Finally taking a risk...

Today is the day when Katie Couric said goodbye to NBC after 15 years on the Today show. What better day than today to conclude the discussion of not taking risks is risky, which was first started on May 19?

One could say that after five good and long years at a company, one may have been well established in her or his position and feel comfortable. Well, I cannot dispute that for sure when it comes to my career at C e r n e r. For a while I thought I was going to be a lifer there. Things are going well for me. Life is set. But somehow, something is missing.

While at a client site in Wilmington, a client personnel told me about Trek America. A job there as a Trek America guide offered lots of fun, life learning experiences, character building opportunities and great chances to enjoy life; it also required me to shed off many worldly weights off of my shoulder, namely my mortgage, car, and many other things. Of course a job there as a trekker would not yield a life long career, but at least my client was suggesting that I could use that for a two year hiatus, or a break in life of sorts, before continuing with life such as settling down, returning to corporate America, and starting a family. {The last point of which is kind of funny, considering the rate at which my dating life is going. =) }

I have to tell you, it was extremely tempting. I seriously looked into it. I even did the financial math work to see how I can pull this off. By gosh, I am only 28 years old, and I should enjoy life! I don't want to be that guy who could only enjoy things when he is about to retire. I don't want to be that balding guy with three kids in college before enjoying a ragtop Corvette, finally tasting pure life for the first time.

I wanted a change in my career. I wanted a brand new chapter. But should I jump? I only have two more years to go before I would have been eligible for a month long paid sabbatical at C e r n e r. After all, management has labeled me a lifer already, thinking that they have me securely in their payroll. But what is the best way to go after a change? Holly have mentioned a few times about the benefits of joining the Peace Corps. It was interesting that she brought that up, because years ago while still in college, I actually have contemplated that too, as well as joining FBI. Unfortunately, for both directions, I had to be a US citizen, who I wasn't yet at the time, and the FBI required a master's degree at the very least.

You see, last year around October, I took a little bit of snow, went somewhere high above with what seemed to have the least amount of steepness to the bottom, and tossed that thing. And I walked away, hoping in the back of my mind that something may happen some time in the future. Was I hoping for a giant snowball? You betcha. Was I counting on it? Probably not. But I went on with my life just as the same.

Then things got more interesting on the week of May 15, as if I didn't already have enough things to juggle in my mind in respect to my life, considering what my client had told me just a week prior. I got a call on that Tuesday out of the blue. Discussions ensued. Then another call on Wednesday. We chatted. Then that evening, while I was cooking at night, I got yet another call from yet another person. Bam! This person offered me a job, after the first two people told me that they just wanted to chat with me to learn more about me, and that they weren't interviewing me.

Before long, I had to give a verbal response. Right then and there. Whoa! After years of searching for other opportunities, the snowball I created months ago flourished. And it smacked me in the face unexpectedly. Wow!

After much deliberation and thought, it became clear to me that this is the perfect opportunity to change my career. This is what I was looking for. With Trek America, I was hesitant and giving many second thoughts. With other opportunities that came my way, I also had second thoughts. I have even turned down numerous offers in the past couple years. So I said yes.

There, I have said it. Yes! The suspense has ended. On June 26, I will become an elite member of IBM, an excellent organization much like that of C e r n e r, if not better. A new chapter will begin, while I close another great chapter. I cannot imagine how hard it will be for me to say goodbye to my coworkers and the company I have been with for five years, but that day will come. For now, I just want to share with everybody of this great news.

Of course, I have no idea what this new chapter will bring, much like my not knowing what life at C e r n e r would be like when I graduated from SMS. Or when I graduated from CJIMS high school what life in the university would bring. But that is what is great about life. As Katie Couric said, "I'm going to give it my best shot. I'm not going in there saying I'm going to change [the job] or I'm going to be a huge success. Right now it's a question mark. Hopefully I'll have the opportunity to contribute something positive." And I couldn't have said it better.

Crazy Tuesday

Ugh! What a day. The day after a long weekend of fun is usually just a generally draggy day. But then again, with the summer solstice and the position of the sun in play, I thought it was still around 16:00 while working when it actually was 18:30! I finally got the hint to look at the clock when I realized none of my coworkers and clients were responding to my emails! =)

Well, I do hate summer for a reason. There is nothing good on television, as they are mostly rerun’s. Of course that is cause for many good reasons why I love summer on the flip side. The sun is out longer, and without the television distraction or the deterrence/demotivation from the cold weather, I am more inclined to go out and be active. I really can’t wait for summer to get into full swing. Yay!

So I woke up this morning to a stupid surprise in my Inbox. Without going into any details, I was just plain shocked. Here we have a 30 year old man acting and pouting like a freaking high school kid. And it got me to thinking. There are quite a lot of people in his age acting like that, I have noticed of late. So does that mean I am the abnormal one who matured too fast for my age? Ah, let the deep thoughts and philosophy of life begin! Or better yet, I could just reply with a cutesy in-your-face wake-up-call email. Which I did. And I felt better. I just love telling immature people to grow up. =)

Sore Nipple and Bloody Wounds

This weekend has been a long weekend, as it is Memorial Day today. To me, this also marks the unofficial start of the summer season. Hence the reason why I decided to turn on my air conditioners for the first time in 2006. And it has been hot!

To jumpstart the unofficial beginning of summer weekends, I lined up a few endurance sporting events to keep me busy {and entertained}. On Saturday, I woke up bright and early so that I could run the Fleet Feet Soldier Field 10 Mile race. I was particularly proud of myself, because I did it in 1:39:47 with an average pace of 9:57. Now, mind you, I did not train for this, and the last run I did was over two weeks ago during the three mile pancake fun run. Going into it, I knew that I had to take it easy and pace myself slower than usual so that I did not hurt anything. And I accomplished it without walking any part of it {except at water stations}, and with a relatively constant pace. I could have gone faster, but I didn't want to injure myself like I did during the Phoenix Rock 'n Roll Marathon earlier this year. Ha ha ha.

During the entire race, there was this cute girl who did a lot of alternation between fast running and walking breaks. And against my constant running, I keep on passing her during her walks, and she kept on running past me during her speed runs. And this kept on going on and on, each of us bunny hopping each other. I was starting to get annoyed by this, as by mile 5, she decided that she would not let me pass her during her walks. Whenever she walked, she would turn around to see how far behind her I was, or to discern how much more rest she could have before starting to run. LOL Finally around mile 8, she and I kept on running together at my steady pace.

Then with just a quarter mile left, as we inched closer to the Finish line at Soldier Field, we started to race each other. Once we got into the stadium and the Finish line was in sight, she kicked up her sprint to a good 7:45 pace. To hell with that, I thought, so I gave chase and kept up the pace along with her. Finally, with about 20 yards left, I picked my pace up to 7:00, and if there were any pictures of us finishing, you will see that I was one stride ahead of her at the line! I know, this is really stupid, considering that I wasn't even running hard and aiming for time, but I was just a bit annoyed by her antics the entire time. For all I know, she could well have crossed the starting line a minute after me, which would make her a faster runner than me during the race. But it's part of the mind games we play with ourselves at these sporting events. You just have to be an athlete to understand the fun in all this. Of course, I remembered her bib number, and it turns out that she is from New York! And she did beat me at the race indeed, clocking in 26 seconds faster. So congrats to her!

So yeah, that was a fun day with great weather perfect for running. And I certainly learned a lesson too. If you are ever unsure about the distance and the physical beatings you will get, always err on the safe side. Why? After the race, as I changed into my dry shirt, while pulling it down from my head through my torso, I could feel my right nipple scream bloody murder! Yup! I was iffy about using body glide before the race, as I was thinking about the 10 mile distance. I thought it was short enough not to use it. WRONG! =)

After the race, I went home and accidentally fell asleep on the couch without showering. The next thing I realized after waking up, it was midnight! I took a quick shower, and ate something as I was starving to death. And knowing that I had to be up in less than five hours to meet up with some friends for a 30 mile bike ride along Lake Shore Drive, I tried to go to sleep. But unfortunately that didn't happen till around 03:00. Ugh!

So with just a couple hours of shut eye, I dragged my butt out to Buckingham Fountain. I was going to jump on the Red Line, but thought it would take too long and that it would have taken me just the same time if I rode down there, which was a good eight mile ride. Wrong again! With the wind blowing hard, I struggled. But I finally made it down there at the nick of time, as my friends were about to leave me. Never ever underestimate what the elements of the weather and lack of sleep can do to you mentally and physically!

Things went fine when we headed north and back to downtown. Nothing fanciful happened. Then we started heading south for the other loop in the course. Somehow, I managed to wipe out while preventing to run over a dog in a narrow stretch along the Lakefront Trail, as we collectively decided to take a scenic route instead of Lake Shore Drive. That was no fun at all. But after we turned around to head back north towards downtown, I wiped out yet again! This time it was due to some stupid Traffic Management officer, which I have always thought were overpaid and under qualified city personnel for the job. She saw me coming, yet at the cross road where cars get off Lake Shore Drive to go towards the museums, she decided to let traffic go while I was approaching! I hit my brakes hard when I was about three yards away from the curb, and crashed to prevent getting hit by a passing Ford Taurus with just three feet between us! I banged up my knee yet again, and ripped a better one on my forearm. Great! Two injuries on tarmac in a single day! I would have expected this while on some technical single tracks, but on flat, paved roads in Chicago? Infuriating! Maybe I should have not used the clipless cycling shoes.

To nurse the pain and the bruise to my ego, I dashed home for a quick shower and headed over to Aarthi's place at Wrigleyville for a barbeque! Since Matt was taking his sweet time getting there, Amy decided to be the grill master. She did a pretty good job, I have to say. Three bratwursts, two burgers, plates of pasta salad, four servings of grilled veggies {I love Amy's mushrooms and her secret marinade}, six beers, three Diet Cokes, four shots, seven wigs/head gears and a giant bowl of reduced fat ice cream later, I was done. And a bit drunk. It was a great way to end two days of physically challenging sports with friends.

Unfortunately, after all the adrenaline has settled and the alcohol effects have worn off, the pain from the injuries sustained at Bike the Drive as well as a general soreness and aches felt all over my body are now pronounced more than ever. What can I say? I look back now, and say to myself, "What a great weekend!" I know I'm a freak in that sense of spending a long weekend, but what do you expect out of an amateur, yet aspiring, athlete? =)

P.S. Check out my beautiful farmer's tan after Bike the Drive! =)

The Weird Thing About Me

So I finally decided to crack open the May installment of the Chicago Athlete Magazine, after leaving it on the counter for days. Holy cow pie! I was one of the few local athletes featured in their Photo Gallery section. That was a pleasant surprise.

I think that is a bit weird, because I have only lived in Chicago a few weeks shy of two years. I have, by any means, not reached a level of an athlete where other local athletes will immediately recognize me when I'm out at the race. Yet I have been profiled once and my picture used another time in the Windy City Sports magazine, my picture used in Time Out Chicago magazine {which I don't even subscribe}, and a few others I forgot about that wasn't that big of a deal to me. Hee hee.

An advertising agency in UK just this Monday requested for permission to use one of my video footages for a Chivas Regal ad campaign. Dang! How crazy is that? Unfortunately, it will be royalty-free. But still, what is it about me that got all this? I sure don't know, and it sure is weird.

We'll just have to wait and see if my video ends up on the Chivas Regal advertising campaign. =)

Not taking risks is risky

It is funny how sometimes a chain of events occur in one's life. As always, I do my best thinking at times on the porcelain thrown, while showering, or rarely during love making. The latter, of course, hasn't occurred in forever. In any case, last weekend, while on the porcelain thrown, I was reading an article about a BMW print advert that was to debut a week ago. The advert was about sticking tongues out at critics who lamented at a then new design cue of the BMW 7 series when it came out in 2001, and also spotlights that same vehicle moonlighting said critics with its rump. That design cue, of course, was the style of the 7's rear.

Why is it that BMW allowed such advert to portray its image, instead of the more traditional approaches that hint at "The Ultimate Driving Machine"? It falls in line with the new ad campaign they are trying to pitch, that ideas are everything. All good ideas eventually go towards the ultimate driving machine, instead of meeting their fate in the board room when the least bit of resistance rears its ugly head. I am sure you have seen similarly themed adverts on TV by BMW. Anyway, this particular print advert highlighted a design cue that still exists today from a couple years ago! Why the delay? As it was touted ugly, today Mercedes-Benz and Toyota have picked up such design cues. So who's got the last laugh?

As a car enthusiast, the point here is that BMW took a risk knowing that the design didn't fit the general mold but boldly went ahead towards inclusion in the final production stage. A good thing came out of it, and that example made me realize how true their headline is, even in life: "Not taking risks is risky."

Of course, right after experiencing such life-altering revelation, I had to drag myself to work in Wilmington, DE over that same weekend. During work, I had an interesting chat at three in the morning with a client personnel who has been extremely critical of my company's services. And rightfully so, because my predecessor and previous project management had done a poor job of doing things right, and he had nothing good to say. Fortunately for me, he was able to see the attention and care I was affording them, and he was very appreciative. Then he proceeded to ask if I was married or engaged, how old I was, where I stood in life, etc; as if I was sitting in his living room, all pimple-faced, waiting on his daughter for our first date!

I'll tell you what. This man made a very compelling argument. His advice essentially boiled down to the following: Quit your job next month {he would have said next week, but I had to return next month to complete the project}, sell off all your non-essentials, get rid of your mortgage and car, and live life to the fullest for a couple years while you're still young. How? He proceeded to push me towards a company he had worked with when he was younger and before he got married, telling me the life that he had lived, and the experiences he had gone through, almost carefree. I had work to do, so I was mostly listening. But I did note the name of the company. I even took sneak peeks at it whenever I had the free time during work.

While flying home this past Sunday morning from Wilmington, thoughts went through my mind, even though I should have been catching some shut eye. And for a few moments ever since, no matter how brief they were, I almost wanted to take his advice, while reiterating "not taking risks is risky" over and over in my head. I am 28 years old. I have years ahead of me in life. Or maybe not. I don't know any certainty about my future. What am I doing here? Why have I worked at my company for five years, even though I have lamented the predicaments associated with my job to my friends and family? Am I not taking any risk at all?

Well, to my surprise, the last two days have been interesting and strange. Events have occurred. Quickly. Much without planning and forethought. They happened so fast that now I am standing at the edge of a cliff. I can feel the edge, but I have not seen it yet. I am close. Very close. And it may be just a few days from now that the blindfold will be taken off of me, and a decision must be made, equally as quick, on whether I should jump or not.

{...to be continued...}

Lick it Good

It was only a week ago when I blogged about Joseph Weir, a subway freak arrested for performing foot fetish on his victims in New York City subways. And today, I discovered another interesting freak, Stephen Michael Jones, pictured to the right. I thought the first freak was freaky enough, but this Jones topped it!

Mr. Jones would dress up in a suit and go to parks or beaches, and target little boys. He claims to be a television advert director or some other bogus person, and promised them that he could use the boys in the adverts. But he must first inspect their bare feet. When the boys take off their shoes, this wacko would smell and lick the bottom of their feet.

WTF?!? I already have a hard time licking a partner's foot when I'm in a relationship and forced {or begged} into it by said partner, but to go up to a total stranger, and little boys, no less and do that? I almost wanted to gag!

Foot fetish, whether on girlfriends or on total strangers, is one of those things I just don't get. Along with angry sex. And elbow fetish. {By the way, I was turned down by a girl on our fourth date after she admitted the fetish and felt up my elbow. I think my elbow didn't make the cut.} What is wrong with some of these people? I guess it's good to know that this guy has been arrested and may see 14 years in prison if convicted on all counts {one of which is child annoyance; why don't they have laws for adult annoyance by kids?}.

Of course I'm not here to judge all people with fetishes. I just don't get it. I'll be quick on my feet outta there if a girl is really into the leather and whips, or bondage, or scat, or whatever other extreme may be. I may not be comfortable with other lesser fetishes, like elbows or ears, but I can manage to withstand them. I just don't get it. Besides, aren't children's feet the stinkiest and nastiest? Remembering when I was a kid, I would hold my nose whenever I take off my shoes and socks! My mom would run out of the room!

Anyway, happy Thursday. And keep your kids away from sick guys in suits around the park by themselves. =)

An Unfortunate Death

Tonight was the night I learned the death of an interesting person. When she was first introduced in 2005, I was a little bit appalled by her. She did not meet my expectations from the people she had come to replace. I was disappointed. But over time, a short time no less, I have come to accept her and much, much more. She has proven herself to my satisfaction, and beyond.

You can say that when I first saw her in office, my primary reason for the initial dislike without giving her much of a chance was how much of an obedient person she was to her superiors--never standing up for herself, her beliefs, and her opinions. This was unlike the two predecessors that came before her in the office.

But the light that changed my heart was the way she performed her work, the way she sympathized with the victims, her respect and polite mannerism, and albeit her constant stance where she found herself agreeing with her superiors like a puppy for the most part, she never let down her stand against defendants and convicts. In just a couple years, this lady has won my heart.

But now, to my sudden dismay that came without warning, she was kidnapped and left for dead after being beaten to a pulp, where she asphyxiated on her own vomit. How gruesome. Such a short career stint as an assistant district attorney came as a sudden surprise. Alexandra Borgia will be missed.

Of course, if you're a fellow fan of Law & Order, you would know I was talking about a fictional person. But really, I did not like her when she first replaced Serena Southerlyn. Southerlyn was a hot lesbian {only revealed in her final episode in 2005}, and prior to that, Abbie Carmichael, who was just as hot and pleasing, despite her pro-life and conservative stance. {By the way, when I was assigned to St. Louis for years, I used to stay at the Clayton on the Park hotel, which also had residential apartments above. And Angie Harmon lived there. Too bad I never bumped into her for an autograph.}

Anyway, this just goes on to show how big of a nerd I am for this silly show. And how closely I follow character development over the years. But seriously though, I cannot believe Annie Parisse only did 33 episodes. That is the shortest of all actresses/actors who played A.D.A.'s on the show. No doubt it still came to me as a surprise. Now I wonder if she had some kind of a contract dispute and the producers decided to just kill her off. Violently, no less. Hmm... I love juicy Hollywood gossip. Not really. =) But yeah, I eventually liked her, and even started to enjoy her unique voice and looks. Sorry, I just don't find her personally attractive. LOL Oh well, that is such an unfortunate end to the season. And what a brutal way to die.

Liars 'R' Us

As a socially responsible person, I immerse myself with relevant, and sometimes irrelevant, information. By relevant, I mean to say that I always keep myself up to date with current world events by visiting news.google.com and reuters.com on an almost daily basis, provided that time is available. On the other hand, by irrelevant I mean articles in Playboy {yes, I read Playboy magazines just for the articles; never mind the fact that I don't subscribe, but thought it funny to use Playboy as an example}, or rarely the gossip crap on junk magazines such as US Weekly, or just plain ol' news of the strange.

Well, in my latest round of daily perusing through the going-on's of the world today, I stumbled across a couple articles, each intended for a specific collective gender group, I found immensely fascinating. It got me to think, as unique and different {not to mention quirky at times} as I am, is this how the general masses behave in real life? Does a boy really do all the things claimed on our behalf collectively as a member of the male human species, and likewise of a girl in the female human species? I don't know. But I did find it interesting.

Without going much into the details of each article, I will just summarize them here in business school style. And I will start off with the article intended for women--Ten Lies Men Tell Women:
10. No, you don't look fat.
 9. I don't enjoy going to strip joints.
 8. We'll talk about it later.
 7. You remind me of Jennifer Lopez.
 6. I love your cooking.
 5. I don't think of other women.
 4. You can use my razor to shave your legs.
 3. I love Meg Ryan movies.
 2. I love spending time with your mom.
 1. I'm sorry.

And here are the Five Lies All Women Tell:
1. I'm not mad at you.
2. I don't mind if you go to strip clubs with the boys.
3. I'm just not ready for a boyfriend right now.
4. I don't mind picking up the tab tonight. You always pay anyway.
5. You're the best in bed.

Seriously. Are we really all a bunch of liars, both genders included? Whatever happened to honesty? Wouldn't that make relationships so much easier than having to navigate through the mine fields of what the real intention is behind each "lie?" I just find it funny that we have to resort to lies in a relationship. In the end, when things get messy, we {boy and girl included} will just mope around, complaining why the relationship sucks, or ended, or whatever. And oft-times, such catastrophic {okay, I'm exaggerating here, but you get the gist} turn of events are usually the result of a failure to communicate between boy and girl. {Or boy and boy, or girl and girl, if you're into that sort of thing.}

Or are we just programmed to naturally lie to our partners by the media, much like the way girls are conditioned {and bombarded} to think that the definition of beauty is super skinny, with pronounced high cheekbones, long straight hair, curves that kill, big boobs, all in a tiny package of thirty and a hundred pounds?

I don't know. But I certainly did get a good laugh when I read the articles though. I just didn't know if the articles merely further propagate the "social norms" and rules we have to follow in the world of dating, or a mere reflection of reality. I think I will take the latter point of view, because I'm simply not a conspiracy theorist. Now if I can just go find a bicycle for my fish.

Men Confess: The 10 Lies They Tell Women on iVillage
5 Lies All Women Tell by Madeline Murphy on AskMen.com

Hump Day

Lately my sleeping pattern has been a little bit jacked up. Having worked the past Saturday into Sunday morning, and then the occasional nap here and there without real sleep due to work concalls, it has been a bit of a mess. I constantly find myself sleepy late in the afternoon, and wide awake around midnight, tossing and turning in bed. And worse yet, my time space continuum is all fubar. My body has not experienced a real weekend, so I feel a bit suspended in time. And when I try to remember what I did last week, it just seems like a month ago. Either that or I just don't remember doing a certain activity. Strange.

So I woke up a tidbit late today, due to the aforementioned sleep pattern I am in right now. As I fly Southwest Airlines all the time, I have this little program called Ding that notifies me of limited time sale of select flights that you have to purchase within a few hours of notification. And I was a bit surprised by today's Ding headline: "Hump Day - Get Off Your Rump Day."

For someone like me, I do not know all of the idioms peculiar to America. And for someone like me, who has a bit of a gutter mind, this Ding headline was a bit of a shocker. {No, not that kind of a shocker, thank you.} I was thinking, how can Southwest Airlines promote fare sales with a headline heavy with sexual innuendo? Isn't "hump" equivalent to, uhm, sex? I didn't get why today, of any day of the week, was declared a hump day. Tee hee hee. {Oh, and who says "tee hee hee" anymore?!? I wonder about myself sometimes.} And what is "rump?" Again, I would associate rump with something like "a rump in the hay," as in playing nookie in the barn. Or something.

Of course, curiosity got the better of me, so I went to investigate. I'll start with "rump," as that is something I did not know as a word by itself. Apparently, as I'm always learning the English language, rump is defined as hindquarters, or buttocks, in the dictionary. Or a cut of meat from that general vicinity. Hmm. This does not help at all with my gutter mind that has set all perspectives in motion. Help!

Next, I looked up "hump." As there is no surprise here, hump is exactly what I thought it would mean. But "hump day?" That was more of a challenge. Further digging revealed that it is nothing more than Wednesday. As in, Wednesday is the middle, or hump, of a work week; a halfway point between Monday and Friday. And this pop culture saying apparently came from a religious connotation, as "hump day" is the day of the one year anniversary in a two year mission. Surprisingly, these Christians do not call the end of their mission trip "rump day" as I would have suspected, but "dump day."

So there you have it. Mystery solved. Kind of. I now know what "hump day" is. But I could not find anything on "rump day." Based on the definition of rump in the dictionary, is that the day you enjoy butts if you are normally a, uhm, breast kind of a guy? How does that affect the female population? Not much, I suppose, since most women like a good, firm ass on a guy. So... Any of you know what "rump day" is?

Seven Deadly Sins

Studies have shown that when individuals are subjected to constant waken state without sleep, their brains behave similarly to those who have been intoxicated or under the influence. With just a three hour nap earlier in the afternoon, I have been awake since yesterday morning due to work in Wilmington, DE overnight. Having said all that, I do believe that enough warning has been given as to the state of mind that I am in right now: a bit incoherent and perhaps a touch of madness.

As I lay on the couch unwillingly trying to stay awake in an attempt to prevent ruining my sleep cycle, I watched the latest episode of Grey's Anatomy on television. If you're unfamiliar with this great show, each episode has some sort of moral story, or a point to ponder, that Dr. Grey shares from her anatomy of life; hence the title. Well, tonight's episode was on anger, and she started out stating that we often hear of the other sins, but hardly of anger. In the end, Dr. Grey concluded that the reason why we don't hear much of anger is because it is the worst one of all. At the very least, it did make the top seven.

And that got me thinking about my life--where I have been before, and where I am now. You see, when I was younger, it was no secret to those who have known me from adolescence that I had a short temper. Little things would set me off, and my fists would get hurt. {In Indonesia, there were no such things as drywall; the walls were made of brick and cement.} In some ways I was out of control in that emotional department. Almost dangerously so.

But somehow, over time as I eased my way into young adulthood, I have mellowed out. Maybe the constant feeding of religion in my late high school years contributed to it? Or the clinical depression that I had gone through in my first year of college had something to do with it? Or perchance the romantic relationships I've developed in college had some transforming effect? Whatever the case may be, as I am sure all the factors mentioned made some contribution to a certain degree, I have become this mellow person who is easy going.

Then reality hit me, causing me to realize that I am way too easy going. I let things roll off of my back, forgive and forget. How did I get from one extreme to another? I think that in life, there is a certain balance that is considered healthy to one's mental health between having a short fuse and being so worry-free. Both extremes are extremely unhealthy. Let me explain.

If one were to have a short temper, she/he would not be able to have meaning relationships with society in general. Not only are the place in society and social acceptance important to one's mental health, especially self-esteem, but also to one's physical health. People who are constantly angry often suffer from high stress, which is a trigger to many physical problems to an individual.

But on the other extreme, being too worry-free and mellow can be dangerous too. Although one may easily forgive, the constant reminder of other peoples' wrongdoings may easily be a trigger something within an individual. It becomes a mental taxation that slowly eats away at one's soul, regardless of how often she/he forgives and forgets of others' trespasses. I am not describing a condition where some people may be passive-aggressive, who stays quiet and bottles things up until the day everything blows up. I am talking about people who are too mellow, and all these trespasses slowly erodes their mental health, driving them to feel tired eventually, or a sense of giving up what one may start to feel like she/he is playing a charade.

Well, I am starting to think that I need a good balance here. I need to learn to draw the line and not be too mellow, whilst not going to the other extreme and act out in anger. The last couple weeks have been nothing but stressful. It has been so mentally taxing to the point that I would much rather be under pressure from work, or something. Or anything! This is ridiculous. I am starting to feel like this is no way to lead a life. I don't know how those care-free hippies can be so, care-free! And worry-free. While keeping their sanity. Whatever secrets they have in coping, I want to know {as long as it does not involve mary jane}. Otherwise, I just need to find a healthy balance. I can't have events like those from this past week to repeat itself in the near future. It's slowly killing me.

Ball of Sunshine

Why, oh why, do I endure such silliness and the madness of it all? Why do I torture myself? I don't know. Perhaps my procrastination has something to do with it? Maybe. Or it could very well be that I don't have the guts to just say it, or do it, or make it so. Decisively. Instead, I've acquired an attribute {uhm, more like a character flaw, if you will} of someone I absolutely dislike. This certain someone is Dubya, our current president. Oh wait, I'm giving him too much credit. He is decisive, actually. Just stupidly. Except when the planes hit the towers; he just sat there and preferred to finish reading the children's book.

Anyway! Back on the eleventh day of November last year, I went to see this guy. No, not in a dating manner. This guy is my dentist, and it was my routine dental cleaning time. I waited for a long time while sitting in that uncomfortable chair. Finally, the phone in that exam room rang, and in waltzed the dentist. He was just mumbling to himself, cursing up a storm. He went to answer the phone, and left it on speakerphone mode. Elevator music filled the air. And he turned to me, "I hope you don't mind, but I have a date tonight with this lady, and I'm taking her to a concert. But I lost the tickets, and I have been on hold for almost an hour now with Ticketmaster."

Interesting. I told him, "No, no problem at all." Then he started working on my teeth. Everything was sort of hunky dory, as usual, and about five minutes into his work, someone on the other end answered. My dentist dropped everything, exclaimed, "Finally, a human voice!" and rolled his chair over to answer the phone. Instead of unmuting the phone, he accidentally hung up on Ticketmaster. And that's when he lost it. The "God d*mn," "mother-f**ker," "son of a b*tch," all came out. Everything! Understandably so. But he took out his anger on me! This dentist was telling me how pissed he was at Ticketmaster, and he has this sharp hook he was using to clean me teeth with. And he jabbed here and there. I was pretty cut up in the gum and tissues, and I actually bled a lot. Ouch!

Later that day, while having dinner and drinks with Erin and Christine, I told them about what happened. I said that I have had enough of this guy, and Erin referred me to her wonderful dentist.

Six months later {which is today}, procrastination has set in. I totally forgot to cancel my routine appointment with my dentist, and today was the appointment. Well, no point in trying to cancel it now, since they'll charge my insurance for the visit if I cancel within 24 hours. So in I went. And this guy came into the exam room not as upset as before, but not as upbeat as I have seen him in the past. He started telling me about his daughter's graduation later today at University of Illinois. I congratulated him, and thought maybe he was trying to hook me up with his daughter with this story. Then he continued with this mostly one sided conversation which I could not squeeze anything word-wise. "So how's the weather out there? Shitty, isn't it? Of course it has to rain on my daughter's graduation night, and I have to drive the Dan Ryan. It's not helping me at all with the construction going on. Traffic is just going to be horrendous. And you know what? With the rain coming down all day, that highway might as well be horse shit."

"Horse shit." That was his exact words used to describe his impending drive down to Champaign. I was speechless. To kill the silence in the air, I mustered, "Congratulations." That was when I realized how big a ball of sunshine he was. I gotta drop him quick.

I give up!

On September 18 of last year, I sent Erin and Liz an email indicating that I will giving up running, after reading about a three year old Indian boy who could run 30 miles in a seven hour stretch on BBC News. This boy, Budhia Singh, was sold by his mother for 800 rupees {about twenty bucks} after her husband died and could not provide for her four children. Miraculously, Budhia was not passed on into child slavery, or worse yet, child sex industry. Somehow, Budhia got resold to Biranchi Das, a judo coach, after Mr. Das noticed this gifted talent Budhia has.

At first I was floored. Impressed, no less. Then I forgot all about it. Till today. News came to my attention that this prodigy child, now four, just ran a marathon earlier today, and is also starring in a music video. Damn. Some kids are just born to have luck, don't they? Which makes me wonder, why wasn't I born to celebrity parents, or with a silver spoon in my mouth? Instead, I am just this blob of a living thing mustering around the universe without much of a keynote or attracting attention. Except when I get hit on by boys. What is about me that just attract other guys? I remember June 21, 2004. It was a hot and steamy day. No, I did not just get out of the sauna sporting pecks of steel and six packs. I just got done unloading my boxes into my condo, and in all my glorious sweat, I hopped into the U-Haul truck to return it. And a couple guys were walking on the sidewalk into my building, clearly residents there. But one of them was checking me up and down, and even slowed his gait.

Can you say, "Totally uncomfortable!?!"

Anyway! Back to this prodigy child. I guess this marathon running by Budhia has triggered a storm of abuse claims by human rights activists. Interesting. It was just yesterday in a conversation during dinner that I told Nicholas that other countries should not be recruiting 14 year old boys into professional soccer teams, because their bodies are still developing. I guess the topic came up because this foreign team came over here a few years ago and played the Chicago Fire for some exhibition game. Okay, I digress a bit too much here. I guess the state government has requested the local courts to restrain Mr. Das from "making" Budhia run such great distances. Hey, if it was up to me, I would much rather do that than taking it up the ass by some old perverts should I have been sold into child sex industry. At least Budhia is getting proper nutrition and being cared for. I hope to see this crazy guy represent India and compete in the Olympics some time in the distant future.

In the mean time, I'll just give up running and be one with my Ben & Jerry's ice cream, all happy and peaceful. =)

'Scuse me. May I taste you?

Have you ever gotten on the El, and some strange dude would either accost or harass you without warrant? Do you ever feel that it was uncalled for? I know you're thinking that I am a guy, and I cannot possibly be harassed in public. But think again. I've had a guy come up and wrap his arm around me as if we were buddies, and started chatting. Followed by this question, "Do you know karate?" Which I presumed to mean that he was sizing up this six foot tall Asian dude. Then there was the guy on the platform during winter who was about to whoop my ass because I went and stood next to him under the heat lamps, all because he hated chinks.

Those are some extreme behaviors on one end. Then there are those that are extreme on the opposite end. Like the time some guy came up to me, rested his hip on mine, and said, "I'm not gay or anything, but I just wanted to tell you how hot and sexy you look," before leaving me dumbfounded on the platform just as the train arrived. Or the time I was heading home on the red line one evening while a bit intoxicated when a cute looking girl who was with a guy, sitting across from me, started talking to me. And ended with my number and stating, "You two would make a great couple." Whoa!

Having quite a few subway incidents myself, many of which were funny, I found it strange that I have been hearing more news about subway freaks lately. But these freaks are harmless {in a way} and really bizarre. Take for example Dan Hoyt from New York City. He would sit across from a good looking girl on the subway, whip out his equipment, and start choking the chicken. Then there is Joseph Weir, also from New York City, with a foot fetish. Whenever he discovers a good looking girl on the subway, he would go up to her, grab her foot, and kiss it, while telling them how beautiful she was.

WTF?!? Do these people really exist in the real world? Even if I let my mind go crazy and let loose my self inhibition for moral restraint, I could not even dream of doing such things! I mean, in the case of the masturbation, the most I would do as a deranged person of no moral restraint is probably masturbate with my hand in the pocket. Not whipping it out for the world to see! Of course, that is not to say that I do this with any frequency at all. Just hypothetically speaking.

I'll have you know, though, that Dan Hoyt has been sentenced to two years probation. And Joseph Weir was arrested last week and charged with forcible touching, sex abuse and unlawful imprisonment. I found it funny how the city of New York defines imprisonment, which I agree in a legal standpoint. He would not let go of the girl's leg while he kisses and serenades to his victim!

Anyway, I hope none of my friends will ever fall prey to subway freaks like these. You see, my lady friends are all good looking, which does not deter psychos like these from picking any of them as a potential victim. But I still hope that they get through their day safe and sound on the subway. If anything, just whip out your camera-phone, and send in the picture to Holla Back NYC. =)

voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir

As my dear friend Shannon would say, shit just got real. Of course we all try to put off the inevitable out of our imagination, but tonight, shit just got real. My good friends Cesar and Sabine had their going away dinner tonight at Kiki's French Bistro. Despite the impromptu aspect of it, a lot of us were able to attend. Especially Tatiana, whom I have not seen in years! And since half the table were French people, we ordered lots of wine. And escargot. And fois gras. The wine I can do, but not the others. Especially after Nicholas explained how snails are prepared before being cooked, and how fois gras are led up to the point of such "delicacy" in taste and texture. I can certainly understand why those PETA folks have their panties all scrunched up in a wad. Don't get me wrong, I'm a PETA person myself. Just a different one: People Eating Tasty Animals. =)

Anyway, I guess next weekend the two of them are heading to France. And it hit me. After their brief return for the wedding ceremony some time in the summer, I will not see them a whole lot anymore. These are people I am close with and have known for over seven years. And the only two folks I knew in Chicago when I first moved here. Wow. Although I am a bit sad, I am kind of secretly hoping that they would not get a job there in France so they can return. How selfish of me. But seriously, for a country where racism and social divide are still ever present, I can only imagine how hard it is going to be for Cesar, of Mexican descent, to get a job there. I mean, I don't want him selling churros in the streets of Paris, you know! Ha ha ha.

So we were all being obnoxious tonight with the wine flowing freely. We saw EMT crews come in and assist an old lady. We suspected that the escargot had brought her the sudden fainting. But she turned out fine in the end. Then there were the strange items on the menu. The classic snobby server that is unmistakably French in attitude. Our behavior in the restaurant was totally French too. We made other patrons turn their heads. C'mon! These Americans expected the fake, classic atmosphere you see on movies when they're set in French restaurants? Get real! They got a real taste of what loud, obnoxious French patrons can be! We brought France to them! =)

What did we talk about... Oh, there were the shaved balls. The coupon that was pulled out of my ass. The server dropping the coupon with a bad look in the face. People purportedly pissing in their seats on Air India. {I really think that's an urban legend.} I guess you can't use the seat cushions for flotation devices then. The retarded tourt aux pomme. Oh my... The conversations on the table were loud and immature. But how else do we stay funny in light of the heavy acknowledgement of their sudden departure? Exactly, right?

Okay, I'm just a bit drunk. And I felt like blogging. It has been a weird week, and I am not liking it. I'm sure all this does not make sense, and not even blog-worthy. I guess I can go shave my balls. Except I'm Asian, so I don't have hairy balls. Damn!

My Political Corner Archival (from MySpace profile)

As I update the Political Corner section of MySpace profile with a new cartoon, I'll archive the replaced cartoon in my blog for your review. Enjoy!

By Steve Sack, Minnesota, The Minneapolis Star-Tribune

My Fear of Aging

You may or may not know this from before, but one of my fears is aging. I mean, there is the memory loss. The loss of your loved one before you kick the bucket. Man boobs. Or worse, the prospect of wetting yourself like a hysterical teenage girl whenever you start laughing {or sneezing}. I don't like the idea of wearing Depends, that's for sure.

As if all those things I have mentioned weren't enough, Katie has brought to my attention another aspect of aging that has gotten me to contemplate my fears of aging. And perhaps also drive me into considering euthanasia. What could this aspect possibly be? You be the judge:

"I guess it's only fair"

Seriously, what the hell?!? I don't talk about work a whole lot, but this will be a short one about work.

Today we had our weekly team concall {short for conference call}. We do this because I am virtual, as I live here in Chitown while our headquarter is in Kansas City. A few of you may know that my team is made up of three people: my coworker and myself, plus our manager. But really, my manager does not travel and get his hands dirty, so there is just the two of us.

For the sake of anonymity, my coworker shall be named Mr. D. In the past, I have been put on unfavorable assignments because I am young and single, and Mr. D is a family guy with two teenage children. Unfavorable is defined as any assignment that involves weekend work, or any work that requires long hours in the off hours. This is not something that happens once in a while; it has happened many times. If he has the same duty and responsibilities as me, then shouldn't we be traveling equally, instead of giving me all the travel assignments and Mr. D more of the remote assignments {working from home}.

So Mr. D routinely cites his need to stay at home due to family, which bothers me somewhat, but not too much. But it's starting to get on my nerves. I have had to work three weekend assignments in the first quarter of this year, and so far two this quarter, with three more before the end of June! I tried to get Mr. D to take over one of my weekend assignments, which I picked to be the easiest and possibly can be done remotely if I talk to the client. What does Mr. D say? He whined that he could not take it because of family. Fine!

Now I'm not trying to be an ass hole, but shouldn't Mr. D know what he was getting himself into when he signed the employment contract a little over a year ago? I mean, the position he took is a freaking consulting role! Seriously! Okay, I hope that I get some kind of leniency or consideration if {or when, God willing} I have a family of my own, so maybe I shouldn't jump on this too much.

So why am I venting a bit about this? Strangely, a few months ago, there was a two week project in Ireland. I was told at the end of 2005 that I would be the one going there. But who jumped up and down like a freaking, little, bratty kid whining to go there? Right. I was mildly pissed off about that. So Mr. D cannot afford to go away for the weekend due to family, but is so willing to ditch that same family for three weeks in a row while being away in a foreign country? What is that all about?

Earlier in the morning during our weekly team concall, our manager indicated that a client in France have signed a contract for our services. I said on record that I would like to go, because I knew of this a few weeks ago and told my manager, since my coworker was not able to make it to the team concall then. Mr. D was silent. Then my manager broke the silence by saying, "Mr. D has told me that he wanted to go there." Still nothing from Mr. D. I realized then that my coworker must have had a separate discussion to bring him up to date since he has been unable to attend the team concalls lately, which he probably expressed his desire to go. So I said, "Hey, Mr. D fought for and went to Ireland!"

Still silence from Mr. D. Ugh! Then my manager asked, "What do you think, Mr. D?" And this guy finally said, "Well, I guess it's only fair."

Adrenaline Rush. In Wisconsin?

With just five hours of sleep after returning from the Weepies concert last night, I roused and headed out to Geneva Lake. Why would I wake up at 06:00 on a freaking Sunday morning? Well, as a proud owner of a Land Rover vehicle, I get to enjoy the perks of events sponsored by Land Rover gratis. And on Thursday, I RSVP'ed for the LR Off-Road Event at the Geneva Lake Racetrack.

On a side note, I do have to say that I am really impressed with Wisconsin. Today was the first time I have ever entered that state. I knew something was up when the highway became much better with less pot holes and rifts. And a couple miles later into Wisconsin, I saw the welcome sign realized that I have entered a whole new dimension. Isn't it typical that the welcome sign be located right at the border that spans across all lanes? In Wisconsin, it's a small sign on a wagon on the side of the highway. Strange, indeed. Stranger though, is that they have money to actually post huge, visible signs every tenth of a mile indicating where you are. Like mile 339.1. 339.2. 339.3. On and on. I was so impressed that I overshot my exit by four miles, all because I was paying attention to mile marker signs, hoping to see that maybe they will get rid of it eventually.

Anyway, back to the point. It was really weird when I finally arrived on-site, as the racetrack had an oval course, a motocross course, and a huge network of off-road trails that seemed to be well-kept. But before we could jump into the jungle, I had to meet and greet. And the boxes of Joe were extremely helpful. After gobbling down two glazed doughnuts and downing two cups of coffee as if they were Jagerbombs, I was ready to rock and roll.

Unfortunately, the off-road tracks were rented out last week to a bunch of ATV'ers, so the trails had numerous spots where the ruts were extremely deep. Mark, an accomplished off-road driver instructor from the UK who has worked for Land Rover Corporation for 18 years, was our instructor and guide. He had led the Land Rover Camel series three years in his career. I was flabbergasted. {If you don't know anything about the LR Camel series, I feel for you. =) } Mark asked that I go behind his decked out LR3, just in case if I need to be pulled out of a jam, as he anticipated that such occurrences may happen with my smaller SUV. But a few minutes later, a test driver emerged from the jungle to provide course updates before sending us in. Bad news. The trails were so torn up that my Freelander would not have the necessary clearance. Bummer.

Fortunately, Land Rover set me up with one of the newer LR3's! Sa-weet! When that SUV came out two years ago, it looked too suburban and I was skeptical of its off-road capabilities. But once we got the thing jacked up, I thought perhaps it may work. The majority of the vehicles there were LR3's. I guess that must be the Land Rover model Chicagoans love. But there were some customers who brought their Discovery's and Range Rover's.

As we centipede'd our way through the jungle, with each passing of some technical trail, the adrenaline started pumping. And kept on pumping. For hours. It was awesome. So cool. Splashing around in the mud. Going up extremely steep inclines. Going down equally insane declines. Driving on a lateral incline of up to 40 degrees. There were times I thought my LR3 would tip over. Carefully navigating between trees. I could see some trees got eaten, and some vehicles in front of me had their breakaway mirrors smacked. But I did not have any incident whatsoever. Even a customer with his Range Rover got stuck, requiring to be pulled free by Mark.

One of my passions is driving. With hard-learned skills. Going through all the difficult stuff without getting into a jam was such a self-esteem booster. Even better was that I actually impressed Mark. How awesome was that?

After the lunch break, we went back in again. For the finale, we came to one of the hardest inclines. Two of the first six Land Rover's in front of me had problems negotiating this one. They had to reverse back down and hit it multiple times. Then it was my turn. Now, the secret to off-roading is not speed, but rather control {much like any other kind of automotive sport, besides drag (boring) racing}. You have to not go fast, but fast enough to get you through, and at the same time controlling the vehicle while processing the gazillion feedbacks from the course with your sense. And that means no slippage, or spinning the wheels like many other rich Land Rover owners did. {I suspect they only own nice SUV's because of its appeal and price tag, not because of its off-roading capabilities. How many of those Land Rover's parked in the garages along Gold Coast have actually seen action? I suspect none.}

When I hit the apex at the top of this climb about 30 feet high, my front two wheels went straight up into the air. Now usually, when your front catches air and lands, it doesn't sound good. But for the LR3 baby, we hit the ground without hearing anything scary. Amazing yet is that the landing was surprisingly smooth, considering the behemoth of a vehicle I was controlling. I did hit my head on the steering wheel gently though, despite my careful brace for the landing. And that was the highlight of the day. I just wished that I had a camera with me on that last run. I made that one on the first run, perfectly.

What an amazing day!

Laura's Night

In continuation of the great Friday that I started out with yesterday, somehow Saturday turned out equally just as well. Of course it kind of sucked that I had to be awake at 07:00 so that I could make it down to the University of Illinois at Chicago Pavilion for Cesar's graduation ceremony. But like any other person who is close to Cesar, I felt especially proud of him, as he has finally achieved that life milestone that seemed illusive. Keyword here being "elusive," because in reality, he actually put forth his full efforts and he actually made it. Finally. If I was his parents, I'd shed a few tears! ;-)

Then the day went on without skipping a beat when I went to Chinatown for Dim Sum brunch with Christine. Food was yummy, but the company was far better. I was able to chat more with her than when we are with our usual company, despite the fact that we were talking about work. But she did talk about MUN and family, so that made it all the better.

But the biggest highlight of this Saturday was tonight when I went down to Martyr's for a live music performance by the Weepies. At first I didn't think I would go, considering the facts that I had two tickets, Amber had to work {she was the one who brought the Weepies to my attention}, and I couldn't find anybody else who would enjoy the Weepies' music genre. That's right. I'm an alternative rock fan, yet somehow I love bands like the Weepies. And don't you believe it when some of my long-time friends tell you that I love the Indigo Girls as well. Ha ha ha. Anyway, at the last minute when I jumped in the cab, I thought to myself, "This is just as good as any night to enjoy John time!" So I went by myself!

Amazing. That's one of the few words I would describe my experience tonight. Steve and Deb were amazing! Their music and lyrics are already awesome to begin with, but what made it all the more better is that they actually have this apparent chemistry and bond between them when they performed on stage. And it was just oh-so-cute when Steve was a little bit of a nervous wreck up there. But he trumped it by being such a funny guy. And Deb too!

As if their music wasn't enough, their voices were harmoniously beautiful. If only I had Steve's voice and his talent playing guitar, I would want to be him! And if God had given XX chromosomes and the same angelic voice and musical talents as Deb, I would want to be her! {But I do have to add that I do not want to be them. I don't know if I can handle the coyote going around my cabin looking for their three legged friend.} I have not had such a great time listening to a live performance as tonight in forever. Perhaps the last time was the Dave Matthews Band concert many years ago, or the U2 concert in Kansas City right after 9/11 in 2001. I was so happy that I ended up going to Martyr's, as it was quickly apparent that the decision was totally the right one. Not to mention therapeutic to my soul.

Now, why is Laura part of all this? Well, I kind of get a little bit depressed and reminiscent every time I listen to the Weepies, or other similarly great bands with the same style and genre. You see, many years ago, when I was young, I was stupid. I did not invest as much time on my close friends as I do now. I was going after the elusive corporate gold, putting work as my top priority. And the result of that? I lost Laura, a close friend who would accompany me to dinner twice a week when we were in Seattle, albeit our different client assignments, or our weekends together doing fun and relaxing things like checking out indie bands in some random local music festivals, or our random ski trips. And the Weepies is totally our kind of music.

Ever since the conclusion to my U-Dub assignment, I lost track of Laura. And I just can't stop beating myself up for telling myself, week after week, that oh, I'm too busy with work and traveling, so I'll just call her tomorrow. Tomorrow always turned into next week; next week always turned into next month. Before long, it had been so many months since we talked. And by then, it was too late. A lost friend. Not just any, but a close one who is few and far in between.

So as I enjoyed the music, and occasionally sang along under my breath, I kept on thinking about Laura. And how much I missed her. And how I wished that she was there with me at Martyr's tonight. Enjoying the Weepies, nodding to each other in approval and satisfaction without an exchange of words, in total understanding of each other. Hence, I dedicate tonight to Laura's night. I miss you.

I am a DORK! Redux

Apparently I need to take a couple lessons on whispering. And perhaps a lesson in think before you speak. Or perchance distinguishing between the inside voice and the outside voice. Why, you ask? Simply put, it is because I was a dork yesterday!

It all started with the monthly fun run at Momentum. And yesterday was the Cuatro de Mayo Fun Run. Besides the usual suspects of runners, Garth from Australia was there as well. This is the first time I have seen him since his return to the United States a week or so ago. If you don't know him, well, he has a knack for winning things! Case in point: The multiple winnings he had scored during his first Chicago visit at Crapple. {Crap! Crap! Crap!}

Anyway, as usual, after the fun run, we had the ruffles giveaway. And Garth won one of the free pairs of Brooks running shoes! Of course, knowing how Garth wins everything, Katie said, "He has not been in America that long and he is already winning things again!" And of course, being a news junkie that I am, and deeply involved with specific issues, *and* being the funny guy in the crowd, I yelled, "Damn immigrants!"

Oops! I realized I had screamed that out loud in the entire store for everyone to hear. It would have been funny if I had kept the voice low so just the few of us could hear, cos then it would be funny within the group. But for those who did not know me, I am sure it sounded like I'm one of those crazy minutemen in the news. And on top of that, I used a swear word while the store owner's daughter was there. What was I thinking?!?

Not that it matters now, as the damage has been done, or that the ship has already sailed, I'd like to take a moment to explain myself. Something what we call in the corporate world lingo as "doing a postmortem." {Gosh, I hate corporate speak.} First of all, you must be a caveperson if you don't know that one of the biggest issues in Washington is immigration reform. And as such, I am well immersed in this issue.

Secondly, I am not for kicking out illegal immigrants who have been in the United States. After all, they are already paying taxes and social security, both of which they do not get to reap the benefits of such social programs set forth by the great presidents of the past. Hell, even a legal immigrant while still on her/his permanent residency but not a full American citizen may not even get to enjoy the benefits of the tax they pay or the social security deductions in some states! So if you get rid of the illegal immigrants, you are also getting rid of a big portion of the influx of money going into these programs. Of course, it is not fair, but getting rid of them is NOT the answer.

Thirdly, I myself am an immigrant. Of course, everybody else besides the group of friends I was with knew that. I just hope that the many strangers who were there realize that I was kidding, as the joke was a blurt in sarcasm, intended just for Garth, in light of the current political debate in capital city.

So there you have it. My "postmortem" on the damage I have done. Now maybe I should listen to Kelly's advice and remember not to say it out loud when it is supposed to be an inside voice. =)

Good Friday

It's not a good Friday because today is Cinco de Mayo. Although that would make for an interesting evening later tonight while sipping away at margaritas with your non Mexican friends. Nor is today especially great because it is officially the start of the weekend. Despite the fact that it is still early in the morning, I can actually declare today a good day because of the rarity in the combination of events that jumpstarted the day.

How often do you "run" into two of your favorite friends within an hour of your rousing? Not quite so often, right? All this despite the fact that I didn't have that great of a shut eye overnight. Of course, it is not a reflection of my wonderful host, but rather my allergies and the constant need to use the restroom four times last night. I suspect that the frozen margarita swirls and the rum and coke I drank last night after a three mile run may have played a role in that. But I did feel awful when she said that she didn't sleep well when we woke up.

Nonetheless, it was good to wake up and start my day off with this particular friend. After she had gotten dressed for work, we parted ways as she took the bus to work, and I the train home in the opposite direction. While walking towards the El station, I had the song "Walking on Sunshine" playing in my head. Don't ask me why, as it sounds kind of gay for a guy to have that in the soundtrack of his life.

About two blocks away from the station, I heard a car trying to get out of a parking space gave a love tap to the car behind her. I said to myself, "Ouch!" When the car pulled forward a little bit, I noticed the license plate holder. What do you know? Another great friend! One who I have not seen in forever! I just had to stop and say hello, and give her grief over the love tap I witnessed. Of course, she had the look on her face as if she had seen a ghost, all in shock and disbelief.

Despite the ten straight days of hard working and jet setting all over the country, this morning alone elevated me to great heights. I know; how can something so simple and trivial be that awesome, right? To me, friends are everything. Not seeing them for ten days is like torture. Or something like that. So, to celebrate, I decided to stop by the Metropolis Café by my place, and splurge on a $3 caramel mocha latte and a $2 cranberry muffin. If you don't know me, then you won't understand that I don't drink coffee in general, and I don't spend that much money on coffee, much less a muffin. In the two years I have lived at my current dwelling, this is only the second time I have ever set foot at that coffee shop. Now you know how happy I am today! =)

Haddock. In the Middle of Sex.

Dang! Apparently I am really incoherent at 05:57! I just got done with work, and am now getting ready to relax and sleep. Phew, it has been a very exhaustive 19 hours of straight work! Okay, so I had an hour break in the middle to grab dinner. And I have never heard of this before, but apparently haddock is a type of fish, and they taste better {and cost more} than regular cod fish. My coworker, being from the New England area, highly recommended that I indulge in the local junk food famous in Connecticut: Connecticut style haddock fish and chips. And boy, was it delicious. I actually went back and got another two pieces. I am sure that did not help with the waistline. Nor did the bag of chocolate covered peanuts I ate throughout the evening.

It appears that most of the townships in this area where I am at is huge on Middle. The hospital I just worked at is Middlesex Hospital. In Middletown. The tiny ponds around here are called middle something. Neighboring towns are called Middle something too. There's Middlefield. And being in the middle of all this Middle stuff is driving me nuts. Just as if I am eating haddock. In the middle of sex.

Okay, obviously I'm delusional right now. So I better shut my eyes for a few hours before I leave the middle of all this. =)

Roadie Monday

Ugh. I worked my butt off over the weekend, and then woke up early this morning so I can fly from New Orleans to Houston to Chicago. I made a mad dash back home {or more like a slow crawl, courtesy of the CTA} so I can swap out my clothes, get a fresh set of undies, and drop off some stuff in the fridge. I saw the dirty dishes I had used before leaving for Lima over a week ago, and decided to get them cleaned finally. Then it was another mad dash out the door to Midway to catch my 20:15 flight to Hartford, CT. I only spent an hour and 10 minutes at my own home today! And I spent 13.5 hours traveling today! I'm pooped out...

Memories

{Update: Links and pictures added. Warning: Pictures may contain adult material. If you are easily offended, do not go to any of the Shutterfly links!}

It has been 554 days since I last set foot in New Orleans. When April 28th came, that hiatus unceremoniously ended. A lot of events have came and left. Of course, the biggest one was Katrina during my hiatus. Although it has been over a year and a half since I was last there, it seemed both distant in memory as well as if it was just a few weeks ago.

Not knowing what to expect, much less remember anything at all, the minute I got off the plane at the Louis Armstrong Airport, the warm, humid air that welcomed my arrival preempted the rush of all the fond memories I had of New Orleans. And they just keep on trickling back into my mind as my business trip to New Orleans progressed little by little. I can only imagine the driver next to me at the stop light waiting for the green to be bewildered and amused to see me sitting there, just cracking up out of the blues because I remembered something funny, or that I just stared blankly ahead, not realizing the light had changed, because I remembered something either emotional or sad.

In any case, my assignment to this particular client site in New Orleans from 2004.05.24 through 2004.10.21 gave me the following memories, which I felt compelled to chronicle. For it was one of the best times of my life, as well as a turning point in my life. Here they are, in no specific order other than as they came to my head during this weekend:

• The big Lake Pontchartrain with the long-ass bridge across it that we have to fly over to get to the airport. I was once told that this may perhaps be the longest man-made bridge over a lake. I could never confirm nor dispute this rumor.
• How tiny the Louis Armstrong Airport is.
• My little shortcut from Avis through the airport to the street that will get me to my hotel or client site without breaking a stride.
• The Hilton Garden Inn that I always stay at by the lake, next to the Treasure Island Casino.
• The many poker nights and buffet dinners I had with my project team over there after a long day of work.
• The get $10 in additional free casino tokens when you buy $10 of tokens, courtesy of the marketing ploy Hilton Garden Inn and Treasure Island had.
• The hot, hot front desk girl {Melanie, I think was her name} that everyone on my team hits on, but she would only give me the time of the day and an email address. Of course, it helped with the fact that most of my male coworkers were married at the time. =)
• The nasty open sewage river {I'm sure there's a word for this thing} that divides the east and west bound lanes of West Esplanade Boulevard.
• The makeshift ramp on West Esplanade (eastbound) right before Power Road that I always speed up my rental car to 60 miles an hour {speed limit there is 35} just so I can catch some air just for the hell of it.
• The crazy u-turns in New Orleans.
• My daily routine of avoiding traffic lights at a specific intersection because it stays red forever. I'd make a right, pull a u-turn, and another right back along the way.
• Drago's Restaurant. Home of one and only charbroiled oysters. {My first night returning back to New Orleans was spent at Drago's. Two glasses of Rosemount Estates Shiraz, a half dozen charbroiled oysters, seafood gumbo, seafood pasta, and a giant apple strudel with two scoops of ice cream.}
• Lagger's Pub. Home of the big, fat rat that everybody knows about and have gotten used to seeing at this bar and grill. I remember one, hot night when this rat climbed up the side molding, scurried along the wall molding without knocking off any of the decorations placed there, ran across the wooden beam in the middle of the restaurant, and jumped over ceiling fan like an acrobat, and moved along its way. If that rat had not caught the rod connecting to the ceiling fan, he would have met his fate at the fan blades, and our dinner will be seasoned with... You get the idea.
• Playing basketball at some church gym twice a week; my coworkers and I versus the client personnel.
• One of my coworkers who was married and just had a first born kid having an affair with one of the clients. And the wife found out, and we would give him grief over it. =)
• Constantly spending more than our daily per diem each night on food and drinks on the French Quarter. Who can resist the heart-stopping, artery-clogging, New Orleans style food laden with butter, spices, and cholesterol? There's Copeland's, O'Brien's, Sisters, and so much more.
• Drinking on weeknights on Bourbon Street. And our religious weekly Wednesday trek to the Cat's Meow and sing karaoke. One of these nights, I was drunk and got pulled onto the stage along a couple other dudes to do something impressive and get the crowd going. After my drunken act, the next guy did the worm dance and kicked me in the face with his boots, cutting up my lip.
• Bread pudding and rum. New Orleans style barbequed shrimp. God save me.
• Kenny. 'Nuff said.
• The scary parking garage at the client hospital where we worked. Each night something bad would happen. Cars being broken into. People robbed. And the blue emergency/security activation buttons don't work. This is one of the few places where I actually get scared walking to my rental car whenever I have to work late nights.
• The Project Executive of this project from my company {coworker's name withheld to protect his innocence, or there lack of} was a light weight and gets shit-faced every time we go out and drink. One time, we had to pull over on our way back from the French Quarter so he could crawl out of the car, crawl onto someone's front yard and puke, while moaning, stop turning around at us! We had to grab him and put him in the car when the lights in the house slowly came on and drive away.
• Carpooling with coworkers. Grr! And being stuck for a week with a girl named Portia, who forces us to listen to her gospel music CD's which she brings along. Incidentally, her signature on our corporate email was something about God, like "Without God there is no bla bla bla." She cracks me up when I'm not being tortured.
• Fisherman's Cove Seafood store near the hotel where each morning the fresh catch would be dumped behind the store to be sold, or served next door at their side restaurant. I have brought back many a few pounds of fresh jumbo shrimp home to cook.
• Learning how to eat Cajun boiled crawfish with one hand like a local.
• The time said Project Executive did not make any decision regarding our need to evacuate from Ivan the Terrible Hurricane about to hit New Orleans, which incidentally got all of us stranded in New Orleans with little means of escape. Strangely, he left that Wednesday on a flight, while the rest of us could not rebook our flights for that day. And along with this the mass exodus that some coworkers and I took with our rental car and drove towards Houston to fly home. It was a grueling 14 hour drive, and the best sleep I have ever had on a Southwest jet. {20040915 - The hurricane veered to the right at the last minute and hit Mobile, Alabama head on. And this was also the hurricane that entered the Gulf of Mexico, wrecked havoc, turned clockwise back out into the seas, and returned as a tropical storm.}
• The time I flew Michele up for a weekend and played. We worked real well together as a team to get girls to flash for my camera. She was so damn good at it that somehow she convinced me to take off my pants and show my ass for some good beads. I never knew that I could easily whore myself out when intoxicated.
• Larry Flynt's Barely Legal Strip Club. What a boring place that was. But we were there long enough to win free magazines and DVD's. Hee hee.
• Beignet at the Cafe Du Monde: Café Du Monde in the French Quarter. There is nothing better than a hot, fresh, French doughnut and a cup of fresh brewed coffee to cure a hangover.

Wow. That was a lot of things I remembered. And I am sure that there were many other memories that flashed back in my head over the past weekend which I now have forgotten. Now I'm just on a plane flying back to Chicago writing a draft of this blog. Sadder still, I worked 14 hour days and did not get to play in New Orleans. I really wanted to go to Jazz Fest, seeing how Dave Matthews and Bruce Springsteen were part of the act this past weekend. Sigh. Maybe one of these days I'll return as a tourist instead of a consultant? =)