January 2004 Archives

The gray clouds have given way to blue skies. The air is cool and crisp. It feels good spending lunch outside on a January afternoon. I’m sitting at a table, outside of Starbucks, without a cup of coffee. The table precariously balances on three of its four legs, causing it to slant away from me. Blobs of water from the earlier rain remain on its surface.

I meant to write about a Henry Miller quote I came across earlier today, but I keep getting lost in thought or distracted by everything and everyone around me. You don’t see the gaps of time separating these words. Perhaps some coffee would help me concentrate. It’s too tempting to sit here and toy with mediocre sentiments and sentences without writing anything down.

A little while ago, I stepped out of a nearby bookstore with copies of Cold Mountain and Girl With a Pearl Earring. It would be nice to finish both before seeing their movie adaptations. It seems my hour is nearly done, so I should wrap up. The weekend is almost here and I can’t wait for it to begin. Before going, I’ll leave you with the quote I jotted down. Have a great weekend.

"Develop interest in life as you see it; in people, things, literature, music - the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself."

He singing was energetic and awful. His dance moves looked like he got them straight from the radio. Words can't even begin to describe the shirt he wore. Yet within a few seconds, his rendition of "She Bangs" overwrote every memory I had of Ricky Martin performing that song. Now it will forever belong to William Hung, the civil engineering major from U.C. Berkeley. He's another reason why I love American Idol.

To William's credit, he handled rejection much better than one bachelor did on The Bachelorette. With each rose he didn't receive, you could see his fuse shortening. I'm sure he'll look back fondly on his resulting temper tantrum.

Of course, I also got caught up in The Most Dramatic Rose Ceremony Ever^TM. There I was, on the edge of the couch by the seventh rose (a.k.a. the rose of indecision), doing my best impression of Charles Xavier, telepathically sending Meredith an urgent message, "Choose Lanny Lan - wait, wasn't this taped like three months ago? Crap! Who cares? Lanny!"

And when Meredith gave him the last rose, I pumped my fist and gave a victorious, "Yes! Go Lanny!" Obviously, any normal person would have reacted the same way given the situation. Don't give me that look. Trust me, plenty of people will be exhibiting similar behavior this Sunday as they watch commercials two East Coast teams play football. (Remember: Patriots win.)

After reading daydreamy, I decided to make my own map of the states I've visited. Sadly, I've only set foot in twelve of them, a whopping 23% of the country. My world map is even worse.

Looking at this predominantly brown map causes me to sigh, shake my head and question what I've been doing with my days off. At the same time, it makes me wonder how many states the typical American visits in a lifetime. My wild guess (and secret hope) is 12. But more importantly, the map makes me want to go outside and explore.

As a slight tangent, I recently came across 50 States: Sharing the Beauty of the United States. The project encourages people to share one photo from each state they've visited. It's a pretty neat idea.

Since I'm birdwalking, Rockapella's "Let's Get Away From It All" has been playing in my head.

Let's go again to Niagara,
This time we'll look at the Fall
Let's leave our hut, dear
Get out of our rut, dear
Let's get away from it all.

We'll travel round from town to town
We'll visit every state
Alaska and Hawaii, too
Then all the forty-eight.

Sunday's hike began an hour earlier than the hike on Saturday, but it was much closer to home. Even so, I still managed to be late. There must be a part of my brain that compensates for time and distance, along with other factors like traffic, temperature and the latest political tracking poll, to ensure I arrive exactly five minutes after I should.

My destination was Grant County Park, located in the east foothills of San Jose. As soon as I stepped out of the car, the cold air had me searching for a pair of gloves, which I couldn't find. I would later discover them staying warm on the living room floor. My hands quickly sought refuge in my jacket pockets.

Solitary oak trees stood atop grassy, rolling hills. As we reached higher elevations, the suburban sprawl and southern tip of the bay came into view. While San Francisco's towering skyscrapers were amazing, San Jose's sheer size astounded me. Looking down upon us from the summit of Mount Hamilton was University of California's Lick Observatory.

Our thirteen-mile hike took us by Grant Lake, all the way north to Deer Camp and as far south as Twin Gates. It lasted nearly six hours with stops for lunch and photographs. The hike was the longest one I ever completed and will likely be a precursor to Yosemite's Half Dome later this year.

I hadn't hiked since last December, when a few of us made a twelve-mile trek around Rancho San Antonio. Okay, it was only supposed to be ten miles, but a wrong turn and some backtracking can sure add up.

A day after that hike, I fell ill and spent a number of weeks recuperating. The prolonged idleness soon produced guilt, which eventually fostered a restlessness to be outside again.

Unable to wait any longer, I joined a group for a short five-mile hike through San Bruno Mountain State & County Park on Saturday. I wanted something moderate to see how my body reacted.

We were lucky the morning was cool and overcast. The treeless trail offered no shade. The hardest part of the hike came immediately. Reaching the first vista point required a long and steep climb. A beautiful view of model-sized San Francisco was the reward for our efforts.

The group made its way along the Ridge Trail and stopped for lunch shortly after noon. From where we stood, we could see everything from the peninsula to the bay. South of us, miniature planes took off from SFO. We stayed until the chilly air became too much to bear.

A few hours after the hike, I joined the rest of my family for our traditional Chinese New Year's dinner. Have you ever noticed how good everything tastes after exercising? The meal was exceptional.

Before calling it a night, I did a quick internal check. Everything felt fine, better than fine. With my worried mind eased, I let myself dream about Sunday's hike.

The sky was full of gray clouds this morning and there is a chance of rain. The weekend must be near. This is a good time for something light-hearted, like the Friday Five!

At this moment, what is your favorite...

1. ...song?
"Hands Down" by Dashboard Confessional. The softly sung verses have this pent up energy that bursts forth during the choruses and peaks with the line, Hands down this is the best day I can ever remember. The song never fails to get me singing.

2. ...food?
Lately, I've been leaning towards chicken caesar salads. To keep things balanced, I've also been favoring chocolate cheesecakes.

3. ...tv show?
The O.C. cracks me up and is a great escape on Wednesdays. I can't decide between cheering on or choking Adam Brody's character. He's funny, but frustrating. The series also has one of my favorite theme songs, "California" by Phantom Planet.

4. ...scent?
Nothing beats the aroma of a freshly brewed pot of coffee.

5. ...quote?
"There was abuse in my family, but it was mostly musical in nature." One of many great lines from A Mighty Wind.

Happy Chinese New Year! Gung Hay Fat Choy!

According to the forecast on Honolulu's Chinatown site, the Year of the Monkey will be the best year for Snakes, but a difficult year for Tigers, Pigs and Dogs. For Tigers, like myself, the horoscope predicts the new year will cause setbacks, bring criticism and point out weaknesses. Sounds like fun.

This week's Theme Thursday challenge is Monkeying Around. This was the first (and only) monkey I came across. Every year, my sister and I each receive a wall scroll calendar from my mom, who either buys them up in San Francisco or secures them by other means (most likely from the optometrist or one of her regular Chinese restaurants).

Every week, I receive an electronic newsletter from Runner's World. The latest edition had this advice:

"Pick one race you've never run before and make it your goal to do it. Preferably pick an event that's exotic and requires travel. Make that the focus of your running."

Somebody recently suggested registering for the Suzuki Rock 'n' Roll Marathon held this June in San Diego. I haven't been down there in ages and a visit would be fun. Forty bands will perform along the twenty-six-mile course and Chris Isaak will headline the post-race concert.

While the music and location sounded great, the distance scared me, so I quickly dismissed the idea. I've never done a marathon. Completing one has been a long-term goal of mine, but "long-term" has usually been a euphemism for "far-fetched and totally insane". I've always feared such an endeavor would require more discipline, commitment and strength than I possess.

That was a few days ago and I've been thinking things over. My self-confidence, which makes rare guest appearances, won't let the matter rest. It believes I can be ready for the race if I focus and faithfully follow a training schedule and regimen.

Perhaps I should also consider two other facts. First, I'm not getting any younger. In the future, more than a lingering cough may ail me. Second, my time is my own for now, free of major obligations, available to use as I choose. Who knows how long that will last?

I have until the end of January to decide and register. After that, the fee increases by fifteen dollars. Before I make a final decision, I need to be sure I know what is involved. I can't allow my doubts to dictate my choice, either by surrendering to them or by recklessly rebelling against them.

1. The O.C.
2. Monk
3. The Bachelorette
4. American Idol 3
5. Everwood

On The Bachelorette, I enjoy observing the little interactions and exchanges between the bachelors and Meredith as they vie for her affection. I search for clues during the rose ceremony as though something can be gleaned from a sparkle in her eye, the way she smiles or her inflection as she says a bachelor's name. Although Rick, a.k.a. Mr. Happy Feet, received the white rose, I'm rooting for Chad and Lanny to win her heart.

Aside from my brief stint as an insomniac, this was a good weekend. Who knew doing nothing could be so fun? To prevent injury, I paced my inactivity over the long three-day weekend.

If you happened to see somebody sporting pajamas and hanging out at a cafe into the wee hours of Sunday morning, let me reassure you, it wasn't me. That would simply be out of character. Everyone knows I would never risk being seen in public wearing navy blue Goofy thermals, gray sweats, red socks and sandals.

I finally saw Seabiscuit, which was an uplifting movie. The meticulously choreographed horse races and the first scenes of Chris Cooper riding across the open land were breathtaking. I also got a kick out of William H. Macy's portrayal of Tick-Tock McGlaughlin, the over-the-top radio broadcaster. I easily found myself empathizing with the men and horse as they gave each other a chance to rebuild their lives. As with most films based on or inspired by real events, I wondered how much drama or accuracy was compromised to tell the story.

Last night was bowling night. Over the last three weeks, my scores have been slowly declining. The downward trend could probably be explained by the law of averages, but that would be a rather dull explanation. Instead, I'd like to believe there is a direct correlation between what I drink beforehand and the resulting three-game average. As proof, here is the empirical data I've collected so far...

Obviously, if I want to improve my performance, I should drink honey jasmine tea and avoid coffee before taking to the lanes. Of course, further study will be required. If you're curious as to why I know my bowling scores, it just happens to be one of my many bad statistical habits.

I should be sleeping, but my eyes refused to remain shut for more than a few minutes at a time. I eventually gave in and let them do whatever they wanted. Apparently, they would rather stare at a black ceiling than at the back of my eyelids. My fingers impatiently drummed the mattress until the muffled rhythm woke my ears. My brain, which was content to overanalyze the day's events, soon couldn't concentrate and decided the best course of action was to exhaust everyone. This is why I'm presently typing and listening to classical music. In a minute, my brain will have my eyes read a Newsweek article about the benefits of sleep, which will hopefully convince them to get a good night's rest.

Work has been hectic the last two weeks. The transition from the holidays wasn't easy. The part of my mind that excels at work-related tasks felt sticky, like the gears were all gummed up. I didn't really regain the office rhythm until this week. Quickly approaching deadlines required putting in extra hours and while I was reluctant about staying late at first, there was something strangely exhilarating about immersing myself in the project. There was also the rediscovered joy of uninterrupted productivity as the office emptied, the emails ceased and the phones stopped ringing.

If you were to ask me where I want to be right now, I would show you this photo. Get me to the coast and let me listen to the ocean. Last weekend, I was as close as Capitola, but whiled away the time in the dentist's chair and the mall (shopping for clothes of all things). Errands will keep me away from the beach for another week, but not from the computer, apparently. Some weekends were meant for doing nothing and I mean to do it well, without interruptions.

I had a feeling something was missing. There seemed to be an excessive amount of words on this page. Then it dawned on me. There weren't any photos! I haven't taken my camera anywhere this year. That will hopefully change soon.

In the meantime, here is a photo I really like. S took it Monday night and it beautifully captures my funky bowling technique. The right leg flies behind me and to the left. The right arm swings forward as the left one is flung back. With that much flailing about, logic says I should fall flat on my face, but I somehow remain perched on one leg. It must be the shoes, which not only defy physics, but also good fashion sense.

I bowled only three times last year, but really enjoyed it. In the last week or so, I've gone bowling twice and it seems I'll be at the lanes a lot more this year. I'm looking forward to it. With a little practice, I might even get a turkey one of these days. But as far as my technique is concerned, there may be no cure for the funkiness.

Over the last five years, my CD collection has grown tremendously. I would like to believe greater musical awareness and appreciation nurtured its development, but I fear it simply stemmed from the poor pairing of financial independence and extremely bad taste. Unfortunately, as the collection grew, favorites emerged and an increasing number of albums were neglected.

A CD, by its very nature, wants to be played. It enjoys being heard. Spinning inside a player, whether in a car or on an armband, is sheer bliss for a little disc. How sullen it becomes when it returns to the cramped confines of a jewel case.

One day, as I walked by the CD carousel, something caused me to pause. I could sense the yearning of every disc and guilt overcame me. How could I continue listening to the favored few while the rest remained silent? At that moment, I decided to reacquaint myself and spend some quality time with each one. With any luck, I will finish listening to the entire collection sometime in February.

I'm working through my backblog and this movie was next on the list.

It is a quiet film with a quiet main character named Michael. He mirrors me more closely than almost any character I can think of in recent memory. He is a guy with similar frustrations and flaws.

Michael's world is a tentatively balanced one. He is friends with and has a crush on the girl next door, who is involved with another guy. His world would have remained in this state if not for Darcy, a woman who comes into his life and proceeds to shake everything up.

The movie is wonderful in the way the characters choose to hide or reveal themselves and their true selves. As they learn about each other, we learn about them. It's an American film with characters who happen to be Asian. It's called Charlotte Sometimes and it was one of the best films I saw last year.

This entry may have the longest title in journal history. This is a compilation of odds and ends that seemed too short to warrant entries of their own. Consider them entrylets.

First, when I say coffee is evil, that's really just my nagging cough talking. I'm supposed to be drinking plenty of fluids to clear it up and apparently the cup of french roast I'm having doesn't count (or help), but it tastes so much better than your average water.

Last week, I was listening to Billy Joel's Fantasies & Delusions. One of the credits on the album sleeve read, "All Music Composed by William Joel". I imagine he used his formal name to be taken more seriously, but it only made me laugh.

Somebody once told me that people cause 90% of their own problems. This is probably true for most folks, but I'm an overachiever, so I'm thinking my percentage is closer to 95.

This morning's fog was as soupy as a bowl of clam chowder. Driving in the fog isn't too bad, but I wish people who choose to speed through it would at least use their headlights.

Finally, here is a Calvin and Hobbes strip I've kept for a while and thought I'd share. It echoes my sentiments exactly...

Calvin: This connect-the-dots book really makes me mad! Look at this.
Hobbes: It's a duck.
Calvin: I know! Who wants to draw a duck?! I sure didn't! They made me! I've been manipulated! My natural artistic talent has been used against my will to create some corporate entity's crude idea of waterfowl! It's outrageous!
Hobbes: Another blow to creative integrity.
Calvin: From now on, I'll connect the dots my own way.

If you spent enough time with my family, you would soon learn we share a number of common passions. Hawaiian music, The Lord of the Rings and American Idol, which returns January 19th, quickly come to mind. To dislike any of them would be quite unthinkable and possibly grounds for being disowned.

Perhaps stronger and longer standing than any of these interests is my family's love of figure skating. While other folks may gather for the Super Bowl (clueless prediction: Patriots win), we put everything on hold to watch the U.S. Figure Skating Championships and root for the household hero, Michelle Kwan. A preference for another skater would be the quickest route to ostracism. I don't make up the rules. I just follow them. Life is much easier that way.

Song on my mind... "Elusive Butterfly" by Bob Lind

You might wake up some mornin'
To the sound of something moving past your window in the wind
And if you're quick enough to rise
You'll catch a fleeting glimpse of someone's fading shadow
Out on the new horizon
You may see the floating motion of a distant pair of wings
And if the sleep has left your ears
You might hear footsteps running through an open meadow

Don't be concerned, it will not harm you
It's only me pursuing somethin' I'm not sure of
Across my dreams with nets of wonder
I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love

I find myself sitting at a piano, not certain which key to play first. In my head, I hear a beautiful and promising song. There is a desire for it to flow from the instrument exactly as imagined. Perfectly. The first time. Yet it is that first note I struggle with most. For if it is wrong, I fear all will be lost. So my fingers remain frozen above the keys as the melody melts from my mind.

Watch as this journal is magically and temporarily (I hope) transformed into a dull repository for the list of movies rented during the last month of 2003. Decembers have become a prime month for film bingeing. I can't explain it.

• Bruce Almighty - Carrey cracks me up, but the movie was eh.
• Holes - I thought it would be awful, but it was surprisingly good.
• The Importance of Being Earnest - It had some truly witty lines (as well as Firth and O'Connor), but seemed a bit off, as though it's full potential was never realized.
• The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen - I was really out of it when we watched it. My recollection is gone, but family consensus seems to be one of disapproval.
• The Medallion - No matter how good or bad they are, we've seen almost every Jackie Chan movie. As long as he keeps making them, we'll probably keep watching them.
• Pirates of the Caribbean - I got a kick out of Bloom and Depp. The movie alludes to the ride, but it's so much more. I especially enjoyed the bonus material. It included footage from 1968 of Walt Disney talking about the ride's creation. It stirred up old dreams of becoming a Disney imagineer.

• A Mighty Wind - A great combination of comedy and music made this movie my marathon favorite. Mitch & Mickey (Eugene Levy & Catherine O'Hara) were funny, yet endearing.
• American Pie 2 - I had just seen Levy and had liked the first Pie, but this sequel didn't impress me.
• Audition - It was more disturbing than I anticipated.
• L'Auberge Espagnol - After Amelie, I'll give anything with Audrey Tautou a chance. She isn't the star, but I still liked it.
• Samurai Fiction - I was searching for Akira Kurosawa's Seven Samurai, but my town doesn't have a copy. The store employee said his teacher recommended this film. Mildly funny and not the typical samurai flick.
• The Shape of Things - It felt like I was watching a play, an unsettling one about the cruel art of manipulation.

That pretty much does it. So, with a wave of the wand (produced from thin air) and an abracadabra, this is once again a journal. I think.

• Fallen - Evanescence
• Meteora - Linkin Park
• Waking Hour - Vienna Teng
• The All-American Rejects - The All-American Rejects
• More Than You Think You Are - Matchbox Twenty

Last night, I remarked that football, basketball and hockey were nice distractions while one waited for baseball to start again. Fortunately, there weren't any major sports fans in earshot, so I was spared from bodily harm.

Someone then asked me what I loved most about the sport. After making such a bold statement, I naturally stumbled over the question. I love so many things about baseball. I couldn't put my finger on just one.

Then this morning, I heard about Tug McGraw's passing. Over his nineteen-year baseball career, he pitched for the New York Mets and Philadelphia Phillies. I first heard of him when the Phillies last made it to the World Series in 1993 (Dykstra, Kruk, Schilling, and Mitch "Wild Thing" Williams). I cringe thinking about that series. Most people these days know him as Tim McGraw's father (assuming they've heard of the country singer).

McGraw is most famous for getting the final strikeout that clinched Philadelphia's only World Series championship back in 1980. That sentence alone is a reason why I love the game. There is a history to it. A great tale can be told of an entire team or a single man.

This morning's Today Show had a clip of Matt Lauer interviewing Tug last year.

Lauer: What was it you loved about baseball?
McGraw: Everything. I can't think of anything I didn't like.

He came up with the answer I was looking for and said it so easily.

Everything is still untarnished and shiny. If you pause for a second, you can still catch a whiff of that new year smell. It's quite refreshing. I hope it lasts.

I was reviewing last year's resolutions with some amusement. Only half of the stated goals were met with any degree of success.

This year, "drink less coffee" has been tossed aside for the highly fashionable "be more considerate". In its ambiguity, it sits slightly below "be a better person", which is typically the gist of most resolutions. For me, it really means responding to email and other correspondence in a timely manner. I tend to blame my anxiety for my slowness, but a plain lack of common courtesy is inexcusable.

The "eat more food" resolution has been modified to "eat healthier", which really means "eat already". Meals don't achieve the regularity they should when one lives alone. They happen only when the mood strikes or the stomach growls.

The other two resolutions had high enough ratings to stay on for another season. To spice things up though, I'm adding a fifth resolution... "take more initiative". It sounds simple enough, but will be a tricky one.

I can't wait to see how this batch of self-improvement turns out.

It took me a while (or all of my life) to finally sit down and read F. Scott Fitzgerald. I wasn't avoiding him. Really. His books simply remained untouched like so many other classics that were omitted from the required reading lists of English courses I took.

After completing This Side of Paradise last night, I suddenly wished I had read it long ago, well before entering college. How my ideas and views might have been influenced. To have known the name and story of Amory Blaine back then might have sparked something inside of me. It's useless to speculate now, I know, but it's fun nonetheless.

I suppose this is all to say that Fitzgerald gave me a distinct sense of dissatisfaction. He left me feeling quite inadequate and uneducated. By now, I should already have a clear understanding of Shaw, Wells and Chesterton. I should be able to recite poetry (or song lyrics at least) without difficulty. I should be able to reference Savonarola or Baudelaire with ease and comprehension and not simple mimicry.

I'm quite taken with the book. It feels as though a reading list of book titles and authors was woven right into the story, a great number I've never read or taken the time to explore. My curiosity has been piqued and I'm glad.

For a day in December, I was a member of another family, one completely different from my own, which made it so much fun. My imagination went wild as I envisioned what my alternate life would be like.

As part of my adopted family, I would be the youngest of three sons. I would be an uncle to my oldest brother's son and daughter. My middle brother would live in San Francisco and both of my parents would be retired. Oh, and I would be Italian.

Every year, they drive to the city to see the Nutcracker performed at the War Memorial Opera House, a wonderful venue. A giant nutcracker made up of cookies and candies stood in the center of the grand lobby. Everything about the San Francisco version blew away the production I saw last year.

Before attending the show, we had dinner at Lori's Diner, a 1950s restaurant that offers a wide selection of burgers and sandwiches. With so many to choose from, I naturally ordered the chicken fettucine. After the show, we went to the Metreon for dessert. No one objected when I had a double macchiato around ten o'clock at night.

If it had been my real family, we would have dined at home, arrived just as the curtains rose and quickly escaped from the city afterwards. The night would have been much less memorable. It was good to be adopted for a day.