Today was quite the day for bachelor-me and technology.
I went to the gym and brought with me a new nike armband containing a discreet pocket for my new ipod nano. It's pretty cool and comfortable... the ipod sort of morphs into the armband well-padded and all. It really did look like the neo-workout getup that has recently hit gyms over the past few years and with the dawn of mp3 technology. Ironically, I found myself on a cross-training (hybrid elliptical and ski-type arm trainer) machine that malfunctioned and apparently couldn't take my weight. It was also squeaky and rocking a bit. The lady on the machine next to me looked like frightened, as if I was about to fall sidewards onto her tiny frame. What can I say? My gym is dingy, old and somewhat trashy complete with the hot pink neon signs. The owner bought out an old motel along one of the popular NY parkways and didn't do much of a good job reminding his patrons that the place used to be a motel. Let's put it this way, the outside view was, well, the kind of view you'd get if you were looking outside a motel window. I also didn't mention the fact that my head is just millimeters away from hitting the ceiling each time I run on a machine.
On another note, after the gym, I went shopping for a car auxiliary cord for my new ipod at Best Buy. On my way there, I remembered my car dealer telling me months ago to press the "info"button on my car so that I can talk to a Teleaid operator for some sort of orientation (if you don't know what Teleaid is, read on). I pressed the button, and WOW. The digital console that was once showing music became a telephone screen, and then suddenly, after a few rings, a woman's voice came out of the speakers...in surround sound. So we had a conversation, and she basically congratulated me for buying the car blah, blah, and then outlined the different Teleaid services after first telling me that she could see where I was at that point in time through satellite tracking (scary). Can I tell you? I love this country. First of all, there's a 911 button in case of emergency. If my airbags deploy, the car will dial 911 (I hope I NEVER have to go through that again). Then, there's a help button for roadside assistance. I thought that was alright, but then she told me that the assistance included running out of gas. WOW. I run out of gas and some dude comes to me in the middle of nowhere to fill my tank up at no charge except for the fuel. Finally, she told me about the info button. I could call up the info operator for just about anything, from directions to questions about my account. But the best part of the info service was the concierge option. Mother of God. With the concierge option, the operator can reserve restaurants and buy you tickets to concerts, games etc. She even said that you can order flowers for the ladies. Haha. RIGHT.
Ipods, hi-tech armbands, malfunctioning cross-training machines and a 24/7 help desk in my car. Ah, the life. Now only if Teleaid could help me with other things...
Monday, February 19, 2007
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Sunday Empathy and Cheap Thrills
Rita and Lily wanted me to mention them on this post as sort of a Saturday night promise. While I'm not a fan of shout-outs and mentioning people's names, I believe that mentioning them would be timely and appropriate in this instance. So ladies, I have no idea why we find ourselves in this situation and I empathize wholeheartedly (or holeheartedly if you may - blech, how dramatic). Welcome to the U.S. It is quite frustrating, although our stories differ remarkably from each other so I'm not sure that we are all necessarily on the same wavelength. Alas, my knees are weakened partially because of...well,...that...and also because I spent the last 2 hours in the gym. Ah, the bittersweet words of frustration, vulnerability and fun. We'll find our way. The year just started (literally! year of the pig - Kung hei fat choy!).
On a totally unrelated topic, I remembered that, a few years ago, I went on a vacation with a large group of friends to a private island owned by one of my former bandmate's family. I have one of the funniest memories on that island. One night, we were all drinking near the beach and had our guitars. We decided that it would be cool to sing as many songs as possible non-stop using one chord progression, something like G -D - Bm - C, over and over again. It lasted an hour, and we covered everything from Extreme to Michael Jackson, U2 to Wilson Phillips, and The Beatles to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Ridiculous. I can't wait to do it again. I have a lot of new songs in mind.
Back to Boston this weekend. One reunion is long overdue...
Now off to the city to see some old friends and eat a free dinner. No work tomorrow. I think. Booyah.
On a totally unrelated topic, I remembered that, a few years ago, I went on a vacation with a large group of friends to a private island owned by one of my former bandmate's family. I have one of the funniest memories on that island. One night, we were all drinking near the beach and had our guitars. We decided that it would be cool to sing as many songs as possible non-stop using one chord progression, something like G -D - Bm - C, over and over again. It lasted an hour, and we covered everything from Extreme to Michael Jackson, U2 to Wilson Phillips, and The Beatles to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Ridiculous. I can't wait to do it again. I have a lot of new songs in mind.
Back to Boston this weekend. One reunion is long overdue...
Now off to the city to see some old friends and eat a free dinner. No work tomorrow. I think. Booyah.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Blue Moon on the Day of the Red
I'll keep this short. It was a good Wednesday the 14th.
I stayed at home and achieved the things I wanted to achieve this Valentine's:
For starters, I had a bottle of blue moon http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blue_Moon_(beer) upon coming home from work. Really good stuff if you are into Hefeweizen types of white beer (I'm drinking my last bottle now as I type this after an intense episode of Grey's - that's right. I watch the show and am proud of it).
Then I spoke on the phone with one of the most important women in my life, my true valentine, my little adorable sister. She is so sweet and beautiful, it scares me that she'll be a second grader in less than a year (no, I am not insinuating that grade 2 makes you ugly and mischievous). My baby girl is getting older.
Finally and most importantly, I went through what I considered to be my primary Valentine experience...
It wasn't a date.
I didn't give her flowers.
I didn't sing to her.
I didn't give her anything for that matter, and perhaps in some respects, I don't even really give her any attention.
She may be getting more attention on this post than I had intended.
She clearly isn't my girlfriend, but she clearly means something to me.
It was just a simple message. A "Happy Vday" message... and that was enough...more than enough. Good times.
I stayed at home and achieved the things I wanted to achieve this Valentine's:
For starters, I had a bottle of blue moon http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blue_Moon_(beer) upon coming home from work. Really good stuff if you are into Hefeweizen types of white beer (I'm drinking my last bottle now as I type this after an intense episode of Grey's - that's right. I watch the show and am proud of it).
Then I spoke on the phone with one of the most important women in my life, my true valentine, my little adorable sister. She is so sweet and beautiful, it scares me that she'll be a second grader in less than a year (no, I am not insinuating that grade 2 makes you ugly and mischievous). My baby girl is getting older.
Finally and most importantly, I went through what I considered to be my primary Valentine experience...
It wasn't a date.
I didn't give her flowers.
I didn't sing to her.
I didn't give her anything for that matter, and perhaps in some respects, I don't even really give her any attention.
She may be getting more attention on this post than I had intended.
She clearly isn't my girlfriend, but she clearly means something to me.
It was just a simple message. A "Happy Vday" message... and that was enough...more than enough. Good times.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Your Word for 2007
The Prata Princess (check out her amazing stories on her blog - sizzlinginsingapore) asked me a very interesting question that seems to be a spin of a "new year's resolution" type of query. She asked, "what's your word for the year?"
Mine?
Confidence.
Mine?
Confidence.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
The Games We Play
Birthday
"I wish it was my birthday, and not a rainy Tuesday.
I wish I was not lonely, laying by your side.
I wish it was a good thing, and not an awful truth thing.
I wish it was my birthday, and everything was cool."
- D'sound, off their new album "My Today" - http://www.dsound.com
This song is off the charts. Sexy acid jazz and with a good chill out feel with a touch of soul, R&B and 70's dance. It's one of those emotional ironies - it's awesome to sing along with this song; it's "groovy" and the tune makes you feel good, but it's also a song about longing and loneliness.
As I type this post at 5:30 on a Saturday afternoon, wearing plaid banana rep boxers and some random t-shirt I bought in a Seattle Costco several years ago, I find myself slouched on the executive chair I had bought myself for law school with half-destroyed iPod earphones plugged into my ears listening to "Birthday" on repeat on itunes, and with my arms reached out and hands sprawled out on top of my laptop thinking about the games we play...the games women play.
I must've had several conversations with friends the past few weeks about playing games. It seems like that everyone agrees that even when one claims that he or she isn't playing, "playing" is essentially unavoidable so as long as you are trying to get someone to go out with you or at the least, one person is attracted to another. Everyone plays the game. When you say that you are not playing a game, you still are playing, just to a lesser degree. So,the only real question left is to what degree you are willing to play.
Someone once asked me what I thought the game was about. At first, I told them that I thought it was just the way things are here in the US (of course, I was pretending to be the innocent foreigner who didn't have a better answer about dating). On a deeper level, however, I did have a better answer and I shared it with one of my other good friends: It's the comprehensive management of another's expectations, usually between two people who are somewhat attracted to each other but haven't figured out what to do yet, and while they are figuring things out, they find ways to keep things hanging, to continue the game, to progress or to regress, or to kill time because nothing else in life seems more amusing then this innocuous and fleeting flirtation. Because it's about management of another's expectations, it can be used to push the other person away, or to "push" the other away only to signal to him or her that the "pusher" wants him or her to push back. The permutations are endless and the signs, well, open to several intepretations.
It reached a point in my life where I said that I would stop overanalyzing women's actions when I found myself in that situation and eventually in a deep hole. Unfortunately, however, the answer wasn't that simple. SOME analysis is needed when you're in the game for cripes sake. What if you miss a sign? What if you, as an old friend used to say, "miss the bus?" But hold on one second, on an even deeper level, aren't you giving yourself too much crap to deal with if you were to think that way? Why does it have to always be about, "how do i get her," and not about, "what the hell do I want?" My best friend once gave me good advice about dating a few years back after my legendary break up. He said, "dude, when you go out on a date, think about having fun for yourself. Don't get caught up trying to make her happy all the time." So I tell myself, well, if you both really like each other and want to go out, then it'll happen and continue, or something cosmically warped like that.
How much is in your control and how much isn't? What if you are absolutely convinced that the girl you like will not budge no matter what you do, but deep down inside, if you DO something then she might reciprocate? So many what ifs. I would need to pop a motrin for each what if that has haunted me in this lifetime. As my more devout friends would tell me, "God will give you the right girl at the right time." Nice. God will "give" me a girl. Perhaps they meant to say that I would meet the right girl in "God's time."
"I wish it was a good thing, and not an awful truth thing."
I can go on and on about this, and chances are this won't be my last post on this topic. Feel free to leave comments, would love to hear about your experiences - and don't bother giving me advice, you don't even know my situation.
By the way, life becomes more interesting when you like someone and haven't genuinely liked anyone in forever. Like is good. Time to head out to the city and par-tey. I'll take some shots tonight for the people reading this post. Salud mis amigos y amigas.
"I wish it was my birthday, and not a rainy Tuesday.
I wish I was not lonely, laying by your side.
I wish it was a good thing, and not an awful truth thing.
I wish it was my birthday, and everything was cool."
- D'sound, off their new album "My Today" - http://www.dsound.com
This song is off the charts. Sexy acid jazz and with a good chill out feel with a touch of soul, R&B and 70's dance. It's one of those emotional ironies - it's awesome to sing along with this song; it's "groovy" and the tune makes you feel good, but it's also a song about longing and loneliness.
As I type this post at 5:30 on a Saturday afternoon, wearing plaid banana rep boxers and some random t-shirt I bought in a Seattle Costco several years ago, I find myself slouched on the executive chair I had bought myself for law school with half-destroyed iPod earphones plugged into my ears listening to "Birthday" on repeat on itunes, and with my arms reached out and hands sprawled out on top of my laptop thinking about the games we play...the games women play.
I must've had several conversations with friends the past few weeks about playing games. It seems like that everyone agrees that even when one claims that he or she isn't playing, "playing" is essentially unavoidable so as long as you are trying to get someone to go out with you or at the least, one person is attracted to another. Everyone plays the game. When you say that you are not playing a game, you still are playing, just to a lesser degree. So,the only real question left is to what degree you are willing to play.
Someone once asked me what I thought the game was about. At first, I told them that I thought it was just the way things are here in the US (of course, I was pretending to be the innocent foreigner who didn't have a better answer about dating). On a deeper level, however, I did have a better answer and I shared it with one of my other good friends: It's the comprehensive management of another's expectations, usually between two people who are somewhat attracted to each other but haven't figured out what to do yet, and while they are figuring things out, they find ways to keep things hanging, to continue the game, to progress or to regress, or to kill time because nothing else in life seems more amusing then this innocuous and fleeting flirtation. Because it's about management of another's expectations, it can be used to push the other person away, or to "push" the other away only to signal to him or her that the "pusher" wants him or her to push back. The permutations are endless and the signs, well, open to several intepretations.
It reached a point in my life where I said that I would stop overanalyzing women's actions when I found myself in that situation and eventually in a deep hole. Unfortunately, however, the answer wasn't that simple. SOME analysis is needed when you're in the game for cripes sake. What if you miss a sign? What if you, as an old friend used to say, "miss the bus?" But hold on one second, on an even deeper level, aren't you giving yourself too much crap to deal with if you were to think that way? Why does it have to always be about, "how do i get her," and not about, "what the hell do I want?" My best friend once gave me good advice about dating a few years back after my legendary break up. He said, "dude, when you go out on a date, think about having fun for yourself. Don't get caught up trying to make her happy all the time." So I tell myself, well, if you both really like each other and want to go out, then it'll happen and continue, or something cosmically warped like that.
How much is in your control and how much isn't? What if you are absolutely convinced that the girl you like will not budge no matter what you do, but deep down inside, if you DO something then she might reciprocate? So many what ifs. I would need to pop a motrin for each what if that has haunted me in this lifetime. As my more devout friends would tell me, "God will give you the right girl at the right time." Nice. God will "give" me a girl. Perhaps they meant to say that I would meet the right girl in "God's time."
"I wish it was a good thing, and not an awful truth thing."
I can go on and on about this, and chances are this won't be my last post on this topic. Feel free to leave comments, would love to hear about your experiences - and don't bother giving me advice, you don't even know my situation.
By the way, life becomes more interesting when you like someone and haven't genuinely liked anyone in forever. Like is good. Time to head out to the city and par-tey. I'll take some shots tonight for the people reading this post. Salud mis amigos y amigas.
Random Thoughts: Insane New York
1. Simpson, Thacher & Bartlett raised the salaries of their first-year associates to $160,000. Soon after, the top elite NY law firms followed, including the "whiteshoe" Sullivan & Cromwell, which now pays their senior associates $310,000 according to a recent article. Utterly ridiculous. There are over 300 law schools in the United States and a significant amount (hundreds of thousands?) of "lawyers" that enter the profession every year. A small percentage of the lawyers end up working for large firms (300-1300 lawyers) and many of them never worked between college and law school. This just befuddles me. I always think that, perhaps with the great exception of the medical profession (in some circumstances), everyone could use some business acumen and a sense of appreciation for human resources no matter what profession they belong. More importantly and specifically, a sense of direction, organization and a sincere UNDERSTANDING of what the hell you are supposed to do could benefit lawyers and even convert law firms into more efficient business organizations. The fact of the matter is, in most of these firms, you don't do squat for the first few years in your career. Yet, you earn 6 figures. I know, I know, who am I to rant? I get my bonus and raise this Tuesday.
2. I was hanging out with two of my co-workers, both NY natives, when they told me that they like it when their man puts them in their place. One said, "I hate it when men say, 'whatever you want honey,'" while the other one said, "You need some explosiveness in your life you know?" GEEZ. It makes me wonder why I hadn't moved to NY at an earlier age. Last I checked, my past few girlfriends were relieved to have broken up with me because I put them in their place once in a while. Maybe I'm just too relentless when I go off all angry about things. That's effin' awesome (who uses "effin" and "befuddles" in the same writing?)- although I think I have to take it easy on the road from now on. My luck on the road has run out - major car accident, carjacking incident, carnapping incident, dude with road rage (who was an amateur boxer) punched me, another major car accident where I hit a police convoy transporting recently arrested drug syndicate members, ... I digress.
3. One of my co-workers took me out for karaoke with her boyfriend and some friends. So maybe this doesn't fit under the NY theme since the bar was located in Stamford. Damn. I couldn't believe the crowd. For the most part, they were receptive and would sing along with just about everyone, but then again 75% of the patrons could carry a decent tune. The unbelievable part of the evening was when the 25% came up. It wasn't so much that they were horrible - one girl had sung an entire song on one note that wasn't even really a "note," had no concept of timing, and couldn't even read the damn lyrics of the karaoke screen - it was more of the fact that if you couldn't sing, people would BOO you. What the hell? This is karaoke not American Idol. Lame. Tough crowd. It's a good thing I busted out some signature songs to get the crowd going and thus save myself from the wrath of the Stamfordites. Very unforgiving.
4. I hear it's bad luck to have things in threes. So I'm going to add this fourth random thought just for the hell of it: I hear it's bad luck to have things in threes.
2. I was hanging out with two of my co-workers, both NY natives, when they told me that they like it when their man puts them in their place. One said, "I hate it when men say, 'whatever you want honey,'" while the other one said, "You need some explosiveness in your life you know?" GEEZ. It makes me wonder why I hadn't moved to NY at an earlier age. Last I checked, my past few girlfriends were relieved to have broken up with me because I put them in their place once in a while. Maybe I'm just too relentless when I go off all angry about things. That's effin' awesome (who uses "effin" and "befuddles" in the same writing?)- although I think I have to take it easy on the road from now on. My luck on the road has run out - major car accident, carjacking incident, carnapping incident, dude with road rage (who was an amateur boxer) punched me, another major car accident where I hit a police convoy transporting recently arrested drug syndicate members, ... I digress.
3. One of my co-workers took me out for karaoke with her boyfriend and some friends. So maybe this doesn't fit under the NY theme since the bar was located in Stamford. Damn. I couldn't believe the crowd. For the most part, they were receptive and would sing along with just about everyone, but then again 75% of the patrons could carry a decent tune. The unbelievable part of the evening was when the 25% came up. It wasn't so much that they were horrible - one girl had sung an entire song on one note that wasn't even really a "note," had no concept of timing, and couldn't even read the damn lyrics of the karaoke screen - it was more of the fact that if you couldn't sing, people would BOO you. What the hell? This is karaoke not American Idol. Lame. Tough crowd. It's a good thing I busted out some signature songs to get the crowd going and thus save myself from the wrath of the Stamfordites. Very unforgiving.
4. I hear it's bad luck to have things in threes. So I'm going to add this fourth random thought just for the hell of it: I hear it's bad luck to have things in threes.
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