March 2005 Archives

On a public bus, the benches in the back form a U (or a C depending on your point of view). The bench against the back wall seats four. The two benches sitting perpendicular to this rear bench face one another and seat three each.

The other night, on the ride home, I sat on the perpendicular bench on the right, occupying the seat nearest the exit. Two men sat on the rear bench, one at each end. I don't remember the man on the right very well, but that's okay, because it's the man on the left I want to focus on.

He was Hispanic, maybe in his mid-forties, reclined in the seat with his eyes closed. He wore gray baggy pants, a gray jacket two sizes too big, an olive green t-shirt and a pale yellow baseball cap. Gray peppered his black hair and mustache and gray stubble covered his face. To simplify life, I'll call him Gray Man

We were heading south, out of San Jose, on a two-lane road through open farmland. The road was smooth and flat. The driver was skilled and kept the bus at a steady speed, masterfully hitting the green lights spaced every two miles or so.

We had completed a third of the trip when Gray Man decided he was done reclining. He hunched forward, with his head behind the left bench, the back of the seat supporting his right shoulder. He dozed off again. At least it seemed that way until I heard a gurgling sound followed by a splash. Since I was reading, I didn't actually see anything, but I've seen enough movies to know what off-screen vomiting sounds like.

I glanced up from my book and right up at the ceiling, suppressing the urge to look at the floor underneath the bench. When I first boarded, I had noticed the emergency roof hatch had been opened for ventilation. With outside being so chilly, I had been tempted to close it. Now, I was glad I had left it open. We were going to need all the ventilation it could provide.

I returned my gaze to the pages in front of me, still avoiding the messy sight I was certain was just beyond the book covers. By the way, I'm reading The Imagineering Way, a book about creativity written by Disney Imagineers. It's a great read and a fine distraction when somebody decides to hurl in a confined space.

After the first round of puking, there was a brief moment of silence. A frantic thought flashed through my head and I slowly raised my booted feet off the floor. Gray Man was taking deep breaths, trying to settle his stomach, but his stomach won and the second round came.

We were, by this time, only a few hundred feet from the next stop. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Gray Man raise his head from behind the bench. I dared a glance at him. He seemed to have recovered and was attempting to act as if nothing had happened. He pulled the stop request cord and when the bus came to a halt, he lurched from his seat, staggered past me and off the bus.

We weren't back on the road for more than a few seconds when I thought it wise to sit somewhere else, somewhere away from the barf zone. As I changed seats, I glanced back to see if the man seated at the other end of the bench was moving. He wasn't. He was motionless, looking out the window, seemingly oblivious to what had transpired. He either had a high tolerance for such things or a bad sense of smell.

When we finally reached my stop, I was only too happy to escape (through the rear door, not the emergency roof hatch) and inhale some fresh air.

Baseball season is nearly here. For the Giants, it begins next Tuesday as they take on the Dodgers in San Francisco. Based on their website, I'm guessing L.A.'s theme this year is "Think Blue". Not very original, but S.F. isn't exactly flexing its creative muscles either. The Giants are introducing "Orange Fridays", which encourages fans to show their spirit by wearing as much orange as possible. I've always been a fan of the black and orange, but mostly of the black. I can only take the orange in small doses. Steering clear of the park on Fridays sounds like a good idea.

Despite the news that Barry Bonds will miss the first part of the season, I'm looking forward to attending games at SBC Park. They've expanded the food menu this year. In addition to clam chowder, garlic fries and sushi, fans will also have their choice of chicken adobo burritos, Chinese food (from Panda Express) and more. I know I shouldn't get excited about Chinese fast food, but it tickles the brain thinking about eating from a rice bowl while attending the game. I still think bringing dim sum to the park would be hilarious. It's a new spin on an old pastime.

This is probably as good a spot as any to say something about steroids. I rarely use the word "hate", but in this case, it's appropriate. I hate steroids and their use in baseball. I hate how they're being used in every sport. It's frustrating to see the league responding so slowly and timidly to the situation. I wish they would step up, take a stronger stand and make a genuine effort to clean up baseball.

One of this year's promotions at SBC Park will be the Charlie Brown Bobblehead Doll. None of the previous baseball bobbleheads ever really appealed to me. Honestly, most of them are creepy with their wobbly oversized heads and dead eyes. But the one of Charlie Brown looks cool. He's wearing the comic-strip-style cap and a Giants jersey. To me, he is the sport's perfect representative. He's hardworking and steroid-free. He gives everything to the game he loves even though he can't play it well enough to win. If I could, I'd get it, but the promotion is only for the first 10,000 kids (14 and under) and it just seems wrong to adopt solely for the purpose of obtaining a collectible.

Some days, as the train passes through these open fields, by dilapidated shacks and abandoned farmhouses, I try to imagine a time when the structures were new, a time when the farmers were thriving. Then I try to imagine a time before that, before the farmers developed the land, before they removed the trees and tilled the soil. What was this valley like then?

In a few years time, somebody riding this train won't even have the luxury of seeing only shacks, farmhouses and fields. Those will all be gone. When they pass through these parts, they will see tract homes, business campuses and acres upon acres of asphalt. It's the desire of developers to see this green valley destroyed and converted to gray and black. They'd like to keep the green for themselves. It's the same desire that is currently leveling the hills of San Jose to construct monster homes and condominiums, bringing the city a step closer to being like San Francisco.

Whenever I gaze across Coyote Valley, I’m saddened by the view to come, but grateful for the view I have.

Oh phooey, it's Monday! OPIM! Just an acronym I'm trying out. It's become so commonplace to praise Friday, it seemed only appropriate to decry Monday with just as much enthusiasm. It's also a chance to promote minor exclamations like "phooey" and "drat".

Since this is Easter Monday, I should probably say something nice about the first day of the workweek. Let's see, at least the storm that lasted through the night seems to have subsided. Parts of the sky are clear and blue. Maybe the weather forecasts will be wrong and I won't need an umbrella this afternoon.

This weekend's weather was pleasant. On Saturday, the neighborhood children and their parents populated the park across the street for a massive Easter egg hunt and barbecue.

I'm sure the competition to collect the most eggs was fierce. Were I to participate, it would've taken only a second for a hundred little feet to trample over me, destroying my straw Easter basket and furry bunny ears. Little kids show no mercy. They're more dangerous than the bulls of Pamplona. And that's before the tykes have consumed any sugar from their Easter candy.

I'm also sure the interactions between neighbors were something akin to what I've seen on Desperate Housewives. Friendly smiles worn to mask jealousy and scorn. Okay, that's probably not the case, but my Inner Calvin likes to imagine I live on my very own Wisteria Lane, which comes complete with a Bree Van De Kamp and a Mrs. Huber (before she was brutally bludgeoned).

On Saturday evening, I joined the family for dinner at the usual Chinese restaurant. At the end of the meal, my sister requested fortune cookies. My fortune was of the typical ambiguous variety, "Good things are coming to you in due course of time." I'm waiting for the day when fortune cookie technology improves and I can read, "A check for $1,974.00 is coming to you on March 28, 2005."

Anyway, my sister's fortune was the most profound of the group and its message is one that everyone should remember. "An angry man opens his mouth and shuts up his eyes." More seriously and simply stated, "An angry man opens his mouth and squints."

On Easter Sunday, we attended an outdoor service. Approximately five hundred people, including the town's mayor and family, were present. For someone who doesn't regularly attend such events, I didn't know what to expect, so the pop music and the electric guitar solo came as a shock. For some reason, I don't find those modern touches very appealing. The message (a.k.a. sermon) was more traditional, but still informal.

A few hours later, we drove to Uvas Canyon County Park. Over a year has passed since my last visit. The park has only seven miles of trails, but more than six waterfalls. While not as impressive as other natural cathedrals, like Yosemite, Uvas Canyon provides those who enter it with a tranquil place for solitude and reflection. For the brief time we were there, it was the perfect sanctuary.

Song on my mind... "Time in a Bottle" by Jim Croce

If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty
Except for the memory
Of how they were answered by you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with

I was going to write about Tuesday night's episode yesterday, but then I heard about the phone number debacle and the encore episode, so I held off. I then made the mistake of reading somebody else's recap of the show. It was roll-on-the-floor funny, but left me feeling untalented by comparison. So I had to wait a day to feel the inspiration to give my recap a go.

First, the top five things that distracted me during Tuesday's show:

1. Hair. Everybody seemed to be having a bad hair show.
2. Ryan's t-shirt. All I remember was that is was red. Tight and red.
3. The tiny orchestra accompanying the rock band. I could see them. I just couldn't hear them.
4. Paula Abdul's inability to keep her hands and lips off of Simon Cowell.
5. Hair. It was so bad, I had to mention it twice.

Now, here are my thoughts on this week's performances. In the spirit of Whose Line is it Anyway?, I'll be giving out points, but remember, the points don't matter. Just like my opinions about these performances, they don't mean a thing.

As I watched Anthony Fedorov sing "I Knew You Were Waiting For Me", I wasn't really listening. All I could hear was this tiny voice in my head saying, "Good golly, if you close one eye and tilt your head to the right, he looks kind of like a blond Harry Potter." A thousand points for Gryffindor.

Remember, the points don't matter, so 1,000 could be good, bad or worth only 1,216 Canadian points.

After Carrie Underwood sang "Alone", Simon declared her the winner, claiming she would be the Best Idol Ever. I didn't see it. The only thing I saw was her hair, which looked like it lost a horrific battle to a curling iron and then went through a hairspray hurricane. 1,100 points after a 900-point deduction for the hair.

Scott Savol sang "Against All Odds". I'm not a big fan of his baseball cap or sunglasses, so when he tossed them away, I was actually relieved. 2,500 points for the crazy good voice and for ditching the costume.

Bo Bice sang "Time in a Bottle", the first Billboard #1 hit not from the eighties. I love the song. While listening to him, I forgot that I was watching Idol. 3,000 points for a sincere performance and song selection.

Nikko Smith sang Sisqo's "Incomplete". The performance was "just okay" for me. After a 500-point deduction for not singing the "Thong Song", 1,800 points.

Vonzell Solomon sang "Best of My Love". She finally seemed to get everything in gear. Not much else to say, but 3,500 points for an awesome performance.

Constantine Maroulis sang "I Think I Love You" by the Partridge Family (+500), which was unexpected (+500). He gave it a twist (+500), but it was a Constantine twist (-500). On the plus side, he still makes Ryan look like a midget (+300). It all equals 1,300 points.

Nadia Turner sang "Time After Time". When asked if she wanted a mohawk, Nadia should have said no, but instead of a simple no, she should have spiced it up David-Spade-style and asked for a nohawk or a nonytail or just her usual, ultra-cool afno. 500 points for the scary hair.

Mikalah Gordon sang "Love Will Lead You Back". One would think a girl who sounds like Taylor Dayne could sing Taylor Dayne. One would be wrong. It was the worst performance of the evening. Taking that into account, along with the Mikalah Factor, she receives -500 points.

Anwar Robinson sang "Ain't Nobody". It was a weak performance, which is hard to say since I like him. He had a few good notes, but they were utterly outnumbered by the bad ones. On the upside, he didn't have a mohawk. 600 points.

Finally, Jessica Sierra sang the sixth song from the 80s and the second from 1983. I don't know what it is about "Total Eclipse of the Heart", but I really dig it. I didn't think she did as much with it as she possibly could, but it was still darn good. 2,611 points, just because I can.

Tonight, I predict that Anthony, Nikko and Mikalah will be in the bottom three. And maybe, if the points can matter just this once, Mikalah will be going home.

Yesterday, I attended my sister's Master of Science thesis presentation. For her, it was the culmination of three years of graduate work in the environmental studies program, so it was exciting to be there and cheer her on. She had expected only six people to show up, but a crowd of forty crammed into the classroom to hear her speak and show their support. In attendance were family, friends, classmates, coworkers, professors and about fifteen grad students who were required to be there for credit or wanted to see how it was done.

Her thesis focused on the gray wolf recovery program in Idaho and the government-to-government relationship between the United States and the Nez Perce tribe, which has successfully managed the program for the last ten years. It's an interesting subject that touches on politically charged topics like tribal sovereignty, treaty rights and the Endangered Species Act.

The result of her research, numerous interviews and visit to Idaho was a 144-page document that concludes with recommendations on how to improve governmental relations while benefiting the wolves. Her presentation was an hour long followed by thirty minutes of questions and answers. For someone who doesn't like public speaking, it must have felt like an eternity to her. Even with the big audience, she didn't appear nervous, but when it was over, she was exhausted.

I'm so proud of her. This degree didn't come easily. I doubt most degrees do, but it was strange to see her struggle at times. She is the type of person who makes the most difficult tasks look simple. Growing up, she never had trouble with school, so when certain graduate classes started to frustrate her, it was scary to see. Yet she stuck with it, managed to find her stride and eventually excelled. She is one of the first in her class (of ten) to complete the program and the only one graduating this semester.

Her presentation reminded me of a few years back, when she was majoring in music and had to give yearly hour-long piano recitals. The week preceding any performance, she would be stressing out and claiming nothing was ready or everything was horrible. She would say it right up to the day of the recital, but once she sat down at the piano, the anxiety seemed to disappear and she would perform flawlessly, mesmerizing the audience with her musical magic. I miss those days and hearing her play.

Last night was a different type of performance, but the magic was back. Apparently, it translates well to environmental studies. Knowing her, it's something that will translate nicely to whatever else she pursues in life.

[I wonder what it would look like if I had remote control that could channel surf through different topics in one entry. I bet it would read something like this...]

This morning, as I rode the train to work, rain clouds obscured the hills to the east where a quarry had set up shop not so long ago. It's an ugly sight. A deep brown shelf cut into the green hillside. As a security measure, the company erected perimeter lights, two amber lamps mounted on each post. They're hardly noticeable on most days, but today, shrouded by dark gray clouds, the lamps glowed eerily like the eyes of bats hanging from the ceiling of a cave.

[Hills, bats, clouds, blah blah blah. Change.]

I suppose one could compare going through life to drifting on the ocean. Of course, I suppose one could also compare going through life to licking a llama's left ear, but likely with more difficulty and a funny taste on the tongue. I was actually going to make the life-ocean comparison, but now I can't concentrate. There's an image of a llama in my head that won't go away.

[Uh, I'd rather not find out where that's going. Change!]

[Photo Channel? Seagull Channel? Keep going.]

Did you notice ABC's commercials for Grey's Anatomy feature "Such Great Heights" by The Postal Service? It would be quite cool if they used it as the show's theme song, but they'll probably go with something standard by W.G. Snuffy Walden. It reminds me of when UPN first promoted Enterprise with The Calling's "Wherever You Will Go" and then went with a Diane Warren song as the theme. I felt a little robbed.

[Music and television. Not a bad mix. Let's see what else is on.]

i wuz liKe. omg! i <3 coffE!

[Okay, I love coffee, but that's not my journal. Go back!]

I'm tempted to watch the new medical drama just because Sandra Oh is one of the stars (along with Patrick Dempsey from Once and Again). I know she was on HBO's Arli$$, but since I'm allergic to cable television, I never watched it. The first time I saw her was in Long Life, Happiness and Prosperity at an Asian film festival two years ago. After that, I remember seeing her in Under the Tuscan Sun and Sideways. I've begun losing interest in Desperate Housewives, so perhaps this show will keep me tuned to the tube on Sundays.

[Okay, that's enough. It's a good thing this journal doesn’t come with a remote. Too much topic surfing makes me dizzy.]

These were photos taken while wandering around the grounds of The Ahwahnee in Yosemite National Park. One day, I'd like to spend the night here, possibly even honeymoon here.

While there's something to be said for taking long, arduous hikes to the top of peaks for a majestic valley view, there's also something to be said for taking casual strolls through a scenic valley for views of majestic peaks. They are both perfectly acceptable ways of appreciating nature, although the former, to some, seems more admirable or worthwhile due to the effort required for the rarer vantage points. I don't necessarily agree. It may be true that fewer eyes have beheld the sight, but difficulty seldom determines splendor.

I believe the beauty of places like Yosemite doesn't depend on the level of exertion or elevation. It depends on a person's willingness to stop and use his or her senses to experience it all. It requires patience.

Last Saturday, after eating a tasty Deg muffin, we hiked behind Yosemite Village, along a trail that starts from Lower Yosemite Fall and continues beyond Mirror Lake in Tenaya Canyon. That is, at least, what the map claimed. In reality, the trail led us only as far as Ahwahnee Meadow.

Houses stand at the western edge of the open field. One or two of the larger bungalows have picture windows providing lucky residents with an unobstructed view of Half Dome. Waking up and seeing that every morning must be incredible.

We took our time crossing the valley, stopping every now and then to take photos or to simply stop. We eventually made our way back to Curry Village to pick up the car and drive to Badger Pass, Yosemite's ski area. It would be nice to brag about hurtling myself down steep snow slopes, but the closest I came to hurtling myself down anything was the staircase to the bathroom (and even then, I descended in careful, measured steps).

A few observations from my time at Badger Pass:

• All I need is the sun and some snow to cry on cue.
• It just seems wrong (yet somewhat cool) to see people skiing in t-shirts and shorts.
• Drinking hot coffee and watching other people hurl themselves down steep snow slopes is more enjoyable, less expensive and considerably safer than doing it yourself.
• Snow causes the price of everything to rise. A Deg muffin in the valley costs $1.95. A Deg muffin in the snow costs $4.50.
• I definitely want to snowshoe in the park next winter.

On the way back to the valley, we took photos from Tunnel View and spent some time on Sentinel Bridge photographing Half Dome at sunset (those pictures in another entry). As darkness fell over the park, we made our way to Yosemite Lodge and dined at the Mountain Room Restaurant before retiring for the night.

Last night, I saw The Upside of Anger starring Joan Allen and Kevin Costner. Allen plays Terry Wolfmeyer, a wealthy housewife whose husband has suddenly disappeared with his young secretary. She is left to raise her four daughters on her own. Costner plays Denny Davies, her neighbor and soon-to-be love interest. He is a radio talk show host and a former baseball player.

I've seen this film categorized as a "romantic comedy/drama". After watching it, I'd categorize it as a drama balanced by comedy. It would have seemed much longer and heavier without the infusion of humor. The movie is a study in anger.

Terry is angry with her husband and deals with it by abusing herself. She likes to drink vodka, lots of vodka. If one were to attempt to match her drink for drink, he or she would pass out thirty minutes into the film and have a very large tab to pay after regaining consciousness. When drinking becomes an insufficient coping mechanism, she resorts to verbally lashing out at those around her.

Denny, seeing Terry in pain, attempts to be her shoulder to lean on. He has always liked her and, after a few hilarious missteps, they become romantically involved. Baseball is a source of anger and solace for him. Since retiring, he refuses to talk about the sport, even on his talk show. Yet, his house is filled with boxes of baseballs and bats that he still autographs for fans. He also deals with his anger by drinking. His drink of choice is beer, lots of beer. I typically avoid Costner movies, but he seems to excel whenever he plays cowboys or a baseball players.

Hadley (Alicia Witt from Cybil), the oldest daughter, deals with her anger by running away. First, she escapes to college. Then, after graduation, she escapes by marrying and starting a family of her own.

Andy (Erika Christensen from Swimfan) deals with her anger by rebelling against her mother's wishes for her to go to college. She would rather have a job, so she accepts an internship as a production assistant at the radio station where Denny works.

Shep, Denny's producer, is angry with women his age, so he chases women half his age. When Terry confronts him about dating Andy, he claims that younger women are nicer to him and actually appreciate him. Mike Binder, who also wrote and directed the film, played Shep.

Emily (Keri Russell from Felicity) deals with her anger by bottling it up and letting it eat away at her from the inside. She is supposed to be an aspiring ballerina, but Russell isn't a very convincing dancer.

"Popeye" (Evan Rachel Wood from Once and Again) is the youngest daughter and the only one who doesn't seem angry. She acts as the story's narrator. In the movie, she is making a documentary about anger, which allows the writer to spell out his message to the audience: the upside of anger is the person we become after we're done being angry.

Overall, I liked the film. I thought the acting outshone the writing, largely because of the performances by Allen and Costner. The ending was unexpected, but the resolution was a little too convenient. While not worth nine dollars to see at the theater, I'd say it's worth adding to one's Netflix queue.

This was written yesterday, before the elimination show.

Tuesday's episode of American Idol was all about bigger: bigger auditorium, bigger audience, bigger stage and bigger stakes. Unfortunately, most of the performers had trouble with bigger. They seemed awfully small as they sang songs from the sixties. This new level of magnification revealed flaws in contestants who appeared flawless just a week ago. Because the final twelve is a big deal in the AI universe, here is a line or two about each contestant.

Jessica was the first big performer who seemed to shrink. She lost some of her stage presence and power. Perhaps the lighted American Idol sign, revolving around the tower onstage, distracted her. I know it certainly distracted me.

Anwar sang "A House is Not A Home", which is apparently the only song Burt Bacharach ever wrote. The judges weren't impressed. While it wasn't my favorite performance from him, I thought he showed consistency and control.

After Mikalah performed, Simon said her confidence exceeded her ability. I completely agree. Something about Mikalah bothers me. It's mean to say, but I think it's Mikalah. I can only hope she annoyed enough of America to put her in the bottom two tonight.

Constantine had a decent performance. Randy called it his strongest to date. I wouldn't go that far, but he probably shouldn't go home this week. If a guy has to go, he has my vote, but I think a woman is leaving tonight.

Listening to Lindsey was painful. Her whole performance, dance moves included, made me cringe. If she doesn't end up in the bottom two, I'll be surprised.

Anthony sang a Neil Sedaka tune. His voice has a wonderful quality about it, but he somehow managed to make the performance ordinary.

Nadia. What can I say about Nadia? She was awesome. She changed it up, chose a slow song, but still gave it her own twist. She took the stage with confidence and the confidence was justified. To me, she rocks harder than Constantine does and she can do it in a dress.

Bo sang "Spinning Wheel" and he commanded the stage. I wish he didn't tote the microphone stand with him the entire time, but that's nitpicking. He doesn't have a great range like Anwar, but I dig his voice.

Vonzell sang a Dionne Warwick song and it was okay. She will need to be more than just okay if she wants to make it into the final six.

Scott is another guy with a good voice, but he projects this attitude that seems to say, "I'm cool and I don't care." Personally, I don't find that very appealing. I wouldn't be surprised if he's one of the first three guys gone.

For someone who showed so much promise early on, Carrie continues to disappoint me. She can sing country and country can be cool, but she seems to be squandering her chances to impress.

Finally, there was Nikko, the show's phoenix. Mario's mysterious exit gave him a second chance to shine. He sang something by the Jackson Five and sang it well enough to stay another week.

To sum it all up, as long as the singer going home tonight is named Mikalah, Lindsey or Constantine, I'll be happy.

Update: Last night, Lindsey, Mikalah and Jessica were in the bottom three. Lindsey was eliminated, but not before she mangled sang "Knock on Wood" again.

Happy St. Patrick's Day! I must confess that I'm not wearing green today. The color slipped my mind as I dressed this morning. Instead, I'm wearing black, blue, brown, burgundy and white. And despite any image you may have, they do go together.

To remedy the whole situation, I might have a salad for lunch. If the luck of the Irish is with me, a piece of lettuce will get stuck between my teeth. I reckon it isn't the most fashionable way to wear green, but it's likely the most nutritional.

I still intend on posting more photos and thoughts from Yosemite. I know I have the bad habit of only recounting the first day or so of a trip before abandoning it. It's not that I lose interest. The events just seem to go stale and lose their freshness. Of course, if I were reading this journal, I'd find the unfinished travelogues utterly frustrating. This is a promise to myself to break the habit and finish chronicling the trip.

To end this random post, here is today's Calvin and Hobbes, which made me laugh and nod at the same time.

Hobbes: What a busy day! I'm pooped!
Calvin: Mom says the roads are pretty clear, so school will probably open again tomorrow. Now I wish I'd done my math homework instead of playing outside all day... or I wish I'd done it before dinner... or after dinner... or instead of watching TV... or before bed. But now it's too late. A day can really slip by when you're deliberately avoiding what you're supposed to do.

By the way, I couldn't think an entry title, so I wrote the first three words that came to mind and rhymed with the color of Kermit.

Back in 2002, Joss Whedon, the creative force behind Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, took a break from vampires and demons to create Firefly, a western set five hundred years in the future. It was a great show with creative concepts, interesting characters, clever dialogue and low ratings. Fox canceled it after nine episodes.

Thankfully, the complete series made it to DVD (all 14 filmed episodes), so I was able to add the four-disc set to my Netflix queue. I recently finished the first disc and just started the second one. The show is as good as I remembered it. Actually, after listening to the commentary by Whedon and Nathan Fillion, who played Captain Malcolm Reynolds, it's better than I remember.

Like most of my favorite shows, Firefly has a great theme song. The lyrics that capture the spirit of the story are set to a simple country tune. It's not as easy to hum as, say, the theme from Lost, but then again, most songs aren't.

Take my love, take my land
Take me where I cannot stand
I don't care, I'm still free
You can't take the sky from me

Take me out to the black
Tell them I ain't comin' back
Burn the land and boil the sea
You can't take the sky from me

There's no place I can be
Since I've found serenity
But you can't take the sky from me

In September, the show is slated to hit the silver screen as Serenity. I would have preferred more seasons on television, but I guess I'll have to settle for a major motion picture (and possible sequels) instead.

Before heading to Yosemite, I spotted the new Viennese Blend (Wien 2001) at Starbucks. Curiosity (and sentimentality) got the best of me, so I bought a half-pound bag. When I think of Vienna, I think of the city's coffeehouses. Coffee is so highly regarded there. They brew it strong and serve it in real cups. Coffee isn't something to rush around with and gulp down. It’s something to sit with, sip and appreciate. We tried the blend over the weekend, brewing a pot in the cabin and enjoying a cup to start each day. It had a sweet, caramel taste that made it distinct and delicious. It also went well with chocolate candy bars.

On a slight tangent, Starbucks recently added the caramel mocha to their menu. At first, the addition befuddled me. Then, this morning, after I ordered a grande caramel mocha that cost $3.65, I had an epiphany. Scanning the menu, I saw that if I had ordered a plain grande mocha, it would've cost $3.30. Adding caramel syrup would've cost thirty cents more. Doing the complicated calculation, the price difference dawned on me. By changing a mocha with caramel to a caramel mocha, Starbucks had succeeded in snatching an extra nickel from my pocket. Pretty sneaky.

The weekend began last Friday as we took our first trip of the year to Yosemite. With this visit, the fifth in ten months, I've now seen the park in all four seasons. Each time, there is something different about it, be it the waterfalls (in full falling), the weather (sunny and mid to upper 60s) or the number of visitors (the smallest I've seen). I honestly believe I will never tire of the place. Every time is a new adventure.

The first couple of visits, it felt like I was traveling to a different world, going somewhere remote and mysterious. This time, it felt like I was coming home. I imagine it's how everybody feels after visiting somewhere repeatedly, but I'd like to think there's something special about Yosemite and the people I travel with that give the park that certain feeling.

On previous trips, we've taken the Highway 120 route through cities like Fremont, Dublin, Livermore, Tracy and Manteca and then through towns like Oakdale and Groveland before reaching the park's Big Oak Flat Road entrance. On this trip, we tried the Highway 140 route. This meant traveling through Gilroy, Los Banos, Merced and then tiny towns like Mariposa, Cathey's Valley and El Portal (also the name of the entrance).

If you ever travel this way, be sure to buy gas in Merced. It was "only" $2.23 a gallon at Arco. If you wait to fill up, there is always the last gas station before the park (Shell, I believe), which will sell you a gallon of gas for $2.96.

Scenic Highway 140 runs alongside the South Fork Merced River. The curves are gentle and the slopes are gradual. With a little imagination, the car became a raft, seatbelts became life preservers and we were suddenly riding the rapids. We reached the park in a modest 3.5 hours.

When we arrived, we checked into our cabin at Camp Curry. Because this past weekend was still the off-season, most of the restaurants and facilities in the village were closed or operating fewer hours. Only the pizza parlor and coffee corner were open for business.

After unloading the car, we set out for Mirror Lake to see what the waters held in winter. Focusing the camera on the lake, one can capture reflections of Ahwiyah Point, Half Dome, the edge of Clouds Rest and Mount Watkins. Three of these photos were taken from the lake and the fourth (the one of Half Dome) was taken from Clarks Bridge as we returned to the village. I know everybody else snaps the same shot, but the dome is one of the most beautiful features of the park. After perusing my Yosemite albums, I'm convinced I need to train my eye to see the pictures less taken.

On this visit, I became obsessed with learning the names of the geography, both original and current. For example, Mirror Lake was once known as Ahwiyah or quiet lake. Half Dome was once called Tissiack (or Tisseyak), meaning woman turned to stone and Mt. Watkins was once Weiyow, which means juniper mountain. After so many visits, I thought it was time to expand my Yosemite vocabulary. Otherwise, there's no real reason to know these things other than to impress friends, family and Alex Trebek.

Afterwards, we had dinner at the Yosemite Lodge Food Court. It was like a school cafeteria in look, atmosphere and food quality. I had the trout with broccoli and mashed potatoes along with a bowl of clam chowder. Only the chowder had any taste. With our tummies full, we returned to camp, showered, read and retired early for the night.

I find getting out of bed on a Monday following a three-day weekend one of the hardest things to do. The only thing harder is doing it without throwing a tantrum.

This morning, like most mornings, the alarm went off. Unlike most mornings, I refused to move. The clock beeped incessantly, demanding I get up and shut it off, but I wasn’t going to give in and give it the satisfaction. The high-pitched beeping continued, but I remained stationary and defiant. If it weren’t a digital clock, the seconds would have ticked by. Instead, the minutes incremented. The clock wasn’t backing down and my stubbornness was starting to splinter. Finally, I surrendered.

Stillness erupted into violent pillow-tossing, sheet-kicking and mattress-pummeling. Bedding was soon strewn around the room. With nothing left to throw and nearing exhaustion, I tumbled off what remained of my bed, stomped to the clock and smacked it silent.

It was childlike behavior, I know, but since I can’t afford to hire a child for such situations, I had to do it myself.

I wrote the following paragraphs yesterday at lunch, but wasn't able to post it before last night's episode.

Last week, I made predictions as to who would go this week. I'm going to modify my answers a little, taking into account those who seem more vulnerable after the last two days of performances.

For the guys, I still believe Constantine Maroulis will leave. Simon got it right when he called his performance a bad impression of Sting. If Maroulis was competing against the girls, he might have stuck around another week, but he's up against stiff competition and he just wasn't that good.

The other guy I said would go was Scott, but I'm changing my answer. Instead, I think it will be Travis Tucker. He sang a Bobby Brown song and it was awful. Simon got it right again when he said Tucker performed like a dancer first and a singer second. He has the moves, but not the vocals.

For the women, I still think Amanda Avila is going home. She seemed to improve over the last couple of weeks, but its because she chose songs that hid her voice.

Last week, I thought Lindsey Cardinale would be gone, but after Simon's Seacrest insult, she'll be saved from elimination by irate Ryan fans. With that in mind, I'm guessing that Janay Castine will be shown the door this week.

That’s as far as I got, so here are my thoughts after last night’s episode.

America eliminated Amanda, Janay, Travis and Nikko. Why they sent Nikko home and not Constantine is a mystery to me. I wasn’t expecting to see him anywhere near the bottom two after his solid rendition of "Georgia on my Mind". It's disappointing to see another strong performer leave prematurely.

Just so I have it written down somewhere, Bo Bice sang "I'll Be" by Edwin McCain. I don't know about his performance, but I like him and I like the song. My concern is that he's going to lose his edge in the coming weeks as the show moves to themes and genres. Can Bo adapt and sing country, motown or Barry Manilow?

Anwar Robinson had the best performance of the week with "What a Wonderful World". The guy is a joy to listen to every time. Whenever I hear him, it feels like he could hit any note or go anywhere with the melody and it would sound beautiful.

Outside is clear and sunny. At least it is as long as I look out the left side of the train. If I look out the right side, it's just drab and foggy. I can barely make out the cars driving along the road running parallel with the tracks. Most of them don't have their headlights on. They look like dark fish swimming through murky water.

Yesterday, I took mass transit home. The light rail was standing room only, so I stood. Standing on the train is fine. I like standing. Not to brag, but I'm good at it. Balancing on two feet without the help of hands or handles or one's rear end requires some talent. Not a lot. Just some.

It had been a long day and I was tired. Whenever I'm tired, my sarcastic side tends to come out. Little things that typically wouldn't faze me have a way of becoming the most annoying things in the world. Last night, to prevent that from happening, I started reading a book. That's when I heard a voice. It was a loud and happy voice belonging to a woman sitting nearby. She had been talking on her cell phone from the moment I boarded, but I only noticed her then.

As I said, she was loud. She was so loud, I was sure that people outside the train could hear her (Doppler effect and all). I tried to ignore her and succeeded for the most part, but if the tone of her voice could talk, it would have said something like, "Hi! I'm loud and happy! I bet nobody else on the train can hear me! I should speak up and use more exclamation!"

The conversation soon came to a grateful end. There was peace and quiet. My sarcastic side hoped she had used the last of her daily allotment of oxygen and words, but she hadn’t. The peace and quiet lasted fifteen seconds, the amount of time it took her to dial another number. This time, I couldn't help but overhear everything she said. Her side of the conversation went something like this:

"Hi you! I'm on the light rail heading home! I know! The light rail! Heading home! So I'll see you in a minute! I've had such a busy day! I know! I had to go to Natalie's birthday party! Oh, I haven't told anybody this yet! You're going to be the first to know since I have you on the phone! Guess what Bill got her! Guess! An engagement ring! Ooh! He proposed! Can you believe it? I know! It was so sweet! My best friend is getting married! I was going to tell you when I saw you, but I couldn't wait! You're the first to know! And guess what! I'm going to be the maid of honor! I know! Oh, this is my stop! Huh? Do I see you? Wait! No! Wait! Yes! Talk to you in a sec! Bye!"

With that, she closed her phone and stepped off the train. The doors shut and the light rail was silent once more. My sarcastic side half-expected to hear coins drop. I hadn’t taken mass transit home, I had taken the mobile phone booth.

On April 19th, Rob Thomas, the lead singer of Matchbox Twenty, will debut his solo album, Something to Be. While driving around town the other day, one of the radio stations played "Lonely No More", his first single. It's sounds like classic Thomas, which is another way of saying that it sounds good. I'm eager to hear the rest of the album when it comes out.

What if I was good to you?
What if you were good to me?
What if I could hold you till I feel you move inside of me?
What if it was paradise?
What if we were symphonies?
What if I gave all my life to find some way to stand beside you?

This isn't a picture of the San Jose Museum of Art. Well, it is, but it also isn't. No, this is a picture of the triangle at the northern end of Cesar Chavez Park, where a statue was supposed to stand.

In 1987, Mayor Tom McEnery and the city commissioned two statues: one historic, one modern. The modern one, known as Figure Holding the Sun, stands in front of the Museum of Art. The historic one, the Fallon statue, originally intended to stand here, now stands in Pellier Park, on the edge of downtown, by a freeway.

The statue depicts two horsemen. The one in front, representing Thomas Fallon, is shown raising the American flag. The one in back represents an unknown rider. It’s meant to memorialize the moment, in 1846, when Fallon announced that San Jose was under American rule.

While both statues went through the same approval process, only the modern piece was unveiled in 1988. The Fallon statue, embroiled in fifteen years of turmoil, wouldn’t see the light of day until 2002. Why? This is the question the documentary, The Search for the Captain, attempts to address.

On Saturday, we drove downtown to see the movie. It was showing at the Repertory Theatre, across from Camera 12 where most of Cinequest is playing. We never made it inside though. In front of the box office was a long ticket line and dozens of protestors blocking the way. It was an intimidating scene and I decided to avoid it all.

Yesterday, driven by curiosity, I dropped by the Camera 12 box office and purchased a ticket for the 9:30 screening of the film. Later, I made my way through the protestors and found a seat in the front row of the theater. The place was completely packed.

I recognized a number of people in the audience and quite a few people in the movie itself. Most of those interviewed were former city council members and other notable citizens prominent in the late eighties and early nineties at the height of the controversy.

At the center of the story was Tom McEnery, San Jose’s mayor from 1983 to 1988. He received the most screen time for two reasons. First, he was one of the statue's primary advocates. Second, the filmmaker is his daughter, Erin.

Surprisingly, the controversy surrounding the Fallon statue has little to do with Thomas Fallon. The man, as far as I can tell, led a rather ordinary life. True, he raised the American flag and was one of the city’s early mayors, but that’s pretty much it. He never killed anyone or committed any acts of bravery. He lost three children due to illness while traveling to Texas, went through a messy divorce and was prone to drinking later in life.

The controversy, rather, seems to surround McEnery and three of his opponents. McEnery, while mayor, was a major advocate of downtown redevelopment. Through his vision, the city built the Convention Center, the Children’s Discovery Museum, the Tech Museum and the Arena. All were bold and successful moves, but they came at a price. To build everything, the city razed existing "slum" neighborhoods and relocated a large Spanish-speaking population.

The move made McEnery unpopular with Mexican-Americans and highly unpopular with a man named Salazar, who rose up against the mayor’s proposal for the Fallon statue. Salazar, who attended yesterday's screening, called the mayor a racist and claimed the artwork was discriminatory and offensive to Mexico and Americans of Mexican descent. Thomas Fallon, he claimed, was a conquistador and equivalent to Hitler. They were false claims, but politically and racially charged enough to paralyze a city council uninformed about history and obsessed with political correctness.

McEnery’s second opponent was a career community activist by the name of Napoli. Anything the city proposed, she opposed. If the city wanted to build a new library, she was against books. If the city wanted to build new schools, she was against children. So, when the city wanted to build the Fallon statue, she was against that, too. She felt it was a waste of public funds. She would later be directly responsible for the city spending hundreds of thousands of dollars in additional statue relocation and storage expenses.

The mayor’s last opponent was his successor, Mayor Hammer. The two had a falling out when Hammer ran for mayor in 1988 and McEnery refused to endorse a candidate. Once elected, Hammer was unwilling to confront Salazar or Napoli on the issues. Instead, she let McEnery’s statue sit in an Oakland warehouse for eight years.

Finally, in 2002, with a new mayor in office, the city erected and unveiled the statue. They did it quickly and quietly in the hopes that no one would notice. Nobody did. Most citizens of San Jose have no clue about Fallon, McEnery, the statue or the controversy. The Search for the Captain isn't an unbiased account of local history, but it's a decent starting place for the curious.

Sometimes, there are thoughts so tiny, they are easy to lose in the vast space known as the brain. This is why Post-it Notes were invented, so one could jot small stuff down and stick them to one's forehead instead. This morning, I decided to clear off three of the notes weighing down my brow.

1. I've never really pictured Saint Patrick's Day as a winter holiday. Yet, on my Peanuts wall calendar, it shows the day of green happening three days before the season of white comes to a close (or ten days before the day of pastels, depending on which holidays or colors you observe). St. Patty's Day just strikes me as a springtime celebration. Leprechauns and four-leaf clovers just seem more closely related to chocolate bunnies and flowers in bloom than to snow and a jolly man dressed in red.

By the way, today's holiday links are courtesy of the History Channel, my latest channel of choice when I have a choice of channels. In days of old, when presented with the luxury of cable television, I'd watch MTV tirelessly, hoping to catch a glimpse of a music video or two. Now, in my old age, I prefer to spend my cable time watching shows like Digging for the Truth (more entertaining than educational) or Battlefield Detectives (the Battle of Cowpens episode was engaging).

2. Here is a note with a quote from a February episode of The O.C.:

Summer: Cohen, are you okay?
Seth: Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I'm just having an allergic reaction. To the whole universe.

3. Last Thursday morning, I began reading The Game of Kings by Dorothy Dunnett, a Scottish author who wrote a series of historical novels set in sixteenth-century Scotland. Later in the day, I received an email from my friend in Seattle, who I visited some time ago. We hadn't corresponded in a while, so it was a pleasant surprise to hear from him. Pleasant surprise became strange coincidence when he wrote, "You won't believe this, but I'm in Scotland."

Wednesday's episode of American Idol was three parts predictable and two parts puzzling.

After listening to the performances this week, it seemed pretty obvious as to who was going home. With such a large group still competing and a major quality gap separating the top and bottom performers, the public is typically good at spotting and weeding out the weak. That, to me, explains why the journeys of Celena, Joseph and David ended this week. That doesn't explain why Aloha also had to say good-bye.

She wasn't one of my favorites, but I was disappointed to see her go just the same. I thought she would be around for at least a few more weeks. Yet, through the miracle of popular voting, a strong singer and performer got the boot. How did it happen? What went wrong? I have three working theories:

1. The Unalaska Virus. People voted for her, but thanks to a mysterious telephone virus on Tuesday night, any number dialed that ended in "1" was rerouted to a remote phone booth in Unalaska, Alaska.
2. The Big Typo. Thanks to horrible keyboard skills, somebody accidentally typed A-L-O-H-A when they meant to type J-A-N-A-Y, an easy enough mistake to make.
3. The Backlash. After seeing Alicia Keys perform at both the Super Bowl and the Grammies and watching Beyonce Knowles sing three songs at the Oscars, the public couldn't take it anymore. Aloha, who sang songs by both artists, became an unsuspecting victim in a growing Alicia/Beyonce backlash.

The other thing that puzzled me was something Joseph Murena said. The mediocre contestant claimed to see nothing wrong with his bland performance. In a state of denial, he blamed his lack of votes on a lack of exposure time. Melinda Lira gave the same excuse after her elimination last week. I don't buy their argument.

For a good performer, more time in front of the camera means more minutes to shine and impress viewers. If it came down to a face-off between two equally good performers, more exposure might make a difference. But for a bad performer, more time in front of the camera only means more time to hammer the final nail in the coffin of his or her dream. Less exposure for some folks isn't necessarily a bad thing. To say it another way, dirt doesn't become chocolate just because you eat more of it.

Just over a week ago, as I was driving home from the train station on a Tuesday evening, I saw the sun setting behind El Toro, the mountain peak west of the town where I live. By luck, I had my digital camera with me. I parked by the open field on the edge of my neighborhood and took this photograph.

I need to write this down before the results show airs in less than two hours. This week, the men "raised their game", while the women maintained.

I think David Brown and Joseph Murena will be the two guys to go. They may have been better this week, but they were still at the bottom of the heap. If my prediction is right and everybody remains consistent, then Constantine and Scott will probably be the next two eliminated next week.

Of the women, I think Celena Rae and Janay Castine will have the least number of votes. Celena seems stuck in mediocrity, while Janay can't shake her nerves. If I were to take a guess at the next pair of eliminations, I would say Amanda and Lindsey are out next Wednesday.

My favorites had up and down nights. The up night was on Monday. Anwar came alive and Bo brought down the house. Tuesday was the down night. Carrie and Nadia both strayed from their comfort zones and seemed to lose momentum. I hope all four of them make it to the final twelve.

(Note to self: The next entry must make no mention of AI. Consider sharing a pretty photograph and writing an entry with more than 200 words.)

The last few days have been uneventful ones, spent either in bed or on the living room couch. Life in recuperation mode is rather dull. Everything comes to a halt as the body tries to figure out what it needs to fight off whatever ails it. If the last two days were any indication, my body apparently needs Tylenol, rest, water, a warm blanket, tea with honey, rest, oatmeal, 7-up, ice cream, rest and two hours of American Idol.

Today, I'm not back to 100%, but I'm feeling better. I went to work, which probably wasn't smart, but I'm almost certain that if I hadn't, my worrying would have worn down my immune system just the same. Now that I'm home again, it's time for more recuperation (and maybe more Idol).