+ The sunburn on my upper right arm doesn't sting anymore from my shirt rubbing against it. It still stings when I grab it though, which I've been doing all morning to see if it still stings.
+ My right knee is doing just fine, thanks for asking, just a little tender in the back.
+ The soreness seems to all have gone to both my calves which feel like tightly coiled springs that weigh a ton.

RAAAARRRGGH!!!!!!! must . . . remember . . . sunburn . . . builds . . . character . . .

If there is a cycling version of limping, I'm sure I was doing it all the way home after work. I won't deny the effects of yesterday's ride, but I need to prove that it wasn't too much and that I can recover quickly. So tonight has been a healthy regimen of heat, Bengay (mm, mm, menthol, ultra strength ), knee brace, and stretching.

life lessons:
+ on long journeys, such as the big enchilada, make a point to take rests (and during those rests, you can let the under side of your arms tan, too. there's some metaphor in that, trust me.)
+ wear sunblock (be prepared or face the consequences of building character. although strangely, it doesn't sting so much where there are scars)
+ pace! Unless you're suicidal, it's not better to burn out than fade away. And even if you are, don't expect to finish a ride well off if you push it from the start. you'll bonk.

And as long as I broached the subject of Sept. 11:
Courtesy of Jahva's blog, go read.

What are the chances of Americans actually learning from the events of last September? Actually, I have "learned" more about America's myopic, arrogant, and "narrow-minded" view of the rest of the world. I'm actually not being cynical for once. I'm not necessarily harshing on the American people either, mind you, more on the U.S., as a national entity, and its role and position on the international stage.

Anyway, I'm glad that article gives only a few sentences to the opposition. The church and state separation argument doesn't hold because the university isn't practicing religion by requiring first year students to read up on the Qu'ran to prepare for discussions. Also the topical nature of the subject and academic approach outweighs the religious content. The subject is September 11 and government policy and world understanding, it just happens that the subtext being chosen is Islam. The reference to "an 18-year-old little girl" is particularly condescending, but not unexpected from the religious right.

The Earlham College workshops sound interesting because the participants were seniors in high school last September. I wonder how difficult it will be to recreate their thinking pre-Sept. 11.

All I remember is that on September 10, I saw Modest Mouse at the Warfield, and while I was riding home, I passed a horrific car accident on Market St. An SUV was on its side, and I rode along wondering what happened to it, and got my answer more than a half block later in the next intersection where there was a taxi cab with it's front completely sheered off. It was a kind of "holy shit" sickening feeling, but nothing like the next morning.

+ 48 and a half mile ride
+ One awesome climb, 2000 ft., very painful, still awesome
+ One indescribable descent (4 miles, no pedalling, hit 43 mph, no helmet, you describe (please avoid using the word "stupid"))
+ Knees kill, but don't feel damaged
+ Muscles sore (they kept seizing up going from Livermore to Dublin/Pleasanton BART.)
+ Body hurts
+ Arms sunburnt, the East Bay has awesome weather
+ I tried to get rid of the mesh tan lines on my hands by riding without gloves for the last ten miles. Uh, maybe "riding" is an exaggeration.
+ After that huge descent and struggling 4 miles to Livermore, In and Out Burger was the first thing I saw, like an oasis in the desert, like the messiah in the sky, like getting to work and getting a pink slip.
+ I took pictures of cows running away from me during a rest break
+ This ride was way too hard for a first major outing.
Next week: shorter, flatter rides

Yesterday, at the staging point for Le Critical Mass, tents were set up as part of the expo for the San Francisco CHRONICLE Marathon. I walked around with a pathetic look on my face, feeling nostalgic about running. It was doing the Chron Marathon, which used basically the same course as the S.F. Marathon which I'd done two years earlier, that I hurt my knees so badly that they never recovered. Since then they changed the course so that it isn't so hard. The course now goes down the Haight Street hill. Really, that changes everything.

Le Crit Mass yesterday was all I'd hoped for and more! It was huge, maybe several hundred riders strong. It didn't circle around Union Square for a prolonged period, but it did invade it, much to the delight of tourists.

I found a book on 51 local bike rides. I'm dying to start trying them out.

I succame to my self-destructive and suicidal tendencies and ran a google search for "peanut butter and jelly sandwiches taste better cut in half". This was the first hit. Do yourselves a favor and check it out! Tres Martha Stewart. Ghetto stylie.

part two:
I ran the same search but put "blog" at the end. That's fun to do with any search. It's like putting "in bed" after fortune cookie fortunes and it makes it a whole lot better (the best fortune I got for that was: "You will be in the best position". oh yea.). And then visit as many blogsites as possible. Then when they go to see what google searches hit their blog, they'll go "what the hell?"

But seriously, to get back to the subject, does anyone know why peanut butter and jelly sandwiches taste better when they're cut in half?

Critical Mass:
I washed my only yellow shirt for tomorrow's Le Critical Mass, the only Mass held during the Tour de France. Bonus: Union Square just re-opened after an 18 month renovation. Hehehe. I'm predicting that Le Mass will make a mess around Union Square, perhaps riding around it over and over like it was the Champs Elysees. Gotta dream. Gotta live. Gotta crow.

Remember the towns with fear and fascination
Of what was here and what's replacing them now
Interchange causes a mall, and crowded chain restaurants
More housing developments go up named after the things they replace
So welcome to Minnow Brook, and welcome to Shady Space
And it all seems a little abrupt
No I don't like this change of pace
- "Novocaine Stain" (Modest Mouse)

Boss-lady relayed doubts about the state of the firm past September. In no uncertain terms, and on multiple opportunity, I was increasingly bold about my willingness to be laid off. She defended me. What the hell is going on? It's not like the firm can afford to keep people with low productivity who don't want to be here.

I was reminded that I do, in fact, have a Master's. If I don't want to do anything with my J.D., how 'bout the Master's? Getting the J.D. was for my parents, and if you have Asian parents, you understand. So I got my friggin' J.D. and was pissed about it all through it, and when I got to my final year and met people in the Master's program, I decided that if I just did all this for my parents, I want something back. I told my parents I wanted an extra year to get a Master's in something I was interested in. So I got a Master's in International Legal Studies with a focus on international human rights.

My reluctance about going into human rights law is that my philosophy on human rights clashes with the dominant hegemony which is informed by Western political theory, where civil rights are the most important human rights, not social and economic rights. Meaning the right to vote and participate in government is more important than the right to eat and the right to have shelter over one's head.

To me, it's ludicrous that the right to eat is not a HUMAN right, a right that is inherent in being a human being. Same with the right to shelter. My biggest problem is that this logic is precisely the logic of third world dictatorships as an excuse to not grant civil and political rights.

First World: Why don't you allow civil and political rights like we do?
Third World: Because it is more important to feed and shelter our people first.

And in doing so, the third world dictatorships suppress civil and political rights while never delivering on social and economic rights.

Third World: Why do you have starving and homeless people?
First World: Because if people are starving and homeless, they can vote and change the government so that they are fed and sheltered.

Me: huh?

I can quit my job and float for several months, living off of savings, and as to what to do next, I can jump off that bridge when I get to it. A thought is to make use of my Master's degree and go abroad and do work in the human rights field. But even progressive Third World human rights politics have aligned themselves with the political philosophy of the dominant Western hegemony, because that's the only way they can get dominant Western hegemony moral, political, and financial support.

So I don't even know if I can fit into that. Story of my life. But since I don't need to think about any of this until I quit, I won't. Not at least until I figure out why I can't bring myself to quit.

current soundtrack: Red Hot Chili Peppers - "Blood Sugar Sex Magik"

Why do people come by my cube when I'm not here and write "Just came by to say hi :)" on a post-it? Like I'm supposed to recognize their handwriting? It's like when a client calls and says, "Hi, this is Rajesh (or some equally generic Indian name)". I try to see how long I can carry on the conversation before I have to ask the person's last name.

current soundtrack: Red Hot Chili Peppers - "By the Way"

sent from Cass:
A woman was walking along the beach when she stumbled upon a Genie's lamp. She picked it up and rubbed it, and lo-and-behold a Genie appeared. The amazed woman asked if she got three wishes.

The Genie said, "Nope...due to inflation, constant downsizing, low wages in third-world countries, and fierce global competition, I can only grant you one wish. So...what'll it be?"

The woman didn't hesitate. She said, "I want peace in the Middle East. See this map? I want these countries to stop fighting with each other."

The Genie looked at the map and exclaimed, "Gadzooks, lady! These countries have been at war for thousands of years. I'm good but not THAT good! I don't think it can be done. Make another wish."

The woman thought for a minute and said, "Well, I've never been able to find the right man. You know, one that's considerate and fun, likes to cook and helps with the housecleaning, is good in bed and gets along with my family, doesn't watch sports all the time, and is kind. That's what I wish for ... a good mate."

The Genie let out a long sigh and said, "Let me see that freaking' map!"

My relationship with my blog has taken a turn for the worse. The Tour de France is the obsession of my days and I can't wait until it's over. It's about dreams, striving for something I'll never attain and being someone I'll never be. Same with music, plugging along, recording ideas, but knowing that I'll never complete or write a song alone that I will like.

And in other news, I can't recall the last time that I laughed. Once the Tour de France is over, I'm gonna leave this blog alone until I can laugh again.

current mood: listening to a college radio station and being stunned with Modest Mouse's "Edit the Sad Parts" playing.

Personal progress is overrated. Several months ago, going over the Castro St. hill was a semi-big deal. And now? The Castro St. hill is what I do when I decide I can't make it up Clipper because . . . well, tackling hills after a shot of vodka isn't the smartest thing in the world. Only one shot? Hey, don't give me grief, Clipper is nothing to sneeze at. I'd put it in my top 5 toughest S.F. climbs. ooh, list time:

Top 5 Toughest S.F. climbs
1. Mt. Davidson
2. Fillmore St.
3. Clipper St.
4. Divisidero St.
5. Nob Hill

tick, tick, tick
How annoying is it for me to keep griping about wallowing at work and not doing anything about it? It's lame. It's pathetic. Do I want to be lame and pathetic? Am I somehow pre-disposed to be lame and pathetic? Ooh, can I blame it on my parents? Their complacency? Their simple satisfaction in life just by making money? I'm probably simplifying them, but I don't know a whole lot about them.

Wouldn't it be nice to have dreams the size of breadbox? Simple life, goals easily achieved, goals achieved early and bliss in ignorance for the rest of one's life.
Goals the size of an SUV, striving for attainable goals.
Goals the size of a house, striving for goals that push the envelope, you think they're attainable, but they may not be.
Goals the size of a city, goals that make the world a better place to live in, dealing with government, politics, or policy. Day-to-day frustrations urged on by day-to-day satisfactions.
Goals the size of a mountain, unattainable goals as they are not practical and have nothing to do with living life or reality.

My goals aren't that big. I just want a little bit of clarity on the nature of life and reality. To look around me with my eyes and have a slightly better idea what this all is. And why.

I have plenty of reasons to quit. I don't have a single good reason to stay. But I have plenty of reasons to leave altogether, and not a single good reason to stay. Elizabeth said, "I dare you to give notice", and that pissed me off at the time because it trivialized what is going on, but now I'm thinking that's exactly what it's gonna take. Any reasons I have for staying are trivial!!

I'm starting to feel paralyzed in my life, and I'm wondering what to do about it and whether I even want to do anything about it and realizing that's probably a symptom of depression. 

I don't like that, I don't like admitting it. I grew up channeling depression into anger, but I don't have anything to be angry about anymore, so I just want to take depression itself by the throat and pummel it into the ground. 

Interesting, once again, this blogging thing. 

Looking at aspects of personal thoughts placed into public spaces; of human interaction, real-world personal vs. cyberspace anonymous; the spontaneity of personal interaction vs. the calculated, pre-meditated, sometimes fictional, presentation of blog posts; the quality and reality of blog-based human connection and interaction, the topics go on and on. The mind bloggles. 

current soundtrack: Built to Spill - "Perfect From Now On"

Katie mentioned that she heard of people taking pictures of their contact information with their digital cameras, so that if you lose it and someone finds it and is inclined to get it back to you, your information is in the camera! Isn't that novel? A little too late for me, but it was such a nifty idea I thought I'd pass it along. Or did ya'lls know that already?

Windswept from riding home.

So after having that damned Meatloaf song in my head last week, I've been looking for the remastered CD and finally found it cheap at Rasputin. 

Strike me dead, but I think I'd have to put this album on my top ten rock and roll records of all time (ooh, another list idea for my rateyourmusic page). But I may be biased, having memorized the lyrics to the entire album when I was like 8 or 9 years old. And this bizarre, hilarious visual of my brother acting out "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad" . . . nevermind. 

At that age, my dream was to run away to Michigan (several attempts) and find my real parents. My parents told me they found me on a rock in Michigan. I was shattered when my brother broke it to me that they were KIDDING! Fuckers. Gr.

I'm in the middle of nowhere, near the end of the line 

But there's a border to somewhere waiting 

And there's a tankful of time 

Oh give me just another moment to see the light of the day 

And take me to another land where I don't have to stay 

And I'm gonna need somebody to make me feel like you do 

And I will receive somebody with open arms, open eyes 

Open up the sky and let the planets that I love shine through 

- "For Crying Out Loud" (Meatloaf)

This morning, after weeks of light sleep and annoying waking up at twilight, not only did I not wake up at twilight, but I slept through my first alarm (radio), and barely managed a response to my second alarm (beeping). The room was spinning when I got out of bed at 8:30. Now I know what people mean when they say the room is spinning, I'd never experienced that before. It was fascinating. Then tunnel vision all the way to work, although I did manage to avoid getting hit by a UPS truck (I have to ride past the UPS dispatch center everyday and their drivers are psychotic). Go fig. I feel like I might stink of alcohol, but Elizabeth didn't say anything, so I think I'm good. I don't think I drank more than usual last night. Famous last words.

Reviewing the Situation 

Thinking again about quitting. It's hard because I'm treating my job the way I treat life, and I'm treating quitting the way I treat suicide. This really can't be healthy. 

On the other hand, I've really worn out my welcome. Most of the people who made this place fun got laid off in February. To date, I've alienated virtually everyone who might have really connected with me at some point. I'm not even sure how the Beale St. crowd thinks about me now. Kateri showed signs of placing expectations on me, and I tend to throw expectations back into people's faces. 

I'm even getting ambivalent signs from Zenaida, who means more to me than anyone at the firm. She was my first cube neighbor and we had our little clashes of pride, but as much as co-workers can "go through" things together, we have. 

The one thing I am certain of is that if I left now, no one would miss me. How much longer am I gonna wallow in this job/life?

Lessons learned from Tour de France: Stage 6
+ Attacking in the feed zone is bad form
+ You don't attack the yellow jersey when he's taking a leak(!)

Sent from Cass:
T-shirt sayings:
1) My husband and I divorced over religious differences. He thought he was God and I didn't!
2) I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy every minute of it.
3) Quoting one is plagiarism; Quoting many is research.
4) It's true I'm great in bed. I can sleep for days.
5) I want to die in my sleep like my grandfather...not screaming and yelling like the passengers in his car.
6) ALL MEN ARE IDIOTS, AND I MARRIED THEIR KING
7) HAM AND EGGS - A day's work for a chicken, a lifetime commitment for a pig.
8) HECK IS WHERE PEOPLE GO WHO DON'T BELIEVE IN GOSH
9) They call it PMS because Mad Cow Disease was already taken
10) POLICE STATION TOILET STOLEN .... Cops have nothing to go on.

Reading into corporate advertising:
There is a 21st Century Auto Insurance commercial airing on TV these days. It derisively says other auto insurance websites don't tell you what you want so that you're forced to call them.

Funny, that was exactly my experience on their website. I jumped through their hoops, clicked for a quote, and was told I couldn't be given a quote for a totally bogus reason, and I should call if I thought there was something wrong with their assessment. After going through all that, I called. Bastards.

The lesson: when viewing commercials, watch for what they accuse their competitors of doing. Most likely there is a good reason why they know these devious tactics of "their competitors" so well. THEY DO THEM.

current soundtrack: Enon - "High Society" (holy cow, they're coming to Bottom of the Hill on August 14. yeehaw!)

SHIZNIT!!!
I'm trying to do music and all I have going through my head is Meatloaf!!!!!!!!!

"I couldn't take it any longer, Lord, I was crazed
And when the feeling came upon me like a tidal wave
I started swearing to my God and on my mother's grave
That I would love you till the end of time
I swore I would love you till the end of time

So now I'm prayin' for the end of time
To hurry up and arrive
'Cos if I gotta spend another minute with you
I don't think that I can really survive
I'll never break my promise or forget my vow
But God only knows what I can do right now
I'm prayin' for the end of time, it's all that I can do (ooh ooh)
Prayin' for the end of time so I can end my time with you

It was long ago and it was far away
And it was so much better than it is today
It never felt so good, it never felt so right
We were glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife"
- "Paradise By the Dashboard Light"

All from memory, folks. And for anyone too young to know the song, it's an epic anthem to getting high school nookie.

I've been having a problem of waking up during twilight and being wide awake. Very annoying. I feel so wide awake, I doubt that I can fall back to sleep, but when I try, I'm able to for another hour or two until my alarm goes off. And then I have to drag/pry myself out of bed and usually get to work late. (Boss-lady, who is on vacation this week, doesn't really care what hours I keep, within reason).

So today I tried something different, because, I don't know about you, but I hate prying myself out of bed. It's just like one of the worst feelings in the world. Yo'm sayin'? Today, when I woke up wide awake just after six, I got up. I got to work an hour early, and so far today has been the most productive day I've had in a long ass time. Go fig. I had such a productive morning that I took a full hour and a half lunch break, which was glorious because it's certifiably hot outside for once.

Kateri might be moving to the southland by year's end because . . . this City. When she said that, I knew exactly what she meant. Fine to all the people who love this City and if they left it, they would leave their heart here. It veritably ripped mine out.

This City is certainly not for everyone. Who this City ravages, it ravages well. This City has not been good to me, and with knowing realization I told Kateri, yes, get out, get away while you still can.

First of all the weather, it's pretty temperate all year round. That characterizes this City. It's sort of a bland flat-line, all year round. You don't have the passionate sweaty heat of summer, you don't have the bitter angry cold of winter, you don't have the exuberance of nature awakening in spring, you don't have the vast colorful introspection of dying in autumn.

Second, I lost the two loves of my life during my Bay Area sojourn. Neither of them happened here, they just ended here. Also here I suffered the indignity of staying in a boring, nothing relationship for eight months longer than it should have lasted just because I didn't feel like going through a break up. Far in the past, thank god.

Third, so overrated as being a liberal hotspot. There is just as much right-wing greed and corruption as anywhere else (it just happens to be guised as left-wing greed and corruption, hello Willie Brown). Heartlessness towards the homeless abounds. The idealistic hippie generation has spawned a generation of obnoxious pierced punk privileged runaways who harass you if you don't empty your pockets for them. Hello dotcom yuppie central.

This City bills itself as a "world-class city". What "world-class city" is so paralyzed in reliably getting a particular individual from here to there, from point A to point B? Public transportation in this City is pathetic! (Los Angeles doesn't purport to have public transporation). There is a bid to host the Olympics here. It intrigues me to think about the logistics in getting athletes to their venues. I'm bitching and I don't even take public transpo unless it's raining.

OK, OK, stop bitching about the City. If I hate it so much, why don't I leave? Still trying to figure out where to go.

current soundtrack: Versus - "Hurrah"

Next week: The Virtues of the Bay Area (I'm trying to break out of a funk)

Oldie But Goodie

A Little Office Prayer 

Grant me the serenity 

To accept the things I cannot change, 

The courage to change the things I cannot accept, 

And the wisdom 

To hide the bodies of those people I had to kill today 

Because they piss me off

And also, 

Help me to be more careful 

Of those toes I step on today, 

As they may be connected to the ass 

That I may have to kiss tomorrow.

Always give 100% at work... 

12% on Monday, 

23% on Tuesday, 

40% on Wednesday, 

20% on Thursday, 

5% on Friday

And lastly . . . When you're having a really bad day, 

Remember, it takes 42 muscles to frown 

But only 4 

To extend your middle finger. 

-- Disgruntled worker

It looked like a gorgeous day, so I headed off on my bike, keeping it undecided whether to go long or keep it casual. I headed towards the bridge in case I decided to go long, in which case I would have crossed the bridge and considered tackling Mt. Tam.

But by the time I got to Crissy Field, onshore winds were blowing strong and I literally couldn't even see the bridge because of the fog. Marin was socked in by fog (local lingo). Foghorns bellowed as I stood just in the sun, waiting to see if the fog looked like it would burn off. After 30 minutes, if anything, the fog deck lowered (more local lingo). Now, why is this city supposed to be so great?

Not to confuse a point of history, I realize that the British were the primary miscreants in the Opium War, but that sort of nitpicking misses the point as much as pointing out that the words of the Star Spangled Banner were written during the War of 1812, not the Revolutionary War. The spirit is the same. Not that anyone is contradicting me, we just want the facts, nothing but the facts.

Not to confuse the point of history, it should be noted that Francis Scott Key wrote the poem which became the Star Spangled Banner during the War of 1812, in the Battle of Baltimore when we withstood the seige of Fort McHenry. I guess we associate it with the Revolutionary War because the spirit is the same.

Isn't it funny how I feel strange saying "we" in "we withstood the seige"? Taiwanese ancestry, parents immigrated in the late '60's. What right do I have to claim the history of this country? It doesn't matter that I was born and raised here. My country has historically killed people who look like me. From the Opium Wars, the Boxer Rebellion, to World War II, to Korea, to Vietnam, to Vincent Chin, to Jet Li's Once Upon a Time in China. If I were of European ancestry under the same circumstances, would I have any trouble saying "we"? Real funny, haha.

I went to the fireworks this evening. They were pretty good. Where I was, someone brought a boombox and was blasting out patriotic, John Philip Sousa songs, and that made it incredibly surreal. Even more so when it started playing the Olympic theme song, then it was just like "what the hell?".

When I got home there were clouds of gun powder wafting by, fireworks going off down my street both ways, all over the Mission District. I went up to my apartment, got a beer, lit up a cigarette (I'm not a smoker, I only smoke cloves and I go through a pack maybe every two months), and stood outside my apartment and watched the show. Maybe it wasn't as spectacular, but it was so much more inspiring than the "official" fireworks display.

The Mission is the heart of the Latino community, these people didn't bother dealing with the traffic and the crowds at the "official" display. These people bought fireworks and gathered outside with friends and family and all over the Mission created their own show. Maybe I'm reading it wrong, maybe it was just an excuse to shoot fireworks off and blow shit up, but it just felt like there was a togetherness, a community, not just the cold orchestration of the "official" show.

Whenever I watch fireworks on the 4th of July, I think about what they are supposed to represent. The rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof through the night that our flag was still there. As the story goes, Francis Scott Key wrote the words of the Star Spangled Banner from a British jail cell. It was a battle going on, and the outcome wasn't known. Certainly it was a frightening time and the bursts from canons weren't something to cheer about. But that's history. We know the outcome. We can shoot off fireworks and cheer because they represent a battle against British colonial oppression that we won.

Everyone is represented on this day. The City puts on its official display by shelling out tons of money to entertain . . . whoever, whatever type shows up for the "official" display, myself included. But then the underrepresented communities put out their hearts and pay with their own money to put on a show to express that they, too, appreciate this country, being in this country, being a part of this country. They implicitly recognize the battles that were fought and what was sacrificed for the freedoms we have today.

p.s., for anyone complaining about how hot it is wherever you are, it's crispy cool here, you can't stand outside for more than five minutes without putting on extra layers. If that's how you like your summers, this might be the place for you. Me, I like my summers hot, humid, and muggy. If I was in Brooklyn, I'd be out on my fire escape with my t-shirt sleeves rolled up all the way, a beer, a cigarette, and a book.

Northern Exposure Quote of the Day:
Lady Anne: "So sorry about your corriander"
Ruth Anne: "You stay out of this, your highness, we had a revolution to get rid of people like you"

The Mission District on the 4th is crazy. Firecrackers and bottle rockets all day, now rising to a fevered pitch. It's great, you can't tell the firecrackers apart from gunshots. But one more M80 *BOOM* followed by car alarms going off and I'll scream. We're trying to record here, you little thugs!!

Holy cow! hotornot.com was started by two Asian guys! Who woulda guessed, considering the amount of racism that goes into judging people by just their physical appearance. Nevertheless . . . represent yo!

I think I'm going to officially declare that I've lost my digi camera. The irony is that I've been clamping down these past weeks on petty forgetfulness. It started driving me crazy that I'd get out of work and have to think where I left my bike.

Last month I lost my passcard. I'm afraid of losing my keys. That happened before and it prompted me to separate all my keys so if I lost one key, I wouldn't lose them all. For three years I've been wearing my bike keys separate, around my neck on a pink Spice World keychain. Until I realized it probably wasn't very cool. That was about a month ago.

I've been putting a concerted effort into concentrating where I park my bike so that when I walk out of work I remember exactly where it is, and which pocket I put which keys, my passcard, and bike computer, so that at any time during the day I can remember where anything is by remembering the image of putting it there.

Yes, I'm obsessive compusive when it comes to losing things. I have a fear of losing things, which is partly why I don't let anyone get too close. My fear of heights, I believe, is connected to a fear of losing things irrevocably.

I don't know if I should get another camera. Thinking of making a huge outlay of money clashes with the impulse of saving for a rainy day, but maybe this is the rainy day.

Another irony is that I view spending money as self-destructive because it's not saving for a rainy day. But if I'm self-destructive, why save money? Quitting job is also self-destructive. I'm still at my job. And I keep professing that I'm self-destructive. Poor baby.

for anyone who's been there:

"Chev brakes are snarling
As you stumble across the road
And the day breaks instead, so you hurry home
Don't let the sun blast your shadow
Don't let the milk floats ride your mind
You're so natural, religiously unkind
Oh no love, you're not alone
You're watching yourself but you're too unfair
You got your head all tangled up
But if I could only make you care
Oh no love, you're not alone
No matter what or who you've been
No matter when or where you've seen
All the knives seem to lacerate your brain
I've had my share, I'll help you with the pain
You're not alone"
- D. Bowie

Getting Here from There #3: Parents
I moved out here to get far away from my parents. Apparently (haha) the distance did some good. My relationship with them stopped being cold and became cordial. They couldn't touch me anymore and nothing they said could bother me anymore and I just laughed along when they said something that previously would make me see red. Instead of giving biting sarcastic responses, I would make a joke about it or respond inconclusively and ambiguously. Anything but say something to create a tense situation.

My final analysis is that it was a coping mechanism. I was tired of fighting, but in no way would I concede. I lost the war without signing a treaty stating that I had lost. I just pulled out like the U.S. did from Vietnam. Too proud to admit defeat. But the U.S. didn't have to admit defeat, the war wasn't fought on their land. In this scenario, my parents' landscape was the one that was left untouched. It wasn't their body or their psyche that was the battlefield. If I lost and signed a treaty, I'd be an attorney, living in New York, New Jersey, or Boston, somewhere close to them, I'd still be an alcoholic, I'd be decidedly miserable, not ironic or sarcastic at all, and I would own a gun.

current soundtrack: Bakufu Slump - "Hairanda" (Highlander)

So you wanna get to know me: took from kat

1. LIVING ARRANGEMENT? one bedroom in the Mission District
2. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? Dharma that Every Buddhist Must Follow. My cousin Audrey just gave it to me. She's a dogmatic Tibetan Buddhist, but, um, OK.
3. WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? my mouse. Stupid!
4. FAVORITE BOARD GAME? Trivial Pursuit. My pursuits are very trivial.
5. FAVORITE MAGAZINE? Astronomy, Devil in the Woods (an indie music zine), Bass Player, Modern Drummer
6. FAVORITE SMELLS? Sandalwood, eucalyptus, Christian Dior's Tendre Poison, summer nights
7. FAVORITE SOUNDS? music
8. WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD? I know it when I feel it.
9. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE? Fuckin' A
10. FAVORITE COLOR? Orange
11. HOW MANY RINGS BEFORE YOU ANSWER THE PHONE? I avoid the phone.
12. NAME OF FUTURE CHILD? daughter 1: Jabrel; daughter 2: Amina; daughter 3: Luna
13. MOST IMPORTANT THING IN LIFE? Connection and the search, if you know what I mean.
14. FAV FOODS? Lasagna, sushi, burritos.
15. CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA? *tosses coin*
16. DO YOU LIKE TO DRIVE FAST? um, well, er, um, I dunno. do you?
17. DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL? no. and if i did i sure as hell wouldn't admit it.
18. STORMS-COOL OR SCARY? uber cool
19. WHAT TYPE WAS YOUR FIRST CAR? metallic rust 1977 Cadillac Sedan De Ville. I didn't know how cool it was until I took it to college and jaws dropped. It was a pain in the ass though. Every time I drove it from New Jersey to Oberlin or back, it would break down.
20. ULTIMATE CAR? a bike!
21. IF YOU COULD MEET ONE PERSON DEAD OR ALIVE, WHO WOULD IT BE? Meet a dead person? GROSS!!! (and why?). Assuming they're still alive, Amina and Shiho, just to touch base.
22. FAVORITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK? I don't discriminate
23. WHAT IS YOUR ZODIAC SIGN? Aquarius
24. DO YOU EAT THE STEMS OF BROCCOLI? what does that mean?
25. IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY JOB YOU WANTED, WHAT WOULD IT BE? monk, vampire, or train driver.
26. EVER BEEN IN LOVE? yea *bats eyelashes all googly eyed*
27. IS THE GLASS HALF EMPTY OR HALF FULL? there is no glass
28. FAVORITE MOVIE? most Holly Hunter movies. lots of Christina Ricci movies. Wings of Desire, Bagdad Cafe, Hook, Field of Dreams, Court Jester, The Princess Bride, Young Frankenstein, Blazing Saddles, Trading Places.
29. DO YOU TYPE WITH YOUR FINGERS ON THE RIGHT KEYS? I type with fingers on the right keys and the left.
30. WHAT IS UNDER YOUR BED? there's something under my bed? holy shit!
31. FAVORITE NUMBER? 3
32. FAVORITE SPORT TO WATCH? baseball
33. SAY ONE NICE THING ABOUT THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS? interesting? s/he didn't send it, I took it, and I don't know her/him.

Really, I'm going to sleep now.

Continuing with the somber series, but hey, I'm feeling a need to bleed into the web for the duration:

Getting Here from There #2: Friends
When I moved out here, I left friends behind. When I moved out here, I had friends already out here.

The community of friends from Oberlin was a precious one, and one by one, group by group, I managed to alienate them all, *pats self on back*. I don't complain about not having any friends. I know it’s my doing. I got rid of the ones I had, and I keep potential ones at arms length, although not intentionally.

So I don't know how I got here from there, how I became so anti-social, so avoidant of company, unable to fully maintain that I don’t need it. I used to be able to make and maintain friends, so it's not about ability. Maybe I don't get out enough. Maybe there isn't a large enough pool to find people I can relate to, who have had similar experience and problems as I've had, who don't get scared away by what comes out of my mouth and what is on my arms and legs. My guess now is that I simply don't want them.