Hyperwest.net

8 Seconds to Sunrise

2008-08-25T20:53:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dancing Through Life

2008-08-23T21:07:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Master of the House

2008-08-22T03:12:00.001-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Greatest

2008-08-15T17:45:00.000-07:00

Growing up I had a fascination with Benjamin Franklin, John F Kennedy, and Abraham Lincoln. I collected as many books about each as possible and tried to learn random facts about their lives. Milk Street, Poor Richard's, PT-109, The Rail Splitter. I guess a lot of middle school kids had the same fascination because these three represent some of the more charismatic, accomplished, and interesting figures in American history. At one time, I was also totally into presidents so coming to Washington DC officially for the first time, I felt like I had to see a few of the historical landmarks. Keep in mind that I hate doing touristy things. Crowds of people sitting back and taking pictures so they can say they went? Talk about hell.

But I wanted to see the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, and whatever else our capitol had to offer. It took us about an hour to cruise through the World War II memorial, the Washington Monument, Lincoln's house, and the Vietnam Veterans memorial. I learned maybe two facts about each and called it a day. I had little patience for group tours and instead read pamphlets. None of these landmarks evoked the majesty of seeing a great building in Europe or gave me anything other than a sense of having completed a goal on my visit.

Don't get me wrong, I really wanted to see these landmarks, but maybe because we were there to also meet up with friends, it got distracting to try to hang out and to also soak in the significance of the sights. What could have been the significance though? Is staring at Lincoln's beautifully constructed right foot supposed to make me think of my childhood appreciation for him? Having now touched, and walked a circle around, the Washington Monument, can I say I did something important?

The thing that makes me think there is something to all of this is when we walked toward the Vietnam Veterans memorial. Dhonielle and I were chatting animatedly, as was everyone around us, but as soon as we crossed near the black granite wall, a hushed silence fell over everyone. We recognized we were walking through something important, even if we maybe couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was.

The Roses

2008-08-11T10:17:00.000-07:00

This weekend I journeyed upstate to visit my cousins in New York. I'm older than both of them combined and practically twice as old as Cleo, who will be a junior in the fall. Since my Aunt Frances always lived on the opposite coast from the rest of our family, we rarely got a chance to see them. The last time was when I lived in Jersey City, about seven years ago. Both Cleo and Tiana (entering the eighth grade) were the cutest kids ever and my how they've grown.

Tiana is precocious and bright while Cleo is now almost as tall as me, probably/definitely way smarter, and sarcastic as all get out. While I was gushing about them to Mike, he said, "You sound like you're proud of them." I guess I am, even though obviously I had nothing to do with raising them. I was just proud to be related really.

My Aunt Frances was always the cool aunt that everybody has. Someone who was with it, seemed perpetually young, and didn't seem like an overbearing adult at all. I looked in her 80-gig iPod this weekend and she had some Akon and Danity Kane in there, which is just like, well, crazy. Her husband, Dan, has a whole shelf of movies and we sat down Saturday night to watch Blade Runner. Yeah, Blade Runner. For two teenage girls. That's some serious variety game for them when they get older.

What amazes me most about Cleo and Tiana is their sheer intelligence. I know each generation is smarter and more with it than the next, but there were so many times over the past two days when I was just stunned by how quick they were, especially Cleo, who can give just about anyone I know a run for their money on wit and comebacks. She's also armed with an incredible memory that seems to have sucked in all these tiny little details from our infrequent past interactions. Like at lunch we were talking about an old boyfriend of George's and Cleo said "Tony? The marine?" She even knew that he was a few years younger than George.

I don't know why George was telling an eight year old about her love life but hey, Cleo remembered it all. Mine too. She remembered Angie from our visit to Radio City Music Hall years ago and was savvy enough to figure out that she was my girlfriend. You cannot underestimate kids, ever.

The two of them are also voracious readers. Their bedrooms are filled with shelves of books and they were constantly reading and bringing books along to every event. They're psyched for my upcoming book and I only wish I had hung out with them earlier to get some true insight into how teenagers really are. I mean, I felt like the things I've been into for the past year mirrored similarly the things Cleo was into. It's true, I'm a teenage girl! Even though she doesn't quite believe it, a large part of the reason I named my main character "Chloe" was because I really wanted to name her "Cleo," which would obviously been in her honor. Now I wish I had.

Of course, then the book would have to be an entirely different piece of work because my book is a bit superficial and concerned with the things that cliched teenage girls are into and Cleo is, I feel like, deep. Not a cliched teenager at all. Her tastes already run toward the alternative, the anti-mainstream, and she's got ambitions to help people and on top of that she's also quite the writer.

The crazy thing is that the two of them aren't just bookworms. They're both really social, with great personalities, and a whole bunch of friends. They play sports, they go to (nerd) camp, they are all over technology, and they have so many wonderful experiences ahead of them. Tiana, who's a bit younger and a totally different personality type than Cleo, has this contagious sort of happy vibe which I can see evolving into making her this really great all-around girlstar. One who's not only smart, athletic, social, and involved, but also has that extra spark that people just really enjoy being around. Heck, I want to hang around the two of them all the time now just to watch them grow up.

They make we feel like I was so unself-aware when I was their age. Like totally lost. I wish I had done the Seven Up series with them. It would be quite the documentary with two stunning subjects. Yeah, I'm gushing. You would too okay?

Fire It Up

2008-08-08T01:40:00.000-07:00

There is a serious energy here in Manhattan. I touched a piece of it last year but a part of me was worried that it might be fleeting, or more of a product of the right people at the right time, or just my post-crazy still fired up mindset. Well, it's only been a week into my three or four week trip and it feels exactly the same. Like too many things are happening, in a good way, and there's just no time to catch my breath. That's such a contrast to the last two years I've spent in the Bay (Fremont), Los Angeles (West Covina), or San Diego.

To be honest, I'm just unmotivated to be out and about when I'm elsewhere. I'm sure a large part of the reason everything's like hyper "let's go because hell no I don't want no FOMO" is because it's basically vacation time being out here. And people are willing to stay out and hang for however long because it's rare to see everyone together.

But with one week down and two and a half to go, I already feel all packed in with stuff I have to do, people I've yet to see, and my original idea of having long expanses of time to just chill out, explore the city, and look for something to do is probably going to be shelved. There just isn't enough time.

I think you can do Manhattan on low energy output and have it seem like anywhere else. But see, I've been hanging out with Amit all week and even though he's gleefully unemployed, his social life is pretty much two full time jobs. Last year too, he was everywhere, even if he had a job in the morning. Or wait, did we catch him both summers in-between work? Regardless, doing New York at Amit's pace shows me how much energy people must have to take everything in out here.

The adage is that New Yorkers work hard and play hard. It's certainly true. I doubt people can get much out of the "New York experience" by sleeping twelve hours a day -- like I'm fully capable of. You gotta tap those energy reserves often in order to get everything into your non-negotiable twenty four hour days and sleeping is wasting some of that. The craziest thing is that it's not like people here just work and play. They join groups, they work out, they have cultural activities, they cram everything in in order to justify that $1500 rent.

Manhattan is alive. Or more importantly, it makes me feel alive. I'm not sure how to duplicate that feeling elsewhere, or what it is about myself that doesn't seem to be able to just stay self-hyped without external factors. It's something to work on I guess. Dann's been here this week too, because he's working out of the New York office. Every night when we're hanging out (making him invariably late for work the next morning), we turn to each other at least twice and say/scream "I love New York!"

And I have the feeling that this week might just be the warm up act. Sam and Pam, two late night stalwarts, are returning from vacations. I haven't even ventured anywhere near the Village yet, which was where we spent all of our time last year. Right now I'm camped out at my god-sister's in Columbus Circle but that'll change soon as James and Victor drop in next week. It could all just be starting. I'm gonna seriously need some sleep.

Gestalt

2008-08-07T01:15:00.000-07:00

Here's the thing about hanging out with this particular group of friends. While the social circle has changed somewhat over the years, the one thing that everyone has in common was that they danced together. Stretching maybe two and a half generations of dancers back, people know people, they know of people, and they can talk about people they knew on campus.

Basically what this amounts to is a highly incestuous group of friends (not literally, well maybe, but that's another post). When we all get together, we tend to talk about ourselves. Maybe this is bound to happen with any large social grouping but I feel like we do it to an extreme. Part of it may be that aside from the dance/college bond, people are actually really different. Would people necessarily have hung out with each other aside from this one thing in common? Possibly but there's a really good chance the group would never be this large. I mean, when can you ever get a social group this large started without some sort of unifying theme or activity?

Due to the incestuous and closed offness of alot of the conversations, it can be extremely hard for outsiders to join in. When all the talk is about "Do you remember when... Who in the group is... If you had to pick someone we know to..." it can be very difficult to relate. Eric lamented the fact that in these large gatherings we rarely break out the serious talk about religion, or politics, or sex, or anything about what we think about the world. Instead it's generally talk about us us us.

What's strange is that when this all started seven years ago, when we realized there could be a collegiate atmosphere after college, even if rarely, that's all we talked about: religion, sex, past histories, thoughts, etc. I believe part of that shift is because now we know how people think about it. We know who leans one way or the other and we know where conflicts could arise. Back then, everyone was new so these discussions were exciting and fresh. Now maybe it feels like "let's not go there."

And the interwoven nature of a friendship group like this is examining how it's really built up by many individual links. Nobody is super tight with everyone, that's just impossible. Everyone has a few people they're really close to, a few people they don't really know except in group settings, and people in the middle who are definitely great friends but also when it comes down to it, not extremely close anymore. The uniqueness of the feeling here is that, as someone said, "the group as a whole I feel close to, even if not necessarily the individuals." Brought together, it's an important and defining part of everyone's lives who's still involved

Oh, back to this bringing other people in thing. It's freaking intimidating to meet twenty people at once. Or thirty. Unless you are really committed to the idea of meeting everyone or have great natural social aptitude, it can be kind of crazy to try to get to know people. This is highlighted most by external boyfriends and girlfriends. Rare is the case of an external significant other who's been brought around to much success. Usually, the dedication of the person in the group to the group is actually a detriment to the relationship.

And since people are already so comfortable with each other, it can often seem like nobody is really reaching out and putting forth the effort to get to know new people. Many exceptions abound of course, but in general, it's tough to bring people in. Not least of which is because as a group everyone gossips and judges so much. I love it of course, I mean, judging and gossiping is what I live for, but that shit can get harsh behind the scenes.

People don't just get incestuous about the group, but about anyone associated with it, no matter how small or how brief. "What did we think about so-and-so?" When we DDT, everyone's fair game. To a lesser extent, my other main group of San Diego friends is like this too. We're a lot more tight knit and probably more open by definition, but the two dozen or so of the SD people exist on a level that is very unfriendly toward outsiders also.

So I guess my question is if all (large) friendship groups are like this. The internal gossip, the judgment wall, the feeling of exclusively community that begets closeness. Or maybe it's me because this is the only way I know how to be in a circle of friends. What other options are there?

Got Funk

2008-08-05T23:41:00.000-07:00

I've been waiting a long time to get to a computer and have some blogging access. Each day that goes by without me being able to blog, or at least write something down, gets me all antsy. Even if nothing substantive happens, I feel the need to think about getting something up every two or three days. Mostly, I think, it's because I've trained myself to be on this semi-regular blogging schedule for years and years so whenever I don't get the chance to be near a computer for an extended amount of time, something inside me goes panicky. I could give up cigarettes easily but never the blog I guess.

So I'm in New York, been here for a week, and it's just been an absolute blast. The official occasion was for Pierre and Amy's wedding but with a book draft due the following Monday, I decided that it was time to get out of San Diego for a second and just book an open ended flight. If I didn't leave SD soon, I was probably going to go crazy. It turns out I'll be here for about a month, with a planned four day trip to DC, and time is already flying by. I really wanted to do daily recaps of New York and what it's been like but that seems pretty ambitious now since each day tends to start late and end sometime near sunrise. Last year we were here I think we saw the sunrise every day for ten days straight. We're gonna blow that record out of the water on this trip. James and Victor touch down from the West Coast next Thursday. That's like three moblogs on one trip. Events will practically be in 3-D.

Let's rewind and take it back to the wedding. On the list of best weddings ever, there's only one wedding that belongs up at the top. To be honest, it's not even a list because this wedding stands so far above the pack that it's essentially gained immortal status. Eric and Anna's wedding in 2003 was epic. Coming a few years after most of us had left college, it was the first wedding that felt like a reunion. Tons of people everywhere, great music, amazing dancing (and a dance performance), open bar, and incredible love in the room all around. Since it was the first, it'll always remain the best.

But PZ and Amy's wedding is going to give it a run for its money in the years to come. What felt different about this wedding is that five years later, people realized that not all weddings will be amazing. I think there have been some really great "in the group" weddings recently but nothing where forty people were being brought together. With the mindset that all the ingredients were there for an off the charts weekend, there was no wasting time. Get to the hotel in Great Neck and stay the heck awake.

I'd love to do a blow by blow recap but to be honest, Eric already did it on his blog, and he does it so much better than I ever could. So go read his ultra-long but encompassing post. Yeah, go right now.

"So even though I told myself I wasn't going to dance no matter what because I didn't have the energy or time to commit to it, there I was, practicing a routine I hadn't practiced for about 6 years... I was so glad to have a tiny little part though because I loved seeing everyone slightly nervous. I love the feeling of being nervous and seeing grown professionals clearly nervous also. some six figure freaks that command board rooms are worried again about 8 counts.... amazing all the aspects of dance physically and mentally...

There in a small alcove in a corner tucked away on the outside of the mansion, we did what we did so many times over in college. Sweated and crammed and got silly and serious before a big gig. At one point, Aileen asked me, 'Is this how it was in college?' At that point in time, Shao was practicing with a drink in his hand while Jason and Dann were smoking while rehearsing. I said, 'Yeah, but in college we didn't smoke and drink as much during practice.'"
-Human Amoeba-

Now that you're back, the experience couldn't be encapsulated better than by how early people were ready to have a great time. Eric talked about dinner time karaoke at the tables even before food was done being served. Four tables of dancers were placed right next to the speakers and of course the music was amazing. Sam is a party unto himself and he pretty much got his own music video -- the camera people and videographers asked him to keep singing so they could keep shooting. The Asian parents in the room must have thought some liquor got snuck in early or something. But who needs liquor when you got good music and friends? Here's some short clips of the dinner karaoke (1, 2). Now imagine that pretty much happening at four tables.

While I'm here, there's two more videos (all footage courtesy of the Jenny). One, people definitely showing more school spirit than I'd ever seen from this particular group, and two, the dance performance. Let's talk about that for a minute. For most of these weddings, there's a dance choreographed and featured during the reception. It's probably tradition at this point but also just about people wanting to be together and moving as one again.

Steve usually takes the lead and then knocks out and organizes the routines and the performances always end up injected amazing energy into the night. At Martin and Aileen's wedding, Martin even joined in on the MJ part. This time around, funKtion and Got Soul? got together to do pieces that PZ had choreographed. I literally was woken up the day of the wedding -- after getting two hours of sleep -- hearing Amit eight counting it out for people in the hallways. Of course, you can't be practicing in the hallways of some hotel so Got Soul? then took it outside, tucked into a parking garage to avoid the pouring rain, and used a car stereo to blast the music. This was just the first practice of the day. Immediately after the reception, there was a good hour of practicing by everyone involved wearing suits and dresses and still going all out. Unbelievable really.

The video of the performance doesn't do it complete justice because there's just no way to capture the energy of the room. Plus, half the dancers were already blitzed or well on their way there, which is amazing because from where I stood, front and center, it was one of the most exciting performances I've witnessed from them. PZ was doing the routines in his chair the whole time. It was awesome. I really need to learn a few more superlatives. I'm overly reliant on my A-words. There's twenty five other letters of the alphabet to utilize. Bodacious?

I think people realized (now that we're older and all wedding veterans) that a chance like this might not come around again for a long while. People didn't want to sleep, they were all down to hang out, and Eric was pushing for quality time like no other. For me, the wedding was just a blur from Friday until Monday. I slept maybe three or four hours every night because I'd pull double duty having fun and then sneak off after everyone had gone to bed for a bit of work on the draft. But I didn't feel tired at all. With that many incredible people around, with so many fun things going on, the only thing I was worried about was keeping it all in my head.

That's why I wanted to get something down here, because recently memories seem to fade so quickly. And for some reason the good ones are as fleeting as the bad ones nowadays and the only way to tilt that balance is to wallow in the great times. I'm gonna stop here and just try to reconstruct some of the week.

Steven Tyler said it: "I don't wanna miss a thing." Coincidentally, the number one movie we'd want to swede would probably be Armageddon.

A Life Less Ordinary

2008-07-29T05:50:00.000-07:00

All day today: Jamming out to a Mariah and J.Legend duet. "With You I'm Born Again." Here's the MP3.

There was a time when I had a thriving blog community of friends. Like people I knew were starting blogs left and right. Coming out of college, there was all this extra time at work -- especially if you had a starter office job -- and this desire to express what your post-college life was like. People wanted to vent and share and experience vicariously.

Of course, blogging takes effort and just a few years after the blogger boom, eighty percent of those blogs died and went to heaven. Check the list on the right side of this page. It's littered with the skeletons of blogs. Like the bubonic plague ripped through, or someone came with a big gun and took no prisoners.

Still, the basic question remains: What are my friends up to? I guess the answer is just to check Facebook but really that seems so formulaic. I'd rather get an idea of what they've actually been up to away from relationship status, whatever I can glean from demystifying other people's comments, and the occasional picture update.

I've been pushing moblogs on anyone who has the technology but I guess it's really the same thing as frequent photo uploads. It just seems more exciting to see photos dated and archived nice and neat. I fail to believe that people don't want to share their lives. If anything, it feels more important nowadays to share because as we get older (or as my life gets more insular I guess) it becomes more fulfilling to know about the little details in your friends' lives. Like we'd all feel more connected and less out of touch if we could have moblogs.

Yes, this was pretty much just a public service announcement for creating a moblog, especially if you have an iPhone. It's seriously awesome to be able to go back a few months and look over what you've been doing pictorially. Also, whatever event you end up moblogging looks like it was super fun because you're capturing a slice of the moment. Even if your life is totally boring, a moblog will help you spice it up for posterity. I promise.

The other thing I wanted to talk about was journaling. I wonder how many of my friends journal. I'd say a lot of my female friends do -- girls generally like to get out how they feel -- but I wonder how many of my guy friends have done it, and when they started if they have one. Guys have a lot of shit going on too. I'm curious when/what prompted them to put pen to paper.

Growing up, I was never the journaling type. I loved owning journals and the idea of filling one up with my writings was really exciting but I never really got around to it. Even in college, I never had one. I wish I had one through high school actually, because that whole period of time seems so blurry to me. What was I thinking playing role playing games during lunch every day? Can someone explain that to me? Thirteen year old me, please defend yourself. With an enchanted mace +4 preferably.

I started my journal in 2001, probably a month before Nine-Eleven. I'm glad I did because that period of time marked some epochal changes and now I can look back to see what it sort of felt like to live through it. During one particular long stretch at a dead end job, I even went back and tried to recreate my college years in journal fashion.

What do I journal about? Generally speaking, it's stuff that I don't really feel like talking to other people about. Much of it is just recaps of life for the memory banks. A lot of it is about girls and relationships because those generally feel too private to just have out there willy nilly. I wish it had more of a component of introspection but it's sadly not that way very often. I've never learned the habit of journaling often enough to have a build up and analysis period. It's been mostly just getting the stuff down so I can move on.

Along with pushing moblogs, I want to push everyone (especially guy friends) to start journaling. Plus, in a way, journaling makes your life feel more real I think. I mean, it seems like many great men and women have journals. You could illogically deduce that by journaling you'll be destined to be a great person. Think about how often scholars are saying "And from his journals we can see that..." When I die and scholars are poring over the things I left behind, I want them to be able to say the same thing. "From his journals, we can tell that he was a super geek. How incredible his subsequent meteoric rise. Let this be a lesson to us all."

Oh I was also reading about how memories are actually the most unreliable of all sources. So in a way, a journal is a way to preserve your own lies. I like the thought of that. It's generally considered by other people that whatever you write in private is the truth (as in how you feel or what happened) but in fact it's more often your own twisted version memories of memories. There's a lot to be said for self delusionment isn't there?

My tips for creating an online private journal
Don't use full names, or even your own real name if possible
If you're using Blogger, don't have it linked with your normal Gmail account
Lock it up but consider letting close friends read it once you've got the writing rhythm down
Turn off search engine submission and spider crawling
Let me read it. Just kidding. Well, sort of.
To be honest, I don't really trust Blogger's privacy settings too fully but I know LiveJournal is really good about it. I wish Blogger would let you password protect only certain entires. If you're old school and like writing on regular looking paper on-screen, check out Penzu. Penzu also has a page that has some ideas about what to journal.

I Think We're Alone Now

2008-07-24T23:59:00.000-07:00

So I've been listening to lots of Eighties stuff recently (thanks Lilly), I'm not sure if I've told you that. For a long time my Eighties music knowledge has been super weak. My ready excuse is that I'm from a different country okay? And I was never cool enough to listen to anything even semi-modern. This gap results in my having really odd music tastes for most of my youth. I won't even go into any names because it's alternately embarassing and well, embarassing.

So anyway, I've got just constant Eighties stuff going on when I write now. I'm so in love with Journey's Don't Stop Believing, I know, like only twenty years late. The song that came on as I was winding down tonight and getting ready to do this post was Phil Collins' "In the Air Tonight."

"Well if you told me you were drowning
I would not lend a hand
I've seen your face before my friend
But I don't know if you know who I am"

That's some harsh words. It's apparently about "the anger he felt after divorcing his first wife Andrea." I felt like this was the perfect song to inspire my writing efforts. I mean, my whole book is centered around a devastating divorce! I don't know how else the creative gods could speak to me more clearly than through Phil Collins. It's so great that even God watches VH1.

The other night Mary and I played this game while we sat around the boba shop. We both declared our inability to really hear and understand song lyrics. It's a huge problem. See, we're both strong visual learners. Her excuse is because she's an artist. My excuse is, well, I'm hard of hearing? Or you know, I'll trot out the well worn FOB excuse again.

Anyway, we sat around writing down what we thought the artist was singing. Needless to say, our efforts were atrocious, yet super hilarious. At least my shit made sense. Mary's had stuff like "There's something in rice, is everything alright, you look up to the sky..." Song writers would be fired for her stuff. Or awarded possibly.

You know how sometimes, often for me, you're listening to a song and you have no idea what it's about? Well what about the songs that are about something you totally didn't see? I mean, Under the Bridge is about heroin addiction, Blister in the Sun is about masturbation, and Ne-Yo's Because of You is about weed. Weed. Totally ruins the song for me. And who knew that All My Life (K-Ci & Jojo) was really a tribute to his daughter? That was the defining love song for so many relationships in the late Nineties. Love songs man, gotta check out what they really mean before you sing it like you mean it.

Raymond put me on to this Girl Talk person, the deliciously alliteratively named Gregg Gillis, a guy who makes mashups. But like nothing I've ever heard before. Forget mashing two or three songs together, this fool mashes like ten or fifteen songs into something entirely different. Like a song blender more like. Check out his new album, Feed the Animals, available for free if you're a cheap bastard. Or Chinese.

Dig Dug

2008-07-18T23:42:00.000-07:00

Today at 7:12 pm: Singing along to Rent, not exactly headed toward Santa Fe.

The thing that seems so daunting about life nowadays is how hard it is to create a social circle. All throughout childhood and college you're presented with situations where nearly everyone around you is experiencing the same stage of life you are. Finding friends is just a matter of making choices and selecting whether you prefer chocolate, hard candy, or something different altogether. This isn't to say that finding friends post college is impossible since everyone does it but it seems much more fragmented. You're likely to have at least triple the circles you'd have normally, each one not very likely to intersect.

Most of it is probably proximity and the nature of the adult life. When you don't share a city or a campus anymore, activities and the people involved in those activities can't readily cross over. Plus, your own life is separated out, usually into work and non-work life. That alone is a serious line of demarcation for most people.

In the most recent friendship circle experience I'm having, it's been remarkable how fast and slow it all seems. For example, it seems very fast how quickly you can suddenly be doing things with the same people over and over again, to the point where seeing them every day feels natural. Your old social habits and circles seem like last season's outfit.

But then to think about how long this process of feeling comfortable, of being able to just walk into someone's house at any time of the day, without feeling the need to schedule, plan, or panic, is very, for lack of better word, depressing. Even when things are set up rather perfectly for full on friendship, it can still take months to actually reach this comfortable plateau.

I mean, for the past few months we've been hanging out a ton with Jennifer, Janice, Micah and all of their assorted friends. James and I have participated in dinners, playground park visits, beach days, trips to LA, clubbing nights, and various birthdays and important life moments with them over this span. And in some ways it all still feels very new and slow to coalesce.

This is despite the fact that Jennifer, Janice and I were already friends for many years, and their friends and my friends have the mindset of already liking and opening themselves up to each other. Plus everyone's been very available and willing to hang out due to our lack of time constraints and general quiet time in our involvement with other life activities. With all these natural advantages built into the situation, it still took three to six months to "bake."

Now think about how that would work if you lived elsewhere and were either trying to create a new social circle or to plug yourself into an existing one. Conceivably it could take years. That seems so long to me. How many awkward silences and weird moments would you have to endure before you could feel entirely comfortable?

Sometimes the math of friendship is just intimidating.

We drove out to the desert early evening in hopes of catching the sunset. While the actual watching of the sunset didn't work out too well, the night did. Jennifer was on a mission to build a fire and while some of us (okay mostly me) had some concerns about the legality and safety of a fire in the brushy "desert", it all worked out and the fire was wonderful. As was hanging out with headlamps, which were acquired by the Carvajals at the swap meet. Seriously, if you could walk around all the time with handlamps life would be so much better. And um, brighter.

"Make new friends, but keep the old
One is silver and the other's gold
You have a hand, and I have another
Put them together and we have each other
A circle is round, it has no end
That's how long I want to be your friend"
-Girl Scout song-

People's Instinctive Travels

2008-07-17T05:27:00.000-07:00

So the other night Mary's back in San Diego and so bored after only two days here that she's been watching Hannah Montana marathons. By her calculations we haven't seen each other in about two years. And it's not like we keep in touch via phone or emails either. That sounds like way too long of a span to go without knowing what the other person was up to, especially since she's been a long time member of my inner circle of five. Then again, this is pretty much how my close friendships work. Out of sight, out of mind. "Let's catch up!"

Last time I saw her I was on the verge of moving up to the Bay (for an ultimately unsuccessful shot at a relationship). She's been a bit more productive, atttending The Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs -- that's in Princeton by the way. No, I have no idea what that is either but she tried to fill me in and explain what all these bright brilliant people have been studying. Future leaders and accomplished folk of all sorts were her classmates apparently. I'm gonna say that Mary's moved up a little bit in the world, just a little.

The funny thing is that getting yogurt in Convoy while watching the new but hardly improved generation of young Asians around us brought her right back to high school. Instant time warp. We joked that she'd achieved but look at where she ended up. Right back next to my unaccomplished drifter ass. Of course, Mary wasn't supposed to be here for long. Her life plans were taking her to Sudan the next day as part of some United Nations thing to save the world or something. But a little matter of the International Criminal Court going after the president of Sudan for war crimes and genocide prevented that. So yup, she's stuck back here with me. By the way, it took me a second to recognize that the whole Darfur thing was in Sudan.

There was a time when I felt like I was a total world traveler. A few countries in Asia, a few months lived abroad, two or three trips around Europe. That qualified as getting around. Well, that's nothing nowadays. People are all over the place. You haven't traveled if you haven't gone three weeks (inevitably alone) through some country I've never heard of or couldn't point out on a map. It's just disgusting these people. Western Europe and Northern Asia are just so quaint now. Try South America, Southeast Asia, Eastern Europe, Africa. I used to get travel updates from Mary about how she'd just almost died riding a chicken bus in Peru or something like that. Even acquaintances I've met recently have all been super well travelled. I feel so provincial. I'm not sure I've always bought into travelling as a way to adventure but it's such a necessary thing to feel like you're alive and doing something nowadays.

Makes for better stories at social gatherings too.

During our reunion night, at a coffee shop with wonky Internet, we did a pictorial review of our last two years. Hers spent in school and traveling, mine spent in various California locales. My life update took maybe five minutes. The rest of our night was spent taking a virtual tour of the dating scene in San Diego, New York, and San Francisco. Three hours spent cruising Match trying to figure out where the best places to start dating would be. The criteria we used was simple. Basic attractive looks and a semi-interesting profile. Humor a plus. I was able to prove to Mary that you could really just screen people by favorite books.

What else did we learn? Get the hell out of San Diego. The overall selection is thin thin thin. Sure everyone is laid back, down to earth, and loves the outdoors but what the hell else do they do? New York was interesting because by changing the zip code to Manhattan or Brooklyn (and narrowing the search radius) you could get totally different options. Everyone in Brooklyn read. Everyone's profile was full of pizzazz and pseudo-intelligent sparkle. San Diego, in comparison, was like the dumbest blonde on Earth. San Francisco was a mix of high finance and uber-geek. Tough call.

We ended the night watching Michael Jackson dance videos because with old friends you gotta bring it back. Plus he's The King of Pop. And who could have predicted that seven years after they shared the stage Britney would be worse off than Michael? Goodness. That clip also contains some of the worst MJ involved choreo I've ever seen.

Take It to the Streets

2008-07-15T23:37:00.000-07:00

Hong and I went to the courts today. After running a game with some high schoolers (Hong hit two go ahead points to tie the score and then win), we took it to the battlefield. One on one. I love reading Eric's blogs about his basketball and football tournaments and since my days as a basketball player are fading away, I must document as much as I can.

Our first game was to eleven by ones. It was over quick. Hong won eleven to five or something like that. He has one unstoppable move where he posts up and spins right for a quick layup. The option off that is to fake right and go left, equally dangerous. Since I can't keep him out of the lane if I wanted to, Hong muscled his way to victory after a low scoring start.

Keep in mind I taught Hong how to play basketball years ago when we lived in Jersey City. When we went looking for apartments, Lynn told me that one of them had an indoor halfcourt. I said, "Rent that one." For the next year or so I trained Hong in the sport he was meant to play. I don't know why he never played before but he's got natural quickness and speed, previously reserved for his favored racket sports. One of the greatest regrets I have for him is that he didn't discover basketball sooner. He could have been a beast.

Here's a scouting report on the two of us:

Hong: Faster, quicker, stronger. Big butt. Has developed quite an effective post up game. Sometimes he doesn't even need to see the basket to shoot -- which is both good and bad. Has developed an effective twelve foot set shot. Vertical of about two inches because he's used to jumping two footed, tennis style. Plays tenacious defense and isn't afraid to use his body. In good shape and can run all day.

Jon: Taller, more skilled, ten extra years playing the game. Slightly more jumping ability, slightly. Streaky outside shooter with occasional range. Inability to drive on good defenders. Has a left hand and a variety of unorthodox and mildly effective post moves. Lazy defense is currently atrocious but can still block a shot or two. Cigarettes.

Game two. We're only playing to nine this time because, you know, we're old. Hong starts by declaring that he'll score his first three off jumpers and then his next three off post ups. He misses three jump shots and get all three rebounds in quick succession. Scraps that plan and goes up 2-0 by going to the basket. Jon misses a short jumper but then hits a long three. Adds a lefty lay in to tie the score. If you're watching this game it's like seeing Karl Malone play Tayshaun Prince. I'm very lucky Hong prefers the pretty shot to the brutal mauling that would involve tossing me aside and dunking.

We're working on our third or fourth winds here. Hong mad scrambles for every loose ball and long rebound. Plus he swipes at the ball and gets a few clean steals. It's like totally embarrassing. As for me, I wait to engage him at the free throw line and snatch the rebounds that come directly to me. I drive left and get blocked by Hong, maybe a first ever in our history. Usually I'm the one who gets to block him since I've taught him to shoot and know exactly where the ball will be when he puts it up. Things have changed over the years.

The score gets to 7-6 advantage me. A few of my jumpers finally fall and I get Hong on a pump fake that takes him off the screen. Tim Duncan bank shot. 8-6. Of course I cool off and Hong reams me for two straight baskets. By using his wide body and superior quickness, Hong has me guessing about which way he'll spin on the post up. Try guarding him when he's five feet from the basket. I swear it's nigh impossible. Even though he doesn't play basketball much, Hong can still score on anyone when he's on. Luckily, he's only on in spurts. I believe his chubby hands hurt his ball control.

Hong takes a few dribbles and pushes me down to three inches from the basket. He sits in the paint and fakes a few times. Then a few more times. Thirty seconds later he unleashes a patented spin layup. I call "Three seconds!" and he willingly agrees. 8-8. I try to pretend that I don't need the cheapo call but I'll take it because I'm about to lose here.

By this time we're both pooped and I say next basket wins. Hong will have none of it. He says we win by two. A quick drive of his to the right, a quick defensive slap at the ball, and it's mine again. I hit a distance jumper to go one up. I brick my next five attempted game winners. Hong hits two straight jumpers in the lane. Now he's verbally teasing me. 10-9 Hong.

The lights at the playground go off and we're playing in the dark. I take the opportunity to hit a quick running layup to tie the game. With the low visibility, Hong can't find a jumper to save his life. I can't either. I miss one shot so badly it caroms wildly to the right and Hong chases after it way out of bounds. I take the opportunity to catch my breath. Savvy veteran move.

With my wind momentarily back, I pump up two pull up mid-range jumpers for the victory. My stomach is churning and my legs are butter. One win apiece, time to go home.

Final (estimated) stat line: Hong: 30% FG shooting, 33 rebounds, 2 steals, 7 layups, 3 jumpers, 1 block. Jon: 35% FG shooting, 14 rebounds, 3 blocks, 4 layups, 6 jumpers, 2 from beyond the arc.

The Beautiful Game

2008-07-15T21:53:00.000-07:00

"I was so bummed I missed soccer the week before... But people lovingly obliged my requests to play... and we got 16 people playing... things went smoothly and Jon scored first... the floodgates opened... Michelle played in Diesel jeans making her the fanciest most expensive keeper ever... George screamed whenever the ball came in a certain radius... people sweated... Helen and JB rocked the house... Gene if-you-cut-me-in-three-pieces-one-of-them-would-be-phat Kim and The Nose Spoon! are freakin' good players...

Hong's an enforcer, Jon G's a target, Rollen's a sleeper, James can do the splits in any direction, Galvez is really fast, Jon Y would have swept our keeper's leg to score, Jimmy's a hustle freak like on the court, Lynn scored the winning goal (ahem, JB)... and Annalisa was just untouchable... I think there were like 4 times when people dropped to the ground laughing so hard... What a beautiful day..."
-Human Amoeba, March 2004-

Innerspace

2008-07-08T18:11:00.000-07:00

"One of the cruelest tragedies of the sex industry is that it attracts girls like me who already have skewed ideas about sex and self-worth and then completely reinforces all our secret fears. The men you meet, the whole lifestyle, whispers to you that you were right all along, that all that really matters is being desired.

I still struggle every day to change my thinking. It makes me almost sick to my stomach to meet new people whether in a personal or professional capacity, because I worry they will not think I am pretty. Most of my friends are men with whom I have had former dalliances because I just do not feel comfortable around people who I don't know with certainty find me sexually attractive.

In my head, my worth is completely tied up in my appearance and sex. As a result of being abused at a young age, my thinking is fucked. There is something wrong with my brain. No matter how logically I know that who I am is more important than how sexy I look, I have internalized the lesson that it is my sexuality that makes me lovable."
-Confessions of a College Callgirl-

SLim

2008-07-05T23:30:00.000-07:00

Tonight I was a super one-off at a friend's wedding. "One-off" meaning a friend who doesn't roll with your normal social circle and/or doesn't know anyone else you know. One-offs aren't acquaintances because they are definitely friend status, people you make special time for, but for some reason or another your lives hardly ever cross. If you're interested in the etymology of the term, it's here. I like thinking of it as "one of a kind."

Anyway for this particular wedding I had a plus one, which I rarely have, and I wasn't really sure what to do with it. I mean, I was going to bring James because well, it's James. And we're Facebook married. But he's in Alaska on the mother of all reunion trips. Seriously, check out his moblog pictures. He's cornered the market on Wangs. That left only one person who even remotely would know the bride. No go due to moral conflict. So I was pretty much ready to roll solo to a wedding with two hundred people I didn't know.

Old me wouldn't have blinked. I've been to two or three weddings solo before. Solo defined by I had no idea who else was going to be there and I didn't bring anyone with me. Those all went off very nicely though as I either saw unexpected semi-friends or met someone I got along with. However, new socially awkward weird me doesn't fare well in these situations anymore. I don't know what the hell I was on, thinking that I could do a wedding solo. I'm not that guy anymore. I have newfound social anxiety and prefer to recreation within my lines.

Somewhere along the way the past few years I've pretty much lost all ability to talk to random people. Which is pretty strange considering I've been in a fair number of situations when I've had to just be social and handle meeting people. I think as I got older and more insular that particular social muscle atrophied and flabbed out. I could chalk the uncomfortableness up to lack of motivation but I know that's not entirely true. I had all the motivation in the world to talk to people at a wedding. It's five hours staring off into the distance or fiddling with your mobile versus chatting amiably with some humans. Guess which one I picked?

Luckily my solo wedding didn't stay solo for long as Vy graced me with her presence on super short notice and totally saved me (basically riding in on a white horse). Weddings are awkward enough as it is and when you're a one-off at a table of one-offs, it's just that much harder. Vy was awesome as one of two, plus we got to catch up and hang out. And eat chocolate covered strawberries injected with alcohol, which if you didn't know, are the hot new thing in weddings this season.

I do believe I tried to pawn my sister off to some guy who lived in Fremont for a potential date. And no, I didn't drink that much. He seemed nice, he knew how to have a conversation, and he had his initials monogrammed onto the cuff of his sleeves. Cool right? So, how bout it George?

The logic I guess is that if you're a one-off of someone then they'd have to be a one-off for you. Or maybe that's not true, I'm not sure. I'll have to think about it some more. It's crazy to think of how long your one-offs can stay semi-anonymous to your regular life. I've known Stacey for just over ten years now. Ten years and she knows about most of my friends but have only met a handful. You'd think over a decade or so people would just start to meet each other. That's what weddings are for I guess. My wedding will be a one-off bonanza. Unless somehow I can cross my streams fast enough to create a nice beautiful ocean.

We celebrated Stacey's first legal drink together, which seems laughable in retrospect because we know what a drinker I'm not. There was raving and K-clubbing the summer I met her -- which was the one right after I broke up with my first girlfriend, coincidentally also named Stacey -- and she was a pretty integral part of both of those experiences. For one, she knew more people in LA than seemed humanly possible and that fact was proven time and time again as I'd run into her everywhere when going out in later years.

Stacey was also teaching English in Beijing when I was there, which was a godsend at the time because I felt so starved for friends and friendly interactions. On New Year's Day in New York one year she made a snowman in our apartment complex's yard while I watched from indoors (because I'm a total girl and it was cold as hell). Her inner kid glowed in accomplishment. One of her birthday parties was held at the Magic Castle, which is this mansion in Hollywood where actual magicians train. The general public can't even go in for shows unless they have a magician friend. Stacey did, of course.

Seeing the people at her wedding, with a new husband that I've met just once before, was interesting. In talking to some of her friends the things about her that I appreciate most are echoed by everyone else, which in a way makes perfect sense because one-offs aren't people who see less of you, they're people you choose to be friends with despite lack of convenience or life proximity. Which is a nice way of thinking about it I think.

The Lives of Others

2008-07-03T23:16:00.000-07:00

You know that buzzing your speakers make if your cell phone is around? The iPhone is notorious for it. Anyway, it's like what I'd imagine having spider-sense would be like. You hear this slight warning buzz and then something happens two seconds later. After awhile, as soon as you hear that speaker static you're reflexively alert and ready to take a call. But then sometimes it's just a false alarm and unlike Spider-man, you're disappointed that danger (or a potentially exciting bit of fun) has passed.

After thinking about Facebook a little more, I think that maybe I should be an avid Facebooker. I mean, it's everything a community of friend blogs used to be -- but arguably better. You get updates on people's lives, you get to see who they're going out with, you get to anonymously life stalk near strangers, you get to interact with them on a semi-personal level, you get to try to out-quip each other. It's all fabulous.

The concept of public commenting still irks me to no end but face it, social networks are here to stay and it's either get on the bus or get run over. Sure, you can live in a Facebook-less life but at some point you just disappear off people's radar. Now that may sound just fine to some people but it's important that friends know what you're up to so that when you talk to them you can skip all that stuff. I mean, isn't Facebook simplifying the whole "so what have you been doing" part of friendship? I'm always for that.

I'd like to see, as a new social standard, people checking Facebooks (and blogs or MySpaces or recent emails or whatever) before actually meeting up in person. Cut out that half an hour of recapping life. Commence immediately to important things like what's on TV or just general hanging out. When will we replace Internet info with mouth-to-mouth info? Now I say, now.

And while I've often wondered how people have the time -- or inclination -- to label every person in their pictures, upon some reflection I think that's exactly something I'd do if there were no personal stigma attached to it. I mean, I like to keep meticulous track of who's who, where's where, and what's what. This is all something Facebook can do. So yeah, I'm gonna do it. Go through all my uploaded pictures and box out people's faces and show that "Hey, we're really friends because look, we're in the same picture!"

Good lord. Forty minutes later and here's what I've learned. Tagging pictures takes a long time. I tried to do a very thorough job and I was impressed by how Facebook was able to block people out so cleanly. Then I got to the group pictures and decided that okay maybe it didn't work so well. Facebook tagging is meant for photos with six or less people in it. This is the one that I gave up on. Yeah, try tagging out that baby. I have seen some people tag a picture of twenty-plus people though. Seemed pointless. I was tagged and I couldn't even recognize myself I was so small.

The thing with tagging people is that you've suddenly totally blown up their spot. Now their other friends know what they've done, or did. And what if they hate the picture of themselves? They can just remove it right? But does that say something about their friendship with you if they take themselves out of a picture? Also, what the hell do you do to a picture of (just) yourself? Tag it? It seems to blur some line between vanity and identification there. Well, I did it anyway because better to be vain than unnoticed right?

I learned that I do a lot of things with these people: Lynn, James, Hong, George, Amit. Hello to my Facebook Fave 5. I think I've tagged enough for a lifetime. If I can set aside the games, the useless widgets and gift giving and poking, the "Hi how are you, it's been so long!" comments, and the utter ridiculousness of it all, I have to admit that I love Facebook because it's the best (friend) gossip site ever. For that simple fact alone it's a worthy addition to a lifestyle.

Shocking information nugget of the day: Ameer doesn't have a Facebook. How is this possible? He's actually so way ahead of the curve that he's probably already on the next thing. I mean, how can my technology guru not be on Facebook? I tagged him anyway though because I'm a tagging machine.

A Few Good Men

2008-06-27T06:31:00.000-07:00

There's this phenomenon happening that needs to be highlighted and addressed. Young men everywhere are freaking out about their lives. For single (or at least unmarried) guys in their late twenties and early thirties it's an intense case of "What the hell am I doing with my life?" It's not a quarter life crisis and it's not a mid-life crisis. It's something in-between and something new. I've been trying to come up with a better term for it but nothing has replaced my original idea: Man-ic Panic.

First, the evidence, all accumulated in the last few months. One good friend recently had lunch with us all psyched about his business ideas and how he would soon move to Italy to pursue his racing dreams. A few weeks later he meets a girl, runs off to the Philippines to pursue her, but instead finds God and decides to move there to do missionary work. Another guy has intense debilitating panic attacks and is currently seeing a therapist because life is constricting him. Someone else picked up and moved to Europe with nothing more than a few pieces of luggage and three hats, leaving behind friends and a relationship. A handful of my personal friends are also looking desperately around for any reason to pick up and move, to find something different, and to escape the drudgery that is their current lives and forseeable futures.

What's causing this state of affairs? Well, the easiest answer is that the years of being a man-child are over. Once you push into the thirties you have to get your shit together, or if you have your shit together already, you suddenly come face to face with how shitty your shit is. You know? We've all seen our fathers slave away at jobs they hated. We take a step back and realize that our lives are possibly headed in this exact direction. Career, wife, kids, BBQs, pets and then it's a skip and a hop to health problems and heart attacks. And it's not just about the job. It's about trying to figure out if this life is right for you, if this girl is right for you, if this is what the twenty year old you wanted.

Actually, a lot of movies address this Man-ic Panic. Zach Braff's recent works, Garden State and The Last Kiss. One of my all time sleepers, Beautiful Girls, essentially deals with this theme. Anything where the guy is about to marry the boring normal chick but meets the exciting crazy one and has to reconsider. I think Julia Stiles and Sandra Bullock were in a movie or two about this. But the answer is not Hollywood, it's not about the beautiful brunette who comes in to save the day. I'd bet it's a pretty rare thing to find some wonderful girl who'll come along and grab you off the scrap heap -- it's pure lunacy and delusion to hope that they'll actually find you. So forget it, girls aren't the answer.

For women of a comparable age, it's the biological clock that ticks. But for guys there's something similar scaring the crap out of them: life is seeping away. The window for "doing something" looks like it's quickly shutting and the only reaction that makes sense is out with the old and in with the new. Damn the torpedoes and who cares what gets wrecked along the way. It's this sudden rush of selfishness and this desire to set out and find yourself. Otherwise the fear is that you'll slip away, never to be found.

In a way, maybe it's an early onset of mid-life crisis. If that's the case maybe we're all lucky. We won't have to suffer from a mid-life crisis when we're trapped by another decade of age, a possible family, and multiple responsibilities and mortgages. I mean, if all this is a moment to reflect, to heed the call of the wild, then better to freak out now then later right?

The big fear though is that there are no answers at the end of this thing. Then what?

Brothers & Sisters

2008-06-24T19:51:00.000-07:00

I was doing some digging in the garage today and guess what I found? George's school project from 1991 titled "My Life Story." The binder is filled with some priceless pictures, including this one on the cover. In it she writes about our parents, her best friend Vicky, her favorite subject (English), our new house, Chinese New Year, shopping with her friends, playing tennis, her dream to one day live in New York, and what she learned about teamwork. And of course she wrote about me.

"I have a twin brother named Jonathan. He is two minutes older than me. He goes to La Jolla Country Day School and is in the seventh grade. He is about five feet tall and weighs eighty pounds. He has black hair and a ponytail on the back of his head. He wears glasses but is thinking of getting contacts.

He acts very quiet and shy at school but at home his personality changes. He becomes more outgoing and talks a lot more. His hobbies are watching wrestling, playing role playing games, collecting comics, and reading. He also enjoys playing basketball, tennis, ping-pong, and golf. He is not very good but he enjoys the game.

Jon can be very annoying sometimes but since we're in the same grade and have the same teachers, we often help each other on our homework. This can be very convenient because we help each other study for quizzes, tests, and finals. There are times I wish that I was an only child but I wouldn't trade my brother for anything in the world. He often puts a smile on my face when I am depressed or unhappy."

By Your Side

2008-06-23T04:16:00.000-07:00

Is this the year of weddings or what? With a lull the last couple of wedding seasons -- just one or two a year -- the next few months are shaping up to be steak or salmon central. This is totally predictable considering where we're at with age and our time of life (panic) and whatnot. Get paired up people, the forty day flood is coming sooner than you think.

The first wave of marriages was the post-college "We're so cute we've been together for ten years high school" couples and the religious folk. The second wave of weddings were for people who met The One in the years immediately after finishing school or for people who waited out grad school and higher education level education. Now we're entering the third wave, the late twenties push for everyone looking to avoid the long fall into desperation mode and biological clocks that chase you like the alligator from Peter Pan.

So I'm ready for weddings, totally. My issue is why are higher powers choosing this year to rob me of half of my close girlfriends in one six month period? Seriously, stop it. It tickles. Out of the five or so female friends I talk to on a semi-regular basis, four of them have gotten engaged this year. While none of them have been outright surprises, when taken in sum it means my speed dial is coming under heavy attack.

I'm happy for them of course because love is patient, love is kind, and love ain't jealous, blah blah blah. But when your good (opposite sex) friend gets engaged, things change don't they? I mean, if you want to declare any undying love, this is your last shot man. You probably shouldn't wait until the wedding day -- so tacky then. So take the opportunity to scream it out loud now before the down payment on the venue is due! Just kidding.

Things are different though. For example, when a friend is in a mere relationship, I could pretty much care less what effect their significant other's happiness has on their decision making analysis. I mean, they are still just going out and not bonded for life right? Ultimately, she's still responsible for making her own decisions. However, once they slip on that ring, friendship protocol demands that you start taking his feelings into consideration too.

True story. I have an upcoming wedding that I'd normally invite one of my newly engaged friends to since she also casually knows the bride to be. Instead I'm deciding not to ask and just go solo because (a) it feels rude to ask and take away a holiday weekend from her when she should be spending it with him (b) it's weird to have to consider what her fiance will think and if he'll be offended by bystanders seeing his ring and thinking we're engaged (c) I don't want to think too long about what it all means now that she makes life decisions based on two people.

Even on the simplest level this change offends my entire friendship philosophy. But what is there to do about it? Get a big wedding gift for them right? Oh wait, I don't give wedding gifts because I'm an unappreciative friend with no social graces.

But no, back to my original point, who the hell has most of their girl friends obliterated out of singledom in just over half a year? It's like a meteor has struck and left a huge crater. Luckily I'm mature enough to understand that this is the way it is. Que sera sera right?

Oh and my long standing goal of becoming a male of honor is so far not going so well. Why nobody wants to be daring and put me in a lineup on the biggest day of their lives is beyond me.

Excuse-moi?

2008-06-12T05:23:00.000-07:00

It's come to my attention recently that in some social circles I've been dubbed "Debbie Downer." If you've never heard the term, it's been just hanging around the block for awhile but it's also associated with a SNL skit starring Rachel Dratch. It's famous because everyone finds it impossible to keep a straight face and missed lines abound. Lindsay Lohan runs off the stage near the end to presumably laugh uncontrollably backstage. The actual skit itself doesn't seem that funny to me but hey, I don't want to reinforce my new moniker.

Wait a second. If it may please the court, "I object!" I am not a downer. Not by a long shot.

The whole Debbie Downer thing is supposed to "refer to someone who has a persistent need to add bad news or negative feelings to a gathering, thus bringing down the mood of everyone around them." I'll admit that sometimes I'm prone to follow up ridiculous suggestions with things like "WTF, why would we do that?" but I'm hardly a good mood suppressant.

I've known a few true Debbie Downers in my time and I'm too tactful to be one of them. I think I do an excellent job of keeping my pithy negative comments to myself. Sure I may think horrible things all the time but I save it for the de-briefing okay?

More fun is a new term we've been using. Fussy Buddy. This one is a future classic and usability is off the charts. There are a few types of fussy buddies. For the most part, they're the ones who need too much information or things are just never right. They're detail orientated, anal, and hard to please. All in the worst ways. "It's too crowded in here, it's too hot, these drinks suck, I'm not having fun." Hanging out with these people you just wish they'd go with the flow sometimes. Shit's not going to be perfect, just deal with it. Create fun. Or carry an iPhone. Whatever.

Lately, another distinct type of fussy buddy has reared its ugly head. We'll call it the run-on fussy buddy. Instead of actually committing to an event, they'll ask a string of questions like "what's going to happen, who's going to be there, will it be fun, when are you going, are you there yet, is it cool, should I come." By the time they make a decision you want to toss your phone into the nearest ocean or the event is already over.

You can really only be a successful fussy buddy if your fun level is off the charts. Some of the people I love to hang out with are fussy buddies, but that's cool because they're so fun it's totally worth it to bring out their best. Fussy buddies who are also Bobby Borings should be exed off the friends list.

I think I already discussed this elsewhere but hanging out with Palak & Co. a few weeks back gave us possibly the word of the year. FOMO: Fear Of Missing Out. As in "He'll show up because he's got a serious case of FOMO."

And while Daily Candy's Lexicon has really fallen off over the years, I'll be using this one. (S)hetox: Taking a break from romance and its attending insanities.