What is clean?

Clean is happy.

According to Toto. The makers of toilets and other bathroom related elements. Including the Washlet.

That url was passed around at work as a showcase of video-based marketing. But really, it’s a showcase of gratuitous use of…imagery? Or was it all well-placed?

If I had a clean _____, would I be happy? In some way, probably. Healthier. After all, a friend bought me Victoria Secret’s gc (thanks Carol!) to feel happy and strong from the inside. Empowerment from within? Would empowerment also apply in this case?

Clean is happy. But clean is stressful. Clean is control. Clean dominates and becomes a never-ending quest.

On June 25, 2006…

Just over a year ago, I went to the San Francisco Pride Parade with people I knew from NASA. It was hot on Market Street and we struggled to find each other, with phone calls of where are you and what’s in front of you. Around 4 pm or so, I hopped onto a BART bound for the East Bay and got off at Lake Merrit. I was feeling tired, but I never break promises. The station was nearly desolate except for a lone wanderer.

In the distance as I walked, I saw the large rubber duck floating on Lake Merrit. Part of the lake was filled with rubber duckies floating merrily. The derby was smaller than I thought. There were a lot of people on the hill behind the Children’s Fairyland. I scanned the grass and looked for people I recognized. And I spotted them, up high spread on blankets. I walked over and greeted everyone. I really only knew one person well and the other few I knew distinctly as aquaintances.

Afterwards, someone suggested we go get tacos off of International—the ghetto part of Oakland. I had just wanted something like that. We all packed into an Acura Legend, reminding me of my dad’s 1988 car. I sat in the left back, thankful for not sitting in the middle.

There at the trucks, I bought a taco because I don’t like beans. Then I bought a horchata from another truck. I sat across from Chris and noted how he got one too. It was really the first time we had a conversation of substance. He and I both found out that we always try to get a horchata anytime we had mexican. I made fun of his man purse and gave him my Carnegie Mellon business card because he said he would help me find a job.

He never really did give me any referrals for jobs.

Bored of blogging?

Never? It’s just that I have been distracted. Today, it was this.

One of my friends said that being a designer sucked him out of creativity. For me, it hasn’t ever changed. I am still willing to spend my entire evenings in front of a computer. Hi, I am a geek!

Upgrade the decor

The lovely thisnext.com does it all for me. I am going to splurge $$$ right now. After all unlike some people I know who spend $10+ for lunch out each day, I eat in. Plus, I haven’t ever bought an alcoholic drink at a bar (except once for a friend). So in some way, does that rationalize me spending money on home decor…that I probably don’t really need?

I think so.

His mind is not mine

We were in the elevator since they had closed the down escalator for maintenance. So I waited patiently hugging a new pillow to my chest. The elevator doors sprung open and we piled in. I stood awkwardly at the front for a moment realizing that all the open spots at the elevator walls were taken. Eventually, I simply moved to the back.

Then someone pressed a button. I stared in anguish, a bit too far to correct the problem. Someone had pressed the B button, the last one in the elevator. And when we arrived, the nearly 10 of us, it was the basement of clothes. A few of us laughed awkwardly. Then a guy pressed 2. Probably the same guy that pressed B.

I muttered, “You might want to press G.” Like you know the one with the star. But I didn’t want to make a fuss and stood there in silence as we went to 2.

And so we arrived at 2. The second floor and I was slightly irked as I made my way to the cashier with my pillow down the escalator to ground floor.

But who knows pressing G might meant we would land in a supply closet? Seriously.

On commenting

I recently came across the most hated comment on Digg.

It’s rather ridiculous and immature the response he got. But the fact is that he left a somewhat banal comment that can come across as spam aka check-out-my-website. Back in the early days of Internet social networking, it was fine to do that. But overtime, it’s more about the content rather than the referals.

Besides, I want to feel close to you first by talking and getting to know you. Not by you giving me your business card asking me to pay a visit on my own dime. But perhaps that’s the way the real world is for some people.