Swirled: the unraveling of life's mystery

The latest from the journey

2010-09-14T23:53:00.000-07:00

I'm back. Hello blog. How have you been? Nice to see you. Right where I left you. Thanks for waiting for me.

Currently I am deep in the quest of contemplation. As I began to write this sentence the word understanding came up, yet I like the word contemplation because that is all we really can do. To think that I can actually understand something of this complex universe is probably a bit perverse. But I can contemplate as long as I am here. That's probably only the I that is the ego that will contemplate. Okay that's about enough of my ranting, I can tell that I haven't written anything in awhile because my words are not flowing as freely as with practice. Practice always brings a feeling of ease.

One of the books that I was drawn to at the library is called "Holistic Anatomy" by Pip Waller and so far I am really enjoying the way that she expresses connection and the system we inhabit and call the body. I want to share a quote from the book about how we are all connected in essence because we are all made of organism's that formed with a reliance upon other organisms for survival.

She writes, "In the morning, an alarm clock made in a factory across the sea wakes me. I get up and dress in clothes made somewhere else. I eat food grown by people of many countries - packed, transported, and sold to me. Before I even leave the house in the morning I have been touched by thousands of other lives. Is is impossible for a human being to be separate. We are connected to each other and to all life, to the earth we live on, as intimately as our cells are part of us. Likewise, in creating this holistic anatomy, physiology, and pathology book, I am roaming through body, culture, society, Earth, politics, healing and spirituality."

I just want to note how interesting the last part is and why anatomy and what is going on in the body cannot be explained through only one lense. I am grateful for this art of contemplation and the mystery (and also perfection) of the human body.

I am a healer

2009-05-25T22:33:00.000-07:00

I want to be able to call myself a healer. To say "I am a healer" and to know that my heart's work is as a facilitator of the release of pain. I am so thankful that I am finally on that path. I am also inspired with the knowledge that my journey is just beginning and that it need not ever end. In fact, perhaps my journey isn't just beginning and all of my life's experiences have been set up to bring me to where I am now. I don't know if I would be here without the "wounds" of my past. And I am certain I owe much to my deep spiritual experiences - beginning at an early age, shaken up during adolescence, abandoned while reconciling my desires, and found again from a rebirth of sorts.

I went to a reggae concert this weekend and I want to use one of their lyrics as a metaphor for how I feel deep inside: "There's a fire in my soul." Indeed, there is a fire there and I just want to keep adding wood to the fire so it can grow and remain nurtured. I also went to another show and heard another lyric that stuck with me. I can't remember the words exactly, but basically it was about "maybe the point to life is there is no point." Standing on it's own, this lyric sounds kind of harsh, but within the context of the song it resonated with me the idea that as human beings we are constantly trying to make sense of and understand the meaning of life. And maybe the meaning of life is much more simple than all of the religious philosophies hypotheses? We are all here to touch others and to be touched ourselves. So whatever the point to life is, let me live each moment in gratitude of the beauty of this world, the connecting of souls, the wonder of imperfection, the freedom to be me and to know that in simply being me I can and have made a difference in other's lives.

So there, I am already a healer in my own way. You are too, you just have to believe it. God, it just sounds so good.

The Gift of Life

2009-05-24T13:24:00.000-07:00

"The Gift of Life" - Alan Jones (An episcopal priest speaks of his daily practice in the art of "Contemplative Dying)

In my tradition we try to practice dying every day so that we ay be fully alive. What I understand of my prayer life is to place myself on the threshold of death, to participate in my dying, so that I may live each day and each moment as a gift. What I cultivate is a grateful heart; each moment then becomes a new thing. My gratitude comes from the sheer gift of life itself.

Who you are cannot be contained in what is happening to you just now. You are part of a love story. You are desired and longed for. There are thousands of witnesses before you who would claim that you are held in the arms of love. And I'd like to leave you with the prayer that one of the Franciscans left with me -

O my God, you are here. O my God, I am here. O my God, we are here. And always, always, always you love us. Always, always you love us.

May the angels of God watch over you; may Mary and all the Saints pray for you, and all those whose lives you touch, this moment and forevermore. Amen

Ritual

2009-05-24T13:06:00.000-07:00

Today I began a new ritual, at least I am hoping and praying that I will have the strength and self discipline to continue this practice every day so that I can one day call it a true ritual. The experience I had was profound.

A few years ago I worked as a hospice volunteer coordinator and I was given a two disk c.d. set called "Graceful Passages." The first c.d. has a bunch of soothing messages from various cultural traditions about death and dying set to beautiful, peaceful music. The second c.d. is just the music without the words on the first c.d. I lost track of this c.d. for a few years and then a couple of months ago I went home to my parent's house and when I was searching through my things, I happened upon it and brought it back to the city with me. I first listened to it again when I was suffering from a few days of insomnia and thought I would give the calming nature of the c.d. a try in my varied attempts at falling asleep. I wasn't entirely successful, but thank God that I listened to it that day because the messages touched my soul and I have been thinking for awhile of using the c.d.s in a daily practice of some sort.

Today, I took the idea out of my head and put it into practice. I just created a mini-altar in my bedroom that consists of two sculptures I bought from a medicine woman in Bolivia (one represents Pacha Mama and the other Pacha Papa -- mother earth and father earth), a wood sculpture of a Yogi, and a bunch of incense that I brought back with me from Vietnam. I lit a stick of incense which conveniently sits inside the Pacha Mama figure, turned on the music portion of the Graceful Passages c.d., got out a comfy pillow, knelt down on my pillow and began to pray. I started off thanking God and acknowledging the energy of the universe and of Pacha Mama and asked to be filled with the energy from both the heavens and the earth. The rest of what I said is fairly inconsequential, but once I let go of the words and simply sat with my thoughts and the smell of the incense wafting in the air, my thoughts turned towards the love and beauty that I have received from my family in Ecuador. These people are not my family through birth and while we don't communicate fluently in each other's languages, the love I felt from them when I was there filled my body and came pouring out of me as my eyes filled with tears which I let roll down my face one by one. I simply sat and felt filled with love and gratitude.

After I got up from the pillow, I played one of the messages from the c.d. I want to share that message here because I think it is incredibly beautiful. Actually, I changed my mind. I think I will give the message it's own post cause it is deserving of standing alone.

You're the inspiration

2009-05-16T13:50:00.001-07:00

I had dinner this weekend with my friend from Mexico. He has lived here over ten years and has worked in restaurant kitchens all over the city; usually clocking around 80 hours of work a week. Most of his wages are sent home to care for his two children that he has not been able to see since he came to this country. Every time I hang out with him, I can't help but feel grateful for all of the things that I take for granted. He never feels sorry for himself, his view is that he is doing his duty for his family and he is happy to have money to send to his kids so that they can go to school. I just wanted to write this post as a tribute to him as an inspiration in my life.

His attitude of finding the positive in every situation was never better illustrated for me than one day at my old job when the front of house workers were all complaining about how we weren't being paid on time. He told me, "I worked at a restaurant before and I went to work and it was closed and I never got paid $1500 that they owed me." I thought that was ridiculous, "Are you kidding me?" I exclaimed. His response I will never forget, "Yea, but I got to work with a really great chef and learn a lot. So basically it was like I paid $1500 for school which is pretty cheap."

Bus wars

2009-05-15T00:44:00.000-07:00

Why do people on public buses refuse to move to the back of the bus when they are standing up? Clearly, it must occur in some part of their self-centered brains that anyone else who gets on the bus is also going to have to stand up. And simple laws of science and space (think one of those school math problems: if a farmer has a plot of land that is 4 ft. by 4 ft. and he wants to plant x number of trees....) dictate that there will not be enough room on this front portion of the bus for all of the future passengers. With this common knowledge, it seems simply human courtesy to move as far back in the bus as you can to allow room for anyone else who gets on. Yet, without fail when I get on a full bus, I have to maneuver through all the people in the front to find a space to stand. This game of pinball gets irritating. Sometimes I just want to yell out, "Why won't you people move to the back! Don't you know that more and more people are going to get on here? Where do you think they are going to stand you idiots?" Or even worse, when there are so many people standing in the front that you try to get on the bus and you can barely fit. You have to squeeze your body against all the other passengers just to stay behind the yellow line. And you can see as you look through the clustered mass of people that there is a large empty space at the back of the bus. Whenever I see this, I long to be there, but sometimes the other passengers have kept me from reaching this oasis of space. It's not like there isn't a door in the back of the bus as well. I just don't get it and I would like someone to tell me why. Why are we living in such a self-centered society that we prefer to cause others difficulty rather than give up our so-called "prime real estate?"

Pet talk

2009-05-14T00:39:00.001-07:00

My question of the day is: "How can some people treat their pets so great and themselves like shit?"

I was hanging out with my sister today who is going through some incredibly hard times right now, probably the most difficult times in her life. She recently rescued a dog from the Oakland ASPCA and has given the dog so much love and care that it touches my heart to see their connection. Right now, she is playing an extreme mother role for the dog. Since the dog essentially has post traumatic stress disorder from living in the shelter and having God only knows what kind of life before hand, she presents her trauma in the form of skittishness and fear. Whenever her dog becomes scared, she is quick to step right in and pet her to calm her down and say something like, "Good girl. It's okay. It's okay. You are such a good girl."

Not only does she comfort her dog, she praises and rewards her. I can't tell you how many times I heard her say, "Oh you are so cute. Aren't you just the cutest dog in the entire world. It should be illegal how cute you are." And whenever she does something good, she rewards her with a little doggie treat.

I wish with all of my heart that she could find a way to be that healer and provider of love and security for herself. She has gone through her own trauma, but has yet to talk to herself in the same manner that she does with her dog.

What if we all walked through life each day talking to ourselves like we do our pets? I think that there just might be some more people in this world who find a way to love themselves. I tell my roommate's cat constantly, "Oh, I love you so much kittle bittle. You are such a beautiful and wonderful sweetheart." I'd like to end my night saying the same thing to myself: "I love you so much and you are a beautiful and wonderful sweetheart." There, now that just feels good.

Connection

2009-05-11T23:33:00.001-07:00

The concept of connection and community has been on my mind a great deal lately. Growing up a military brat and moving every three years, I was constantly having to create and recreate a community of friends for myself. This transitory way of life led me to develop invisible walls and barriers between myself and groups of people. I've always been a very social person, but at the same time maintained that I had a need for independence. I lived life with a sort of "I don't need anyone else" attitude. I also grew up in a family where intense fighting was the norm and emotional support virtually nonexistent, somewhat abusive one could say. In a space where words were more often hurtful than mindful and crying always meant that something was wrong. My way of coping when I was growing up was to maintain a somewhat "invisible" status, again, harking back to my claim that all I really need I can give myself.

Recently, I have discovered the beauty and importance of being in community. I no longer desire to withhold my feelings from others, including myself. I also recognize my need for connection. I am so grateful that I am allowing these desires to exist.

Tonight, I went to a bipolar support group. Lately, my moods have been swinging all over the place and I thought it would be nice to talk to some others. I really want to write more about this, but I need to go to bed. So, I just want to say that I am proud of myself for facing a fear. I also want to note that people are amazing and wonderful beings and that as tough has my illness has been in my life, I am actually grateful for it for allowing me to really have compassion and empathy for a kind of struggle with one's own mind that is impossible for many people to understand.

End of a chapter

2009-04-22T23:46:00.000-07:00

Pin drop
flip flop
inside the brain
play the game
relief like a white rabbit hare
rescued from a hunters gun
soldier on rabbit
turtle tails and little hairs
they will grow
like a flower with sun and water
love with language
growth even stronger
out of danger
night sky, shooting star, wishes cast
returned in a whisper
a gesture of compassion
learning multiple lessons
life is all in succession
spoke of the moment
gratitude for the reminder
i might long for other worlds and dreams
but today is today and tomorrow a world away

Swirled

2009-04-01T22:18:00.000-07:00

People are the same
no matter race, color, or creed
we may have different traditions
And views about this world
Wish we all could live in harmony
and see the beauty wherever it may be
But unfortunately lack of understanding
leads to desire to dominate and subjugate
a big fat swirled mystery is life
like a swirled ice cream cone
only sometimes we fit together
and sometimes we choose solely vanilla or chocolate
I like my cone in a rainbow of colors
swirled together through peace and love

Effortless

2009-03-31T08:21:00.000-07:00

It feels like forever since I last got to write anything. All of the pens that I brought with me on the trip have run out of ink and when I was at the market today and tried to buy just two pens instead of the entire canister, the women shooed me away and mumbled something to themselves. Probably along the lines of, "Crazy foreigner. What good does selling 2 pens do us?" Who knows what they said, though whatever it was I'm hoping it sounded ruder than it really was. To be honest, they kind of scared me with their intense reaction. That aside, I haven't been able to write in about four days or so and I have got to find myself a pen tomorrow. On the other hand, it feels good to get back on my blog and post a little something about what I've been experiencing.

I finished reading "The Celestine Prophecy" a few days ago and one of the nine spiritual insights that the main character of the book is attempting to discover has to do with examining the coincidences that occur in your life and also of equal importance, to examine why certain people come into your lives at certain times. The premise is to keep your mind open to the knowledge or insights that they have to offer you.

My first day in Hanoi, I was eatting breakfast at a cafe when this girl who was by herself walked by. As she passed, she happened to glance in my direction and we exchanged a smile. I honestly had an intuition that I was going to have another encounter with her at some point. About 5 minutes later, she came back, stopped in front of the menu stand and read it for a brief moment before walking into the cafe. Again, as she walked passed me we exchanged a smile and then she came back and almost simultaneously she asked if she could join me and I motioned for her to come sit down. She happened to be from Austria and unfortunately I know that the language barrier kept us from experiencing each other's full personalities, but we spent the day together going to some parts of Hanoi away from the tourist district. It was good hanging out with her, but at the end of the day, I definitely felt a need to get away and be on my own again. I didn't really think about her much until today when I went out to look for a tour of Halong Bay. Trying to find a trip around here is like taking a huge gamble. Half the time you don't really know if you will be getting what the tour agency advertises. When I met with her she told me about this agency called Ocean Tours and I happened to walk by them today when I was thinking about Halong Bay. I stopped in and they were really great. I think this bit of information was what I needed to learn from Karen.

Yesterday, I took a day trip out to the Perfume Pagoda. It's this super sacred Buddhist place where tons of Vietnamese go to this temple that is located inside a cave and they ask for an abundant year. On the trip there was an American couple and while we were walking back to the boat to take us back (you have to take a one hour boat ride on the river to get there) I ended up talking to Courtney about her bargaining strategies. They live in Thailand so I figured that they would have a lot of experience with these things. Bargaining is one of those skills that was simply lost on me. For the most part, I might as well have a sign on my head that says, "I am a sucker and will give up really easily." In fact, the other day, I went to buy a pork bun and the women told me it was 1000 dong more than I had paid the day before, but I was too lazy to say anything. Well, today, I actually had fun bargaining and think I was fairly successful. The original price quote I got was 150,000 and I ended up paying 60,000. Thanks Courtney for the information.

Lastly, a man whose identity is still unknown to me gave me one of the greatest insights so far. I was riding a motorbike taxi back from the museum and we pulled up to a stop light. The man next to us was wearing a sweatshirt that said, "Buffalo Tours. Inspirational Travel" on the back. I was quite familiar with Buffalo Tours as I had actually had quite a bit of interest in potentially taking one of their trips which encompassed Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam and was unique in the fact that their were these really cool volunteer projects in each place. The whole philosophy of the organization is to give back when traveling and it was started by a Vietnamese guy, so it is all local and all the profits and salaries benefit the people who live here. I hadn't thought about looking them up once I got here, but I had thought many times over the course of this trip that I wished there was something I could do to make a difference. Anyhow, I thought that if I had time today I would try to find out where their office was and go talk to them. But I got to wandering all over the old quarter and other parts of Hanoi and pretty much forgot about it when I turned down one street on my way to find some old house and there was the Buffalo Tours office. I walked in, told them I was interested in trying to find an organization in Hanoi that I could perhaps volunteer at for a day or to and then make a monetary donation. The women set me up with a place called Morning Star Center which is a school for children with intellectual disabilities. They rely solely on private funding and they often help students integrate into regular schools and teach independant living skills. I'm staying in Hanoi now rather than try to see the Northwest part of the country, which is supposed to be beautiful, but I know that I am right where I want to be.

Losing my patience

2009-03-25T03:29:00.000-07:00

I just wrote this super long posting and then it got deleted from the computer. I guess it was only meant for myself and not to be read by anyone else. I'll just say that I made it through the motorcycle journey and hopefully tomorrow I can write more.

Butterfly kisses

2009-03-22T06:25:00.000-07:00

I have somehow come to find myself on a six day motorcycle journey through the Central Highlands of Vietnam, from Nha Trang to Hoi An to be specific. Never in my wildest dreams would have I imagined this experience. Prior to coming here, I had only ever had two fairly short motorcycle rides courtesy of Michele. This trip just sort of found me. I was walking to the beach in Nha Trang with the plan of hanging out there in the morning, returning to my hotel before noon to shower and pack my things, check out of my hotel, and take the night bus around 7 pm to Hoi An.

On my way to the beach, I was stopped by Mr. Hiep and offered a ride within the town. I quickly turned him down because I was only going a short way and didn't want to even look the slightest bit interested for fear of being hassled. He asked me where I was from and when I answered, he pulled his bike up alongside mine and asked if I had ever heard of the Easy Riders. I told him no, although I briefly recalled my friend Primavera mentioning something of the sort and when I was looking up some stuff online while still in the U.S. I had bookmarked a page with some information about how you can hire motorcycle riders to take you out into the country and act as your guide. He pulled out his book of previous customers rave reviews and we were off to a cafe so that he could show me his pictures and talk to me about the trip.

Going with my letting experiences come to me mentality, it sounded like a cool idea, I had been wanting to get out to the parts of Vietnam where having transportation is necessary, and I previously heard of these bike riders, so I signed up for the trip. I signed up for the trip knowing that it was a bit longer than I wanted to spend, but the shorter trips go South and I needed to go North, so I thought why stress about it and simply look at it as an adventure.

Today is the end of the third day and I am really starting to enjoy myself. The first two days, for some reason, I was focusing more on the negative aspects of the trip rather than looking deeper and trying to find the beauty. For one thing, while there has been plenty of beautiful scenary, I wouldn't say that anything has been over the top spectacular. I couldn't help comparing the beauty to other places I had been or to some previously conceived belief about what the scenery would look like on this trip. Additionally, Mr. Hiep, nice as can be, simply does not understand English very well. I would say that he speaks better than he can understand, but I think that this has come over years of saying pretty much the same things to all the tourists. At first, this was quite challenging for me because I wanted to engage him and not to simply listen to him tell me the same thing time after time; I really struggled to maintain my personality because he could not understand when I was trying to joke around and be silly.

On the ride today, as we drove through a series of villages, all of a sudden the sky was filled with swarms of yellow butterflies. There was not a direction I could look without seeing these butterflies. It was a surreal and magical experience, I couldn't help but to have a huge smile permanently attached to my face as we rode through the towns. The thoughts in my head (riding on the back of a bike gives the mind much time for thinking) told me, "How wonderous is this that in the midst of this trip that is about a soulful rebirth of sorts, I would be surrounded by butterflies - themselves the very symbol of change?" Also, at this time, I was hoping to change my perspective about the trip. Instead of viewing Mr. Hiep's lack of English as a nuisance, I began to see it as funny and entertaining. He has Hiepisms which are absolutely hysterical and I know that whenever I remember him in the future I will remember these. "Why not. If you never try, you never know" he always says. "Fucking cool man." or "We drink little beer. You drink little beer, you make sleep. No drink little beer, no make sleep." and "You make picture. Come on, make picture."

The thrill and feel of fredom from riding on the bike is hard to recreate in any other activity that I had done. And whether or not the scenary is the most eye catching in the world, passing by the towns and watching all the kids run towards the bike with huge smiles on their faces and their hands waving furiously back and forth is an image to truly remember. Any time I have gotten to thinkomg too much in my head, as soon as I see the children a huge smile finds its way to my face and I am brought back to the moment and to the beauty of this world. Beauty doesn't always have to be wrapped up in a nice package for it to still exist. We just have to look at the packaging in a different way. Thanks butterflies.

Getting spiritual in Vietnam

2009-03-18T08:07:00.000-07:00

Some of you may know that I left for a 24 day journey in Vietnam on March 13th. Today being March 18th then this is my fifth day of travel. There was absolutely no planning involved in this trip, all I knew was that I would fly into Saigon and stay with my friend Primavera and then follow my instincts and desires until at least making it to Hanoi in order to fly home on April 6th. This journey is kind of a spiritual rebirth of sorts. The last five years of my life have truly been the most difficult and yet perhaps most important years of my life. However, roughly two weeks prior to this trip, I experienced a rejuvenation of spirit. I came to life again as I like to call it. The purging of emotional pains and the exploration and discovery of a new love for myself have driven a newfound excitement and peace regarding this journey of life. I told a friend that I felt "like I am allowing myself to live again." As soon as I began to feel this way, amazing things began to happen in my life.

One of these things happens to be this trip to Vietnam. For some reason or other I have always wanted to come here, but didn't know when it would happen. I definitely know that it happened now for a reason. With the rebirth of my love for life also came back my sense of spiritually, of some greater force (perhaps indescribable and undefinable) at play in the universe and in my life. I began to "what I call listen to the universe" and to take moments of brief meditation in order to center myself and stay in the moment. In this manner, I am traveling around Vietnam. I am simply trying to stay aware of connections as they occur and to remain flexible and willing to follow them. This is definitely not always easy. But, something happened yesterday which is one such connection.

I just got into a new town called Nha Trang (it's the largest beach resort in Vietnam) and I wasn't exactly in the best of moods. I had spent the last two days in the Mekong Delta on this completely unorganized tour where I had to grapple with my feelings about watching a bunch of western tourists point cameras in people's faces because they live in a way much different than our experiences. And I not only travled from the Delta back to Saigon, but then spent the night aboard a sleeper bus from Saigon to Nha Trang where I had to listen to my ipod the entire time because the bus driver would not stop constantly honking his horn. Through all this, I had managed to stay positive and write in my journal about the learning experience and such. When I left my hotel to explore Nha Trang, I felt irritated that I didn't have a car or motor bike to get around to places of peace and serenity. I thought that I wanted to try to make it to this secluded beach called Jungle Beach but didn't feel comfortable getting there on my own. As I was walking along the road feeling that this town really was not where I wanted to be, a motor bike driver stopped in front of me calling out, "Hey, what are you doing now?" When I turned to see him, I found out that he was the very same motor bike driver that I had ridden around Saigon with. He took me to a bunch of temples and other sites and it was a very good tour. This could not have been a mere coincidence in my mind, so I told him that I was trying to get to Jungle Beach. He said that he would take me there and off we went. Well, turns out he wasn't going to take me to Jungle Beach at all, but I completely let go of any expectations and thought that wherever he takes me is where I need to go. He took me to a Pagoda where I marveled at the power of the feminine as it was a shrine to a Goddess. This was important because I have been wrestling lately with what it means to be female and seeing strong depctions of women goddesses carved into stone gave me a peace of mind that femininity is much more all encompassing than modern societies filters have allowed.

Next, he took me to a buddist monastary and temple. As soon as I got there I was approached by a woman wanting me to buy some postcards to support the orphans that lived at the monastary. She told me that 18 orphans lived there and they needed the money to help them live. I really, really wanted to give her money but I didn't have much with me and I had to save what I had for the motor bike driver. I began to climb up the steps to reach this giant white Buddha at the top of the hill. Along the way, there were multiple people asking for money. When I got to the big Buddha, there was a group of kids playing cards and I suspected that they were some of the orphans that lived there. I felt an intense swelling of compassion for these children and wished that there was something with a more permanent effect that I could do other than give a few dollars. I walked up to the Buddha and there was a shrine inside. I took off my shoes, gave a bow and approached the altar. I stood in front of it with my eyes closed trying to take in my feelings and emotions. Before I knew what hit me, I began to cry. I felt overwhelmed at the positive changes that have taken place in my life as well as a desire to make a difference. I made a vow to myself that I would try to figure out a way at some point in my life to actually be able to come somewhere not for vacation and not only to volunteer to have a cool experience, but to do something to make a lasting impression. As a few tears trickled down my face, an old man sitting in the temple lit a stick of incense and brought it over to me. I then placed it in the urn and watched it burn. This experience was so powerful to me. And to think that when I left my hotel room that morning I simply thought that I wanted to go find a cool beach and that the temples around here were nothing special and relaxing was more important. Well, I guess this was the reason the motor bike rider reappeared for me. Thanks universe is all I can say.

A poem

2009-01-20T23:20:00.000-08:00

I only have the energy
to write in poetic form
what's happenings not right
not just
not free for all
there is a cost involved
which stands for one and all
disregarding race or idioma
i won't act as if in a coma
teach the truth
fight what's right
inagurate today
they say change has come our way
but the reality stays the same

Wal-Mart death

2008-11-29T17:35:00.000-08:00

I cannot believe that yesterday an employee at a Wal-mart store in Long Island was trampled to death while trying to open the doors to the store. I just came across an article titled, "Wal-Mart death preventable, union says." Here is the link:

http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/11/29/black.friday.death/

The basic point of the article is that Wal-Mart could have had better security measures in place to prevent this incident from occurring. The president of the United Food and Commercial Workers Union Local 1500 said, "This is not just tragic, it rises to a blatant level of irresponsibility by Wal-Mart."

While I am no fan of Wal-Mart, I think the article fails to mention the responsibility of the over consuming American public. Do people really need to get in fights and trample over each other simply to get into a giant mega-store because prices are discounted even further from the already fairly cheap sweatshop labor products? Get a grip America. And all this the day after Thanksgiving, a day that is supposed to be about giving thanks for all that we have. Regardless of economic status, we as Americans have a lot to be fortunate for. Most of us have hot water and food on the table, things we take for granted everyday. Yet, this isn't enough. We have to go out and spend hours upon hours waiting in line for a chain store to open so that we can get our boom boxes, c.d.s, Sony Playstations, and other luxury items at a discounted price.

I think that American consumerism is out of control and that not only is Wal-Mart at fault, but so are all the American people who buy into this agenda of greed who waited in similar lines across the country for hours upon hours. Whether or not they actually trampled someone all I have to say is, "Find something better to do with your time and your money." If we Americans devoted as much energy to bettering our local communities and the world as we did to shopping, think of the difference we could make.

Waiting Tables

2008-11-28T23:39:00.000-08:00

Can I just say that I hate waiting tables? I know that as a bartender in a restaurant I am still serving people, but there is an entirely different attitude with bar service. I can joke around with the customers, dish out witty sarcasms, and learn about who they are. When we know that it is going to be a slow night at the restaurant, I have started working the floor as well as tending bar. After tonight, I came to the conclusion that if I had to work as a waiter every day I would go crazy.

People sitting at tables are just plain annoying. Here is a recap of tonight's irritating events.

"How was everything?" I asked one of the tables as I was clearing away three completely clean plates (usually this is a sign that they liked the food). I don't usually finish everything on my plate if something about it is substandard.

"Well, I was really disappointed with the bun. I can't believe they didn't toast it. It tasted like it was still frozen," commented one of the diners.

Really, I thought. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt that perhaps the bun could have been better quality. I personally prefer not to eat our hamburgers for this very reason. But, why choose to tell me now? When you have already finished your meal, must you actually give your honest opinion to the server? It's not like I made the food. Keep it to yourself, critique the food in detail amongst your friends, but when the server asks how everything was after you have already finished, just lie. Say, "Great." give a pseudo convincing smile and move on.

Next annoying moment of the day happened with a three top of women. These are the kind of women who are all show and no real sophistication. Shopping at Cost Plus world market is probably about as worldly as they get. One of the women asks, "Do you have any Pinot Grigio?" When I reply, "No, sorry, we do not," she wants a recommendation of a wine that is similar to a Pinot Grigio. I begin to explain to her that there is a great Pouilly Fume that is actually quite different from a Pinot Grigio, but it is still light bodied and has wonderful fragrant qualities. The bottle that I suggested was $59. I could tell that she didn't want to spend this much when she inquired about the other Pouilly Fume which was $46.

"What is the difference between these two bottles," she asked.

"The difference is that the other bottle is a little more dry." Notice that I never said that it was a "dry" wine, I simply said that it was more dry than the other bottle. I didn't think she was entirely sold on the wine, so I was beginning to describe one other wine for her, a Licia from Spain, but she cut me off mid sentence and decided to order the cheaper Pouilly Fume.

When I opened the bottle and poured a little taste for her, she proclaimed, "This tastes sweet. I don't know, does this taste like Pinot Grigio to you guys?" as she offered a taste to her friends. "I don't really know what Pinot Grigio is, but this tastes really sweet to me, you said it was dry."

Stupid lady doesn't even know what she is looking for in a wine and then gets mad at me for saying it was dry, which I didn't even say, I said that it was drier than the other wine. The customer needs to know what they want before they have the nerve to complain.

And finally, the most annoying man of the evening. This guy was just all around irritating. His jerkiest moment came when I told him that we were out of the desert that he wanted to order.

"I'm sorry sir, but the kitchen has told me that we are out of the peach crisp this evening. Is there any other desert that you would like to try."

"Jeez, every time I come here you guys are out of one of the deserts. Why do you even bother to have desert on the menu if you are always going to be out of something? What do you have then?"

Wanting to grab him around the neck and choke him and cry out, "Loosen up you crazy, high strung idiot. If you don't like that occasionally we run out of one of our eight different deserts, than go somewhere else. No skin off my back." Instead, I replied, "We have everything else, sir."

After dealing with him all night long, he only left me $16.50 on a $120 bill. I really hope I never have to serve him again. If I do, I'll be sure to tell him that per his suggestion we decided to take desert off the menu.

Thanksgiving board game

2008-11-28T13:58:00.000-08:00

I always approach going home for the holidays with caution. There is no telling what kind of chaos will ensue. This Thanksgiving my family actually managed to hold it together for the most part. That is, until it was time to play a board game.

We sort of have a family tradition of playing board games on Thanksgiving and Christmas day. Why we choose to engage in competition and set ourselves up for fighting God only knows. My parents always buy us a different game every Christmas. Sometimes these games are a hit and other times they completely suck or are simply not suited to the nature of our family. One Christmas we got a board game version of those series of books titled, "Chicken Soup for the Soul." This game was called, "Chicken Soup for the Family Soul" or something of the sort. The premise of the game was to go around recalling beautiful family memories. We read the first card out loud and knew that it was too "feel good" for us. That game has still never been played to this day. We need a game about winning, a game where someone can be made to feel stupid if they are not good at it.

This Thanksgiving we played a game that we have never played before. It was called This vs. That. It must have been last years Christmas game and I'm guessing we probably got in a fight and were not able to round up enough people to play the game. The funny thing is that even though game playing is somewhat of a tradition, there is always a struggle at first to get everyone together at the table or in the living room to actually play the game. Rarely do we manage to get all five or six of us to sit down at the same time and listen to the rules so that everyone knows how to play and we can all start on the same page. Then there is always the straggler, the late comer to the game. This role is usually reserved for my mother, she likes to say that she doesn't want to play and then start throwing out guesses from across the room when she isn't even on a team.

This vs. That turned out to be quite a fun game. We had two teams of two. At first the teams were my mom and dad on one team and my sister and I on the other team. One part of the game requires one of the players to use verbal cues to get their partner to guess five words that are written down on a piece of paper. My poor dad was simply not wired for this type of skill. He had a hard time figuring out what to say, using a lot of confusing hand gestures, and saying, "Um...um..." quite often. My mom as his partner was furious with him, "Come on now, you need to give better clues. Your clues stink. You really stink at this. Stop flailing your hands all over the place. How am I supposed to guess these words?" she berated him.

At one point, she was saying all of this when the category of the game was "Things that are stressful." I was quick to point out, "Things that are stressful: being partners with mom in this game." My sister and I won this first game with ease and decided to switch partners. I chose my dad and my sister chose my mom.

This is where the hilarity began. First, my sister was trying to get my mom to guess the words, "old books." Kim used clues such as, "These are things that you read."

"Books," my mom replied.

Then Kim said, "Not new but...."

"Old," my mom got the answer right away.

"Okay, now put those two words together."

Out of nowhere, my mom started guessing some random things, "Literature, magazines" she called out. I could not contain myself with laughter. The buzzer rang signaling time out before my mom could simply put the words together and get "used books." We were all laughing hysterically.

A few rounds later and it was now turn for my dad to make the same mistake. The category was "things associated with barnyards" and the word I had to get him to guess was, "smelly manure." I started with manure. "This is another name for poop," I described.

"Manure," my dad answered.

"Okay," I said. "Now, if something stinks, you could say that it is...."

"Smelly," my dad guessed.

"Right. Now put those two words together," I instructed.

This had my dad completely turned around. He started guessing some different words and I had to redirect him, "No, the two words that you already got. Simply put those together one after the other." I was starting to get nervous as I heard the buzzer begin to speed up signaling that our time was almost up. We still had not guessed one word correct this round.

My dad guessed, "Manure smelly."

I couldn't help but laughing, "Okay, now flip those words around. You are having dyslexia, simply swap the order of the words." Beep. The timer went off and we were out of time.

My mom jumped at the opportunity, "And you were laughing at me earlier? You just did the exact same thing. Manure smelly? What is that?"

I guess the morale of the story is that maybe it's not always your partner's fault. Maybe you both suck. Better yet, maybe it doesn't matter, and it's great to simply be able to laugh at yourself, admit when you suck at something and move on.

Urinelle

2008-11-27T14:53:00.001-08:00

I came home last night in somewhat of an exhausted stupor. I was working at the restaurant until around 10:30 pm, had smoked myself silly and spent a good forty-five minutes on the bus to get home. When I finally got to my apartment it was about 11:15 and my roommate's cocktail party was still underway, although most of the guests had left at this point. The first thing I had to do was pee. After waiting for a few people to use the facilities, I dragged my dazed self into the bathroom where I couldn't help but notice something quite strange on top of the toilet. Was I really looking at what I thought I was? All I could see was a bunch of pictures of a woman using some sort of device to pee standing up. Essentially, some entrepreneur finally understood that "penis envy" is real and materialized this Freudian concept into: "Urinelle, the urinating tube for women."

While I thought the product was ingenious, I couldn't help but wonder what it was doing on top of our toilet. Were these really put out here for our guests to use? I read the description of the product and it states, "Urinelle enables women to urinate in a standing position: easily, safely and hygienically. Handy when, for example, you are out of the house where hygiene is often lacking." Is our toilet really that unhygienic that our guests would actually want to use this?

I asked my roommate about it today and she told me that it represented an inside joke between her and some of her friends. She told the story of why the urinating tube was funny (other than all the obvious reasons).

"We were eating dinner and Susie's husband Jeremy was the only man at the table. He mentioned how when it snowed outside, he and his guy friends would go outside and try to write their full names in the snow with their pee. Only, he could never finish his entire last name. He would only get up to Schmee. And that's how he ended up with that as his nickname. All of us girls were jealous, talking about how we wished we could do that too. Finally, one of the girls found this product online used to help women pee standing up and she bought all of us a packet of them. So, I put them out as a joke and kind of as a dare to see if we could get anyone to use them."

I inquired, "Have you tried it? Has anyone?"

"No, no one's used them as of yet. They are just a joke."

I bet that woman since the age of time have wished they could pee standing up and now here is this product that helps us accomplish that goal, yet no one has stepped up to the challenge. Maybe it's because urinelle is made out of this kind of durable paper and the thought of holding it down there and potentially getting pee all over your hands is a bit frightening. Or, maybe it's actually a popular product in the Netherlands, where they are made. And, I wonder, do you still have to wipe after using urinelle? Plus, at $6.85 per 7 pack they aren't exactly affordable. It's already expensive enough being a women in this society, need we add on another cost?

I guess for now the squat will have to do for most of us women who aren't fortunate or gutsy enough to try urinelle. A friend of mine the other day said that some women actually have trained themselves how to pee standing up. I think it might be that their urethras are made especially for this skill, some kind of a natural design advantage that they have. Possibly these women are the ancestors of nomadic groups that needed to pee standing up while they went on long walking journeys from place to place.

If you think about it, it is kind of interesting how different cultures use the bathroom. In Japan, for example, women squat over a ceramic hole in the ground. It's just a different kind of toilet. When my family lived in Japan, I remember having to learn how to use this type of toilet properly. At first, every time I had to go I took off my pants and my underwear, I was afraid of getting pee on my pants. Once, I actually dropped my underwear in the toilet in the process of trying to use the bathroom. That really sucked. With a little time and a lot of practice, I finally mastered the art of this form of peeing.

I actually think that squatting over a hole is easier than trying to squat over an American sitting toilet. At least the hole in the ground is made to be squatted over whereas the American toilet is made for sitting. Only thing is with all the germs out there, you can't actually sit on the public toilet without feeling icky and gross all over. I personally am a fan of the toilet seat cover. Something about that thin layer of paper protection gives me the comfort of mind to sit on the toilet. I recently did this in a public restroom with my friend in the same stall. "Gross," she exclaimed, "Why don't you just squat over the toilet?"

"Because it's really uncomfortable and that's what these paper things are made for." I replied in my defense.

She couldn't believe that I would actually sit on the toilet. Seriously, what the fuck? Why would we make a toilet for sitting on when we can't even sit on it? I think the Japanese have got it right and at least the Dutch have come up with an expensive ass alternative to the discomfort of squatting over a toilet (it seriously is a strain on your thigh muscles) in the product of urinelle. Maybe one of these days I'll give it a try and see how it goes. Or maybe not.

Tobiko

2008-11-25T21:15:00.000-08:00

Is the customer really always right? Why is this the motto with which the American customer service sector is governed? I am pretty sure the customer is not always right. In fact they are sometimes and oftentimes wrong, partially correct, rude, and downright obnoxious. Don't we, as restaurant workers, have an obligation towards people to help them learn their manners? When you have children, it is common practice to teach them how to behave at the dinner table. Well, adults of America, isn't it time that you started to learn some manners yourself?

Yesterday night at La Terrasse I was working the entire floor of the restaurant on my own. No host, no manager, no busser, no runner, and no bartender. The restaurant is really not that big, and there were only 7 people in the books on this particular night, but there were about eleven other people in the restaurant beginning their meals at the same time. The largest party size of these eleven was two. Needless to say, I didn't really have time to deal with anyone's bullshit, or indecisiveness, or any other of the many general displays of rudeness common amongst customers.

One of my guests ordered our smoked salmon pizza. On the menu, this item is described as having, "red onions, creme freche, and tobiko" in addition to smoked salmon. This customer never asked me what kind of "tobiko" came on the pizza. If she was such a connoiser of this ingredient, than she should have known that there are three types of tobiko in addition to the traditional ingredient. These types are "colored" with different ingredients: wasabi (green), ginger (pale orange), and squid's ink (black). She never did ask this question. Apparently, she assumed that we were using the traditionally colored tobiko, which happens to be red-orange in color.

When I deliver the pizza to her, she exclaims without hesitation, "This is not tobiko. Tobiko is orange, it's the stuff that comes on the outside of the sushi rolls." Feeling like I was just given a spanking from my high school history teacher for not remembering what day in July our country celebrates independence, I replied, "Um...um...yes, I think this is tobiko. It's Japanese black caviar." The customer pounced on me like a lion and growled, "No, this is not tobiko. It's not tobiko. It has squid ink in it which gives it the black color. I can't eat squid ink." Whoa there mama, I thought. Hold your freakin horses, I can get you a god damn stupid fucking pizza without those black things on them, whatever they happen to be called. Of course I couldn't actually say what I was thinking. Instead, I got her a new pizza, made fresh from scratch. Just because she didn't really know what she was talking about. She was only half right.

Inner spirits

2008-11-25T21:03:00.000-08:00

Have you ever met someone and felt that you could see inside their soul? The type of person who radiates an inner warmth and spirit of kindness and love that is enrapturing. I feel that I can get drunk amongst these individuals. When I meet an inner spirit I want to spend all my time indulging in their pleasures.

I want to thank all of these people out there for making the world a more beautiful place to live. And thank you for helping me to look at my own life differently; to make me want to live a more healthy, full, and happy existence.

When to help vs. when not to help?

2008-11-24T13:24:00.000-08:00

It is especially easy when you live in a city swarming with people on the streets asking for help to become fearful of your fellow citizen. Thoughts such as, "If I even look at this person and offer a smile, they might think that I am going to offer money and follow me down the street," or "Why should I waste my hard earned pay to feed others drug and alcohol habits" may creep into our psyches causing us to keep our eyes rooted firmly on the grounds and our heads shaking side to side in a firm "no". These thoughts and actions become somewhat of a self-preservation response when you live in a city filled with people who have run out of luck and found themselves living on the streets. Many of these people have serious mental conditions that impair their judgments and therefore it is wise to maintain a certain distance. However, does this conditioning prevent us at times from reaching out to strangers who truly need help?

A couple of months ago, I was walking across the street in my neighborhood when I was approached by a rather disheveled looking man. He was wearing what looked like old, faded blue hospital scrub pants and a dirty white t-shirt. I pegged him for one of the many homeless people living in San Francisco. As I began to cross the street, he followed after me, crying out, "Excuse me, Excuse me." I didn't even want to look at him for fear that I would have to explain why I didn't want to give him any money. Keeping my eyes planted in front of me, my conditioned response of shaking my head while answering, "No sorry. No sorry," came meekly yet firmly out of my mouth. But he was determined for help. While rushing to keep up with me, as I had increased my walking speed in hopes of avoiding the encounter, he explained "Is there any way that I could use your cell phone? I just got out of the hospital and my buddy is coming to pick me up, but he doesn't know where I am. I just need to call him and let him know."

How could I continue walking and ignore this plea for help? On the outside, I had pegged him for a homeless man asking for money, he certainly looked the part. When he asked for something entirely different, I felt awful that I actually had some fear about letting him use my cell phone. I thought, "What if this is some scam and he is using my phone to call some number where they will get information about me and use it to start stealing money from my bank accounts?" or "What if as soon as I hand him my phone, he steals it and runs away?" How horrible that because of the way he looked, I couldn't simply complete an act of kindness because it was the right thing to do. I did let him use my phone, but I put it on speaker phone, so that I could hear the conversation and I knew that there was no chance of him running off with it.

By definition it was an act of kindness, many other people had passed him and continued towards their destinations. However, I didn't feel that great about it because in my mind I harbored judgments about who he was.

When I began writing this post, I meant to write about an incredible act of kindness bestowed upon me and my friends this weekend, but I let the writing process take me another direction. I am still going to tell the story from this weekend, but I suppose the act of receiving kindness has actually had me going back and thinking about my own views as to when I do and when I don't react to the requests of strangers. Do I (or even we as collective citizens) go through some sort of internal processing in determining when to help and when not to help? Do we simply listen to our instincts regarding when it is safe for us to do so? Or, do we help others because they pass our tests of who looks safe or who looks "normal?" I think that it is definitely important to be aware of what kind of risks you are putting yourself in by helping someone, however, at the same time it is so sad to me that we live in a world where people themselves are the danger. I think that this "kindness of strangers" topic is something that I am going to revisit again and again. Let me know what you think.

Eeyore visits the bar

2008-11-20T17:59:00.000-08:00

I just got home from my wonderfully awesome job as a bartender at a French restaurant and today was simply filled with such great material. That is what I love about my job, it's essentially social hour all day long with a little (or a lot) of booze thrown in the mix.

Today, I had the most depressing costumer yet. My friend pointed out that he was like "eeyore" from Winnie the Pooh. (I think I need to go back and watch that show. I was never old enough to actually understand the genius and social commentary of the story.)

At about 3:15 pm today, the bar was completely empty and I was essentially killing time until 4 pm when the evening bartender begins her shift. Utilizing the free time to my advantage, I began reorganizing and dusting off some of the shelves when my "eeyore" sat down at the bar. I can't remember his name, but for some reason Eddie is sticking in my mind, so that is what I am going to call him.

Eddie: "Can I have a Sierra Nevada."

Me: "Sure thing."

Eddie: "Man, this economy really sucks. I mean, it really, really sucks."

Me: "Yea, it's pretty tough right now."

I continue with my dusting as his phone rings and all I can hear is his angered voice. I have no idea who he is talking to; however, it sounds like he is speaking to a controlling wife or girlfriend.

Eddie (on the phone): I am in the Presidio. (pause) I don't know where, at some bar near my work. (pause) I'm having a beer. (pause) I don't know the name, I think it's cafe something or other. It's a restaurant.

He hangs up the phone.

Eddie (looking at the latest news headline which reads, "Clinton may receive Secretary of State Appointment) : "Clinton? She's going to be the Secretary of State. I guess she'd be good. I mean, she's better than her husband, so she'd probably be good. But, man this economy sucks."

Me: "Do you work here in the Presidio?"

Eddie: "I just started a part time job here about a week ago. I had a really lucrative contracting business down in San Bruno for the last ten years or so, but I lost it recently because of the economy. I have a lot of friends who lost their homes. Actually, I lost my home over it. Almost became homeless. Good thing I have an R.V. though. That's what I have to live out of now. I have a kitchen, bathroom, and a bedroom. But it's still an R.V. Some people have told me that I'm lucky. I don't see how that's being lucky though."

Me (trying to think of something to say after taking in this splurge of depressing news): "Not too much like luck, but I guess it's fortunate that you have somewhere."

Eddie: "Never thought this is where'd I'd be. And it's my birthday today. Can you believe it? I'm 53 and I am working as a janitor after having a successful business and going to school and getting two degrees. Um, can I have another Sierra Nevada. It's my champagne I guess."

Me: (I can't help but feel bad that this guy is actually buying another beer.) "Are you going to do anything else for your birthday.

Eddie: "No, it's just another day really. I can't believe this has happened to me."

This post is dedicated to all of those people who have been displaced from their homes as well as to those who have never known the luxury of a home in the first place. I do have sympathy for you, but I also have some advice to give: Try not to barrage the poor bartender with all the news of your desperate financial situation. If you are looking for some free drinks, it's not going to happen. Hey, I've got to make a living too. Instead, you are only going to make me feel guilty for pouring you a $5 pint when I know that we only paid about $60 for the whole keg. At least if you are going to drink, go to Costco or Bev Mo or something and buy your drinks for a more reasonable rate.

People's Court

2008-11-19T15:41:00.000-08:00

I think that People's Court may be one of the best shows on television these days. The crazy dramas between the people in the court are priceless. You can't make up this stuff, it's so good.

I'd like to see Saturday Night Live do a People's Court skit - have they done that before? Or, even better, that gay sketch comedy show could do a gay version of People's Court. One gay could sue another gay because he spilled a cappuccino on his new Prada shoes or something like that.

I had the rare pleasure of watching the People's Court today on television. Odd hours - another great perk of the restaurant/bar tending business. The court case that I saw today hit so close to home, that I think I need to make up my own version of the trial. The case was the assistant manager of a bar (who started out as the bar manager) suing the owner of the place for not paying him overtime hours while the owner was away. I nearly peed my pants when I heard what the case was.

Only a couple of weeks ago, the owner of the restaurant where I work was summoned to small claims court from the former assistant manage (who also started as the bar manager) who was suing him for unpaid wages. I think it was to the tune of $2000 or so. I don't know many of the actual details of the case, just what I've heard from the gossip around the restaurant. Oh, and when the guy served the papers to Antoine, he wasn't around so the paper's were left with the morning barista. I did manage to get a glance or two at the papers.

So, I don't think that I am very good at writing dialog, but I thought I should give it a chance by writing my own People's Court scene.

Plantiff: Javier Duran, suing $2500 for unpaid wages.

Defendant: Antoine, claims that Javier is a whiner and that he walked out on the job, and never actually performed the functions of the assistant manager.

Judge: "Javier, tell me what happened. "

Javier: "Well, when I first started working at this restaurant, it was clear to me that it needed help. The staff were all a bunch of lazy idiots and the manager was kind of a clown, more interested in talking about politics than bettering the restaurant. Naturally, since I have many years in the industry and extensive wine and spirits knowledge, and people love me because I am one sexy Venuzalean, I did what I could to help the place. "

Judge: "We get that you have a big head, but what did you actually do that causes you to believe that you did not receive proper payment."

Javier: "When I started kissing up to the owner and manager, they quickly made me the assistant manager and they told me that on the days that I worked when the manager was not there that I would receive an additional $150 plus my usual salary and tips."

Judge: "Defendant, did you in fact make this deal with Javier?"

Antoine: (Denote, here that the man speaking has a distinct French accent, a belly that never ends, and a huge face which fluctuates between the color white and red). "You see, the thing is that I gave Javier a job. It was not a very hard job. He needed to do his job and he needed to be where he was supposed to be when he was supposed to be. And he didn't come to work, in fact, he walked out. Can't have that at my place. I only want people who are happy, happy to work, no bad attitudes. You know, I have other restaurants where I have had the same employees for 10 years or more. I'm not a bad guy, I just want everyone to be happy. And I have to clean house when there are people who are not helping the team."

I think that's enough for right now. I need to go do some cleaning up in my room. I just want to say one other thing about my last post. I was reading in a book about writing today and it reminded the reader that lots of people want to write novels but that not many ever will or, if they do, they will not get published. This reminded me to not get ahead of myself in thinking about writing a book. And I'm just joking about becoming famous. I think it's important to note, because I need to remind myself that I want to write for the enjoyment of writing. For the expression, the creativity, the art. That's that.

Blogging obsessed

2008-11-18T23:41:00.001-08:00

I thought a lot about blogging today. I'm starting to worry that maybe I am becoming obsessed. Don't get me wrong, I think that blogging is a perfectly legit and even creative obsession; however, I am worried that I might over do my blogging crave and burn out quickly.

Kind of like when you start exercising again right after the holiday season. Admit it already, everybody does it. The television starts playing even more diet and fitness ads than usual and all of the gyms have beginning of the year membership specials. Must be a crazy time for that industry.

So, my concern, is that I will do with blogging what I do with holiday exercising: hit it real hard and strong for the first two weeks and than completely lose the motivation. And yes, I do know that I could have put the colloquial term "hit it and quit it" there but it just didn't seem appropriate. I didn't check the box for "must be over 18" to read this blog.

For now, I can only hope that I can turn this writing dream of mine into a habit. So, stick with me. Me and my one follower. We can be like Jerry McGuire and together the two of us and our gold fish can make it. Or, rather, what I really mean is that when I happen to finally publish that novel that I will let all of my millions of screaming fans know that you were my first blog follower (sorry that I can't remember your name at the moment). Such a show of devotion right there.

Today, my obsession with blogging was constantly in my thoughts. All day long, every observation I made, every conversation I had, I wanted to put it in the blog. If I did that though, I would be here writing all night. And, honestly, I have a pretty bad memory and can't even remember many of my so-called brilliant observations. They were brilliant at the time anyway. So I made a "best of" list for the day.

Stupidest question I heard:

-- customer at the bar asks Sam the other bartender, "Do you know the name of a beer that doesn't taste like beer?"

Bleakest dating scene:

--My gay friend lived in Urbana-Champaign where there was one gay bar. And by one gay bar, he meant for all the towns within a 50 mile radius. Talk about not being able to get away from your exes like in that country song, "All my exes live in Texas."

Yummiest food eaten:

--Some amazingly wonderful type of brie cheese left over in our fridge from my roommate's dinner party. Wish I knew the name of it, damn, so good. And I am not even a huge brie lover, I think there are many, more complex cheeses. But, damn, it was good.

Funniest blog moment:

--At the bar with my friend who introduced me to blogspot and she was laughing about how she actually had a follower, some random person according to her. What she didn't know was that the follower was me. I still had not told her the name of my site. She said she thought my posts were funny, but couldn't figure out who this African woman was!

My friend says, "I don't mean to be stereotypical, but when I was reading it, I just couldn't picture that an African woman was writing it."

Cheers blog. Thanks for being here.

Forgetting Sarah Marshall

2008-11-17T22:29:00.000-08:00

Do you ever find yourself touched in some way while watching one of those fluffy, cheesy, romantic comedies? When I rent a movie like Philadelphia or Blood Diamond, my emotional response to the film is not unexpected. However, it definitely sounds a bit odd to talk to your friends about how when you were watching a film like "Jerry McGuire" you learned so much about yourself and felt deeply touched. I just watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and perhaps I should keep this information to myself, but even though it was fairly predictable at times and full of laugh at loud ridiculous moments I felt somewhat inspired by the main character's journey of self. Ultimately, I came away wanting to get over the last person I dated and devote myself to working on my dreams. Cazy, huh, from such a cheesy film to want to spend more time on improving myself (writing, exercise, etc.)?

The main character is this guy who gets dumped by his famous tv actress girlfriend and in his attempts to go on vacation and forget about her, he ends up at a resort in Hawaii where "coincidentally" his ex-girlfriend and her new, famous singer boyfriend are also vacationing. Lucky for him, there is an extremely attractive woman (played by Mila Kunis - check her out on line, trust me, you won't be disappointed) who works at the resort and they begin hanging out and eventually she helps inspire him to return home and finish writing his rock-opera about dracula and involving puppets. Sorry if you haven't seen it, then I kind of ruined a bit of the plot line for you. It's such a generic plot line though that I really think the distinguishing features of the movie must be seen for yourself.

Maybe I connected with the movie because I recently have been going through yet another dating disaster (if you read the last blog, then you will see that I am a bit focused on the same topic right now). This time, I thought that I really liked the girl, only to have her stop returning my calls for a week, then she came back all apologetic, I fell for it, and then she did the same thing again. While going through my whole process of getting over her (it wasn't a long relationship, but there is always some time needed) I had to come to the point where finally instead of being so sad about what had ended, I started to look at the reasons why she wasn't the best for me anyhow. I think that I tend to put my blinders on at the beginning of dating someone new. It was kind of nice to look back and realize that I actually was fairly irritated by many things about her. Like how she once told my friend that she didn't want to live on the East Coast because the people there didn't care about recycling. Then later she got all self conscious about it telling me that she felt stupid for saying that. Well, you know what, it kind of was a stupid thing to say.

There was a super, super funny scene in the movie where the main character is trying to have sex with some girl to forget about his ex-girlfriend, and the girl keeps saying "hi" to him over and over again. You know, that kind of sweet, look at me, I'm so cute and innocent version of "hi." This girl actually did that. And I had to crack up when the character in the movie responds finally with, "Could you stop saying hi already?"

Over the course of the movie, as the main character meets a new girl, he realizes the ways in which the new girl actually appeals to him and complements him much better than his ex-girlfriend ever did. She encourages him to follow his dreams and write his rock opera, which, of course, he finishes by the end of the film (you know how in every movie, everyone eventually goes on to accomplish their dreams?)

Anyhow, the film spoke to me in the same way that my therapist did the other day: whatever good feelings you have had with someone that you are sad about not having anymore can be found and more with someone else.

Can't someone get a phone call anymore?

2008-11-16T21:48:00.000-08:00

I definitely do not consider myself to be an expert in dating life by any means, but I have to say that advances in modern day technology have really added a level of complexity to the so-called "scene." What I'm talking about is more than all the various ways that the internet has added for people to meet each other. These self-willingly created databases of online personas have of course given today's "single and availables" one more course of action with regards to how they could potentially meet their next partner. Whether or not this is positive for the dating community is not a question that I am particularly concerned with. However, what I am concerned with are the ways that modern day means of communication (other than the perfectly fine time-tested and continually improved method of the telephone) have led more to frustrations and miscommunication between two people in their journey to determine whether or not this relationship will or will not work out.

I don't think that people actually pick up the phone to ask someone they are interested in how they are doing as often now as they did in the past. Apparently no one has the time anymore to indulge in this behavior when they can simply send a text message saying "Hi. Thinking of you. Hope you are doing well," or something of that sort. With the addition of one of those manufactured happy faces at the end of the message, of course the recipient is to be more than satisfied with the gesture. There is also the sad face and the wink, with such brilliant graphics determining another's emotions has never been easier.

Adding to this complexity, is the concept of chatting with people online. A good portion of dating singles in their 20s and early 30s spend a significant amount of time on the internet researching articles or simply expanding their facebook friend lists. With gmail chat and facebook chat, you can now talk to the person you are dating online. Wondering whether or not this girl or guy is into you? Of course this can be determined while reading the other person's words on the computer screen. No longer do we seem to have a need to see each other and hear each other to communicate in order to fully understand the other's intentions.

Why must we continue to guess when we could just pick up the phone and call? Why spend five minutes typing out a message with your thumbs than simply use your mouth? I don't think that opening and closing your mouth expends much energy.

For now, thanks for being my first entry. I am hoping to use this blog to create a spark in me to write more. I think I hesitate to write because I think it has to be too meaningful or that my hand gets tired and ironically, in this case as opposed to the case of dating, I am hopeful that the modern day technology of online blogging will help.