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April 08 Art of InchingApril 02 妥協男人從左邊口袋拿出一張摺了兩摺的紙. 他獨個兒坐在餐室內離大門最遠的位置繼續寫他完成了一半的遺書.
遺書應該是怎樣寫的? 男人從未看過其他人的遺書. 怎樣的格式. 怎樣的用詞. 怎樣的一封信.
其實這些還重要嗎? 誰會批評遺書中錯誤的標點?
能夠表達到自己想表達的便可以. 應該就是這樣吧. 男人討厭社會的規節, 討厭大半生都是屈服於別人的批評, 離棄, 笑罵; 他討厭整個世界都在密謀著討厭他.
這可算是自殺的動機嗎? 無錯, 遺書的主指應該就是動機. 人類社會總是喜歡找出死因; 總是要尋根究底; 那些科學解釋不到的總要用數字來公式化.
男人討厭極了.
到最後, 社會也只是尋求一個容易理解而公式化的答案.
男人把原子筆尖輕輕掃過空白的位置, 移到紙章的最下一行, 寫上他對社會最後的妥協 --- 遺書中最公式化的八個字:
...再見喇, 殘酷的世界!
January 05 prologueThe greatest danger in blogging after a long period of absenteeism is that whatever is said here would seem significant -- that I accomplished a challenging task, or walked along the riverside in Prague, or invented the next greatest home appliance -- when in actual fact, its generation is the result of being driven to the edge of boredom in my vain attempt to rearrange my furnitures to create visual space.
Excellent... just brilliant: beginning my blog with the usual sarcastic pessimism of a clown; that would surely impress. I grow weary from my search. Locked up in my own self-pity, everything blurs by choice.
Of course, I could, ignore the fact that I am a boring person, and go into intricate details recalling events from the past two weeks............. December 22 showmanshipLately, I've been quite fond of talking to strangers -- waiting for BART; in the elevator; at Trader's Joes or Williams-Sonoma.... Yet, I constantly remind myself not to reveal my affiliation with architecture. The morning commute this morning was relatively light, probably since most are off on vacations; I casual-carpooled with someone whom I have aquainted at some other occassion. Probably as a gesture of being polite, and proofing that he remembers me, he started talking Architecture: "what do you think about...." "who was the architect for...." "what period what that style popular..." Each question pumping the rush of a few thousand slide images from ARCH 170....on a thursday morning. Stay calm, Be cool, I said to myself, and neutral answers. "I think the tower is departed from the main structure, and the inside is a little stark." "That project involved a lot of people, but I think the concept design was by R.P." "To be honest, that style is still popular in some people's mind." There. The Art of saying-something-but-not-saying-anything. As much as I am a big supporter of the Art of saying-something-without-saying-anything, the former is appropriately in-tuned with the current atmostphere of Showmanship.
10. China and OPEC start energy dialogue
9. NYC Transit Strike
8. Theatre of the Vampires
7. Bush's public address to the nation.... which interrupted my watching Friends on FOX.
6. U.K. approves same-sex marriage -- heck, marriage itself is a show.
5. Down Down WTO
4. Intelligent Design struck down
3. Israel threatens to hinder Palestinian vote
2. The democrats caught pro-Beijing and government officials off guard, choosing not to speak in the vote on arrangements for the chief executive election.
1. Christmas
December 15 平凡像我路過With enough red wine to get me off-logic, reading another chapter of "The Vampire Lestat" on my commute home was pleasantly appropriate. This was the first time I have attended the Union Christmas Party. The food, I must say, isn't bad at all. Other than that, it was pretty much rubbing shoulders with work people.
The pre-Christmas week marks a period of time when people start going on vacations. One experience the extreme of the pre- pre-Christmas rush, followed by the pre-Christmas void, where practically nothing happens, because all your clients, contractors, consultants, colleagues, and all the other people has gone on vacation.
With no plans for this Christmas, I plan to remain part of, and be one with, this void; this emptiness; this solitude. All too pleasantly appropriate.
.......I'm a 窿 I'm a 窿 I'm a 窿 I'm a 窿 I'm a 窿 I'm a 窿 I'm a 窿 I'm a 窿.................
December 08 just a thought00101101 0110101011 10110101 1 00 10 001010110110
011 0111011 010010100 111110101001 011010101101001
1100 11010101011 11100101101000 1001011010010 111 01010010 November 28 morning after pillMy feelings towards the Day after a long weekend is convoluted with as much ambiguity as those towards the definition for a delectable cup of Latte. Though Thanksgiving weekend is, usually, the only four-day weekend in the calendar year for everyone, it really doesn't matter if you are not going on a trip of some sort. Due to four consecutive evenings of gathering with friends and family, the difficulty in tracking my carb and protein intake for this weekend, in part, has contributed to my uneasiness this morning. Neither am I assured by the scientific approach in which some technician employed some time ago in determining the anti-oxidizing effects for this mug of Japanese Green Tea I am currently holding. It is all too easy to reminiscent upon the Friday clubbing scene, the Saturday afternoon jog by the lake, or the Sunday Brunch, all of which are images appearing on brouchures of fashionable high-end condominium sales. But other than my usual claims of 'cleaning my room' or 'doing the laundry,' there really is little productivity.
The worst part about the Day after, perhaps, is having to be woken up not by my natural instincts or the afternoon sun, but to the buzzer of an alarm clock, predetermined by some technician some time ago for its vexing character. Objects at rest stay at rest; who am I to counter Newton's predispositions?
The morning urban streetscape is being painted by a lab technician somewhere, holding several eyedroppers containing liquids of primary and secondary colours, trying to restore routine back into a beaker that was convoluted by the choasphilic mad scientist we call 'weekend.'
9:09am....Passing by the pantry counter, I see a line of architects, including the bureau manager, trying to piece together a complicated contraption common known as the Coffee Maker. [I never knew we had one in the office]. Perhaps the best morning after cure is, afterall, a good cup of Latte. Mind you, I don't drink coffee; but if and when I do, I would get one in the morning on my way to work, not for the mind-numbing chemistry, but for the opportunity to indulge in a cup of comfort in being able to portray the image of "fitting in." November 26 shopping8.445Gallon
$20.85
185.4 miles
I was pleasantly surprised to see a crowd-free Safeway today, in comparison yesterday's chaos at Ranch 99. Th adventure was met with almost every detail that could agitate an inexperienced shopper. Some people, unaware of their surroundings, just seem to enjoy standing with a fully-loaded shopping cart in the middle of an aisle, leaving half of a cart's width on either sides. There are those who have to touch every single pear on display in order to choose the four lucky candidates; this image has encouraged me through my teenage years to wash my fruits thoroughly. One of the many conceptual inventions my brother and I have schemed up in our youth is a conveytor belt system installed throughout a supermarket at a fixed speed. Ideally, there would be no collisions, and everyone would be forced to decide or have predetermined exactly what to buy.
Of course, there are those who just wander aimlessly in a store, searching fervously for sale items. Surely, saving 50 cents per pound on Iceburg Lettuce would amount to a 42" Plasma Television somewhere down the road, one would assume. Then again, you could wait for Black Friday after Thanksgiving, wait in front of BestBuy starting 2am, until the doors open three hours later, to rush in and elbow other smart shoppers, hunting down internal harddrives, dated laptops, and that 42" Plasma TV which you have sweated for years.
Though I always enjoy browsing merchandise and windows displays, "shopping" never was something I would fill in as a hobby. If I wanted to buy something, I probably have thought about it for a while, and the purpose of a particular trip would be to buy that particular object.
Gathering with some friends tonight was a warm event. Siu Yen hosted the evening at her place. The twelve of us consumed less than half of the seventeen pound bird. I am fortunate enough to be reminded every once in a while, that things that make me happy aren't necessarily something one could buy off the shelf. November 23 noveltyclick.... the PDA mount fitted snuggly onto my airvent, signifying as much a point-of-no-return as clicking to order my PDA on Dell's website. I am still not sure what good a PDA would do for me. My calendars are mostly empty, and all my contacts are stored on my Sony Ericsson (which, at the time of purchase, would serve as a pseudo-PDA). Just as I had bought a car so that I could listen to my CDs, my PDA serves as a vehicle to house a new TomTom Navigator. The fact that even I could afford iit means that it no longer can be termed, technically, technology. I am still delighted at the idea that something only Batman could possess ten years ago is now widely-manufactured and sold at a few hundred dollars.
Without hesitation, but with much reluctance, I opened the package to find nine CDs, containing maps of the US and Canada, and over 50 voices in 30 different languages. Realizing that the US-West map would not fit onto my 128MB SD card, I transferred a detailed map of Northern California, and the voices of Lori [English-US], Kiyoshi [Japanese], Jacques [Francais], and Bai [Chinese-Cantonese]. Sure, I could have ordered the TomTom GO 700, which would have all the maps loaded, but knowing that the novelty of a navigator would wear out in a few months, I could at least be a sophisticated owner of a Dell Axim Handheld, processing words or formatting spreadsheet cells at the airport with a PDA in my left hand, WSJ on my right, and a Starbucks...eh....between my thighs? [I don't believe airport bench seats, which by the way, resonants with a slight bounce, comes preassembled with cupholders; even if they did, they are too American for me to consider using them]. Not only would the PDA be able to give me directions to the nearest Points of Interests, it would also remind me of important dates and appointments, telling me when and where to be where at when.
Why is it that we find so much comfort in being told what to do? It could be that I am terribly afraid of not taking the fastest or shortest route, one that deviates from social norm. Or perhaps it takes too much effort to decide where to go or what to do in the first place. Along with my personal trainer, accupunturist, financial advisor, nutritionist, ..... , I have added a personal driving...eh, shall we say, navigator. Robert Kiyosaki, if he knows me, would be proud of me.
November 24. Thanksgiving. Holiday, no work. Now that I have entered this piece of data onto my PDA, I will remember. When I get home tonight, I shall enter Susie's, Siu Yen's, and Jacky's addresses onto my TomTom, ready for this weekend's adventure.
November 20 speedFriday Night
9.368G
$23.32
206.1 miles
Saturday Night
8.868G
$22.07
241.8 miles
--------------------------------
Staring at the agenda, the speaker's words seems to be blocked off from my mind; instead, the image of Michelle prying oysters open effortlessly becomes more and more vivid. Perhaps still dazed from hours of driving, I realize I am not being very attentive at this workshop, just trying to nod and smile while everyone else is laughing, while being thankful and proud about my accomplishment in looping around the Bay Area today.
Home --> Hwy 580 W --> Richmond Bridge --> Hwy 101 N --> Hwy 1 S --> Tomales Bay --> Hwy 1 S --> Hwy 101 S --> Golden Gate Bridge --> Hwy 84 W --> Palo Alto --> Hwy 101 S --> San Jose --> Hwy 680 N --> Hwy 262 W --> Hwy 880 N --> Hwy 80 N --> Home
Just as I had to learn to trust the pilot or the plane's mechanics to overcome by subconscious fear of flying, I am learning to trust other people on the road or the guy who assembled my seatbelt to do the same for my driving. At what point does Fear goes from protecting us from being in harm's way to impeding our daily functions? Going from the coastal contour of CA-1 to going over 100mph on streches of the inland 880, I realize what some people mean by the need for speed, an inner desire that urges you to go....for the lack of a better word, faster. Going between the left-most lane to the right side exit lane and back, we each have the freedom to choose our own speed. And yet somehow, when in a crowd, going too fast or too slow poses certain dangers. Though rarely adhered to, there is the posted speed limit, representing the constraints placed on us by the institution. Sure, we can advocate for a higher or lower speed, but how effective is that in persuading others to go faster or slower respectively?
So here we were, taking a momentary halt in the speeding routine of life, to shuck oysters from its shells, one at a time.
November 18 Dollar, Bonds and Gold Rise Sharply; Stocks Stay Stuck Near Top of RangeI looked at Celeste in the eyes, and sat there feeling naked. I don't usually expose my entire financial fiasco to any one person at one particular time. As my new Financial Advisor, she insisted that I keep her updated on my financial goals, portfolios, and any new hidden sources of income. Thanks to a modern technology called the Internet (I heard they have it on Computers now), I printed off my Fidelity, ING, and Ameritrade statements off the web to bring along with me. During the time required for the elevator to ascend, I scanned both halves of my brain for new life goals -- long term and immediate. Maybe I should hire a psychiatrist to help me develop goals. I suppose I could rattle off the social norms: have a downpayment, mortgage, go to Law school, get married, travel, retirement, etc. etc. But to be perfectly honest, I only wanted to buy a house out of utter fear of not being able to keep up with rent, say, thirty years from now. If money was not the issue, I would definitely rent for life, living wherever I want from month to month.
"Based on your goals, we will work out a personalized financial plan that will get you there realistically, within the confines of your risk tolerances.... Surely, your short-term goals five years ago are quite different than what they are now." I made an effort to resist rolling my eyes; she has no idea how predictably boring my life is.
Why is it that Financial Advisors always ask for Goals? Such is tied intricately to notions of commitment.
The front page of the WSJ C1 section prints an article that reads "Dollar, Bonds and Gold Rise Sharply; Stocks Stay Stuck Near Top of Range." Not that this is of specific relevance to me personally, but somewhere along the line, the cumulative goals of a handful of billionaires created a supply and demand chain that moved trends.
Here is my ultimate goal: to be a less Boring (and a less Bored) Person. November 15 re-re-re-re-re-formatThis is getting annoying. Upon installing McAfee AntiVirus 2005, a flood of messages boasting its accomplishments in detecting and cleaning a virus that was the intention of my original reformat plaster themselves across my 14.1 in screen. Come to think of it. What damage has this virus, the so-called 'w32/p.bate,' done? It's like going to my physician, to have him or her inform me, thanks to modern technology, in grave tone that I have incurred a disease, which causes no nauseating headache, fever, or neon-coloured mucus, and requires immediate treatment. The virus, has in fact, become a permenant resident on my hard-drive.
The recent riots in France, is in fact, an error message notifying the world of a virus that has existed all along. Nearly three weeks of unrest have jolted France from its dream of living in a Windows XP-service-packed-colorblind, egalitarian society and forced leaders and intellectuals to grapple with the marginalization of the country's predominantly Muslim North African minorities. I am by no means, a supporter for Affirmative Action, nor do I advocate for advocates who advocate honest businesses to contradict a sensible financial plan. I do, however, sneer in contempt to those who created the original seeds of the problems in the first place, namely God, and EECS majors who has acquired sufficient monetary resources during the we-haven't-really-developed-anything-real-but-Click-here-so-I-can-have-some-money period to afford them time to sit inside Starbucks on a workday to create malicious programs.
All-in-all, I'm emotionally-crippled not by the innocent resident hiding behind the Intel-Chip, but rather, McAfee's Policing authority, sounding its siren at the sight of a Corolla speeding 5mph higher than the posted maximum. When France won the World Cup in 1998 with a team dominated by descendants of immigrants from North and sub-Saharan Africa, the nation lost no opportunity to congratulate itself on how the triumph was a reflection of diversity. But when the dictator realizes that some small utility tool is getting in the way of the normal operations of Microsoft or Adobe softwares, then Reformat is the solution. November 13 re-re-re-formatApparently, I have managed, after my re-format yesterday, to visit a website that installs a "spyware" onto my computer. It locks my desktop background and replaces it with a message in Bold Red Letters that says "Windows has detected a spyware installed onto your system, blah blah blah.." Dude, YOU are the spyware! What's more pathetic... the message is immediately followed by pop-ups advertising Anti-Spyware softwares.... that's just wrong. So I spent most of my afternoon re-formating my harddrive and reinstalling Windows XP. I figure it would serve two purposes: one, to have it re-done before I get am too far along the process of re-installing my personalized set of necessary applications; two, to confirm my knowledge in understanding the re-format procedure. Any experienced re-formatter could probably tell you, watching Windows XP install does not speed up the process. Being the multitasker that I am, I started my endeavour to clean out my closet and drawers. In most cases, it serves two purposes: one, to remind myself gently about forgotten possessions; two, to possibly discard the least-to-be-likely-worn-ever. It's always easy to identify the ones that you will definitely keep, and the ones that you would definitely discard; unfortunately, those two catagories is of the minority population. A full array of articles requires much consideration before each could be catagorized accordingly: 1. Event-T's: Considered "momentos" of sorts, they serve to memorialize a volunteering effort, or enforces membership of a particular group. They are generally not worn outside the bedroom, nor are they particularly comfortable substitutes for sleepware. 2. Socks: Having the greatest effect on one's comfort, they also conjure unwanted openings most easily. While a minimal amount of tear is acceptable, one would need a formula that takes into account the location of the hole, multiplied by its diameter. The ones without any damage, on the other hand, are single. I plan to post pictures of these said socks in the house, hoping to give them new purposes. "Single White Tube Sock... searching for Solemate. Sporty. Loves to Travel...." 3. Out of Style: As a not-so-reluctant metrosexual (which in itself, is getting out-of-style), it was relatively painless for me to discard any trousers that are not Flat-front. [I still couldn't believe I have obtained two different jobs wearing pleated khakis to the interviews... Pleated!] Of course, the thought of fashion styles going in cycles would mean that even the most damaged of blue jeans should be kept for it's next turn. 4. Slightly discolored: In general, these articles of clothings still give you the originally intended comfort...physically. Deep down inside, you know that most people on the street can tell the difference between a Pink shirt, and a White shirt that became pink from the wash. They usually go into the pile that says "Bring to my next business travel or camping trip, and discard after wear," but camping or traveling usually requires a specifically distinctive wardrobes, let alone the fact that cleaning out my closet is the last thing on my mind on my last day in Greece. Despite the hard work, I managed to bleach my Whites, cleared my drawers and closets within the alloted time. As a gesture to my efforts, I picked out an outfit that I have not wore for a long time to dinner. Rachel made reservation at Bridges in Danville. Though this has nothing to do with anything, I must say that the risotto is one of the best I have had, far superior to the usual seemingly-undercooked-rice. The ambiance of the restaurant's interior is enough to get my mind off my laptop, sitting on my bed, copying files to be installed..............................................................................................................
November 12 virusSo swimming at an outdoor pool on a winter night isn't exactly the best immunization for a flu. Yet I am constantly tempted to test the limits of my own vulnerability, if for no other reasons, to take comfort in confirming my own presence. My flu symptoms developed quite gradually throughout the day, from perfecting the Eagle Pose effortlessly in the morning to producing dozens of tissue wonton in front of the tv an hour ago. Nonetheless, I don't regret swimming last night... I never do. The common advice would be to not think about the absence of heat in the water. Of course, disregarding your bodily signals only work if you adhere to it from start to finish. If anything, my lack of focus on my strokes made me more vulnerable to the entry of neurological viral infection. My mind wandered to a question which I have slowly developed for the past few years. If each of us is in fact the product of Intelligent Design, in accordance to the theories of Creationism, then could one develop strong enough a will-power to turn himself 'Off'? Of course, he would run into the slightest possibility of not being able to turn himself On again. And, as suicidal I may be, I do realize that such a gesture for someone with such a strong will-power is deemed unnecessary for the most part. Being trapped by my lack of energy and motivation [if I weren't so sick, I would make an inference to Ibsen's Doll House here], I decided to re-format my hard-drive.
I have been preparing for this feat mentally for some time. Every time I turn on my laptop, I would be greeted by hurdles of unknown error messages, 'detected but cleaned viruses,' unfamiliar program shortcuts, expired trial periods..... None of these 'Undesirables' by itself would render the computer useless, yet the cumulative effect considerably slows down my productivity of complaining about life to those who stumples onto my blog accidentally. Just to get in the lingo of Computer "Architects" (<< it's just wrong!), I started by backing-up my files; I inserted the Operating System CD, and booted from the CD-ROM. I shrewdly, but reluctantly formated the partition in which I would like to re-install my Windows XP Home Edition. I wasn't optimistic about ever seeing the Windows Logo again, let alone getting online. You see, Computer to me is a religion: No one really understands it; it can't be explained; but since you need it to get some things done, just trust it and don't ask any questions. It embodies every essence of the word "Intelligent Design." As much as I would like to re-format myself everytime a virus is detected, I too am guilty of taking too much comfort in the imprisonment from the past.
A sense of relieve washes over when I am greeted by the iconic Windows XP wallpaper with the rolling green meadow backdropped by the skyblue-coloured sky, as if I had just been cured from a horrible disease. Reality check: my nose is still stuffed, and my throat still sore. November 08 scrabbleShell - Central Avenue
Pump #7
Premium 9.758 Gallon
$25.75
250.8 miles
Coming home from the rain, it was no surprise to find an army of ants on my bathroom floor. The drive to Millbrae and back in the pour, on the other hand, was surprisingly pleasant. My trip to SFO this time 'round took less than thirty minutes. As I look up at the moonroof from the interior of my vehicle, the satisfying feeling of being sheltered from the cruelty of nature rushes in.
If for no other reasons, playing Scrabble with some close friends inside a cafe on a rainy day seems romantic enough to justify a drive of almost any duration. Nevermind that half the tiles are probably missing from the set. T-E-Q-*-I-L-A. I take another sip of my overly-sweet blueberry juice, and stare at the seven letters on my tray, scanning the board fruitlessly for squares to host my tiles. Chance brings the seven tiles together onto my tray. Chance has installed, some time in the past, this word in my limited list of vocabulary. Chance provokes me to arrange them in this fashion. Chance, alas, at this moment, forces me separate them apart: L-A-T-E. Brilliant... four points. Other words has arrived and departed my tray. Q-U-A-I-L; E-Q-U-I-P; Q-U-E-R-Y... all of which would have tripled my score. If you had a choice, would you rather be a high-scoring tile (like Q and Z, each worth 10 points)? Or be a 'A' or 'E', bearer of one mere point, yet be involved in almost any word, be comfortable in almost any situation, be compatible with almost anyone?
If each ant on my bathroom floor is sribed a letter on its back, I'm sure I have enough ants to spell S-Q-U-A-S-H-*-U-S-*-N-O-W-*-A-N-D-*-W-E-*-W-I-L-L-*-G-E-T-*-O-U-T-*-O-F-*-Y-O-U-R-*-S-I-G-H-T. But that would be too cruel, even for my standard. That's what the ants are doing, really... sheltering from the cruelty of nature from outside. Setting the boundary by closing off my bathroom door, I decided to let them take refuge for the night.
November 05 ThresholdShell - Central Ave
8.635G
$23.05
175.3 miles
Splash... The best thing about swimming on a chilly pre-winter night at an outdoor pool is that you can practically swim diagonally or in circles. All the ripples on the water surface were created by only two guys last night at the Lanley Pool; I was one of them. Sure, it was cold entering into the water, and even more so, coming out, but the entire swim was very pleasant, especially when it started raining -- the sky, the water, and the space in between all became one. Our fear of crossing a threshold is all too apparent. Remember how hard it would be to convince you to take a bath when you were a kid? and even more difficult to pursuade you out of the bathtub once you are in. Likewise in my highschool years, I never wanted to sleep even at the wee hours of the next morning; but sleeping in is more than a habit on a sunny Saturday.
Newton's First Law holds true: Object in motion stays in motion; Object at rest stays at rest.
Listening to Stravinsky's Requiem tonight at my friend's Chamber Chorus, I am lured into one of my deep thoughts picturing the underworld. How would I brace for my entrance? The Canticles were in fact performed at Stravinsky's memorial service. What would be an appropriate set of streching exercises to do before diving into the water? I suppose it's not a fair comparison, since I am so much more familiar with the water. At times, it almost feels like a thick blanket, engulfing my near naked body. It always has been the safe place where I could cry without anyone knowing.
Birthdays are another threshold that we try so dearly to cope with. Biologically, nothing drastic really happens to our bodies on our birthdates; yet some how, we think that our age jumps by 365 days on that one date. I suppose the only reason I'm saying this is from the numerous birthdates during the month of November.
Happy Birthday!
October 31 Day in BurlingameLike a Virgin....... today was my first time driving to the San Francisco International Airport. I have been waiting for this day for sometime, upgrading the level of my usefulness on a personal level, and further justifies my purchase of a new Rac. I reviewed 'Initial D, the Hong Kong movie' once more the night before, and slept early to ensure enhanced focus. Woke up early, perfected my morning rituals, headed off to the studio for 90 minutes of Yoga, came back, still in my gym shorts and sweat, showered my car and myself, and off to SFO. The Bay Bridge was relatively traffic-free at 11:45am, and neither did HWY 101 South resemble any decent Tofu-delivery route. With ease, I managed to (and again, I'm always thankful everytime) park my vehicle on the second floor of Garage A. I got to the waiting lobby to find that Stan's flight has been delayed from 12:35pm to 5:45pm. (Apparently, they did an emergency landing at Japan). Called up Janice, and within an exit off 101, she kindly let me stay at her apartment flat for the time being.
The most obvious task when I got there was to entertain Cha Cha (Stanley's cat) - (Figure 1). He enjoys human company, and is fun to be around with. I spent 90 minutes reading the days' Wall Street Journal, and finished past the half-mark on Peter Hyman's book (I would highly recommend this book if you recently found yourself to have become a Metrosexual, however reluctantly, or simply wanted a fuller definition of the word 'Metrosexual' than what Wikipedia could offer.) With Cat-hair all over my black Clairborne, I realize that a glass of milk was all I have consumed for the day. So I boiled an egg and some Choi Sum (Thanks Janice). Thirsty, I searched for a beverage of some sort in her refridgerator..... Cranberry+Apple Juice at 43g of Sugar per 8 oz or 39g of Sugar per can of Coke. Haven't touched softdrinks in a long long time, the choice seemed obvious (Figures 2a + 2b). First sip.... yuck...it's much heavier than I remember it to be....I finished the can by blocking out my sense of taste, and tried to enjoy the carbonation.
Wanting to write a Thank You note to Janice, I searched for pen and paper... fruitless. I would settle for Origami Paper, but those were no where to be found either. Hopeless, I took apart my Wall Street Journal [attempting to impress foreigners by upholding the International-Airport-Icon of Wall Street Journal in my left-hand and Starbucks on my right would have to wait until next time] , and tried to make a Rose [yes, Janice, that's what that mess of newspaper is supposed to resemble], and placed it next to a nicely-framed Prisma-color painting (Figure 3) by a talented artist. Oh, and Janice, you can throw the 'Rose' away if you like, as it is a Temporary piece from my Contemporary Collection, symbolized by the timeliness of the P/E Ratios and 52 weeks' High/Low imprinted on the petals.
As I looked out the balcony to watch Girls Soccer on the adjacent field (Figure 4), the front door was being unlocked. I greeted two strangers, whom I am sure, thought of me as one; while, at the same time, Vicky called my phone to let me know that her mom and cousin would be dropping by. Siu Yen called not long after, we met up, and headed off to SFO together.
The rest is just a boring, predictable blur: Stanley's arrival, dinner with Janice, drove home, blah blah... I must say, of the three times (yes this is the 3rd time) that I crossed the Bay Bridge, today was a relatively happy drive.
October 30 intentions vs. inventionszoom zoom..... Alas, it has already been a month since I purchased my little vehicle. Contrary to my initial intention of gaining more friends and possibly entering the next Popularity Contest, I seem to be more alone than ever before. Not only have I not found any new aquaintances, I have somehow been distant from the however many few friends that I do have enumerated in my mobile phone. Sure, it's partly due to the fact that I have to monitor my portfolio more closely and do more contract assignments so that I wouldn't have to dip into my savings to make car/ insurance/ gas payments. I don't mind working on a Friday night, especially if it helps to keep my mind from wandering into the dangerous territories of "'why doesn't anyone like me?" Maybe it is harder to arouse pity with four-wheels than it is as a vulnerable pedestrian. Somehow, society (and the law) conjures up a thorough image of the strong vs. the weak, and most appropriately, in a fully-functioning democractic realm, charity must be in place. Perhaps I could make more new friends and strengthen the bond among existing ones by calling people up and offering them rides out of the blue. But then again, my competent driving skills might serve as much purpose in this respect as a snail offering to help deliver FedEx. The convenience of being alone offers its bearer an unwanted addiction, driving off to a coast-line or cliff-edge somewhere, and sit inside the car to read, listen to Jazz, or draw (it helps to not have the wind blowing against the Bristol board.)
Brook (my co-worker) is right: the Bay Area is diverse, but there is no diversity. Our scopes are often limited by a set of pre-determined parameters. Don't get me wrong; I'm pretty much against affirmative action. But society has a list of expectations which, in my opinion, are like your typical daliy dose of Starbucks.
Well, off I go on my search for a new Afghani-Swedish best friend.
P.S. Thanks for posting the photos on my blog site, J. You are so funny and adorable.  October 26 pawnWalking around the last street corner before I approach the front entrance of my destination, I came across a small ivory pawn. This means foremost, that there is an incomplete chess set somewhere in this world, with a missing Pawn. The Pawn is a sign to me.... some symbol of what lies ahead. October 25 1/2+1/2Shell Gas Station
10/24/05
217.4 miles
10.143 Gallons
$29.00
I saw myself split in half today.
When I arrived to class, it was already crowded, so I slipped my mat reluctantly in a remaining spot. Looking up, I was starring right at the joint of two wall mirrors. It made me a little uncomfortable throughout the entire class, as I tried to sway right and left to get a clearer picture of myself. It is always confusing to be split in the middle, not knowing where you belong. 25. Having almost memorized most of the lyrics in Jan Lamb's 3omethin' I decided to pick up Jamie Cullum's twentysomething. Yes, I like 'Catching Tales' much. I must admit, Jamie has the ability to give some fresh vibes. I feel more associated with this debut, as an aspiring keyboardist and an aspiring British. Here I am, stuck between 3omethin' and twentysomething. 25. No real talents; No workable inventions; No taxable property.
Feeling psuedo-good about lengthening my spinal cord, I fed my zoom zoom with the highest octane fuel at a nearby Shell, and then I drove half an hour to Pinole's Best Buy and got myself a $200 new toy. It's still sitting next to me, waiting to be plugged in. I think I'll do it tomorrow night. I realized that as I am learning to dislike people more and more, I am spending more money on myself. 法日混血兒 would be proud of me. I still remember the first time when he approached me, promising to instill upon me a sense of self-satisfaction that God has refused.
Split between angel + demon, hate + love, vanity + pity: on the brink of collapse: the tipping point: blink.
.... and so, he plays his part.
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