April 2003 Archives

I often wonder if the way I write or what I write gives a clear indication of my age. Don't look!

You looked, didn't you. Anyway, what triggered my curiosity was a word processing application, it-which-shall-not-be-named, that provides two readability scores when "checking" grammar.

One of them is the Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level Score. Based on the number of syllables per word and words per sentence, it provides a school grade equivalent. If this entry received an 8.0, a person with an 8th grade education would supposedly be able to read and understand what I wrote.

I think it's very difficult to ascertain a person's age from only his or her writing. Pop culture references may be useful in narrowing down the age range. Based on reasoning or grammar, one could guess if the author is well-read and highly educated. Emotional responses or insights might be a clue as to the author's maturity level. Yet, intellect and emotional maturity can be completely independent of one's age.

It would be nice if there was an application add-in that could simply analyze a piece of writing and determine the author's age. For example...

"Upon analysis, the author has an intellectual age of 18 and the emotional maturity of a 16 year old. These two indicators, along with the Harry Potter and Blink-182 references, are typical of a freshman in high school."

That would be interesting.

My friends say I should act my age.
What's my age again?

Since it had stopped raining after work, I thought it would be a good idea to pick up a couple of items reserved at the library. It didn't take very long, so I had time to grab dinner before heading to the gym.

I was on my way to the Chinese restaurant, just passing the Convention Center, when my shadow asked me to take its photo. It was feeling rather happy and having a good hair day, so I obliged. I glanced around to make sure nobody would be walking into the shot and said, "Okay, on the count of three, smile. One, two, three." It's a little hard to tell, but I think it blinked.

This week, Celebrity Jeopardy! is on television. It's my favorite game show, but I hardly get a chance to watch it anymore. I try to make time for the tournaments, especially the Tournament of Champions and the College Tournament.

There is something oddly fascinating about seeing just how intelligent and smooth these highly-polished personalities are in a different environment. Who's smart and who just thinks they are? Who's been simply getting by on good writing and good looks?

Some of the celebrities who impressed me in the past include Jerry Orbach (Law & Order), Jodie Foster (Panic Room) and Andy Richter (Andy Richter Controls the Universe). This year's standout star may be Ashton Kutcher from That '70s Show, you never know.

Last night, Paige Davis (Trading Spaces), Hal Sparks (Queer as Folk) and Julie Bowen (Ed) competed. Sparks and Bowen did very well. Davis became increasingly quiet and dejected as the game progressed. She wasn't as quick with the buzzer as the other two. Sparks, who seemed to gloat after every correct answer, eventually won. His victory earned his charity, Doctors Without Borders, $50,000.

My brain just went kaput. There are things that I want to write about, but I'm hung up on the way to write them. To loosen the locked gears in my head, I scrounged around for an unrelated writing prompt. I found it in the Weekly Wrap-Up.

1. Do you like to sing? Why or why not?
I do, really. The fact that I can't doesn't stop me. I honestly believe that singing or just humming can relieve stress.

2. Where do you like to sing? Why?
Pretty much anywhere nobody else will hear me. Some of my favorite places include home, the car, the beach, and congested downtown streets (car engines drown out singing quite well).

3. Do you sing in front of people? Why or why not?
Real live people?! No. I believe that other people deserve happiness and my singing would only increase their suffering.

4. What's your favorite song to sing along with? Why?
"Don't Worry Baby" by the Beach Boys is one of my favorites. It's easy to sing along with either the melody or harmony of the song. It also offers a quick boost to my spirits when I'm feeling low.

5. What song is your guilty singing pleasure? Why?
It's usually the latest infectious tune on the radio. The last one I heard was "The Anthem" by Good Charlotte. Like candy, it may not have much nutritional value, but it can be awfully addictive.

Kevin Millwood pitched his first no-hitter over the weekend as the Philadelphia Phillies beat the San Francisco Giants 1-0. He faced 29 batters, only two more than the minimum.

No-hitters always amaze me. I can't imagine how nervous a pitcher becomes once he realizes the potential achievement. The pressure mounts with each successive out. The fielders handle every ball with extra care. Superstitions suddenly seem less ridiculous. When it gets down to the final out, everybody holds his or her breath, silently rooting him on, even if he's on the opposing team. And when he succeeds, the crowd cheers with relief and exhilaration.

Today, Millwood must be riding a major high.

I'm actually hoping that it continues to rain this weekend. Then I won't feel so bad for staying indoors as I masterfully clean the accumulating clutter at home. Masterful cleaning requires deep sighing, occasional whining, and many pots of coffee to maintain motivation. The incentive for the concerted effort will be a peaceful place to read or maybe watch the Harry Potter sequel on DVD. We'll see how it goes.

And it's Friday. The rain comes down intermittently. There's a single voice on the radio singing "Dust In The Wind" by Kansas.

I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment's gone
All my dreams, pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind.
Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do, crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see

I'm too lazy to pull out my umbrella as I get out of the car. Instead of hurrying into the office, I stop and close my eyes. The drops fall on my head and glasses. It's funny how a song can play on my mind.

Why rush? Why brush this moment aside? Let the thought run its course without interruption. Let it grow in vivid detail. Remember the voice, the rain, the pause and how this all feels.

Then, before it fades away, write it down so somebody else might hear this feeling's echo.

1. What was the last TV show you watched?
The latest episode of Friends. Poor Ross was vying for the attention of a female paleontology professor who had dated only geniuses and Nobel Prize winners. Talk about tough competition.

2. What was the last thing you complained about and what was the problem?
There is something about timing and honesty. Had I answered this question a couple of hours ago, my complaint would have been about people who believe that age gives them the right to be condescending and disrespectful to others. But truthfully, the last thing I complained about was how Andrew chose Cristina over even Liz, a completely trivial matter.

3. Who was the last person you complimented and what did you say?
Grace. "Those are new glasses, yeah? They look very stylish on you." It's true, she looks extremely nice in them.

4. What was the last thing you threw away?
A plastic fork used to eat a piece of chocolate cake for a belated Secretary's Day celebration.

5. What was the last website (besides this one) that you visited?
makahiya. I was looking at a photo of strawberries, whip cream and chocolate syrup. To avoid the temptation, I averted my eyes and saw the link to the Friday Five.

1. The Matrix: Reloaded
2. X2: X-Men United
3. The Hulk
4. Mamma Mia in San Jose
5. Finding Nemo

Keanu, comic books, ABBA and fish. Simple pleasures for a simple mind.

Song on my mind... "Big Yellow Taxi" by Joni Mitchell

They took all the trees, and put them in a tree museum
And they charged the people a dollar and a half to see them
No, no, no
Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what you got 'til it's gone
They paved paradise, and put up a parking lot

I've probably heard this song any number of times over the last couple of weeks. The latest cover by Counting Crows is in high rotation. It kept reminding me of Earth Day, which happened two days ago.

Of course, Earth Day makes me quite self-conscious about a couple of my environmentally-unfriendly habits like the tall paper cup in front me. I really need to remember to bring my reusable and spill-proof mug when getting coffee.

I also have it in mind that my next car will be a hybrid vehicle like the Toyota Prius. Hopefully, by the time I'm in the market for a new car, there will be a better selection than the handful of choices now.

"Why don't you throw out those boots? They're old and scuffed and the heels are gone. You should get rid of them."

That was the motherly advice I received recently. I admitted that they were in pretty bad shape, but told her that I was too attached to discard them just yet.

I got these black, steel-toed boots when I was an engineering trainee during my senior year of college. I was part of a crew that monitored sanitary and storm sewers. It was practical experience for my environmental engineering concentration and an improvement over my internship at the water pollution control plant.

As a quick aside, my major gripe at the time wasn't about the smell or sticking my head down manholes. I complained about having to get up so early. There was a reason why I had no classes before ten and starting work before six seemed to defeat the purpose.

Anyway, the job was almost all fieldwork. We would collect data from various manholes all over the city and perform analysis back at the office. To get the readings required removing many heavy and usually uncooperative covers. Fearing that I would accidentally plant a lid on my foot, the company provided me with boots.

Although I didn't think much of them at the time, the boots are now a reminder of the progress I've made since then. There will be a point, in the not too distant future, when I'll be mature and practical enough to keep the memories and toss the boots. But until then, I'll probably wear them until the bottoms fall off completely.

According to this article, Detroit is the most deadly big city for pedestrians. If it's like other major metropolitan areas, it probably lacks adequate sidewalks and crosswalks. The streets are probably wider than usual to mitigate congestion produced by urban sprawl.

To add to the city's woes, at the start of play tonight, the Detroit Tigers have one win and sixteen losses. It's the worst start for any team in eleven years. If this keeps up, will they just send the entire team back to the minors?

So if you like walking or baseball, you probably want to postpone visiting Detroit, at least for a little while.

"You always look so cool, like no matter what happens, it's got nothing to do with you, but you're not really like that. In your own way, you're out there fighting as hard as you can, even if other people can't tell by looking at you."

These words are from Haruki Murakami's The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. For the most part, I think I come across as a cool calm person. There are times when the calmness masks a struggle underneath. But when I'm happy or content, the outside simply mirrors how I feel inside.

Or "How I Saved Thirty Cents on a Sunday Afternoon".

Barista: May I help you?
Me: Yeah, I'd like a venti toffee nut latte.
B: I'm sorry. We don't have any venti cups.
Me: What?!
B: They were leaky.
Me: Umm... okay.
B: But we'll be getting a new batch really soon.
Me: Like within the next couple of minutes?
B: Uh, no.
Me: I'll take a grande.

Inspired by The Dullest Blog in the World that I read about on HawaiiStories. I'm always the last to know.

Saturday morning was spent at UC Santa Cruz. I was there for Slug Run IV, "a run with a view". I'm sure this is true when there's no fog. It's a beautiful campus full of rolling hills that gradually drop down to the Monterey Bay.

I never faced a more challenging course. Only training on flat streets and trails left me unprepared for all of the very unflat hills. The aptly named "roller coaster" section, between miles two and three, was the most difficult segment. It was a series of long uphill runs followed by short downhills, one after the other.

The race made me realize how much I still have to learn. Strategies and techniques are important to remain patient and maintain stamina. For example, to overcome the steep hills, I tried to break them down into mentally manageable sections, forgetting the finish line and only focusing on five or six footfalls at a time. I wasn't always successful.

I finished the 5K with a respectable time of 27:24. There's so much room for improvement. Later, while enjoying some post-race snacks and refreshments, the sun finally decided to break through, burn away the fog and reveal the glistening bay.

And just in case you were curious, #33 in the photo isn't me (though it does bear a striking resemblance). It's UCSC's official mascot, the banana slug.

The weather this morning was perfect for walking to work. It was sunny and a little breezy. I hope it holds through the weekend. The walk itself has become rather routine, so to spice it up, I tried to amuse myself with random idiocy.

I started with the silly game of avoiding the cracks and lines on the sidewalk. Of course, it helps if the sidewalk is concrete and not constructed from smaller-than-foot-sized bricks. This is also best played when no one else is around.

I listened carefully for unusual sounds. There was odd whistling noises, the creaking of a metal sign twisting against a pole and a broken crosswalk speaker that didn't go "bee-doo-bee-doo" but rather "snurk-it-snurk-it".

I memorized the message on the scrolling marquee outside a business building, which repeated, "8:00 45° Dow Jones +80 Nasdaq +31 Markets Closed Friday Happy Easter".

I counted the number of steps it took to cross major and minor intersections. For a typical four-lane road with a dedicated left turn: 22 steps. A typical two-lane with on-the-street parking: 12 steps. The same street walked against the light with oncoming cars: 5 sprinted steps.

Finally, I purchased a large caramel macchiato with an extra shot and extra caramel. It isn't my typical order, but it was exactly what the person in front of me ordered. That definitely spiced things up. For future reference, extra caramel is too much caramel.

Growing up, the parent-controlled radio was usually on during breakfast. It was tuned to the easy listening channel, which nobody changed since it was my mom's favorite station. Also, the radio was strategically stuck behind bags of music books that were stuffed next to the piano, making it difficult to reach.

1. The Lettermen ("Goin' Out of My Head")
2. John Denver ("Annie's Song")
3. The Carpenters ("Top of the World")
4. Richard Clayderman ("Ballade pour Adeline")
5. Roberta Flack ("Killing Me Softly With His Song")

I registered for a couple of runs coming up in May and July. I thought that it would be amusing to state my goals now. In a month or two, I'll be able to see if my expectations were reasonable or completely bogus.

The first run I registered for was the Bay To Breakers in San Francisco on May 18th. It's a 7.5 mile run/walk that begins by the Embarcadero and finishes way over in Golden Gate Park. It benefits, most notably, the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society and UCSF's Cancer Center.

This year's goal is to finish under one hour and fifteen minutes. To accomplish that requires a ten minute mile pace. I know for a fact that I can't run the whole thing continuously, but I can hopefully chain together a steady combination of walking and running to achieve the average.

The other run I signed up for was the Wharf to Wharf, happening on July 27th. It takes place in Santa Cruz, California, one of my favorite towns. It's a six-mile run that begins at the Santa Cruz Wharf, by the Beach Boardwalk, and finishes up at the Capitola Wharf. The proceeds benefit local school track and field programs.

My goal for the run is pretty lax. I'll be happy with anything less than an hour. If I remain focused (and disciplined), it isn't unrealistic to steadily increase my endurance over the next twelve weeks to run that distance.

Last night was the second time I went to a great Blog Meetup Day. Unfortunately, I drank way too much caffeine and couldn't fall asleep later on. It was my own fault. Two double lattes (with various syrups added) over a couple of hours must have sent my blood/caffeine level soaring. I wasn't intentionally trying to give myself an espresso buzz, but I did.

Perhaps my tolerance level is dropping in my old age. I wonder if the guy at the bar would've cut me off if I had ordered a third one. "I'm sorry, son. I think you've had enough lattes for one night." Ok, probably not. I bet he would let me drink myself into hyperactive oblivion.

When I got home, I thought I'd use the energy to finish some reading, but my attention span was shot. I then thought about going to the twenty-four hour gym and running until I was exhausted. My imagination took hold and I pictured myself suddenly coming off the caffeine high just as I reached the gym. And really, who wants to see somebody snoring while draped over a treadmill?

I only meant to whisper, now I only want to hide.
Let some silence fill the time and let the words fade away.
If this journal is a song, it's played pianissimo.
An obscure etude amongst these masterful symphonies.

fix me now
I wish you would
bring me back to life
kiss me blind somebody should
from hollow into light

things don't have to be this way
catch me on a better day

- from "Fix Me Now" by Garbage

I'm writing this as part of the RBJ April collaboration... "Look out the window. What do you see?"

It's just after seven on a gray Tuesday evening. The wind has picked up since this afternoon. From my seat in the windowed corner of this cafe, I feel like a display for the entire world to see. Okay, focus, what's outside?

Across the plaza is a nearly empty Togo's, which is next to a moderately busy hair salon. Across the street is San Jose State University. Students walk by on their way to night classes.

Ornate lampposts line the center of the plaza. White hexagonal bricks break the monotonous field of gray and seem to radiate from a point behind the luxury apartments across the way. Strokes of green marble, containing gold-lettered words written in Spanish, slice through the ground.

Benches, with green metal frames and brown wooden slats, sit back to back, across from the City Year office. Every now and then, somebody leaves the office wearing their hard-to-miss yellow jackets, black backpacks, tan slacks and Timberland boots.

A young woman, dressed all in black, wearing kneepads and black rollerblades, rolls by awkwardly. She attempts to make a turn before going into the street. Her boyfriend runs by and barely makes it in time to grab her arm to keep her from falling.

A tall, blond guy wearing headphones, a blue denim jacket, gray shirt and ripped jeans strolls into view. A black book bag strap crosses his chest. We make eye contact and not knowing what else to do, I nod while silently mouthing the word "Hi." He nods and smiles slightly as he passes me on his way to school.

The pace of the people tonight is unhurried. I take another sip of my hazelnut latte and cross out "blonde" and write "blond", which is the masculine form of the word. My attention wanders to the mellow music playing in the cafe. The woman sings in French.

I suddenly glimpse a slim feminine figure walking towards the university. From here, I can only see her back. She has long, beautiful black hair. She wears blue jeans and a dark blue hoodie. I wish she would glance to the side so I can see her face as she waits at the crosswalk. But she can't read my mind and crosses the street without looking both ways first.

I peer at the pocket watch I've placed on the table. It's time to go. I'll barely make it for the start of American Idol. That's all I saw out the window.

As with most things I think are cool or intriguing, I want to try my hand at them. Curiosity gets the better of me. I'm still too impressionable for my own good. There's the notion that if, say, that person can do it, so can I.

This sentiment doesn't necessarily hold true for activities that I perceive to be high risk, like chainsaw juggling, high-speed chases or relationships. But on the whole, taiko seems safe enough. It involves concentration and discipline with little risk of physical injury to myself or others.

There must also be a competitive side of me that still believes that maybe, with enough time and effort, I can do it just as well as the people I see.

Song on my mind... "When I Grow Up" by The Beach Boys

Will I dig the same things that turn me on as a kid?
Will I look back and say that I wish I hadn't done what I did?
Will I joke around and still dig those sounds
When I grow up to be a man?

Will I look for the same things in a woman that I dig in a girl?
Will I settle down fast or will I first wanna travel the world?
Now I'm young and free, but how will it be
When I grow up to be a man?

Some days there is a part of me that says, "Grow up already! Act your age." While the other part of me replies, "Do I have to? Come on, one more year, pleeaase?"

Without the online buzz, a.k.a. guppieluv, regarding Better Luck Tomorrow, I probably would have missed it. A couple of other folks have written more concise and coherent impressions about this film.

I enjoyed this wonderful but disturbing movie. It was a thought-provoking story that left me feeling conflicted. The film was written and directed by an Asian American (AA) and stars an AA cast in an American tale. I should note that the audience was almost entirely AA.

If you came in believing that all young AAs are affluent overachievers, then this movie probably seemed to reinforce those stereotypes. To me, the characters on the screen were affluent overachievers who just happened to be AA. They exhibited similar traits to the group I hung out with in high school. For some of us, our highest moral purpose was assembling the ultimate college application. A high GPA was the key to greater freedom that was mostly left unmonitored by parents who were too busy at work. As the main character says, "As long as our grades were there, we were trusted."

I liked that this film started out like the seemingly typical teen movie. As the movie progressed, this initial impression became increasingly distorted. Each time we revisited the protagonist practicing free throws on the neighborhood basketball court, another dark layer of reality was revealed.

Sitting here a few days later, some questions remain. If I was in high school now, how would I react to this film? Would I be offended? Would I dismiss it as irrelevant? Would it be a "wake up call"?

The unfortunate rarity of the voice telling this story increases the movie's value and appeal in my eyes. The same story told by a more "mainstream" voice might not have grabbed my attention. While I'm rather reluctant to believe that the fate of other AA films are dependent on this one movie's performance, it wouldn't surprise me. I would love to see other worthy efforts receive wider exposure regardless of this film's box office success.

Friday: Saw Better Luck Tomorrow. "You can’t settle for being happy, that’s a trap." Wonderfully disturbing. Went to Hukilau and saw the Pupule’ Boyz perform.

Saturday: With the rain, good day for reading and a mocha valencia.

Sunday: Ran the Wildflower 5K in a respectable 24:56. The rain finally stopped. Attended the Haru Matsuri (Spring Festival) and Taiko Expo in Morgan Hill. Enjoyed sushi and sake. Stanford Taiko and San Jose Taiko were simply awesome. Had books signed by Kerry Yo Nakagawa and Mina Harada Eimon. Went to bed early to be lively at work today (bleh).

Last night, I went down to the theaters to buy advanced tickets for Better Luck Tomorrow. I was told that tickets would be available thirty minutes before the first showing tonight, which didn't sound all that advanced to me.

Anyway, across from Camera One is a neat little coffee shop called Cafe Matisse. I would call it a cross between a cafe and an art gallery. One of the displays is a series of small wire-framed men who look like they are scaling the wall above the bar. There are also a number of paintings that add to the ambience. So that my trip was not completely wasted, I went in and bought a mocha. I then spent some time reading and writing while enjoying the cafe's atmosphere.

Afterwards, I was walking back to the parking garage, when I passed by Cafecito and heard the sounds of a rock band. Out of pure curiosity, I ventured in. Every Thursday, the have a house band and an open mic night. Because the cafe is only a block away from the university, many of the acts are students.

The most memorable performer was a singer/songwriter named Sonny, who sang two ballads, "How Could She" and "About Last Night". He has such a smooth voice and a light touch with the guitar. There was also a woman who read a moving poem called "Sunday Father" about a once-a-week dad. Perhaps I'm just easily amused, but I enjoy a poem that carefully and cleverly uses alliteration and syncopation.

I have other things that I want to write about, but this was simple enough to type and post in between other activities. A Friday Five for entertainment purposes only.

1. What was the first band you saw in concert?
Sublime.

2. Who is your favorite artist/band now?
The flavor of the week is Linkin Park with an Evanescence aftertaste.

3. What's your favorite song?
Today it's "Like A Stone" by Audioslave

In your house I long to be
Room by room patiently
I'll wait for you there
Like a stone
I'll wait for you there
Alone

4. If you could play any instrument, what would it be?
The dobro, think Jerry Douglas.

5. If you could meet any musical icon (past or present), who would it be and why?
Although he hasn't reached "icon" status yet, I would say Rob Thomas of Matchbox Twenty. He is one of many talented songwriters that I admire.

The new Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Library in San Jose will be opening in a few months, just in time for the fall semester. It's a joint project combining the city's main library with San Jose State University's libraries. An eight-story structure with over 475,000 square feet of capacity, it will hold up to two million volumes. To accommodate the dual use, the facility has two main entrances, one facing out towards downtown and the other facing into the university campus.

I took a tour of the library last year, while it was still in the middle of construction. I remember being struck by the sheer size of the building footprint. Because the open areas for stacks were so huge, lighting was a concern. Major efforts were made to draw in as much natural light as possible.

I recall that the view from the top floor was breathtaking. I also remember that none of the elevators had been installed yet. The plans indicate there will be a cafe on the ground floor, a children's room on the mezzanine level and special Beethoven and Steinbeck centers on the fifth floor.

The students who will be using the new library are so lucky. It almost makes me want to return to school.

Hectic is the word I'd use to describe this morning. I've been running late from the moment I woke up. A late lunch is still a welcome lunch.

1. Exercise. Run two miles, cycle two miles and work out for thirty minutes.
2. Eat. Lemon chicken, mixed vegetables and rice, followed by a grande tazo chai.
3. Television. Watch the Velvet Teddy Bear sing "Kiss and Say Goodbye" on American Idol and then quickly turn it off before the big Cher special.
4. Read. A Haruki Murakami novel works well.
5. Music. Listen to simple stuff while reading, like The All-American Rejects or Green Day. (I can't believe Dookie is nine years old!)

Peel me off this velcro seat and get me moving
I sure as hell can't do it by myself

To add a little color to this page and move some of the word-heavy portions down a bit, I thought I'd add a photograph. This was taken last Friday.

What does one do with empty storefronts that line the streets of an ailing downtown? Make it into an outdoor art gallery, of course. I think this is a brilliant idea. The rotating art displays continue through June 2003.

As this journal persists, two theories about it run through my head.

1. Writing meaningless fluff is good practice for writing even more meaningless fluff.

It's a pessimistic view that believes I will take the easy route in my chronicles and succumb to the trends that dominate more "popular" blogs. It proposes that I will avoid any deep introspection in fear that it will reveal some ugly truths, not only to myself, but to everybody else. It believes I will try to avoid rejection by misguidedly remaining upbeat and digestible.

2. Writing meaningless fluff will flush out my system and allow me to write more meaningful... fluff.

A more optimistic view that believes greater truths can be revealed by publicly working through my thoughts. It assumes watchful eyes will help me remain honest, unlike a private diary, where I could possibly lie to myself and stagnate in self-pity. It relies heavily on the assumption that there are meaningful ideas in my head.

Writing here gives me a sense that while I may touch on certain insecurities, there is a unseen force that won't allow me to remain idle. In this forum, I must hold myself more accountable. I imagine an invisible audience that would like to see this story progress and the main character get off his butt and do something.

Deep down, the second theory also believes "meaningless fluff" isn't really so meaningless. To be so cynical is to take myself too seriously. Plus, it would be denying the part of me that is a complete idiot.

Song on my mind... "Seven Nation Army" by The White Stripes

Random thoughts for another Monday morning...

The San Francisco Giants are 6-0. Now that I wrote it, they will probably lose the next game.

There's really no need to refer to me in the third person when I'm right in the room. If you want something, just ask me directly. That way, I don't feel entirely invisible and unimportant.

Instead of sacrificing an hour of sleep, I sacrificed an hour of Sunday. More daylight after work seems well worth the price.

I sometimes wonder how I end up in certain places at certain times like, say, a bookstore on a Friday night. Now, I like Friday nights and I like browsing for books, but the thought of putting the two together seems entirely strange. I'm too easily talked into things.

On Saturday night, I had something called a Big Mountain Chocolate Fudge Cake. Two layers of chocolate, smothered with chocolate, topped with vanilla ice cream, with a side of hot fudge. One of the most unhealthy but delicious cakes ever created.

Over the weekend I saw two movies on DVD. There was Road To Perdition with Tom Hanks and Paul Newman. It also starred Jude Law, who just creeps me out. It probably didn't help that his character was a bit, shall we say, whacked. I liked the movie well enough, but I wouldn't call it Oscar caliber.

The natural companion to that film was South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut. How I would love to quote some of the lines here, but this journal is decidedly PG-rated. The songs were classic. I especially liked "La Resistance" and "What Would Brian Boitano Do?" It really gets you thinking, what would he do? Anyway, I really needed a good dose of irreverence and laughter. If I watch it a few more times, I'm sure it'll warp my fragile little mind.

Here is something lighter and happier. A Friday Five that hits home.

1. How many houses/apartments have you lived in throughout your life?
I've lived in only two houses, both in the Bay Area.

2. Which was your favorite and why?
My current residence. It's my plot of ground.

3. Do you find moving more exciting or stressful? Why?
Moving is exciting, at least on paper. All of the possible furniture layouts could keep me entertained for hours. The physical act of moving is much more stressful and prone to injury.

4. What's more important, location or price?
Location! Price determined where I live today, but location is where I want to be.

5. What features does your dream house have (pool, spa bath, big yard, etc.)?
If money and guilt over extravagance didn't matter...

I envision a winding path through lush gardens and fountains leading up to the front door. A place with high ceilings and cozy corners, where sunlight and shadow play off the walls, an environment that would foster creativity and comfort.

It would have a music room, with a wall of sound and maybe a small stage for private performances. It could be a full multimedia room, with a wall that slid away to reveal a flat panel screen to view movies, sporting events or play video games.

I picture a library, think Beauty and the Beast, with a reading area that extends into a semi-circular cove with floor-to-ceiling windows that adjust to the daylight and can be opened to a patio that overlooks the beach.

I envision an espresso bar stocked with syrups and coffee beans from around the world. It would be next to the gathering room with a burgundy-clothed pool table, sofas and a grand piano in the corner.

sigh I've gone on long enough and I could daydream further, but I'll stop now.

Friday. Say the word and my optimism returns. It is strange how the tone of my entries can be affected by the hours. As the day begins, my outlook is much cheerier and hopeful. As it comes to a close, it becomes much more somber and dangerously reflective. I wouldn't call it depression, but rather introspection. Any trace of melancholy burns away like the morning fog. Another day, another chance to view things from a different perspective. I'm so glad that the weekend is only hours away.

Some days the world seems so big, while my world seems so small. All I can see are these four walls and at this moment, it's the extent of my universe.

Outside could be a forest of trees or a busy city street. The sun could be shining or it could be black as night. The nearest person could be a thousand miles away or just outside my window. It makes no difference.

From where I'm sitting, I'm the only person here. I'm the only one I see. For all I know, I'm the only one thinking of me, the only one aware of my existence. I'm alone and feeling a tinge of loneliness. I'd reach out to somebody now, but to have a conversation would take too much effort and be such an imposition. I would be awful company, a terrible anti-depressant.

So I prefer this solitude, a moment with my thoughts, a chance to understand where I am. It's a moment for self-evaluation, to see if I'm any happier than I was six months ago, when I first began writing, when I embarked on this seemingly different path.

Have I lost my focus or strayed from my purpose? Am I any closer to being unafraid? Am I any less broken? Would I be having these thoughts if I was in love?

I wonder if I will be thinking these same things six months from now. Will I find the strength to overcome myself or rediscover myself? Will I have taken the right steps, steps that has eluded me for so long?

While I'm well aware that there are big and important things going on in the world, this is what occupies my mind right now. My world is within these walls, my universe within these thoughts.

The drawers in my cubicle should probably only be filled with pertinent, work-related items. But that changed one day, after skipping lunch and then feeling hungry later in the afternoon. By that time, the office cafe was already closed and the nearest source of food was too far away to sneak out and grab something. The next day, I brought in a bag of cookies to keep in one drawer, so that I'd have something to snack on.

Time has passed and I haven't been paying much attention to everything I've stashed away. I thought I'd list the wide assortment of less-than-healthy food items in the snack drawer. Let's see, there is...

• a bag of double stuffed fudge cookies
• a bag of raisin cinnamon muffins
• 4 cups of instant soup
• 4 cups of yogurt
• 2 14 oz bags of M&M's
• 3 bottles of water
• 15 tea bags
• and a banana

There are also various plastic forks, spoons, chopsticks and napkins. In case of an emergency, where I can't leave my desk, I'm pretty much set.

The weather has been all over the place the last few days. Over the weekend it was nice and warm, reaching into the 80s. That lasted a day or two. Before anybody could grow attached to the sunshine, wind and rain rolled in. The last couple of days have been wetter and much cooler. I wonder if the weather will make up its mind?

I still marvel at a rainbow in the gray cloud sky.

Paring is an enjoyable exercise in efficiency. Take this entry for example. I write endlessly, blather about, collect stray thoughts and any random words remotely related to my point. It forms one fine mess, but then comes the fun part. Whittling away all of the ideas and phrases that aren't this entry. In its purest form, this should've read, "I like to pare."

I really missed it. Back is the split finger fastball, the sweet swing of the bat, the blazing speed of a base stealer, the raw power of a home run hitter, the finesse of a control pitcher and the astounding leap of an outfielder. Another season marks the chance for new rookies to rise and old records to fall.

I'm so glad a new season has begun. I'm smiling, can you tell? The San Francisco Giants won their season opener last night and the Oakland Athletics open tonight. Baseball is underway!

1. "Everybody's Fool" by Evanescence
2. "Nobody's Fool" by Cinderella
3. "The Fool On The Hill" by The Beatles
4. "These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)" by Nat King Cole (I hear him and not Rod Stewart)
5. "Why Do Fools Fall In Love?" by Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers