The meeting couldn’t extend any longer, because she had a meeting at 4:30 pm. Once she hung up, I immediately quipped, “I wonder if it’s because she needs to watch Game 1 of the World Series.”
It’s supposed to be over…but here is a video from the makeup game! The mission was: make a demo video, but a disaster happens.
And this is what we came up with after quickly buying $4 flour at a nearby liquor store. We got weird looks by the cashier with the 6 of us bombarding into the store.
Here’s the behind the scenes look at what happened!
The twinkies was supposed to fall out on impact, but the latch got caught. And there wasn’t that much time for a retake!
He also recognized me too but didn’t express the flash of recognition.
As we walked passed each other on Valencia Street, I immediately recognized him. As he and two others in his group walked by, I stared and let my head turn as they walked by. Someone in the group said hi to me, probably to acknowledge my strange actions. But no reaction from the target.
The target that is…was a high school classmate. Not a friend by any means. Or enemy. It was someone who had made fun of me, but at the time, I took it for attention because unlike everyone else, I was “recognized”. I don’t remember exactly—but I think that he made a name for me or wrote something taunting/annoying/interesting in my yearbook. And perhaps that’s why I remembered him and the others that “recognized me”. At some point, I remember finding him on facebook, noting that he was on the other side of the country.
Then I thought nothing of him for years.
In high school, I could recite the entire class by name. Everyone to me was known by their first name and last name.
Yesterday as we passed each other…it was a strange moment. Why did I say anything? Did I have anything to say? Was there any reason to waste time? And I fretted about it for the following hour while at dinner.
On the way back, carrying my leftovers, I passed him again. Oddly enough, I was carrying leftovers and he was carrying leftovers. This time, I did not hesitate and said his name, “Tyler?” And he responded with my name. We made small chat for less than a minute. And then I was satisfied.
He turned 29! I forgot to announce, but a month and one day later, I am announcing the fact that this wee little boy was able to blow his imaginary candles on his biggest day ever!
Note his favorite t-shirt (obtained by yours truly from Echo Park Time Travel Mart) says My friends are dead and the birthday cake with layers of mint chocolate chip ice cream, cookies ‘n cream ice cream and white cake…decorated with shades of blue…and sprinkles!
There’s nobody else I know in the world that loves the low-brow, values high culture…and will say okay! to everything (except loud environments). It was a grand day of fry stuff, friends, games…and good stuff! Yay, happy burfday taiches!
I have discovered tunerfish.
And I would like people to join me in social checking into videos, because:
Well not this one, but the first blog that I had which was hosted on the now-defunct scribble.nu Sure I had a pseudo-blog on my geocities website, but that was barely of note.
My first entry was on September 27, 2010 at 1:44 AM and it started like this:
It’s early in the morning now. Just a few minutes ago, my dorm neighbor ceased from a vicious phone call. His voice echoed from his room into my room through the window in the airy night.
Then I started rambling about how much I think. Particularly around social status. And then I started describing an embarrassing—well not really embarrassing, but awkward moment in the dining commons.
Earlier today (or yesterday depending on your perspective), I once encountered my major personal conflict. Being forced to make conversation. Of course, it seems so trivial that I should be worried about such a minor detail. However, fulfilling expectations and that innate human desire to please everyone bothered me throughout dinner. Funny as it was, I remember watching a girl with a huge scoop of mashed potatoes on her plate. Much too huge. After I gathered my food from the miniscule selection for dorm residents, I headed straight to a two seater table intending to enjoy my meal in beautiful silence.
Unfortunately, as my luck would have it. The other innate human desire to socialize prevailed in that girl with mashed potatoes. She had walked to the other side of the dining room, but suddenly spun to my table and promptly asked, “Is this seat taken?” I could only sputter, “Uh, no.” “So how are you today?” she asked. “Good…” I began thinking whether I should attempt a conversation. “How about you?”
“Fine, thank you.”
I nodded and looked down at my food. I realized that I did not have a fork to cut my ham. We sat in silence for the next five minutes. Abruptly the girl as quickly as she sat down got up. “It was nice eating with you,” she smiled.
I gave an ironic smile back. Yes very nice. I do love silence.
I smile looking back, because that memory imprinted on me for years to come. I would describe it as proof of my awkwardness in college. I would describe it when friends would lavish how much they loved living in the dorms. It wasn’t that I did not enjoy living there, I just didn’t know how to take advantage of it.
That day started a daily “journal” that has gone on for every day since. I nearly maintained a very regular daily regimen of blogging/journaling. But in the last 4 years, I have cut back because I have finally gotten myself away from the computer. To do what normal people do. Be not at the computer. But every chance that I get…I will write. I constantly write.
There was once when I was so upset that a friend asked me to do whatever I normally do to un-upset myself. Easy. I sat down in front of my computer and started writing.
It has been three months since the initial release of Inception.
I saw it the opening weekend. Then I saw it again a few weeks ago thanks to a deal. Then I relived it again when the soundtrack finally was on my iTunes. It has been the background music for the last few days as I worked, write blog entries and aimlessly browse the web.
There were multiple stages:
When I first saw the trailer, it was uncomfortable. It wasn’t the amazing imagery, but it was the pounding brassy tones. Signaling the end? The incoming anxiety? The tapping of my deepest fears? I wasn’t sure but every time I saw the streets of Paris bend above (I watched the trailer more than 15 times), I felt incredible trepidation. It was familiar of a bad dream.
Then when I first saw the movie, I was suddenly thrown into a temporary life crisis. I suddenly wanted to create. For so many years, I had neglected my lust for creation. Several years ago, I described what had happened to my career, “I create products that people never see…that they experience slowly through changed behavior and use, but I want to create something that will make someone think ‘I just never thought that way before'”. It was the desire to affect people so that when they experience my creation…they are different than when they initially walked in. During a period of two weeks, I suddenly started considering graduate school, made a plan for myself, and talked about it endlessly. But oddly enough, it was the scavenger hunt that stopped it all.
When I saw it the second time, it made more sense. A dream within a dream. A reflection of Christopher Nolan’s movie production. I had read all the analyses. I had met someone who had already seen it 3 times and studied the zero gravity moments on YouTube simply out of curiosity. I had thought about my own dreams—how when I was burdened by guilt, I often had dreams about attending school and forgetting about a homework assignment. Or the terrifying dream I had when I was younger of dying in my mid-30s. My dreams are about anxieties and deep-set emotions.
Chris has this to add about Inception:
It’s like an onion
Lots of layers
Plenty to go through
Makes you weep when you realize the entirety of it all
Not for some people who just can’t grasp the appeal
PEEL, get it???
Today, I received a “reminder” for my upcoming 10 year high school reunion. An evite. I had responded maybe unsure if I wanted to return to a group of people that I barely knew. Somehow the organizer decided that maybe was not appropriate and changed it to a no.
Like many events that I am not sure if I want to attend until the very last minute, I want to have the option of opting out.
I noticed that many were married. Some had move across the country. Some were traveling through Asia or South America. And more so, there were some that said nothing at all.
I scanned through Facebook and the faces had all changed. There was the guy that used to make fun of me when I was 10 and I would run away shutting the door behind me. Then there was the guy who was sort of the class clown…he was amusing in class, but got in trouble a lot…he was unexpectedly smart. Then there were the blond water polo girls—in my high school, they were the equivalent of the cheerleaders. Popular…they lived in the west side in big 3 story mansions. Then there was the girl whose mother was murdered in her own house during my senior year by people who came out of the BART station looking for money—I wonder how the family is doing. There was a name missing—my neighbor who committed suicide a few years ago off a local bay area bridge. And I saw that my former best friend was not on the list—we lost touch deliberately perhaps. And the girl who contacted me a few years ago because she was trying to start up her band. And then the many many many names that meant nothing to me because they didn’t know that I exist and I certainly didn’t pay attention to them.
But the event is free (except that I need to pay my own drinks). At Sinbad’s on Pier 2. I don’t think that I am a tourist though.
If this was a moment in college, I would documented it endlessly without forgetfulness. But today…years later, I am more caught up in the moment. Yet I am still so…easily shaped by anxiety.
But today sadly wasn’t full of geekery or saving the earth. Instead it was full of these three words:
There was a terror I had felt about six years ago when I looked at the parents in the swimming pool club next to my house. A typical day was going to Target…getting the kids to eat…going for a walk…making dinner…sleep. The idea of it still makes me want to flee. But not as much as it used to.
Coworkers always think that my weekends are constantly full of adventure, escapades, non-stop activity, people. I deliberately made it that way. It’s always someone’s birthday. It’s always something that I am hosting. A scavenger hunt perhaps. A trek up north, west, east, or south. Relaxing not usually in my blood.
This weekend, I only said that I was getting a haircut and my coworkers were surprised. But later my weekend morphed into going out for every meal with someone. A casual laid back party. A lunch out with friends…and dinner with another group. And “training” jogs. And cat-sitting. It was packed. But here I am, like nearly every night, back at my computer, typing this for posterity’s sake. Just like I have been doing for almost the past 10 years.
When you meet someone, you can tell immediately whether you can click. Do they laugh at the same jokes that you laugh at? Do you generally have the same attitude toward life? Do you have the same shared fascination of certain things?
I have always hate it when I meet up with an old friend and find that…the “shared” beliefs…are not there. What happened? Did I get more narrow-minded? Did I become afraid? Or from the very beginning, was I already unwritten when we first met and that I only became defined…now.
I told the same joke today, expecting a laugh. Maybe it’s because she didn’t know my style. Most people I tell it too…would at least chuckle even if it was absurd. But instead, it was an uncomfortable feeling. I tried my very best to talk around it as if…nothing happened.