Friday, January 08, 2010
Creativity + Is this the end or the beginning of a decade?
Been sketching daily since the new year hit. I hate resolutions, but in this case I think it wasn't a proclamation I made and just started doing it (but there was foresight.) I'm glad I've done it because I've felt a good creative vibe lately. I also think it might have to do with the beginner yoga I've been doing: to stretch my body and also focus on habit and balance. I don't know - but my body feels better.
My dreams have been quite vivid lately, also. I don't remember them much now, but over the past week I've had some very strange, action-packed dreams. Nothing too drastic, dramatic, or "telling". They've just been all over the place. I think that has to do with the creativity (the drawing, the writing, the better TV, the talking about creativity). Even if I'm still not writing as regularly as I would like, more ideas for writing have been coming and much more easily. And this is where I need your help.
Daily themes can be pretentious. At the sake of it being pretentious and disingenuous, I am going to make daily themes for my blog. I have two:
Movie Mondays: Select a random movie that I've seen (or love) and talk about it.
Favorite Fridays: Select a random "fave ____ ever" and write about it.
I also thought of an idea of creating stories, once a week, around random people I meet. Maybe some LOST flashbacks for them. But, maybe that's a different blog.
So, help! What should some of my other daily (Tue, Wed, Thu) themes be?
****
Is 2010 the end of the decade or the start of it?
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Gilbert.
Let's preface this:
1) I think guns are stupid. I'm one of the hippies that cringes when kids are playing with toy guns - even the Nerf ones (that are admittedly super fun to play with.)
2) I am a Gilbert fan, so this might be a bit biased.
3) I believe that the NBA and the Wizards have the right to punish him however they feel is necessary (suspensions, voided contract, etc.)
4) I also understand the difference between having guns at home versus bringing them to work.
Now...
I think this situation is being blown WAAAY out of proportion - IF, in fact, that there wasn't the showdown, gun blazing situation that non-reputable "sources" are saying. Again, punishment by the NBA, the Wizards, AND law enforcement isn't my issue. It's the MEDIA. Like always.
I shouldn't expect any less from ESPN, but their talk machine has been crazy. Gilbert's lack of "deference" to the levity of the situation is really that GRAVE? Yes, he's been joking about the situation since it's been in the public. So what?
Let's review ACTUAL FACTS:
Gilbert brought in guns to the arena and workplace. STUPID!
Gilbert's guns are registered. No reports I've heard or read have stated otherwise.
Gilbert's guns were ALL unloaded.
So, yes, he's an idiot for doing what he did. But he didn't kill anyone. He wasn't CLOSE to killing anyone. There are so many accidents in the world of loaded guns with children playing with them that are far more malicious than this. Why? Because they were loaded!
The way Gilbert's getting lambasted by ESPN on Sportscenter is ridiculous. Them and their "someone just killed someone soundtrack" to review the montage is ridiculous. But, it's ESPN. What should we expect?
The NRA spends so much time and money bitching about gun access. It's in the Bill of Rights. Blah blah. Remember, I think guns are STUPID, anyway. But in this case, I'm more frustrated by the way people are reacting and the way it is being covered. And, this story is ONLY a story because:
1) The NBA is scared of an image of thuggery. And apparently, a lot of America believes that black people that play basketball professionally are all thugs.
2) Gilbert hasn't shown enough repentance in public.
3) Gilbert's a black man with a gun. Charleton Heston got his share for his NRA stuff, but people scoffed at him. But, Gilbert is being presented like some evil and malicious man.
If more details arise that the guns WERE loaded and they weren't registered, then I'll take this all back.
But until then, people need to get a fuckin' grip.
Ulam cooked @ 11:23 AM
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Body. Body Image. My Journey So Far.
Today, I'm wearing this Threadless shirt that used to be super baggy (XL). Since then, and a few washes since, it has shrunk. Not a problem being an XL shirt, but it's fitting weirdly on me. I've been exercising regularly over the past 3 weeks and eating vastly less than usual on most days (with obvious gorging days on Christmas Eve, Christmas, the day after Christmas, and New Years). Other than, I think my caloric intake is far lower than it should be - to the point that my metabolism must've been weirded out (there was a point when I was eating one small meal throughout the day - before dinner - not on purpose). I've been doing a combo of biking (first week), cardio videos, and a mix of various yoga vids. I also had a day to work out my core while doing hours of sledding at the BFolks new year's snow trip. I was totally sore the next two days in my abs, although not as sore as I would've been had I not been working on my core the whole week prior.
Anyway, back to this shirt. Calorie counting, fat calories on the minimum (except for those gourging days), yoga vids twice a day (about 22 min worth), ab exercises (10), and cardio (20-25) and I feel "fat".
I have body image issues.
I've never quite admitted that publicly but I do. That's why I often times, after eating a medium to large meal, breathe in and rub my stomach "flat" like that'll get rid of it. I'm not anorexic or bulemic or savagely unhealthy with my body image issues, but I'm generally just rarely comfortable with myself in terms of my "weight".
I went from being a regular sized toddler to a slightly chubbier pre-teen to a hyper-skinny kid during my growth spurt. Then, in later high school my body started to change. Half a year of football helped. Starting in the Spring of '93, I started to lift weights (sorta), exercise A LOT regularly, and develop a healthier appetite. Then, when my sophomore year ended. There was no more football - I flaked out. There was no more PE - aged out. There was much less walking - friends started to drive. With the increased mobility, the friends and I grabbed more food more randomly. I still played football or basketball regularly afterschool, but it wasn't the same. Plus, my body was just changing. My body settled in with my bones and started to fill out like they were supposed to. I left high school at around 180. That meant I was "obese".
Freshman year in college was kinda cooky. I ate regularly, but I guess not too regularly. I had a lot of meals left on my meal plan. I guess I also walked around campus a lot more even though I spent a lot of the year riding around with my older peeps and Lisa. They say you there's a Freshman 15 (plus or minus 15 pounds). In my case, i lost about 5-10 pounds because at the end of the school year I was in the 175 range.
Then. Came. The flood. Of pounds. Disguised in late night Jack in the Crack, Taco Bell, and lots and lots of beer and alcohol. I didn't start drinking in college til the later half of my 2nd year, and I did - not - turn - back. I've also never apologized to my whole body - particularly my liver - publicly so here it is: SORRY LIVER! At least with college though, there were parties of dancing, walking around campus to get to class (sometimes) and work (always). There was PCN, there was emotional stress, there were walking around to bashfully play coy with the girls (and subsequently never getting any.. hmm.. attention?).
Post-college, it didn't stop. Oh, the walking stopped. If I remember properly, then this was life from 2001-2003:
- wake up Monday dreading the work week but always happy to hang out with the Place
peeps.
- drive to work, eat lunch after 3, drive home, eat dinner, drive to Alvin's house,
possibly eat more, drive home, sleep.
- Thursdays would usually mean beer and food downtown after work. That meant food late in the night also, typically.
- Fridays would be spent in Downtown San Jose or in San Francisco for a club of some
sort.
- If it wasn't a clubbing type of night, it was a loaf around Fremont night that included some sort of fast food.
- If it wasn't in the bay, it was in Davis or Sacramento that almost ALWAYS meant more beer and late night eats of some kind: Alberto's, fast food, etc.
- Sunday was chill. Or it was more food, beer, and Madden in Davis/Sac. And it was a very late late late drive home - usually no earlier than 1 or 2am on Monday. That meant I had 3 hours to sleep before the start of the work week.
- REPEAT.
Occassionally, a basketball game, a flag football game, a hike, a tennis game, a 2-4 day streak of the treadmill, would get thrown in. But nothing enough to counteract the grease, the fat, and the alcohol intake.
At some point between January and May 2004, I clocked in at around 245-250. Not sure if that was before or after a weekend. But, let's say 250 was my tops.
On Memorial Day 2004, the bfolks and I went on our not-so-annual hike in Point Reyes. It was a decent challenge, if I remember correctly. If I also remember correctly, I remember talking to Humboldt on the drive home about getting into shape - what else was there to do? May 2004 sparked the end of my first year of grad school and that meant that I was completely rootless until September. No job. No school. And it also intersected a time when I distanced myself from the crew (as I guess I've tended to do here and there. I guess, at some point, I need vast amounts of alone time. At that time, I was also uncomfortable with some stuff that I'd care not to share.)
After the hiking that Monday, I got to jogging. I jogged the lap around Lake Elizabeth (2 miles) with some pre and post walking. I also shot the basketball around after the job to work on my shot and to work out my arms. I did that a 3 or 4 times a week. At some point, early on, I went to Costco with Mon and found a soy protein meal replacement. I had that in the morning and for lunch - I sandwiched my runs with them.
I also made a promise to eat only one burrito per month. I stopped drinking (easier
since I no longer worked with my Place peeps and I wasn't partying with the bfolks). I ran to spinach as my health food. I still ate rice and all the normal stuff that was cooked by my parents. I made sure, though, that after dinner I would eat fruit. I also drank LOTS and LOTS of water. This was my routine for a few weeks before I started to get shin splints. I exchanged the running at the lake with running on the treadmill at home. Spider-man and Gladiator DVDs were in heavy rotation.
Oh. And I played basketball every Sunday at Newark hoops. When I ran and needed to
focus, I envisioned a basketball game. I wanted to be fit. I wanted to lose weight. But I also wanted to rock at Sunday hoops. It helped push me.
Aside from the meal replacements, I also made sure to order salad or soup and salad
every time we ate out after a game. Basically, I was making more conscious and
disciplined decisions with my nutrition along with having a very dedicated exercising schedule.
When running on the treadmill, I almost always burned at least 450 calories.
At some point in August, I think I weighed in around 215. So, I lost about 30 pounds in 2 1/2 months.
Eventually, I came to about 200. Over the next five years, 200 was the median weight.
Without actually weighing myself constantly, I'm sure, with how my clothes fit, I was down to 195 and would get back to 205-207 after Hawaii trips, or NY trips, or crazy lazy weekends, or after parties.
And, for whatever reasons, I seemed to have more luck in the dating department. Well, I got more returned interest, not necessarily successful "relationships". Whatever those are. And, maybe my flippant feelings about relationships helped. Anyway.
The workout regimen changed up a bit in 2009. I traveled a lot. Newark hoops died
down. Weekend nights were more fun having dinner or hanging out. And, pretty much, I just got lazy. The thing with exercise is that it truly is habitual. The high from execersizing along came with streaks. And that doesn't count for the mental notes we make to ourselves saying that "we've been so good"!
Nevertheless, I still stayed around 200. Up. Then down. Then came the dreaded holiday season.
But I've been working out a lot more since December. There's just been a lot more
eating and said gorging. Hence the more focused eating and exercise of the past weeks.
I know that this shirt I'm wearing fits weirdly moreso because of the dryer than my body size. I'm not at the weight I want to be, yet I know I'm much more healthier now than I was a few weeks ago. Despite being tired, I think the stretching and focus on my breathing has helped spruce up my body's energy. I also can do stretches, core workouts, and other things with less strain (lots of strain - just less of it). I can feel it on my face, my neck, my upper arms, and my calves that the exercise is working. But I still feel like a messy slob sometimes - even though I shouldn't.
It's not like I'm obsessive or won't do stuff or generally feel like I'm a piece of crap. Not at all. But I just have body image issues despite knowing better than to have them. And it's a little liberating to share it.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Sometimes I forget...
... that I'm 31. 3 decades plus 1. It's a trip. I have reminders that I'm old-er, although I can't really say I'm old. I don't feel old. My body's weaker at some points, my emotional maturity is evolved, but I'm not old in the negative connotation. (But why is getting older bad? Not sure. I'm just not there.)
I think I read a retweet somewhere that said something to the effect: Why complain about getting older when there are so many people who don't make it this far?
Christmas time is always the easiest time to make a clock check because family parties show the wear, tear, and evolution of the family.
The nieces and nephews are all getting older. One's in high school. Two or three are in middle school. The rest are all older, sassier, talking, aware. I remember when they were in their illegible stages. My god.
Parents are aging. Uncles and aunties are aging. Cousins are aging. But, in the same way, I forget that they're at their advanced.. umm.. youthful adulthood. We're all relatively "young" acting with a great big mix of adult grounding.
I still wear jeans and flashy sneakers more than I wear shirts with collars and blue suits. I've actually never worn a blue suit, but you get it. But, I guess the biggest riddle of this game of getting older is processing what it's all supposed to mean at particular numerical landmarks. When I'm 40 am I NOT supposed to dress the way I do now? Why? It's not like I'm wearing my belts to my knees or raggedy t-shirts to formal dinners.
I think the age game, like so many other things, is a part of the Matrix-like mainframe to trap us into categories so that OTHER people can make better assumptions about us before knowing us. Yet, it's wonderful knowing the need, stepping up to the challenge, and tracking our personal growth. But, those tracks are built by ourselves. Or else, we're just trying to compete in someone else's race. And that's great and dandy for a bunch of the world, but not for me.
I've strayed. Been lost. Been disconnected. Been de-spirited. But I know who I am and where I need to go to become there person I want to be. And that's wherever the combination of where the road takes me and my decisions along the way. Is that a less poetic and omnipotent way of saying destiny meets free will? Not really. It's just what I am. Here, there, and wherever.
The roots and the soil are my peoples.
The clouds are the forms of creation.
I spent the late 20s and early 30 ignoring the elements. I had those things - the earth, the skies, and myself all flowing into some sort of spirituality at some point. So, I know I could go there again. And there will be my journey for now until something else decides to engage me in something else.
Kinda esoteric. Kinda whimsical. But it's okay. That's who I am. And at 31, I'm still not bothering with constructions. Or are they instructions?
Friday, December 25, 2009
Marco Scutaro piece from April 2005
Written in April 2005
I was whispering to myself and sort of to my friend next to me during a later inning of the A’s – Angels game on Friday night for Charles Thomas to just get a hit, “Scutaro will get you home, I promise.” Unfortunately, Marco didn’t get a chance to do that because Thomas couldn’t get on base. I was joking in a sense – making a promise I couldn’t keep, but I was serious also. Scutaro’s done nothing but produce more than ever expected during his tenure as an A, and despite him lacking superstar status I always believe in him.
He came into the Sunday afternoon game against the Angels batting only .241. Definitely not the surprising .320 he was hitting last year at this time. He also has been fielding at shortstop to fill in for injured superstar-to-be Bobby Crosby. On Friday night, a ball was hit up the middle and it was within his range, but it was obvious the lack of experience at the position left him a bit tentative. He and Mark Ellis were running towards the grounder, but both stopped to yield for each other. It was Scutaro’s ball – Ellis’ yield, but Marco didn’t get it. Doesn’t matter. He killed the Angels on Sunday with his defense. That’s what matters. He’s getting better. Plus he hit the game winning homerun – a major plus for a non-power hitting second baseman. That’s really what matters, too.
Scutaro’s a small guy and he’s young. You can see the youth in his face and the freshness of his baseball life. He’s also got a somewhat bashful batting stance – feet close together, bat held timidly high, and he has an off beat foot tap. His size and youth combined with that stance, it sort of makes you adhere your support of him like you would one of those Little League World Series kids. But his game is all man – all able bodied heart – all star even if he probably will never be an All Star. He is exactly why the revenue-deficient A’s are perfect representatives for a blue-collar town like Oakland. He is exactly what Billy Beane baseball is all about even when it gets frustratingly fruitless.
After Sunday’s game, Scutaro will probably be forgotten again by media. He’s not as exciting a draw as someone like Chavez, a four-time Gold Glove third baseman who’s making the news the wrong way with his yearly early-season funk. Nevermind the fact that Scutaro had the highest fielding average of all American League second basemen last year. Nevermind the fact that he has produced more clutch hits this year than Chavez or Durazo who are hitting in the 3 and 4 holes, respectively. This isn’t a call for a mutiny against Chavez or Durazo. Let’s just not forget what Scutaro continues to bring to the team.
Two weeks ago, he was a Bobby Crosby injury away from being optioned to Sacramento. Who could blame the team for that? With Mark Ellis back and Keith Ginter ready to share time, Scutaro was left out, as usual. The question now is if the A’s can afford to keep forgetting about him. Ellis deserves the starting spot. He is a versatile hitter and great defender. Ginter was an off-season free agent acquisition. Being that Beane signs those so infrequently, it would seem the Ginter (who does have more apparent power than Scutaro) would keep a spot. Where does that leave Scutaro?
I guess he’ll just have to keep producing. If he has to, he’ll just have to help Sacramento get to the Triple-A playoffs again and when time comes he’ll get called up and quietly help drive the A’s to the postseason. That’s just what he does.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Best of the Double Zeros: Pro Sports Experiences
Initially, I was only going to count the best live experiences I’ve had watching sports this decade, but realized there were some moments, as you’ll see, that were far too impacting to leave out.
1) Marco! Scutaro! Send the A’s to the next round! - 2006
Hands down, this was the BEST experience I have ever had at a sporting event. The A’s, after squandering so many opportunities in the past to get past the first round dubbing them “Choke-land” finally were one the precipice of getting over the hump. Bases loaded and the guy that only hit in clutch situations, Marco Scutaro, was up to bat. A few moments later, he drove a ball down the right field line that ended with a close play at home, that scored Nick Swisher, and Scutaro on 2nd base watching intently and giving Swish the “safe” gesture. The crowd went nuts. I was sitting in the same section that, a few years earlier, I saw the A’s go down. It wasn’t the game winning hit, but it was the game sealing hit. It was also THE hit that the A’s had been missing for years. What did we do? We chanted “MARCO” (dub dub dub) “SCUTARO” (dubbydido) for almost two innings! I still get chills thinking about it. I also witnessed it with one my few diehard A’s fans and one of my best friends, Mon. Scutaro won’t be remembered much by most baseball fans, but he’ll always hold a special place in A’s fans’ hearts – not only for this moment, but for ALL of the clutch hits he had.
Marco's hit: Youtube
More on Marco: sfgate
2) Sharks kill a penalty with 3 guys and 1 stick - 2006
Not sure how many hockey games I had attended before this particular playoff game. It definitely was not a high amount, so this unexpected treat was surely appreciated. My sports buddy, Tricia, invited me to watch the game and all of a sudden the Sharks were faced with a 2-man disadvantage. 101 seconds in a tense game. I forgot the score at the time. The game ended as a 2-1 victory for the Sharks so a goal would’ve been a major event. Anyway, at some point both the sticks of Scott Hannon and Mark Smith were broken and that left Kyle McClaren as the only defenseman with a stick. Well, other than goaltender, Toskala. Basically, the Sharks were on a 5-1 penalty kill. Anyway, that puck stayed inside the Sharks zone for a long time. There were shots, diving Sharks players, rebounds, but nothing could get cleared. Each shot and each deflection brought everyone in the Tank closer and closer off our seats ready to burst into cheers (relief) or intense disappointment. A shot was attempted and the rebound floated into the middle of the zone where Scott Hannan was nearby. Without a stick, he dove to the ice and cleared the puck, and the Tank EXPLODED. It was, what they call, bedlam. It was easily the greatest sporting event I had ever witnessed in person (until Scutaro sent the A’s past the first round!) If you couldn’t fall in love with hockey (SHARKS Hockey!) at that point, you were a lost cause.
Game Recap: NHL.com
3) We Believe Warriors Worldwide – 2007
The We Believe run for the Golden State Warriors was a traveling affair for me. Game 1 was happening on a road trip back from Las Vegas as we were driving through one of the cross highway roads connected 5 to 99. The game was on the local sports station but the signal wasn’t great. I still made everyone in the listen to it as long as I could. Then, a day or two after, I was in the Philippines. I didn’t expect much, but I was just excited to see the Warriors in the playoffs. Once we got to Manila, after spending most of our time in the province and in Palawan, I found the basketball channels in our hotel room. I watched what I could. I watched reruns. Then, one morning, they showed one of the games live and sat there watching in the Philippines! Over there, only a few teams got much pub: Lakers, Celtics, Knicks, Bulls, Heat, and the Mavs. None of my cousins knew anything about the W’s so they didn’t understand my fervor for them. It’s all a haze now. I’m not sure which games happened while I was gone or when Game 6 was, but that was a great great time to be a Warrior fan – anywhere in the world. Then, of course, BD dunked on Kirilenko and made, for damn sure, the world knew who the Warriors were. They lost and now have only TWO people left from the We Believe team. (By the way, Warrior fans are too loyal for our own good. And, another by the way, Utah fans TRIED to be like the Oracle crowd but couldn’t live up. They TRIED to be raucous to match Oracle, but they just aren’t Warriors fans. Okay, done.)
BD's dunk on AK47
Matt Barnes ****s on Dirk's face
4) A’s win 20th a row - 2002
Anyone who was there or watched it on TV spent knew that the first 15 minutes were exciting. The next 45 were laughable and anticlimactic. Then, the next two to three hours became slowly discomforting finally edging, if not completely falling, into shock and subtle disgust. Then. Came. Hatty. After going on an epic, MVP-winning run by Tejada and the A’s for 19 straight games, the cool summer night that hosted the 20th game began as an exciting fun capper on the streak. The A’s ran up an 11-run lead on the Royals and did it quickly. It was such a big lead, so early, that I remember feeling a little disappointed that the record-breaking game wouldn’t have as much zest. Then came the erosion of the giant lead like a stream slowly breaking our hearts apart. I don’t remember much in the middle except for the doom I felt as well as the disdain for the middle and late relief that gave up the runs. Looking at the story, it looks like it was Billy Koch. Nonetheless, “moneyball” pick-up Scott Hatteberg came up to pinch-hit in the bottom of the ninth and then a few moments later I was eyeing the ball he smoked to right seemingly eye level (I was sitting on the top section before it was tarped off, obviously.) Then, the celebration. I didn’t want to leave, and party with the A’s faithful. It wasn’t exactly the way we were hoping it would’ve happened, but extremely happy nonetheless.
Recap: cnnsi.com
5) Davis beats Stanford – 2005
What my friends and I wanted was our Division II team to come in and play hard and NOT be blown out by the end of the first half. Us getting in late, that hope was even more pronounced. When we finally got into the stadium to find our seats, the game was still close. Once the final drive started, my fellow Davis alums looked at each other thinking, “we actually still have a chance”. Davis started at the far end of the field and began driving towards our end zone with a bunch of dump passes and short routes. It was becoming a reality but we still couldn’t believe it. Then, Blaise Smith ran his route into the corner of the end zone near our seats and Jon Grant hit him for the lead. What did we do? We jumped around, of course. But, along with me, I noticed a couple of us running around the bleachers in complete joy and disbelief. I saw my other friends, Stanford alums, in complete shock. On the way out, I called some of the other Davis folks that didn’t come along to watch. It took a few minutes for them to actually believe me.
Game Recap: ESPN
6) 49ers comeback against the Giants - 2002
After I graduated from Davis, I spent the next two to four years in Davis and Sacramento on the weekends almost weekly. First it was at Adams. Then, once the boys all graduated and moved into Alex’s house, I was there. Saturdays were usually full of Madden. Sundays were full of real football. And, in between, there were bottles of beer, random trips to Tahoe, homerun derby with a whiffleball bat, BBQs, and even more Madden. When the Niners took on the Giants in the playoffs we were all amped. Then, as the Giants went apeshit on the Niners our energy began to dissipate. But we kept watching. In the 2nd half as the Niners made their push, we stayed glued to our seats on the couch and on the floor. We all took note. Didn’t move. We didn’t have anything to do with the game on the field, but damnit we were going to will them to a victory from the family room! Score after score – defensive stop after defensive stop we started to believe more, started to cheer louder, started to high-five harder until the Niners fully came back and won the game! What a game.
The memory that lasts though occurred the next week. The Niners once again were screwed going into the 2nd half being down 28-6 to the Tampa Bay Bucs. Witnessing the amazing comeback from the week before gave us a sliver of hope. So, what did we do? We all found our spots on the couch and the floor from a week before. It didn’t work. The Bucs dominated the 2nd half and eventually won the Super Bowl, but those two Sundays represented the good times with the fellas those early years in the decade.
Recap of the 2006 NFL Playoffs: wikipedia
7) Baron Davis hits the buzzer-beating game-winning shot against the Celtics - 2008
My buddy Art’s been a long time fan of the Celtics. I’m one of the few friends that actually knows this for some reason. So, since I knew this, I decided to bring him to the Warriors versus Celtics game. And it was a good one. I don’t remember much of the game except for lamenting the damage that I thought Ray Allen would do – against good teams with solid 3 point shooters, the Warriors typically overhelped and left the sniper alone. He had a monster game. But the Warriors, like they did during those two years of We Believe, stepped up against the best teams led by Baron Davis. I remember standing during the final possession in a raucous Oracle (it was always crazy that year) and watched BD take his step-back shot and drain it. We went nuts – not Art or the hoard of Celtics fans. Leaving the Arena that night, the energy felt like it was a playoff game. The Warriors went toe-to-toe against the best team in the league (the eventual World Champs), and for one night at least, were better than them. What a great 1 ½ years of being a Warrior fan. How sad. 1 point 5 years.
Game Recap: Boston Globe
8) A’s lose to the Red Sox - 2003
Wait, what? Yes, this game makes the top ten. Why? It was my first professional (or any, I guess) sports playoff experience ever. Despite the terrible way of losing – two strikeouts looking in a row – this playoff experience did not disappoint. The Mac, as it was known back then, was rocking from the start. Our section, behind the left field bleachers was awesome. I learned more about the left field bleacher traditions that game. There was beef from the Red Sox and A’s fans. There was a concussion. A Zito blow up. Clutch plays all around. A terrible managerial call of hitting T Long instead of Jermaine Dye (who cares about the lefty-right match-up? Dye’s a stud, Long is NOT.) I told the Boston fans near us to take the Yankees because they were still the stepchild to the Yanks’ evil empire (before they were both equally evil empires). It was during the 2002 season that I officially fell in love with Baseball. This capped it.
Game Recap: ESPN
9) Boston Red Sox vs Toronto Blue Jays – Fenway experience - 2009
With my found love for baseball this decade, I decided that I wanted to visit all the MLB ballparks across the country. Only a few historic ballparks still exist and are in use and Fenway Park is one of the most beautiful and iconic. For a an evening, I became a Sox fan dawning a red shirt and Huong wore a blue one to match. And yes, we both knew were were selling out for an evening, but we both are baseball fans and this was an experience any baseball fan should experience. (It’s not like the A’s or Giants were the opponents, anyway.) The stadium is full of character: the eating area underneath the bleachers oozed an energy and community that seemingly has thrived there for a century. Walking by the Green Monster, on Yawkey Way was awe-inspiring. The energy on Yawkey was great. Once we entered the stadium, there was an old-time band playing old-time baseball music – just like you heard on Ken Burns’ Baseball documentary. Then, walking into the aisles, and taking a look at the Green Monster from the inside was truly a baseball-geeking out moment. Experiencing Sweet Caroline during the middle of the 8th was just as fun as it seems on tv and movies. Seeing Jonathon Paplebon enter the field, who I usually can’t stand, was very fun for the evening. The rocking out Dropkick Murphy’s “I’m Shipping Up to Boston” energizes the stadium like no other – very intoxicating it must be for real (and their immense amount of bandwagon) fans. (Yes, I have to take a shot.) Seeing Marco Scutaro play for the Blue Jays was a treat, also. It was a great baseball experience. Nothing less.
(A few more parting shots: at least 5 or 6 times people came into our section looking for OTHER rows, seats, or sections. WTF? Read your ticket and the damn signs. We were swimming in milk. Getting out of the bleachers and getting OUT of the Fenway area was a bit of a nightmare. The people sitting behind us initially were kinda scary. They eventually moved because they were one of the 5 or 6 that were in the wrong section. Take that, d-bags!)
Game Recap: ESPN
10) A’s vs Giants Weekend - 2006
Looking back at a previous post, I realize now that I went to all three games of the “Bay Bridge Series” at Oakland. Admittedly, I commit sports polygamy with the A’s, Giants, and even the Mets. But I have steadfast rules. One, the A’s are my team. Period. Two, I don’t cheer against any of the home teams – meaning I wouldn’t watch a A’s at Giants game at ATT so I wouldn’t have to cheer against the Giants. Three, the A’s are my team and wouldn’t cheer against them in any situation – Mets, Giants, Bad News Bears, Victoria Secret softball team, whatever. So, that weekend was fun. It’s always fun to watch the series with close friends that are fans of both teams since the ribbing would be good natured. Back then, I could also stomach the idiocy of both teams’ fans screaming stupid insults at each other. Ribbing that is good-natured is fine. But the doucheyness of both teams has turned me off to watching most of those games. This game, this rout, was fun because of the company. We were all sitting in the left field with a mix of friends and a mix of different fans. It obviously was a terrible game for the Gmen fans. At the time, I still had my ever-reliable A’s fan companion so it made it more fun. I love baseball.
Sunday Game Recap: ESPN
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Last Monday
Two Mondays ago was a good day. I didn't even have to use my AK.
I came from a weekend that involved a fun day trip to North and East and South Lake Tahoe with the gf. It involved a chicken ranchero burrito from Dos, crawfish, lack of planning, exploring some rocks and water, and swimming in non-swimsuit shorts. Good times. Sunday was a localized garlic festival to honor Gilroy. Good food, good fun.
Monday morning was normal if I remember correctly. But the vibe at the office was good. Then we had a solid staff meeting that was positive and productive. Not sure what else happened that day actually. Oh. i made lunch. Brought it. Walked downtown to eat it outside. Got some coffee. Got some good cookies from the overpriced rich people's supermarket.
Came home and cooked for the first time at the new crib.
Got a call from my mom that I received an envelope from Redwood City Police, Traffic Enforcement. Oh shit.
A few weeks ago, I had a weird right turn at an intersection with a camera. Normally I stop fully at right turns. I didn't make a solid decision and sort of rolled through a red. Not sure. But, at the time I was mad at myself but couldn't worry about it unless I got an envelope in the mail. Well, there it was. I told her I'd pick it up later. I had a game.
Went to play softball with the barrelmen. The competition wasn't the greatest, but I may have had the best hitting game with that team I've ever had over the many years I've played. Here's my line:
3/4, HR, 2B, 4rbi, 4 runs. (One fielders choice hence no hit). The homer was of the inside-the-park variety. It went opposite field and the RC fielder misplayed it. Not sure what happened because the play was behind me. All I know is that I was home before the ball got back to the infield. The 2B went to the LF and was a line-drive sinker that fell in front of him. The other hit was a solid line-drive up the middle. With stiffer competition, I may have only been 1/4, but eff it. We have to play defense too. I'll take it.
Afterwards, I headed to my parents place to pick up the bad news. Opened the envelope, and was granted a pleasing surprise. RWC opted to give me a warning instead of an actual citation.
I gotta go cuz I got me a drop top and if I hit a switch I can make the ass drop!
Monday, July 13, 2009
eff it
making out kissy face with the upper management reap
your rewards
lay down with your steak because i have beef.
you are not worth it, the smiles diminishing
spirt finshing the last sip of the kool aid imminent
exit back door looking for escape to elevation
because you are frustration
only worth your value in the economic desperation.
the sugar coated wish it was real but it isn't
plainyg cool behind the phony like ice vanilla'd instant
popularity contest candidate
don't mean to hate - but it's hella fake.
done.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
[nyc-oh-nine] day three
Day three proceeds with how day two ended.
And, we were off to see (walk) the city.
First stop: Canal St. so I could buy a Fendi bag with a bad attitude. Jk. I wanted a hat - like my fake kangol or fangol, if you will. Didn't find any. But they had a bunch of.. newsboy type hats and found one quickly and only haggled for a second for them to drop the price from $12 to $10.
Then, we ventured westward to get some vegan dim sum at Buddha Bodai. We ordered... veggie Sesame Chicken, veggie siu mai, veggie pork buns, some chinese doughnut thing, eggplant with tofu, and taro. It was a whole mess of food. And, again, was pretty good. And it was pretty cheap - 2.25 - 2.75 for each dim sum, except the sesame chicken.
Stuffed and having NO ROOM for more food, we headed northeastward to Chinatown Ice Cream Factory where the sample spoons of lychee (was good but nothing spectacular) and black sesame (forced the stomach to adjust to fit in another friend). I ordered the taro and spent the next few minutes and blocks working the ice cream scoop to a proper size so that it wouldn't all drip onto my hand or just fall off if held at weird angle. The ice cream was sorta expensive - but where do you find black sesame ice cream? The was really really good. The taro was good also, but not really memorable. Though I did enjoy immensely.
With tons of food in the bellies, we ventured southward to the Brooklyn Bridge. We spent a good amount of time walking on the bridge and taking photos of the bridge, the skyline, the rust, the wires, the rust, (I took enjoyment in the rust, i guess), of brooklyn, of water, of people in our shots, of each other, of Europeans. Along the way there was some model shoot on the bridge. For what? I don't know. It could've been hair product. Could've been lipstick. It could've been for cereal, but I really don't know.
We got to Brooklyn - and I was sorta grossed out by the huge buildings decorating the foot of the bridge: the Watchtower(s). Okay.
We jumped onto an A-train and headed over to 14th and 8th to look for Chelsea Market and Ninth Street Espresso. We got our bearing when we stepped out of the station and still turned the wrong way. But, the detour landed us at a corner where there was some sort of film set - but nothing was happening. Maybe it was lunch hour.
We found ourselves at Chelsea Market, walked around to see all the bakeries, the food network elevator, overpriced cupcakes and cookies, and coffee (also a bit overpriced). We sat outside, again, to catch our bearings, and subsequently headed north on 9th ave. We walked through Chelsea on our way to the Flat Iron building on 5th and 23rd. I've actually never been to the Flat Iron building - just rode by it once on the way to a bar. We spent a few minutes taking pictures there of the building, of cabs, of each other, and many times using our favorite "ACCENT" setting on our cameras.
We decided to head up to 34th and 9th to see where we would catch the Bolt Bus to Boston the next day. And, before we got too far (the end of the block), we saw Shake Shack, saw the line, saw a burger wiz buy us - and felt compelled to not leave without trying it. We were told to try the double stack - the one with a burger patty and a patty of portobello mushroom stuffed with cheese. Oh. Damn. We split one. And we're going to split another.. or maybe two before we leave.
And, as an added treat - for me I guess - and the Filipinos on facebook - while in line, I heard some girl say something to a friend, gave him an embrace, and said, "this is my friend Paolo". And when I looked, for that brief glance, I knew I recognized the face and the name made sense. But before I made a full assumption, I looked up his name on my internets connected phone - and YES - it was confirmed. I saw Paolo Montalban - of half-Filipino and Cinderella with brandy fame.
After the psuedo-celebrity sighting and not-at-all-psuedo badass burger eating, we continued North to the 34th and 9th - but not before I bought a fresh cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee. I've bought a bag of it before and wasn't all that impressed. Maybe drinking it after the burger didn't make sense. Whatever case.. Dunkin Donuts coffee: I don't get it.
We saw our bus stop and fought through increased foot traffic and eventually found ourselves in Central Park. We walked on the West side of the park and past the lake, onto some bridge, and over the middle portion of the park. I was looking for the Promenade, aka Poet's Walk, and thought of just walking east. Didn't work. Didn't find it. Before all that getting lost sorta stuff, we watched a bunch of elementary school kids learning to play baseball. It was cute. And gross that it was cute. I'm anti-child, remember? I also took some time to take picture of the big rocks at the park as an homage to the lessons I learned about geology on History Channel's How the Earth was Made show. I took pictures of the stryations (created by a glacier). I also chased around a robin for a few minutes, but it wouldn't cooperate.
Eventually, we were running out of time and getting tired so we headed back to the hotel to pack our stuff for Boston and take all of our leftover stuff to Huong's friend's place where we'll be staying after we get back from Boston. After dropping off our stuff, we headed south on 1st ave. On the way, we passed by some "mexican" restaurant and saw tequila on their sign. We headed to S'mac to try some specialty mac n cheese. We ordered the Parisienne: Brie, fig, rosemary, and maybe some other spices. It was good - heavy as you'd expect. If you like Mac n Cheese, you'd probably enjoy it. I'd go back and try one or two of the other recipes. Okay, i'd probably try a bunch of them. But you can order the smallest size and split with someone and still feel like it was enough.
Onward we went - south towards the Lower East Side. We were heading towards Sugar Sweet Sunshine bakery to try out some famous cupcakes. Before we got there though, we stopped into a bar, and followed through on a plan to take a tequila shot for our friend Maria. It was honestly a much better experience than the last shot I took of tequila - at Maria's place, but I still hate tequila.
Sugar Sweet Sunshine had a wide array of cupcakes: our two suggested choices were the Black and White (chocolate and white frosting) and the Red Velvet. So, we ordered the Pistachio. $1.50. "A dollar fifty's not bad at all. Other places charged 3.50 for a single cupcake. The pistachio.. it's good, like homemade cupcakes, " says Huong. With a hint of apprehension. I think she was disappointed. Disappointment happens when other people's tastes get you excited. "I think we'll have to try Magnolia - just to try it."
After the cupcake, we jumped on the brown line to West 4th to grab a slice of cheese pizza at Joe's Pizza (as seen on Spider-man... as seen on a sign on their wall). I pured on some garlic powder, folded it, and chomped away. Huong, who said she wasn't ready for Joe's had many bites and said it was "good pizza" and we'd have to go back. Then, before leaving the west village, stopped at Grey Dog (where I hung out once on a rain-dump day with Trina waaay back when.) I ordered a Lobster Ale, she ordered a soy chai, and she scoped the joint for cute boys or "cute skinnies". Sadly, there were none.
Then, the train. Then, the stop. Then, the hotel. Then, the internet. Then, the sleep. Then.. the boston.
[nyc-oh-nine] day two
Day two started off where day one ended: on the floor of Carlo's room. But the ceiling fan was off. It was a little chillier outside anyway.
Before heading out to Manhattan, we had breakfast with Lola: eggs, corned beef, fried rice, and all the food from the night before and some pasta that dame out of nowhere it seemed. A table full of food. It's never a surprise: moreso a humorous and sometimes endearing reminder where he gets his overzealousness - with food, with caring, and with pleasing.
We get dropped off at Kew Gardens/Union Turnpike to take the E or F out of Queens and into Manhattan. The train ride was short - and now makes me remember how long that damn bus ride is from Glen Oaks to Union Turnpike train station. We transfer at Lexington to catch the 6 down to Wall Street and we made pretty good time to check-in just a few minutes before "check-in" time at 3pm. The hotel was pretty nice - solid bargain for what we had to pay: clean, close to various subway lines, clean, free purified water in the hallway, and clean.
We drop off our stuff and head to the Lower East Side to meet up with Huong's friends at a bookstore. We had a lot of time so we headed over to the Village, first. We got out at Union Square, 14th St. and walked southwest. We meandered onto Broadway and took a right at Waverly as we crossed NYU and Washington Square Park and found Gray's Papaya. First Manhattan psuedo-meal was there. We split a Recession special - 2 frankfurters (with everything) and a juice (papaya) before we headed out to the Lower East Side.
We got there a few minutes early so we camped out for a few at Epstein's bar. I knocked down some Hefe while Huong sipped her Stella Artois til it was room temperature. Eventually her friends Candy and Jennifer arrived and we headed West - to the hallway Jennifer calls an apartment and to Lombardi's for some pizza and more beer (Brooklyn Lager!).
After pizza, we walked further west to Atlas Cafe - a joint that serves a wide array of vegetarian and vegan food to taste some vegan desserts: chocolate cake, strawberry/chocolate cake, and pumpkin cupcake. All pretty damn tasty.
We parted ways after dessert, but not before we left with a long, long, and pretty long list of food suggestions that littered the Lower East Side - some having multiple referrals by multiple people.
When we got out of the Wall St. station, Huong and I decided to walk down to Battery Park in the dark. I remember hearing about the danger at battery park when I was weeee younger. Now, it's much more illuminated and there's some fancypants restaurant next to the Staten Island Ferry building that made it safe to partake in harbor picture taking.
Then, hotel. Then, sleep.
[nyc-oh-nine] day one
Written while using wifi on a Bolt Bus bound for Boston. Day 3.
DAY ONE:
It's been a while since I've traveled to the NYC with intentions of staying for a while. Last year, I was supposed to go on my first baseball trip ever to watch the Mets, the Yankees, and the Phillies. Never happened. Got sick - 103 degree sick - and the whole trip and a bunch of money had to be scrapped.
Before that, there was the weekend quick-trip, which was fun, but all too short. It was the summer of 2007 and Nikki had only a few months left in Albany, Lisa was in Manhattan for a month, and Jen Jen was having her 16th birthday party. That weekend was a whirlwind - and always fun - but, like I said, all too short. I really only had 1 half day and one night in Manhattan. Still made it out to some regular jaunts: Gray's Papaya, Canal St., the Lower East Side to party, Washington Square Park, and it was also the first time I heard of and tasted THE Halal cart.
Okay, so enough of the recapping of old trips.
This NY trip is also different because it's the first time I'm traveling with someone.
Day One starts at home. Union City. And my DVR. And bike. Knowing that I'm planning to stuff myself with grease and salt and cholesterol annd all the stuff that makes anything taste good while eating your body up inside, I made sure to jump on the bike to deal with my guilt.. I mean burn some calories and be heart-fit.
Huong comes by early to pick me up but before we go we catch the season finale of BONES like we scheduled earlier in the week. I'll talk about bones on Livin' Proof.
We leave and head towards San Jose to get some odds and ends done down there including her putting her yoga mat in the washer, me getting some coffee, and we getting some food for the plane. Then we were off - to the airport, to the gate, to the plane, and to New York.
Since last summer, maybe, I picked up and committed to finishing the last half of The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. 2-5 pages at a time, I've slowly worked my way through and thoroughly enjoyed the final part. I had 30 pages left to go before leaving California and I hoped to get it done in San Jose so I wouldn't have to pack it and carry it during the trip. Didn't happen, although I did finish it before we officially left the gate in the plane. More on that later.
We arrive in NY after a.. technically.. 9 hour flight (with time change) and jump into Carlo's GTI on the way home to Queens for a quick overnight stop before we run off to Manhattan. Like always, Queens was about catching up with family - especially the cousins, Tita Ems, and Lola. Like always, there was a lot of food - too much food. Like always, it was chinese food.
The night was nicely warm in Carlo's room with the ceiling fan going and the sound of it playing the nostalgic soundtrack of my past trips.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Sunny Saturdays Return!
Finally - a beautiful Saturday with a mostly clean slate on the calendar. Unfortunately, the only parts of the calendar that were set were somber (a funeral and a visit at the hospital). Maybe it was fitting, since life doesn't just happen - and life is best lived with reflection and with simple indulgences of happiness.
So. With that.. it was a beautiful Saturday.
Saturday lunch happened at Flourishing Garden for Dim Sum. Not exactly sure of everything we ordered, but it was a lot - and it was pretty damn good. We got in right before 12 so we were able to beat any lunchtime rush.
After dim sum, we visited my uncle at the hospital. He's been in and out of the hospital since December and it was my first time to visit. It was humbling. It was sobering. I was caught off guard with his condition. Just a couple of days since his surgery - he was still affected by anesthesia. He was weak. He wasn't speaking as clearly. He was restless. And I talked to my aunt as she focused on her husband's frailty as she attempted to stay strong. I couldn't imagine what she's thinking.
We left the hospital towards no particular destination. She wanted water. I wanted coffee. We were close to De Anza college, so we took that exit and headed towards the shopping center with Coffee Society. The park across the street was hosting the World Journal Mother's Day Festival or something so the parking lot was full. We found a parking spot next to an opening in the shopping center to cut through the inner part of the shops - it's sort of like a courtyard. While walking to the coffee place, we saw people eating frozen yogurt, so we decided to take a detour.
What a great detour. I'm no fro-yo aficionado, but since it was a warm day, I didn't mind getting something sweet and cold. The fruit-named fro-yo joint this time around was The Orange Tree. What surprised me was the flavor of their TARO yogurt. It tasted a lot like the Ube ice cream at Mitchell's in San Francisco. So I jumped all over it. I also got some of the lychee yogurt. She got the same plus some blueberry yogurt that tasted pretty damn good also. Some yogurt places have yogurt with a hint of said flavor. This time around, the flavors were robust. I threw in some ground graham cracker, green apple jelly, lychee jelly, strawberries, almonds, and some walnuts. MMM. Damn. Good. DAMN GOOD DETOUR. It was nice sitting in the courtyard just chillin' with some sun and some shade and sharing some dope ass froyo.
After we stomped through the froyo, we proceeded north on 280. Not having anywhere else to specifically go, we jumped onto the windy ass 84 and headed to Pescadero. I've been wanting to explore the block-and-a-half of the small town since I drove through it on my way to a meeting for work. When we finally got to Pescadero - after the loooong and wiiiinding road - we parked on Stage Rd. and walked said half block. The first Pescadero main-highlight we tried out was the gas station slash Taqueria called Los Amigos and had two carne asada tacos. Pretty good. The carne asada was chopped into small pieces and had some pieces fried so crispy that they were carnitas-like. There was a habanero sauce on the table that I hadn't tried yet called.. I think.. El Yucatero. I put a couple of drops on the first taco and it seemed fine. Not sure what happened with the second taco and if I happened to bite into the motherload of drops but for a few minutes I was sort of TKO'd from the spice to the point that I was tearing. It was good, but it was burning the back of my throat that chips made it worse. It was pretty funny. I'm not all big and bad with spice, but I've never been put to tears. Now I know what it feels like. Good stop.
We mosied over 1 mile to Harley Farms' Goat Farm. It's quite renowned for its great goat cheese. I don't really like goat cheese all that much, but it was interesting to be there. There was some brown sheep. I saw the milking barn. And there were a whole mob of hungry goats congregating towards the barn like they knew it was time to come home. I tried some goat cheese spread that was good but reminded me that I wasn't a big fan of the goat cheese. I also put on some goat milk lotion. I never knew there was such a thing.
After Pescadero, we headed north on Highway 1 and stopped at Pomponio State Beach. The waves were hitting hard. The water was hella cold. And it was enclosed by two huge cliffs that showed layers of generations in rocks. Geology rocks. Yup.
After a lap around the beach taking pictures, trying to be artsy, and me being geologically nerdy - we headed up north to Half Moon Bay. The sun was still out - but we had about 3 1/2 hours left of sunlight as we figured out from a method I learned on TV. We walked around downtown Half Moon Bay for a few minutes and were about to head over the hill before I remembered about Crab Bread. With the beauty of smartphones - we found that the said Crab Bread was available just behind us.
We went to Flying Fish Grill right on Main St. and 92 - next to the fish market and the produce market. We ordered the Cheesy-Crabby Bread, the calamari dinner with grilled vegetables and sweet potato fries. Once again. MMMM. As if it wasn't much of a real epiphany, we agreed: "we've eaten some good ass food today."
We capped off the days proceedings with a quick stop at a fruit stand on 92 and Trader Joe's in San Mateo. Purchases: a crate of strawberries, cherries, two apple pears, grapefruits, and gala apples.
We brought some strawberries to the Fremont Quintanas and headed home where some huge oysters were waiting to be shucked.
And the sun went down. And the DVR turned on. And the fruit was eaten. And all that good stuff. Good Saturday.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Men and Immaturity
Ladies, get ready to applaud a statement that's utterly common sensical to you and a bit of a redundancy:
Men are immature.
Do I need to explain more? Probably. Will I? Of course!
On Sunday, I was at the Giants vs DBacks game and sitting a few seats from me was a middle-aged man who obviously LOVED his Giants baseball. Well, he loved the team, not so much the current brand of baseball he was watching throughout the game (lack of clutch hits, lack of run production, etc.). He sat there with his, I assume, Father's Day issued Giants Hawaiian shirt, his hat, sunglasses, and vociferous growl ready to exclaim the positive and negatives throughout the game as any fan would do.
He was enjoying his game and was an otherwise pleasant dude until he was getting a bit enhanced with the beer and maybe probed by the pitcher's duel (or battle of anemic offenses - not sure which one was more appropriate that day). It wasn't anything too bad. He was cordial with everyone around. He was nowhere nearly annoying, offensive, and needing-of-a-slaptastic-shut-your-damn-ignorant-mouths idiots that sat behind me at the A's home opener.
And, maybe I should remove the focus from him. He sparked reflection. His day of solitude on a beautiful Sunday afternoon - perfect for a day at the ballpark - and his random shouts, random grunts, random musings to himself, random utterances of "sweet" - all, again, in a sense of solitude like no one else was around but him and the teams playing the game. So, is that immature? Not so much. It's a middle aged dude hanging out a ballpark. Big F'n deal, right?
Well, a few innings into the game, two middle aged ladies walked down to the front of our section, camped out in the front row, and watched the game. They were dressed younger than, I assume, my mom had worn as a middle-aged woman: black tank-tops with sequin-encrusted SF logos, jeans, flip flops, manicures, pedicures, nice earrings, and I think bracelets. And, again, it wasn't so much all that was worn, but how they carried themselves. Eventually, one of them stood up in the middle of the inning while on her cell phone trying to make sure someone, I think on the Field Level - 3rd Base side, saw them waving. One also had a pretty good tan going. I'm not sure if it was natural or tan-bedded/sprayed. Big F'n deal, right?
Well, I just wonder what most of us would think - would judge - when we see those types of folks. On one end, I hear someone who could easily be a father of one of the youth I work with sounding more like a high school kid in his responses to the game. On the other, women, mothers, who seemed to be at the game more to be seen and to have a party than to hang out with their children or families.
Yes, two very judgmental descriptions. But really, what would you think?
Age is a cultural construct. Age, in our world, is fluid. But really, who, of those two archetypes, is looked down upon more? The man who loves his team so much to be caught up into a game that he cusses and reacts like he was seeing his first ballgame ever? The women who were trying to have a fun Sunday afternoon with her "girl" and basically leaving their interactions with their children at a minimum?
*****
Those experiences made me think of other interactions with men that I may have had or have seen - like seeing how my uncles interact with each other, how I am with the fellas, how grown men are expected to react to various stimuli in the world (let's say a baseball game, a boxing match, a dirty joke, a naked woman, a ridiculous sale on a gadget that we totally don't need).
Now, I know this is also very gender-biased - not all men are into sports, into naked women, into tech stuff - but a lot of us are at some higher level of geekiness.
I think there's a double standard. We're allowed to act like fools within realms of sports fanhood, physicality, and other items. Women are expected to be excited about the same - but feverishly invested is far less allowed. Is this too much generalizing? Probably.
But, there is a double standard.
Then, the other night, I finally watched the South Park episode, "Eat, Pray, Queef". And basically, the premise was that when men farted it was funny to the men. When women queefed, the same men found it ridiculously obscene and gross.
Stan's dad summed it up: "It stopped being funny the second air came out of her vagina!"
And I thought it was fitting (and really ridiculously funny) since I hadn't watched this episode until after my reflective moment at the game.
***
Where does this put me at my level of maturity in life? I'm pretty confident that I'm immature in most matters that matter - too amped up for sports, I love the double meaning, I chuckle at any possible "that's what she said" moment, Rated R movies are still solid gold to me, I still try to march to my own beatbox. I get to work. Do my work. Do some parts of it rather well. Get shit done. Go home. Watch TV. Watch sports. Write on a webpage. Hang out with a really cool girl. Not read. Not have a 403B. Not have to be home at any specific moment. Not be much of anything but a 30-year-old that says with almost full sincerity that he was 29-that-went-on-to-13.
But I'm not a scrub. I handle my business when needed. I just try to avoid business at all cost. And no, I'm not talking about work, only.
I'm a man. I'm immature. And for the most part, it really doesn't matter.
And I'm not sure if that freedom or if that's pathetic.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Sadness - the ghost town
Prosemonkeyverse is dead as dead could be - going back a few months. Geez.
Been spending some time reading the archives on supergaling and on livejournal. A bit of a trip, as usual.
It feels weird to post nowadays without anything particularly interesting or poignant or relatively important to say, but I guess this isn't what this shit is for. Who reads this anyway?
Waste. Of. Time.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
in a different life
in a different life,
your words would flow next to mine
with the same scheme,
with a smooth rhyme,
your lyrics and decadence
proclaiming my relevance to their
existence.
in a different life
your eloquence would mix
with my broken syntax,
like needles on wax
and expose the allusions
of romances timed perfectly
in our compositions.
in a different life,
these hollowed out bullets
of letters and punctuation
wouldn't cause death but creation -
the manifestation
of two individually beautiful
fragments run-on
but given meaning by a semi-colon.
in a different life,
in a different atmosphere
where our paralleled bodies would interweave,
histories would matter less
than the volumes of stories bound in sheathes
like swords or sharp quills,
the thrills of the flirtation
of our energies
more addictive than the initial butterflies
or reality tv.
in a different life,
where you write too much,
and my hand gets fatigued,
where I speak in mixed metaphors
and indulgent discretion,
you are the footnotes of expert translation,
the solemn ear to my confession.
but in that different life,
there would be no sins for which to atone,
or reasons for unrequited feelings
to be left silent and alone.
in that different life,
the listed long complications screaming resolutely
would be laughed at and paid no mind
for their futility.
A different life isn't real,
but you are. and I am.
and the rhythms and literary expanses
and spoken diatribes of love, life, and general
dissatisfaction of anyone else -
are real.
but the more we confide and the more we delve,
the more we can't get over ourselves.
in this life,
we are just bad love poetry repeated
with images of different faces,
same verbs but different subjects -
and the same us
refusing to overcome the reasons
that we swim aimlessly in a sea of words
with no cohesion.
Monday, January 05, 2009
DAYAMN.... 2 months??
It's 2009!!! Nothing new.
Just wanted to post these thoughts from the Vegas trip in December..
Lots of coincidentals that weekend.. that basically reminded me that I was where I was supposed to be that weekend. Not sure why. Not sure why it's even an issue. I guess, maybe, I second guessed the purpose of being there that weekend once all the peeps started falling off the list and weren't able to go.. but it wasn't.
It was great hanging out with Mon and having that hella long ass late ass heart to heart that we haven't had in a few years. It was great having fun with Thy. It was great hanging out with Estee and Dior.. and knowing that she had a fun weekend! =) And it was great meeting my newest nephew: Karisio and seeing Ange and her family.
So, the coincidentals that fit the rest of my the previous months of "strange energy".
1) The first day we got there, the wind was going CRAZY! It wasn't so cold, but the wind-chill factor was nuts. So, at some point we were able to see tumbleweed roll by in front of our car. Then, the wind was so thick that it was blowing the wind on the ground and I thought.. "hmm, that looks like the snow when it's storming up in the mountains." Then, the day we left, as many of us have seen already, it was SNOWING!
2) At one point in the weekend, we went to Popeye's to buy Estee's bro some food (like 3 hours AFTER we left the house). I wanted to get Macaroni and Cheese for a side, but they didn't have any. Then, on Monday, at Ange's place, there was Mac and Cheese. Yeah, silly. But really, Mac and Cheese don't exist in my life all too often.
3) Sunday night in Vegas with another day to recover. What did we do? Yup. Sat in front of the computer and looked up old school videos on YouTube. We went from old school to slow jams to 80's cheese to the genius-years of Michael Jackson. I said I wish I could go to a show of MJ's if it was the 1980s version of him. On the way back from Summerlin, we heard on the radio that MJ was thinking of going on tour again.
4) Actually, on the same trip back (and maybe to Summerlin), they were talking about TLC and T-Boz. They were part of the youtube night. (Red Light Special, Creep... hmm.) And at some point we were also listening to Franzen from KMEL fame. Nothing really coincidental except that it was a very high school memory type weekend and listening to KMEL was essential during that time.
5)Finally, there was the Brady Bunch. What? Yes. Because I was saying that it was my 13th birthday - my introduction to adolescence and graduation from puberty, I referenced the Brady Bunch story when Peter's voice started to crack. Remember the song.. "When it's time to change.. you got to re-arrange"? So, at Summerlin, Ange and family were watching a DVD of random Brady Bunch episodes.
Silly strange fun.
I realized they wouldn't have happened if I didn't go to Summerlin. I guess, it's simple. Anytime spent laughing, sharing, talking, and partaking in happiness with family (and friends) is worthwhile!
Monday, November 10, 2008
Crazy Energy Revisited: "peacocking"
The strange coincidences started to fade away.. that.. or I haven't been paying as much attention lately. Work's been getting busier and with the Election and Nanowrimo converging at the same time, life's been more of an afterthought.
Maybe October was just - self-indulgence month. Food, beer, psuedo-drama, hopeful things, and whatnot. That meant understanding myself and the world around me were priorities number one and one-a. With the other parts of life becoming the forefront, all of the esoteric hippie shit gets pushed in the back-burner. (Not completely though.)
So, lately, I've been thinking of the idea of "peacocking" a bit more. As you know, the peacocks have the beautiful feather patterns and they expose them as a mating ritual. (Or so I assume). So, peacocking means "getting your game on" or "showin' out". It means.. digging out of this desired hole of anonymity that I've somehow grown into. It means.. stop feeling wrong for trying to self-advocate. It means.. being out there in the world showing folks that I'm worth knowing and that it's your loss if you don't know me. Of course.. not in a cocky, a-holeish way.
I joked on FB on Friday that I would be peacocking in the city while I would be watching Cal play (aka get their ass handed to them by) USC. (They fought valiantly, actually - but just overmatched). So, it was just another same old-same old at Yancy's. Nothing wrong with that. Football, beer, friends, scrabble, cards, silliness, and all that.
Hung out at C-mo's former crib with former roomie.
Watched a few episodes for The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Saw that the school, the phony University of LA, had a mascot of PEACOCKS. I'm sure it had to do with the show being on NBC, but I thought it was funny. I didn't intend to be out that late. I never thought I'd EVER EVER EVER be in that house again. I MEAN.. EVER! And, there I was.. 2am in the morning seeing a random "peacock" reference after supposedly "peacocking" earlier in the night.
Neither had much weight though since there wasn't much to peacock for, but I thought it was funny.
So, maybe the great energy came in the expected (and LONG) path of changes our world will be undergoing.. and how much this feeling is different from 4 years ago.. wasn't what that energy was alluding to. The good energy moves on.. even in spurts.. but it goes on. Just not sure what all that means.
As usual.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Getting over you..
Funny the songs we use to get over people.. here we go. In the vain of the stages of grief or something.. (This is more of my younger self.. but I thought it was funny what I've used to "get over people").
Stage 1: Denial.
The denial here is that she doesn't mean anything to me and that it's lighthearted enough because.. I'm in denial that I don't like her all that much.
Song: "You're Not the 1" - The Grouch
Honorable Mention: "Big Pimpin'" Jay-Z
Stage 2: Anger.
I realize that I have deeper rooted feelings for her. I realize that there was an opportunity that something could've happened. I realize that I'm tired of her bullshit games.
Song: "Sic Wit Tis" - Mac Mall
Honorable Mention: "Your Gyrlfriend" - Kurupt
Stage 3: Bargaining
I realize that I'm less angry at her than I am at the situation. I sulk sulk sulk thinking that I have control of the situation. Not her. I pretend I have control. I pretend that I'm leaving her behind. I pretend that it's better for her.. and me.
Song: "Do What I Gotta Do" - Ralph Tresvant
Stage 4: Depression
I realize that all I can do is sulk. I realize that I'll be single forever. I realize that all this sadness just makes me respond with negativity. I am spiteful.
Song: "Superman" - Eminem
Stage 5: Acceptance
I realize that.. FUCK IT.. life is good. I realize that the sulking from the days before was just all silly. What's the best thing to do? Start the cycle over again.. find someone to crush on.
Song? No song.
MOVIE: "SWINGERS"
"I don't want you to be the guy in the PG-13 movie everyone's *really* hoping makes it happen. I want you to be like the guy in the rated R movie, you know, the guy you're not sure whether or not you like yet. You're not sure where he's coming from. Okay? You're a bad man. You're a bad man. You're a bad man, bad man."
- Trent
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
6:28PM Election Day 2008
4 years ago I was naïve.
I chose to believe.
I acted on conviction,
Represented my heart with full distinction.
Sick of the world. Fighting for change.
Got caught up in hope
I couldn’t maintain
Levity in an unfair world,
I begged for folks to be heard,
The injustices would stop,
I thought… we were smarter than not.
But with electronic machines
And without paper trails,
The momentum prevailed.
The wrongness prevailed.
Repeated mistakes by the people
Fighting for decreased rights of the people
Does it ever.. change – whatever the face?
Whoever it is that wins this race?
Is there reason for me to believe,
Beyond thundersticks or magic tricks revealed,
That democracy prevails in the face of
Tyrannical hail,
The oppression from fear…
What do they matter, the numbers we near
If Wednesday’s just like Monday
Without the bickering ads or
the pundits’ play-by-play?
Presidents have come, and presidents have left,
But the same suspects are the same victims
Victimizing ourselves in rhythm,
And propositions and legislation
Keep passing in the eyes of the constitution’s devastation.
4 years ago, we fought for the same,
The economy, the war, the shame
Of democracy’s endorsement of the dissolution
Of civil right,
The same old fight. The same old fight.
4 years ago is 4 years fast foward,
4 years ago is today. It’s Tuesday,
And to what do what to look toward?
Today is a new day of the same old,
Same old struggles with the future of the people sold,
To the same 5% who have controlled the world,
The ones with the money and agendas unfurled.
So tell me, again, why my anxiety
should be anything but given their puppetry
given that society
keeps telling we,
that only certain people, with certain ideas
and certain bank accounts
deserve equality
in our mythical land of liberty.
Tell me what stones we have left to throw
At the folks we don’t want to know
And want to keep swept into a corner
Adept in the corner so we continue not to know
Or to understand or to bestow
Rudimentary human decency
Because today, like 4 years ago, we don’t know what that means.
There are the faces, the ages, the situations
The bad choices, the lack of atonement, the insinuations
The grieving, the leaving,
The heartbeats lost to the sheathing
Of swords fought in modern day crusades,
Why decide to pray if you’re just hoping for hate today?
The hearts broken, the hope taken, the children left sick,
Because their parents are given tricks.
Criminalization and fingers pointed.
It’s not us. It’s them. We say. With their guiltiness anointed.
They’re wrong. We’re right. Is that right?
Why are we so eager to incite instead of pushing for insight?
Is this what is supposed to excite me?
4 years after I hoped upon hope for the best in society.
And got the least.
Should I expect more than another defeat?
Because 4 years from now, is there any proof
That all this, just won’t
Repeat?
Thursday, October 23, 2008
more great energy..
It's weird what our decisions lead us to.. in timing and subsequent things that unravel. More crazy energy.
On Saturday, I went to Razelle's place to celebrate Nathan's 4th birthday. I bought him a reversible hoodie from Old Navy. I didn't get a gift receipt. I made a mental note that I'd tell Razelle that I had the receipt if she wanted to exchange it.
Fast forward to today. Randomly, I found out that Fable 2 was released and that it came with a $15 itunes gift card at Circuit City. Stayed a bit later at work. While driving home decided to pass by Circuit City though didn't officially make the choice until I got off the freeway. Went to Circuit City.. as usual, they didn't have any stock. Roamed around for a few more minutes. Then left.
Went across the street to Target because I needed shaving gel.
So as I was walking to the entrance, there was a dude outside and mumbled as i walked by if I listened to rap. I think he was trying to sell his cd. But it was dark. And hollering it like that wasn't very comforting.
I went straight to the shaving gel and picked up a canister. Went to the video games and checked out some stuff. Roamed around a bit in the dvds. Decided I wanted to stock up on deodorant. Got some. Then, as I was walking towards the registers, I saw some polos on sale. Checked them out. Flipped around to the other side and then I found a transformers t-shirt on sale for $7! (Optimus, Hot Rod, Bumblebee and Jazz. The originals.) Lolly gagged a bit. Walked around the the fitness clothing looking for new pants for nighttime athletics. Then, I was done. At some point, I reminded myself that I had to tell Razelle that I had a receipt.
Had the choice of 4 or 5 different registers. Chose one. Paid. Left. I decided to go straight out the exit and go a meandering way to my car to avoid the dude selling CDs and as I was on my way, I looked up and saw a familiar silhouette (it was the walk). I ran into Razelle and Nathan! Now, it's not such a big deal I guess since I run into people at times at Target, but I was just thinking of them and I also spent much much more time there than I expected to. It's not like the few other times that I saw people right when I entered.
Anyway, the funniest part was that Nathan showed off his shirt to me.. a Transformers t-shirt! So, I showed him what I just bought. By chance, I saw that Transformers shirt.. on sale.. and there were NO other Transformer shirts when I saw it.
So. The crazy weird vibe continues.
Goodness coming. I know it.
