul long enough, it'll find its way out, and don't expect it to come out peacefully. Kicking and screaming would be an understatement.

There is a black swan hidden deep within all of us, and many may never discover it nor will many actually allow it to be exposed. To become fully possessed and overcome by our black swan would result in death. I get it now. Living a life driven only by the intensity of our emotions and nothing else cannot sustain. It will destroy us and everything around us. It is not meant to ever be fully unleashed onto the world.

Our souls are the black swans constantly fighting, poking, clawing, scratching, biting its way out of our bodies. Our minds are the white swans acting as prison guards working constantly to keep our emotions in check with logic, reason, and rationale. While our soul is constantly fighting to claw its way out, our mind does what it needs to stop it and prevent it from taking over. It covers up the scars and gaping holes left by the black swan made in its attempt to relinquish itself from our bodies. Our white swan pushes back, fights back, and uses every tactic it knows to prevent the black swan from getting out. It wants to protect us. It tries to protect us.

Protection from what? What happens when there is too much protection?

There exists an illusion of safety, an illusion of perfection, and the illusion of stability. Our minds are always fearing the loss of control and too often tries to prevent this by applying too much control. Our mind knows the raw destructive power the black swan possesses. Our mind fears what will happen if it gets out, if we start to act based on pure emotion rather than logic. Our mind tries to protect us, and it also tries to be perfect. Though in doing so, our mind begins trapping our very own soul behind prison walls. If the mind never lets go and imprisons our soul even deeper, the soul begins to fight back, harder and harder. Its strength grows. Its lust for survival increases. Its desire to be freed from the prison walls steadily rises. It scratches harder, bites deeper, and screams louder. Depriving our soul empowers the soul, and it fights back. No matter how strong or resilient our minds are, it will lose the fight. Our souls are infinite. It can expand, fly, dive, and grow to a million times the size of our bodies. Our souls are limitless. Our minds on the other hand are not and are limited.

What are the prison walls we trap our souls behind? These prison walls are created by our own mind. The walls are put up in attempt to shape our black swans to be what they are never going to be. Always perfect. Always nice. Always loving. Always loyal. Always ____. Fill in the blanks. The majority of us start our lives being really hard on ourselves, thinking we can shape and mold ourselves into whatever we want ourselves to be. We start out thinking that through sheer will alone, we can somehow change the shape and color of our black swan, of our tender soul. Truth is the more we try, the more walls we put up to prevent the black swan from moving in a direction we don't want it to. We put up walls, more walls, and more walls until all walls have closed in together so closely, it begins to confine our soul into a prison. Trapped and pushed into confinement, our soul begins to flutter its wings. It wants out, and there is nothing, not our minds, not our bodies, not anyone that's going to stop it. If you try, you'll be left defeated, barren, burnt, depleted, and maybe even dead.

The black swan is a part of us all. If we fight it, we are fighting ourselves. If we neglect its existence, trap it, and try imprisoning it behind a fictitious layer of control, it will destroy us. It will destroy all of us. Nurture your souls. Feed it. Give it the attention it deserves. If angry, be angry. If sad, be sad. If excited, be excited. The constant strive to always be perfect, to always be strong, to always be loving, to always be loyal, to always be ... will destroy us all.

Instead of trying to be perfect, I want to master the art of being imperfect. It's the only way my mind and soul, my white and black swans, can unite and exist harmoniously in life. Otherwise, I may periodically continue to feel the black swan itching to get out of me, reminding me to nurture it, drawing my attention to be released. Eventually, it'll explode out of my body hurting myself and others around me.

Let's hope it never gets back down to that. Though it happened again recently, I'm hoping this time will be different.

Gaining Through Losses

2010-03-07T00:12:00.001-08:00

I forgot my phone in the car today as I boarded the Tahoe ski bus early morning. By the time I'd realized, it was too late for me to get off and go back for it. The moment came, and sudden anxiety came over me. The thought of being without a mobile device for an entire day prompted uneasiness and stress. I challenged myself to acknowledge and accept the feelings I had which then empowered me to use this opportunity as a means to break free from my attachments to the digital world. I found inner peace with being disconnected and was well on my way to a great day on the slopes. I couldn't wait.

Sixteen hours later, we arrive back in SF, mentally refreshed, exhausted, but happy. It was a great day. I arrived back to my car only to discover the driver-side window smashed, glass everywhere, Nexus One gone, 2nd gen iPod in the center console gone. My precious car was broken into. My precious phone was taken from me. My iPod which held sentimental value and had been through so much with me was stolen. I was obviously upset. Then I learned the guy who'd parked right next to me also had his car broken into, window smashed, same deal except he lost a stereo head unit. We both commiserated with each other over our losses. Despite the undeniable anger, frustration, and anxiety I felt, it mostly subsided and with the help of him entering the picture. Throughout our interactions, it reminded and pushed me to stay mindful of the situation which successfully prevented me from exuding negativity. In my head, the last thing we needed in an already negative situation, was more negativity. For some reason, I sensed he felt the same even if it was subconscious thoughts. I felt a moment of connection. We both empathized with and for each other. Two strangers, suffering a loss. The negative situation had transformed into something special.

Life is funny. I went from owning arguably the coolest phone in the market today to owning a sub-par loaner which I can't call my own. Throughout this experience, I realized how much value I placed in these material goods and how much I took pride in them. Now they're gone, and I've learned to recognize them for what they are. I've once again been pushed to refocus and appreciate again what is actually important. People. And speaking of which, I enjoyed quite a few great exchanges and conversations on the bus ride back with a potential new friend. Try stealing that away. Obviously no one can.

Personal Growth

2010-01-06T01:24:00.001-08:00

After asking a friend for a reference to a good custom blogger template website, I took a moment to scour the large gallery and eventually selected the template you're seeing today. I never previously cared about my blog's presentation, but I've recently been applying greater pressure upon myself to write more frequently. Publicly or privately, it really doesn't matter. I just want to write more. With such an endless array of thoughts constantly brewing around in my head, I'm desperately seeking more channels to extract them out. As people often say, better out than in, right?

I've seldom used my public blog since its inception, but I'm now seriously considering it as a potential outlet. This wasn't going to be easy though, and I needed all the help and motivation I could find. One idea was simple aesthetics. Though very subtle, I somehow realized that having an attractive site to display one's own content actually does motivate one to push out new content. The concept is a bit fascinating which reminded me again how important and relevant the art behind presentation remains in our lives. There's no denying it. My mobile blog was definitely an influence here.

I was browsing through my blog entries, and I discovered this entry saved as a draft dating way back to 10/27/2005. I instantly thought, "How typical of me to start a task and leave it unfinished.". It served as a reminder to myshortcomings and inability to complete projects, goals, and ideas I've started. Nevertheless, here it is:

Five Habits of Mine
Tagged By: Steve, Amy W.
"H2O" I drink a cup of water, sometimes two, every morning.
"Dancing (more mentally than physically)" - everywhere... in elevators, at work, in class, subway platforms, bathrooms, retail stores, dressing rooms, you get the idea.
"Smelling Fetish" - I have an extremely curious nose with a natural born instinct to smell just about anything. I guess I can relate with dogs and cats.
"Food Compartmentalization" - Mashed potatoes, steak, veggies, rice, kimchi, etc. are kept separated from each other. Touching is ok as long as each item has its own space. Naturally, as I eat, the space between compartments increases. Ideally, my very last bite will reveal a clean plate.

Let's hope I never have anything in the "Drafts" folder for this long ever again.

====

A recent book I read theorized personal growth as occurring the moment one realizes their fixed ideas, beliefs, and conclusions about the world become too far fallen from the current truth and no longer applies. One's entire ideology of the world begins to crumble piece by piece until one is eventually forced to reconstruct it by gathering new information about the changed world they now live in. This process of reconstruction is painfully uncomfortable since you've essentially lost a grip on what you once acknowledged as reality. You once understood the world you're living in, but now you don't anymore. This is the moment when personal growth is achieved. Take a look at human muscles as an example. At the gym, we lift weights and exercise to tear them apart, ultimately forcing them to reconstruct themselves with bigger and stronger ones.

There is always growth after pain. When you've finished reconstructing your perceptions of the world, your understanding is not only restored but expanded as well. I guess they call this wisdom. Comfort, confidence, feelings of content and knowledge are restored. Meanwhile, the world around you continues to evolve every single day. Eventually, it'll once again evolve into a place you no longer understand, thereby initiating another episode of personal growth. The walls come crashing down again, and you're forced to reconstruct yourself thus perpetuating the endless cycle.

I admit. Life has been tougher to live and understand these days. I'm definitely in a reconstruction phase which at least means I am growing. Many realizations I've learned about myself have changed. What I thought were the roots of my personality no longer appear to be valid, and I'm getting closer to uncovering the truths behind it. My understanding of the relevance between good and bad, right versus wrong, have completely changed. The things I thought were true about this world no longer seem to apply. I'm researching, reflecting, and rebuilding. Life is challenging right now, but I know it's meant to be. Within this truth do I find Solace.

Living With Morality

2009-12-20T04:38:00.001-08:00

How many times a day, month, or year do you find yourself making decisions based on your perception of what's right versus wrong? Whens the last time a close friend asked you for the same opinion? The ultimate question looming in their heads is am I right, or am I wrong? Am I being honest or just plain mean? Selfish in a good or bad way?

When friends need support and encouragement, often times they're seeking affirmation from their peers. Reassuring them they're not crazy, selfish, or wrong usually does the job. Ultimately, we're simply reinforcing in their heads that they are in fact staying consistent with their inner moral code. Whether they are aware of this or not, I'd probably say no, but at the time of desperation, it usually doesn't matter. People search for ways to feel at peace with their inner selves, regardless of the reasons. Admittedly, I've gone through the same process and have found myself asking the same questions repetitively to my peers, seeking the same bit of reassurance and proving I also have a moral code for which I instinctively try to abide by.

Where does this underlying sense of morality come from, and why do we continue to incessantly subject ourselves to it? I've thought about this question for many months, and although I can list out the possible influences, the truth is that I just don't know. Parental guidance, religious influences, family environment, teachers, life experiences, media. How much is taken away from each, and at what point did we simply start to accept the morals we've acquired without question? Going on a slight tangent, I've had discussions with friends about my personal experience with the Christian religion before and about the use of guilt as a tool to humble thy selves before God and repent, asking for forgiveness. It's all a little depressing to me, living life subjected to the wills of a higher being other than yourself, but who am I to judge. I still struggle in coping with the resentment I harbor towards it, but I'm gradually realizing the guilt I feel may be coming from a different source entirely. Regardless, my morals were primarily rooted in the religion I was born and raised in, Christianity, but obviously there were other factors at play as well. Because of this, I'm still intrigued when encountering an agnostic or atheist friend who's inflicted with the same or sometimes even higher guilty conscience which I possess. I wonder. Where did their moral code originate from instead? It's quite a mystery to me still how powerfully our morals can drive us to behave in certain ways and propel us to continually make decisions based on our own tailored perception of what is "good". How often do we stop and reevaluate why we even care to do such good deeds? Are there actual reasons behind them, or are we simply following the expectations set by the world around us? I like to think the common driving factor for our actions are based on whatever generates a greater sense of fulfillment in our lives, fulfillment being defined in the internal sense and not one based on physicality. What I've recently realized is these actions may not line up with our perceptions of what is morally right or good. Dare I say there may be no correlation at all. Next time you're feeling guilty for wanting to be selfish in life at the expense of others, realize that the guilt stems from the dissonance between your proposed actions and morals. Try not to let it get in the way. We may feel like a "bad" person, but why is it we're expected to always be "good"? The guilt we feel internally is a conditioned response based on growing up in a world where we're taught to be good people who do good things. I want to deconstruct this idea with the intention of reconstructing it from scratch and reevaluating whether the outcome remains the same.

I remember learning in Anthropology that our world is filled with dyadic oppositions, and it is so true. Black/white, left/right, down/up, cold/hot, female/male, night/day, homo/hetero, bad/good, wrong/right, hell/heaven, and the list goes on. From the moment we're born, we're conditioned to think in pairs. Our minds were trained to categorize actions into rights versus wrongs where one is considered better, higher, or stronger than the other. The ultimate truth is that the world is very gray, constantly evolving and changing, filled with exceptions, irregular, and nonuniform. The world cannot be broken down into two parts, yet we're always trying to in order to make sense of it all. When there isn't two sides to choose from, people may feel lost, confused, and without direction. We're raised always believing one is better than the other when in reality, they're both just very different. Every situation is surrounded by so much context, and we need to get in the habit of spending more time studying this context to help us gauge the bigger picture. If you ever find yourself judging another person based on your own morality, think again. Take into consideration what their moral code book is comprised of and whether they're honoring it. If they are, then they're simply following the rules just like we all are, doing what they're meant to do, and being true to themselves.

I'm currently trying to eliminate the words "should" and "shouldn't" from my vocabulary, particularly around the topic of morals. When people ask for my opinion on whether they're acting in a bad way, my answer will always be no, because quite frankly, it doesn't matter. Feeling guilty about our own bad behavior implies the belief that we're meant to only do good things in the world. All our actions are preceded by a need which seeks fulfillment. Sometimes the act of fulfilling this need will fall into the good category, and sometimes it just won't. Categorizing one's actions into good versus bad becomes irrelevant for this reason. Meanwhile, my conscience is now warning me about the situations where others are hurt as a result of someone fulfilling their individual needs, and I'm tempted to declare them as being wrong. After all, I'm also a victim of my own morals, but I'll refrain from saying anything more and simply leave it at that.

A Cry For Yelp

2009-12-16T23:46:00.000-08:00

I recently submitted feedback to Yelp about my frustration with first-to-reviewers who post reviews on restaurants and have never eaten at yet alone stepped a single foot inside the place. They do it for the potential chance at popularity, for the virtual badges which makes their virtual selves feel special. They want others to recognize their resourcefulness and for being so in-the-know of the latest and greatest local eats in the neighborhood. Because without the recognition or acknowledgment by others, they feel indifferent with taking the time to write anything. Their motivation to write reviews is proporational to the number of people reading them. I understand this and don't think there's anything wrong with the mentality. We're only human after all, and we all like to feel important. However, it doesn't justify peoples' actions to fulfill this need by claiming a first-to-review in which they didn't earn. This is a problem.

I complained to Yelp and got a curt response back from someone named Gail. Quite frankly, I'm too apathetic these days to care. Instead of following up with Gail, I'm posting our little exchange below as a means to archive this moment of brief yet empowering frustration.

Hi,

Thank you for contacting Yelp about this business listing.

While the business may not be open, often the first reviews provide some useful information about the soon-to-be-open business. However, we may eventually remove reviews if they are not updated after the business has opened.

Regards,
Gail
Yelp User Support
San Francisco, California

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

dannlee@gmail.com
Yelp! Feedback: Ideas to improve Yelp
Comments:
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It happens all the time. For the sake of snatching the "First to review" badge, people review a restaurant they have neither eaten at let alone stepped into. The restaurants are not even open yet for goodness sake. I cry bullshit!

As a fellow Yelp user and reviewer, I find this incredibly frustrating. Achieving "First to review" is certainly a privilege and a reward in itself. It's a raw first impression without the influences of previous reviewers who've posted before you. I find value in knowing what this impression was. Instead, I find a meaningless to-be-reviewed note left by an attention-seeking individual who misinterpreted the concept of "First to review" as "First to leave an arbitrary comment against a new business not yet in the system". I understand the need to incentivize your reviewers to urgently post their thoughts, thus by adding to your growing wealth of user information. But come on! How about enforcing some basic criteria? Let's start with #1: You must have eaten here!

Horoscope insight

2009-06-19T13:17:00.001-07:00

"You have been feeling frustrated lately but today is the day to let it out. Call up a couple of friends and go out. Do not feel inhibited, let out your frustrations in your own unique way. If you are fed up with being single, the romantic scene eagerly awaits for you to try it out. It will require you to be open-minded and ready to try new things and go to new places but do not forget to enjoy yourself. However, you have been neglecting your financial obligations. Due to concentrating too much on personal matters, you have missed out on investment opportunities and the profits that come along with it. Do not assume that these matters will fix themselves; your constant input is required."

Cabinet Inspiration

2009-05-08T17:43:00.001-07:00

today, i accompanied jinah alongside with jason to her recently purchased condo just a tad north of seattle. the place was huge, but that's not what this journal entry is about. the timing couldn't have been any better. turns out she's now presented with a pretty amazing opportunity to remodel her entire kitchen due to a water leak that hasn't been taken care of behind the wall. everything needed to be replaced essentially. as a result, she's been allocated a generous budget to renovate the entire kitchen with replacement fixtures, cabinets, flooring, etc. amazing, if you ask me. so one of the things we did today was go shopping for new kitchen cabinets. oh boy, here we go.

at the place where she picked out cabinets, it was initially a woman named Nancy that was assisting. a bit later on, she was replaced by, Paul, the floor manager for 10+ years. i never met a man more knowledgeable about cabinets. my first impression was he's super friendly, quick, intelligent, extremely thorough, and passionate. although i hadn't met many people in the cabinet or lumber business, my feelings of him wouldn't be any different. my thought process went something like this:

"this guy really knows what he's talking about."

"i wonder how can he retain so much knowledge about cabinets and wood."

"his attention to detail is awesome."

"i love that he provides incredibly detailed reasons to support his personal conclusions around cabinets and wood."

"i love that he lays down context through history, knowing that it's a key component to understanding the current choices we have today."
"i'm learning so much just from hearing him speak. i kinda don't want him to stop."

"damn, this guy really knows what he's talking about."

"this is his passion, and it's inspiring."

i'm always in search for inspiration, and i talk a lot about how i love meeting passionate people. it's like i can absorb some of their passion when around them, which in turn translates into inspiration. i become inspired to find my own passion. my mind starts to daydream of the one hopeful day when i discover what that is and embrace it. then i can be a source of inspiration to others in the same way it is to me. like chasing a pot of gold sitting at the end of a rainbow, i realize this day may never come, but a boy can still dream.

it's funny. i seek inspiration, and it's passion that inspires me, even when that passion is exhibited by other people. i like that i can feel inspired in the most unexpected settings by the most unexpected people. a cabinet/wood specialist who's been in the business for over 20+ years is not someone i'd ever have thought to be inspired by, but i was. it's days like these that make me feel special, like i have a very unique perspective on life. sometimes i daydream about having superhuman abilities, like i can see things that other people can't, and some days i believe that more than others. today, i felt that i was appreciating a simple beauty in life. life is usually transformed based on what i make of it. the mind is such a powerful tool, and lately i've been learning how to utilize mine better and better.

so thank you, friendly kitchen cabinet/wood specialist floor manager guy. you've inspired me without even being aware of it, which inevitably happens to be my favorite kind of inspiration.

The Truth About Unicorns

2009-05-05T14:04:00.000-07:00

"dann, i get it. she's your unicorn..." - amy

when i reiterated this statement to friends, nobody knew what i was talking about. each attempt i made to summarize the meaning of the word "unicorn" always left me feeling dissatisfied with the explanation. i realize now that it's genuinely because it's a hard concept to describe without sounding a bit loony. it's a bit frustrating at times how i can conceptualize ideas so crystal clearly in my mind, but when trying to describe it in words, it becomes so unbelievably difficult. this is the story of my life. on the other hand, if verbal communication was easy and unchallenging, it probably won't be as interesting of a task. the irony...

i don't believe a single general definition of the term "unicorn" can be applied to all. it's unique, special, and means something slightly different to everyone. some things are best explained simply through a bit of life context. rather than crafting a general definition of what "unicorn" means, i think i need to just tell my story.

my unicorn is one particular person (a girl) from my childhood youth who within a specific time frame unknowingly ingrained a long-lasting impression on me that'll stick with me probably forever. a seed was planted, and i've since been helplessly enchanted with the idea that we're both cosmically intertwined and destined to be involved in each others lives. it's ambiguous whether this connection is meant to be shared on an intimate level versus it being carried out in a life-long evolving friendship. either way, there's just something about her that i've always found so inexplicably awe-inspiring, and i'm helplessly drawn to it. while none of this was concluded based on rational thinking, it's really just a byproduct of a few personal experiences and some intuitive observations from a distance.

in my mind, unicorns are mystical creatures, angelic and pure beings. i see their silky white coat and mane, which makes them appear majestic and absolute. there isn't an ounce of evil in their soul, and similarly, neither does it exist in my unicorn. i don't mean that literally, but more figuratively. she sits on a high pedestal where no wrong can be done while i gaze upwards in envy.

few of my close friends have heard me mention her at some point along with the various fateful events that caused us to reunite more recently. my colleague used an alternative phrase, "she's your winnie cooper!" as a supplement to my conceptualization of the term "unicorn". it made sense and was definitely analogous to what i was describing, all with one subtle difference. truthfully, my unicorn and i never officially established a friendship. my interactions with her were close to none nor did i ever hang out with her one-on-one or in a group setting. i never called her nor did i ever muster enough courage to say "hi!" to her in the hallways between class periods. i didn't know where she lived. i didn't know what type of music or movies she liked or what she did on the weekends. i simply knew who she was, and she knew who i was. we went to the same small schools with less than two hundred graduating seniors. everybody knew everybody. you see the same faces in the hallways. if you put a yearbook in front of me, i could easily speak the names of every face i see, and through circumstance, we had our random occasional run-ins. meanwhile, i secretly had an irresistible crush on her since an early age.

it's fascinating to me how i can vividly remember some of the very few specific scenarios where we've interacted. although i'd never personally inquired about her to anyone, i'd inadvertently see and hear through other people the things she involved herself in. after all, we did go to the same schools. no need to delve into those specifics, but the most significant memory i had is the experience we shared just before we departed. we connected, and we bonded. i felt it, and my heart was telling me she did too. it was a glimpse of hope that seemed to have lasted less than a millisecond in retrospect, and just like that it was gone. i didn't possess the confidence or social skills to nourish and pursue a relationship that i instinctively knew would've been special, and i didn't possess the intuition to foresee what i was giving up. i was an angry teenage recluse whose identity was in utter turmoil, all while dabbling in a bit of depression and apathy. it really couldn't have happened in any other way. so there are no regrets. instead, i'm simply left eagerly awaiting the next moment in time where our life paths will cross again.

these seemingly insignificant memories are actually the defining memories that stuck with me. after many years later, long after i had deliberately forgotten my high school past, i started randomly dreaming of her like it was some sign from above. it was truly bizarre and left me questioning its purpose. i started feeling an urge swoop over me, forcing me to retrospectively analyze my attraction towards her. i remembered her, and i remembered she was someone i genuinely respected and had deemed incredibly special. i remembered the intense yearning i felt to befriend her, get to know her, and simply be somewhat of a presence in her life. i grew determined to relieve my curiosity and ultimately reach closure despite the fact that the odds were weighing heavily against me. i've since then realized that she was always and may always be my unicorn.

there's nothing sinful, scary, or dark about it. the unicorn is not someone i'm attracted to for tangible reasons, whether it be physical or mental. it's more or less fueled by a connection felt at some point which i interpreted as genuine, even if for just a split second. it's innocent and pure like a unicorn, and i feel strangely bonded even though i hardly had a convincing reason to explain why. it sometimes feels a bit creepy, naive, and obsessed when really, it's none of the above. this is what i suppose happens when attempting to translate its meaning into words. a friend of mine refers to the word "stuck" when describing people who've entered our lives at some point whom we'll always remember. she's one of the few that "stuck" with me, and the truth is that i may never know why. she is my unicorn.

A Time For Change

2009-05-01T02:01:00.001-07:00

lately, i've been feeling the urge to simply "run away".

back when i was young, i had many moments where i just wanted to leave and get as far away as possible, and in some cases, i actually did leave the house. granted, it was never very far or long, and it was usually a direct result of a huge fight between my mom and i. still it felt unbelievably empowering to consciously make the decision to leave followed by a feeling of liberation once i did leave. of course it always ended with me feeling sheepish and stupid because the reality back then was that i had nowhere to go. i'd eventually end up back at home, ultimately surrendering myself to the dependency i had to my parent's home, to their money, to their cars, to their presence and their love. it was an incredibly defeating feeling, being trapped in a world that i hated and one that i felt powerless to change, the world being a reference to my individual life. i had no sense of real purpose or motivation. life was a routine of endless turmoil. i constantly sought solace and comfort in the one place i desperately needed to get away from, although i hadn't realized this yet at the time. home...

there was a lot of freedom, easily being able to waste countless hours watching tv or playing video games till dawn. it was comfortable, and it was easy. i didn't need to talk to anyone. i didn't need to think about anything i didn't want to think about. i didn't need to probe and explain my emotions. i didn't need to uphold deep conversations nor did i need to force myself to understand anything outside of the realm of my current understanding. overall, i never had to really challenge myself.this is what "comfortable" represents to me, and it is my biggest vice.

achieving comfort is great. remaining comfortable is not. a prolonged state of comfort paralyzes me, my way of life, and it's what thwarts my climb to reach greater heights. it makes me lazy and complacent with people, with experiences, with life. i've come a long way since those teenage years feeling trapped in my parent's house. back then, i had no choice. there was no way to free myself. now, i'm completely free, completely self-sufficient and independent. yet, over and over, i find myself ending up back in the same home, only this time, "home" isn't a physical place. instead it's people, friends, a job, a routine lifestyle. if i had only known back then that this feeling of complacency was never about an actual place but more an established routine, it would've saved me some bitterness.

here i am now, living in sf, possessing many components that people can sometimes perceive as being part of the equation for happiness. yet, my heart still feels unfulfilled and discontent with the feeling growing even stronger as a direct result of the "comfort" that i've built around myself. i've been hanging out with the same people, doing the same things, talking about the same things, and working the same job. i'm desperate for change, and i get flashes of moments where i wish i could just run away from everything and leave it all behind without looking back. i need new inspiration, new people, and new experiences to feed the undying hunger for which i know will inevitably keep coming back, over and over again.

i feel empty and i need new nourishment. lately, i haven't consciously been setting time out for myself. as a direct result, i'm constantly feeling exhausted, tired, overwhelmed, and drained. i'm constantly running on a low to near empty tank, never able to refill it up more than halfway. from the myers briggs, i was always in between an introvert and extrovert, meaning i switch from one to the other. if i took the exam again, i'd expect to come out a pretty strong introvert. that side of me has been deprived for several months now, and i'm now at a point where i desperately seek solitude.

i'm currently struggling to accept the undeniable possibility that my heart may never feel fully content, ever. it's a hard truth to swallow and embrace. it's admitting to myself that i'll always see a light at the end of the tunnel without ever being able to physically reach it. now is just another point in my life where the end tunnel light has gradually faded slightly further and further away. time to start walking again...

time to run away... again

Never Enough Time

2009-04-07T09:39:00.001-07:00

there really isn't enough time to blog, and i hate it. i'm experiencing so much, mentally and emotionally, and all i wish is for a few hours to sit down and log it. there just really isn't enough time in a day, and my personal journal is hurting. it's missing some extremely critical and pivotal moments in my life.

this is becoming a big goal of mine this week. i'm going to explicitly make time out for this at least a few nights a week, even if it means secluding myself away from people and friends. it's the only way.

to be continued...

Internet Cafes

2008-09-14T17:43:00.009-07:00

i've recently been searching for the right internet cafe near my home. there's a subtle yet clear difference between wasting away hours aimlessly on the internet at home locked up in the apt vs a public cafe. it's the same reason you feel more motivated to exercise at a public gym vs a gym within the vicinity of your own home, alone. the same reason you play, sing, dance, perform harder in front of an audience rather than when you're by yourself. this may not be objectively true for everyone, but if you're confident in a specific area and there are witnesses, you'll probably feel a bit of adrenaline kick in.

so what does this have to do with laptops in public cafes? i thought i knew when i started writing this entry, but not anymore. i'd like to think we all have a hidden desire to be noticed. there's a subtle difference we feel when in public settings vs when we're not. the presence of witnesses to our day-to-day activities objectifies the actions and proves maybe even to ourselves that it actually happened.

"If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"

if nobody is around to witness the sounds you make in life, does it really matter?

go find your free internet cafes!
http://www.wififreespot.com/ca.html

Laughter At Someone Else's Expense

2006-05-26T23:13:00.000-07:00

This has got to be one of the funniest videos I've ever seen in a while. The same damn thing happened to me a few years back at Umich... sighhh... poor girl

24 Months

2005-09-29T21:00:00.000-07:00

Classic Lasagna

Prep: 45 minutes
Bake: 30 minutes

Ingredients
12 ounces bulk Italian or pork sausage or ground beef
1 cup chopped onion (1 large)
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 14 1/2-ounce can diced tomatoes, undrained
1 8-ounce can tomato sauce
1 tablespoon dried Italian seasoning, crushed
1 teaspoon fennel seeds, crushed (optional)
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
6 dried lasagna noodles
1 beaten egg
1 15-ounce container ricotta cheese or 2 cups cream-style cottage cheese, drained
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
6 ounces shredded mozzarella cheese
Grated Parmesan cheese (optional)

... combined with long roses and a hallmark card ...

Happy 2 Years!

Desktops, Desktops, & Desktops

2005-08-26T19:01:00.000-07:00

In the midst of everyday hustle bustle life, there is one place we always manage to find ourselves. We sit down and give a slight motion of hand, whether it be a push to the power button, a random hit of a key, or erratic shake of the mouse. As the fans initiate their rotations whistling away, we see the miniature green and red (or orange) fluorescent led illuminating at the corners of our eyes. Thirty to sixty seconds later, we look straight ahead, hand over mouse or pad, and what do you see?

That's what I want to know!!!

The "Desktop" is the living room of our digital lives. We live in it every day. Some people work in it, others play in it, and some do both at the same time. We lay out our favorite items that are frequently used and needed, while the rest are stored away in safe places. Some like to keep it clean and organized, while others don't mind it messy with garbage lying around. Some choose solid colors for their walls, while others decide to hang up a picture. Character and personality exist in our desktops, and I'm curious what yours look like.

So what do you see every day?

Send me your screenshot (or link to it) with your name, and I'll put it up. For those that do not know my email, send it to dann@empoweredmail.com

Mine

Amy Kuo

Amy Wang

Pierre

F E A R

2005-08-17T17:02:00.000-07:00

f e a r
1. A feeling of agitation and anxiety caused by the presence or imminence of danger.
2. A feeling of disquiet or apprehension: a fear of looking foolish.
3. Extreme reverence or awe, as toward a supreme power.
4. A reason for dread or apprehension: Being alone is my greatest fear.

A recent confrontation with my inner self has once again forced me to dig deeper into the abyss, attempting to uncover answers that I've already previously discovered before. Today, I just felt like sharing it.

I've always been afraid of many things growing up in this world. Some things more than others. I don't fear many things in the physical world, except spiders maybe. But delve into the world of social fears, and the bell starts ringing. Fear of abandonment, loneliness, failure, rejection, judgment... I'm not about to list them all because there'd be an overflow of HTML and my blog will start to look more like the DSM. But I think the one that encapsulates it all is fear itself. In other words, and this might sound a bit strange, I'm scared to be afraid. Fear has successfully screwed up many things in my life and continually causes grief. It has indefinitely reached the peak of my hate list. Funny thing about my fears is that I still have them. Since the day my brain had reached the stage in human development where the notion of fear became real, it's all been sticking with me ever since. Only difference between now and then is I have the ability to endure some of them. When we get older, we learn how to cope with fear better. But all the same. It's still there knocking on my door every time I walk into a room full of strangers, eyes set on me, or upon entering silent mode during a one on one conversation over dinner.

I recently watched "Troy" the other day, and Achilles (Brad Pitt) was my favorite character, hands down. In "Godfather II", young Vito Corleone (Robert De Niro) was an extreme pleasure to watch. Chili Palmer (John Travolta) in "Be Cool" was amazing. Envious is an understatement of how I feel about these characters. Why? Because they all lacked something that has otherwise been so unfortunately and negatively abundant in my life. Fear... They all did amazing things, because they had none of it. It's only natural for me to imagine the possibilities if I was blessed with the same fortune. Where does fear come from? God? Life? Parents? People? Media? Ourselves? The answer may be all. But I think we're born with it, contributing to our humanity. To be fearless, would mean to be inhuman, and possibly a God, similar to the way Achilles was portrayed in the movie.

At the end of it all, I'm just sick and tired of being afraid. I envy fearlessness because it's the one thing I'm dying to conquer, but seems impossible... because it will "free my mind" as Morpheus would say. The only current solution remains to be endurance... and enduring it is a whole new blog entry.

Modern Art

2005-05-06T23:14:00.000-07:00

The question is obvious. What is that black square hanging innocently above my blog entry? I had the delighted pleasure and luxury to observe one just like it up close and personal this past weekend. The same question was probably pondered by millions of people all the same. Don't you see? Isn't it beautiful? How amazingly innovative? It's... It's... ART!

There you have it, in its most modern form ever, what you are seeing above these measly words is nothing less than art. On display within the walls of the MOMA (Musuem of Modern Art), you can find this piece hanging tall and proud, earning a spot on the beautiful canvas wall along side famous Picasso, Van Gogh, Dali, and others.

2005-04-24T08:01:00.000-07:00

Update

It's been quite some time now since I've posted my last blog entry. However, I'll simply ignore the fact that I've been MIA from the blogging community for the longest time, and just get on with my entry. You all know the deal.

I wanna just make a point out in saying that "work" is definitely becoming the opposite of play regarding my last entry. Work was unbelievably stressful this past week, being in charge of huge responsibilities that I thought I might have after my second year in the working field. It's going to remain stressful for the next week, because I'm gonna be the go-to guy if there's any problems with anything regarding this particular application. Suddenly I feel like my job title should be switched to "Help Desk. Please stay away from me!".

I recently have been purchasing all sorts of cool new gadgets and gizmos within the past few weeks. I guess the consumer side of me has really been coming out and taking over ever since the dough has been rolling in from my new job. I've never had this much money in my checking account in my entire life. It's so hard to think twice when seeing that beautiful $340 iPod with my name written across. For some reason my old keyboard and mouse suddenly feel outdated, old, and klunky. What a convenient time to upgrade to a wireless desktop. Gotta keep up with technology right? Sure. Oh no, my beautiful iPod seems to need some clothes to shield itself from every day wear and tear. Great, I shall buy it some.

$340 = iPod + iTrip
$ 37 = iSkin
$120 = Ikea desk + drawer
$112 = Wireless desktop (current toy)
$ 22 = XBox game

Work Is Play

2004-07-26T21:46:00.000-07:00

So I officially decided that working (interning) this summer has been starting to feel like nothing other than play. Call me crazy or what not, but I actually have really grown to enjoy what I do at the company five days a week, pushing close to 40-45 hours per week. I wake up in the morning around 8:40am, go to work in between 10-10:30am, and work work work... or play play play. I'm supposed to get out of work at 6pm, but these days I've been getting out at 630pm or sometimes even after 7pm. I can't help but feel a little strange for doing this while everybody else in the world seems to be pushing, shoving, and rushing to catch the train taking them home to whatever is waiting for them there. Maybe the TV, maybe the wife and kids... whatever it is, everybody is just in a rush. Me? ehhh...well I'm just hoping that I can finish implementing a part of my project that I've been working on during the week, hoping I'd finish before what used to 6, then 6:20, and now seems to be 7pm. It states in my astrology profile that Capricorns tend to do that with their work. Work is play for us driven sea goats. And it's actually a pretty wierd experience to actually witness that part of me coming to life. A part of me feels like the nerd next door programming away, and a part of me feels like the guy that is doing what I did all throughout college and will eventually get paid for it. In my opinion, it's kinda cool. Can't believe that one day I'll actually get paid to do this. Work on programming projects all day without the worrying of exams and classes to run off to. The best part of it is... I'll always be learning something new with the growing computer technology, and for some reason that comforts me. What can I say, I guess I'm just a computer nerd after all.

P.S. this was embarrassing to admit

Spiderman Leads To Gum Stimulation

2004-07-20T21:16:00.000-07:00

So I finally watched Spiderman 2 last night. I heard through the rumors that it was better than the first one. If I had to make an opinion about it, I'd say that it was just as good as the first one. I'm definitely a biased individual because I was a pretty big fan of the web-slinging superhero back in the day when it used to play on Fox Channel 5 after school everyday. I think out of all super-heroes, he's probably the most admired by me. There's a lot of characteristics about him that make him so. One of the most obvious is that he's just a plain old kid, just like me, going to school, trying to get an education, trying to get through the daily struggles of life as we all do. He's smart, he's got a sense of humor, cracking jokes at villains in the midst of battling it out with them. He just lives a tough life, trying to go to college and get good grades while doing all he can to fight crime and save human beings, and on top of that deal with the pressures of his peers. He's just got so much on top of him, and yet he still manages to stay sane and get through the day. I don't know how he does it. I think I'd be going nuts. I guess that's why he's a superhero.

My dad picked me up from Hicksville train station and we stopped by Walgreens to get some bathroom supplies that he needed. He needed hairspray, and we both decided that we needed a new toothbrush because those 6 months have expired (f.y.i. dentists recommend replacing toothbrushes every 6 months). So I'm pretty anal about what toothbrush I use because dental care is something that I try to keep on top of. The only toothbrush that I will pay for and use is the Oral B Cross Action. But... when we went over to the toothbrush section, apparently they came out with a new "upgraded" version of it, and it's called the Cross Action Vitalizer, and it's got these added gum stimulators on the sides of the brush. Anyways, I went home and tried it, and it is freaKiN amazinG! It feels like a masseuse is massaging your gums, stimulating gum sensation. Everyone needs to go buy and try it!
(see picture above for reference)

2004-07-18T13:41:00.000-07:00

The Weekend

It's Sunday now, and the weekend is still not officially over, because Amy, Jazz, and I are all planning on watching Spiderman 2 tonight after they get off Sunday work(...Sunday work suCKs...) So I'm pretty excited to go do that tonight because I've been anticipating to see this movie for quite some time. Actually it's ever since I first laid eyes on the trailer which was probably some time last year.

Anyway, Friday night was actually a really cool night in a very unique and different kind of way. At first Amy and I went downtown to Soho to meet up with Jazz and Raji for a late night dinner (...sorry jazz and raji...) at Cafe Habana. There's word on the street that its food kills, and after I had their Chicken Diablo sandwich, I understood what the hype was all about. But anyway, dinner was good, and the unique part about the night was actually the Jazz bar that I went to later that night. I've always wanted to go to a Jazz bar, experience something different for a change, and the place was beautiful. The atmosphere was really chill, relaxing, and quaint. Dimmed lights with soft live jazz playing in the background, along with sounds of people mingling, place being lit up by flickering candle lights, ... It was definitely a positive first experience of Jazz, and I'd totally do it again. It was also nice because I felt like I got a chance to get to know Raji and Jazz better throughout the night. It's amazing how much you gain from just one simple chill laid back night out.

Saturday night, last night, was dope! I had a really amazing time with everybody that came out that night. Shout out to the Sake Bombing crew, and to all the people that came through to Coda. It was real good to see Babbs out here again, and not leaving for anytime soon. Also the late night munchies that a few of us had at the end of the night was probably the best way to kick it at the end of the night, where Sam took a few of us downtown to MacDougal St. where it looks like one big block party, full of hungry people lined up, waiting to satisfy themselves. It was good hanging out and talking with the people that I didn't know as well. It's always good, and once again... It's amazing how much you can gain from just one night out

Ordinary Day

2004-07-14T20:13:00.000-07:00

Today was what I would call an ordinary day. Work was slow, appetite was weak, satisfaction was limited. I think life seemed to be a bit more on the ordinary side these days. Haven't really thought about it much. Today would be my first day. Is it because age is kickin in? Is it because this is what the real world really is supposed to be? I think about how every day I wake up at the same time in the morning, take the same train to work, see the same people riding on the LIRR going off to their ordinary world. Maybe the word I'm looking for is routine. I wonder...

Work was slow today. Nothing really challenging, and I've come to realize that on days like this, I can't help but feel like it was just an ordinary day. Not much to do. Just did what I always do on these days. Sit at the desk. Look at some code on the computer. Wait and hope that my boss will give me something interesting to do. Sometimes ordinary days are nice too. Today was nice.

I have a big project coming up soon that I will be working on. It's actually pretty biG. The company that I'm interning at is rebuilding their entire software system, switching everything from Windows to Linux. I'm pretty excited to be a part of that, especially when they'll be depending on me as well as my boss and another intern to get the job done. So I don't think I'll be having many ordinary days in the near future.

This was a wierd entry, but I have a date tommorrow. So I'm too excited to care.

9 Months

2004-07-14T08:58:00.000-07:00

.:Love Blog:.

It's been 9 1/2 months for us now. We'd both probably agree that it seemed like 9 years instead. We've been through everything any relationship goes through and more. After all this time has passed, I discovered the most beautiful and amazing parts of her that only a person who's been through what we've been through can discover. And at the same time, I've also seen the worst sides as well. And things haven't always been easy with us, in fact at times it seemed darn right impossible. I was changing, and so was she in ways we never thought we ever would. There were times where I never thought we'd make it through. But in the midst of it all, the one thing that did nothing but grow would make me say... I love her. And that's all that mattered. You hear about it everyday, in the movies, on TV. Love is an amazing thing, and I've never realized in my life how amazing it really is, how much it can do, how much it can affect... me. It's scary how much, but at the end of it all, she's the best thing that ever happened to me. And she makes it worth it, every single emotion good or bad. She takes my breath away still, and I love her with every part of me. Because nobody in this world can fulfill my inner desires like she does. We traveled through every terrain, been through mile high mountains. At the end of each day, the thoughts of being with her holding her in my arms brings new motivation and happiness for each new day. She's my one and only, and she has "my heart to break".

2003-07-27T01:50:00.000-07:00

So finally here it comes. This blog will be dedicated to the trip that Pierre, Megan, and I ventured on last Sunday, the 20th, and came back to NY on wednesday morning... like 7AM morning. So much has happened every day on this trip, that I will attempt to split up the blogs by day. This could either become a great story, or it can become an utter catastrophy. Here goes...

Day 1 - Sunday - Day of Departure
So the trip started off as PZ drove up to my house and gave the classic *beep* *beep*. Decided to come out and actually came inside for a brief moment meeting my parents once again. Then off we go, heading towards nowhere else but to Katonah, NY. Hitting some traffic on the cross bronx expressway, Pierre had a goal ever since the beginning of the trip, which was to NOT ask, look, or seek for directions, even if it means getting lost and driving around aimlessly for an hour and half. Not for even the slightest bit did I ever suspect that this would be the cause of what I would say one of the greatest and most ridiculously amazing and hilarious adventures I had ever embarked on.

So now we're closing in on Megan's territory, and I mean territory because it would be wrong and invalid to call it Megan's house. Rather it is her "land". You have to ask her how many acres it is rather than how many rooms you have. So anyway, me and pz in the car, and I'm testing Pz about the directions as he claims so confidently and nonchalantly that he knows exactly where it is, and he needs not such primitive assistance. So I ask him, "What's the name of that sign where we have to make that important left?".
"THORNBUSH!"... once again... "THORN BUSH!!!"
Meanwhile I'm looking at the mapquest directions, and I see right in front of me the words "Twin Knolls". It was a time for laughter, the very moment the words "thornbush" rolled off his full, juicy, suculent lips. It was great, and it added itself onto the list of inside jokes that we would bring up every once in a while during Boston. Where the hell do you get thorn bush? What is a thorn bush? Bush with thorns?

So we picked up Meggo from her beautiful land and we make our way up to Boston. Of course we had to stop for gas before actually heading out onto the highway considering pz's small yet oh so strong willed Honda Civic made it all the way from my house, exit 44 on the LIE, all the way to Megan's domain in Katonah, NY, in Thorn Bush, I mean Twin Knolls, meanwhile the car's gas meter was basically on empty the whole time. The little engine that could... It was amazing I tell you. But we thought the car deserved a lil bit of fuel. Let me just say that this station was the only bright light within miles, and when that's the case, you get swarms and swarms of bugs and flys and moths and everything else out there. Another one of the unforgettable and great events that occurred on this trip... As me and pz open the doors to get back into the car, a big moth of some sort decided to come on in with us along with a bunch of other smaller flying creatures. Me and pz flip out, start screaming like little kindergarden baby girls that forgot our barbie dolls at home, and scurry to get outta the car as fast as possible. The best thing bout this is not our high pitched girly helpless screaming, but Megan's in the back seat trapped inside the car while there are flying creatures inside that me and pz are tryin to get away from. I look at Meggo in the back, and she's just laughing histerically. I couldn't understand it. Creatures, inside, trapped, and she's having the best time of her life back there. I guess somewhere before all this happened, I went to the side to have cigarette while picking one flower from the garden. Fate has tooken place once again, as this flower ultimately became the only weapon that I could use to battle this mothy creature on pz's rearview mirror. I'm here tryin to fight the creature and knock it away with my fearsom flower, pz's standing on the other side helpless defenseless, and Meggo's in the back seat laughing histerically. I was in utter awe. What a way to start off the trip.

We stop by the next available McDonald's to grab some food before hittin the real road. Girlscouts or girl softball players, decide to laugh just as we enter through the door and look our way. "Okay" we say. We sit down, eating, and eventually a worthy conversation arises when pz starts talking about crabs or was it craps? Neither me nor meggo could tell. Then he asks if we ever went fishing for craps... Basically, have we ever gone Crap Fishing? Long story short, I've never heard such a ridiculously hilarious statement like that in a long time. I couldn't help myself, and then I just lost it along with the others, and we found ourselves working out those abs again laughing so hard where it hurts and breathing ceases to continue. One of those you had to be there and hear it kinda situations. CraP Fishing?!?! .... seriously........

OK... last paragraph and this is where I link the statement I said earlier about pz refusing any kinda of outside assistance for directions. Probably the greatest grand finale to such an eventful and fun day. We hit Massachusetts and are on some highway gettin to Martin's place. We pass over Tobin bridge without even knowing what bridge it was at the time, don't know if we're going the right way. "Woah, I think this is the Big Dig!" says PZ. We're lookin for Callahan Tunnel and Logan Airport. No directions from anybody. PZ thinks the blair witch is after us and screwing up all our directions because by now we crossed over a bridge, over another small bridge, are driving around in some neighborhood that looks like a scene from the movie Judgement Night, looking for street signs, but Boston doesn't believe in street signs, Revere Beach Blvd. or Ocean Ave. but how can we know with no street signs, are we even close to martin's place?, "we could be in a completely different area with similar street signs", end up backtracking, crossing over Tobin bridge again paying two dollar toll, see the highway we're supposed to get on, "WOOHOO, we found it guys!!!", realize we're crossing over the saME bridge that we just came back on meaning this is our 3rd time over it within the last 15 minutes. Oh wow, we're in the same intersection as we were 10 minutes ago. Decide to go the other way. We're going in circles... "Corvettes!!!", pz says for the third time as we pass by the local Corvettes dealership. We decided that mapquest wasn't going to be on our side so we ended up following the closest thing we knew about Martin's location. Revere and Beach. We see a sign that has both words on it and follow it. Somehow and some way, we ended up seeing Martin's street Nahant Ave. and the street lit up with golden flames and bright lights (not really) as we cheered and commemorated ourselves for mission well done and success, To find Martin's place w/o Directional Assistance. Mission Accomplished. Delays? About an hour and a half, but it was well worth the time, because every minute of those ninety minutes was filled with adventure and peril.

Our reward? We found Martin's Place on our own. He thinks we're still lost and trying to find his place. PZ calls him and asks him to come meet us somewhere. We wait by his car, and as Martin approaches his car.
"MARTIN!!!!!!!"
"OOH GEEZE AHHHHH!!!!!!!!!"

WOOHOO!!! Mission well done bostonians! Day One Complete...

2003-07-19T13:56:00.000-07:00

Being indecisive is probably one of the most stressful and frustrating things...

2003-07-18T15:50:00.000-07:00

relationships...

So I was talking to a friend today about it, and I bet everybody in the world can write long vague essays about it. Probably why there are so many books dealing with it. Ever find yourself in one? just sorta happened outta nowhere. Didn't expect it or look around for it? Or maybe you were the chaser and life couldn't have been any more exciting with a new motivation in your life. Maybe I might see her in the local Starbucks today, so I better dress well. Maybe if I walk this way, I might bump into her. There are about a million ways that people get into relationships and for millions of different reasons. I'll call the friend that I talked to today, Friend MC just for reference. I believe that there are vaguely two sides to a particular part of someone's personality. I'm sure everybody has heard of it before, thought about whether or not you are feeler or a thinker. Feelers being the kinda person that tends to rely on their inner feelings and emotions...the kinda people where it is just instinctual to "follow your heart". "I don't like someone. Why? I don't know. I just don't. I didn't get a good feeling" says the feeler. I am not a FeeLer and neither is MC. Thinkers are the type of people that tend to think about things, alot more than they have to many times, about everything. When making decisions, or trying to understand "WHY?" is probably second nature to thinkers. Perfect example would be the oracle in the Matrix, who inpires and informs Neo that decisions were already made and that the only thing left to figure out is why. If I were to guess, I'd say most people that I know were thinkers like myself. It's ironic though to hear somebody that thinks about everything describe what they think and their opinion by starting off with the infamous "I feel like...". It's actually kinda funny, cuz I do it all the time now also. I'd say in my opinion though that it's a hell of a lot harder to be feeler than a thinker because of the fact that feelings are irrational and vague and unreasonable. Emotions run through us every day and we feel them, but we can't prove them. How do you argue with somebody about something when all you have is your feelings? You just can't win. In a relationship where a girl has nothing but her feelings telling herself that this relationship is right, but nothing else, how can she convince the guy and show her how she really feels and what she sees? That situation would just be horrible and the girl is the one that end up getting hurt and jaded.

MC is a hardcore thinker, more than I, probably one of the most mechanically minded and thinker that I know so far. MC needs everything in his/her life to make sense. It was interesting to hear because I think that's how I'd want it as well. For everything in my life to be there or happen for a reason. If something doesn't make sense in my life, it creates a bit of anxiety and stress, because then I would have to think and think and think about why, and what the reason is as to why this is happening or why I am like this. I need that reason. I guess my whole need for explanations hasn't been as apparent to me until I actually heard MC talkin bout it. Third person perspective on things is great. I realize that without reason, without knowing why, that's when life starts to become vague and obscure. Losing track of what I need to do, of priorities, of people. I'm still tryin to figure out what the whole point of all this blabber is, and I know it has something to do with relationships and why the fact that me being a thinker affects me in relationships or the dynamics of it. MC didn't understand why in a relationship people do unsensible things and why people go through so much, or put up with so much. "It just doesn't make sense", says MC. I agreed. It really doesn't. It was giving MC so much anxiety though just even talking or thinking about it, and it seemed frustrating. Love is irrational though, and it doesn't make sense. But there needs to be a balance between love and thinking, balance between feeling and thinking, between emotions and logic, between irrationality and rationality. So I'm worried that whatever relationship I get into, I'm gonna think way too much and not let my emotions have any say. Or my emotions will just take over and I won't think about things enough. I just can't find the balance, and I don't know if I ever will. Love doesn't make sense, and because it doesn't, I don't know if it'll eVer make sense to me. I'll constantly and constantly be searching for valid and logical reasons, when there isn't one, and it'll just be the end of me.

I think I wrote too much because I'm just lost. My thoughts are all scattered and there ain't no way I'm gonna collect and organize them anytime soon. I think too much though, thats one thing. So I should stop...

2003-07-17T00:02:00.000-07:00

hmmm...

This will be my second time blogging on my very new blog site, and nobody has yet to see it let alone even know that it even exists. Ever wonder why or try to explain why it feels different to blog on a site that u know nobody even knows about? I feel compelled to just write whatever I think I feel like writing, but at the same time, knowing that this will eventually become a public blog, there's always that sense of hesitation and precaution that I must always consider before I start pushing any keys with my fingers. What's too revealing, or what's unappropriate to write? Tactlessness? Does everybody questoin these things as well before writing or is it just me or rather just a few? Sometimes... actually many times I think I worry too much about what other people think about things and about me. I wish I could just let it go, but I find myself constantly and repeatedly pondering the same questions over and over again. It's a fear of something or many things. But I'm sure that I ain't the only one that suffers from this. So I'm just puttin it out there because I think it actually takes more effort to hide it.

I remember the first time I ever started becoming interested in astrology and other people's astrological signs and animals as well as my own. I definitely went through a stage where I might admit that I was maybe a tad bit overly anxious about star signs and their connections, meanings, and validity. I mean if you think about it, it's not so impossible to believe considering that we all are part of this universe and are connected some way with it. Some people are hardcore against it, but why not just go with it or get what u can outta it. Well the whole point was that I remember that one of the first times I read my profile as a Capricorn, there was a statement in there near the end stating that at one of my biggest fears is having enemies because I know that it'll make my path harder to reach. And so I try to do all that I can to avoid making them. There couldn't have been a more valid statement than that, and it's true and it's right. Where am I going with this? Well isn't that what blogs are for? Isn't that the greatness and enjoyment that is contained and comes with the action of writing? To be able to write about something without having any direction or idea about where or what it is leading up to. Well that'll be all for today. My fingers are sweaty...

2003-07-15T14:04:00.000-07:00

First time for everything

So here it is... my first time blogging ever, and i think why? Sometimes i think conformity, sometimes i think boredom, and there's also the possibility that a certain close friend specifically asks and almost indirectly forces you to create one... but whatever it is, its probably what gets me through each day and what makes me who i am. Can't run away from it. It's like the matrix says... its everywhere. Influence, persuasion, pressure... conformity. Why we all tend to do what other people do? Dead Poets Society was a great movie and still is. Question is what do we do with it? Is it wrong... is it morally wrong to go with and follow the crowd, follow the other 30 kids walking a certain way, acting a certain way, dressing a certain way... or is that being unoriginal, and boring? My take is that u just need balance between the two. Ideally, if u think bout it, everything is all about balance. George Lucas knows it as u can see the way he incorporated it into his movies... star wars... bout how there needs to be a balance in the force. Being able to balance your life is by far the hardest thing that i find myself trying to do hundreds of times. It's everywhere. Balance between fun and school, balance between friends and family, balance between girlfriends and friends, balance between friends and friends (not a typo)... By balancing, it means choosing sometimes between two things that u dont want to choose from, but u have to. Like the oracle says, u have to make a choice, and then try to understand why u made that choice.

Now here's when u know that journals and blogs are a great thing. Because you're inclined to write in the blog about one thing, and by the end you look back at your entry and realize that you just wrote a whole lot of shit about something you didn't even plan on writing or thinking about.
well, let this be a reminder to me that our minds ARE free, like a bird free to roam and fly anywhere and everywhere it pleases. Probably the greatest and most precious gift given to us by who knows. Our minds have no boundaries as to what it may think about, and for that, I am content.