Triumph, I was thinking pleased with the next steps of my current project at work…walking to the BART station. I’ll pick up the mojito mix for this Friday birthday party. I like mojitos. Should I buy expensive mint at Bristol Farms?

I idly strolled through the bottom floor of the Westfield. In between the old food court and the new one, there was a booth. As I approached, I dismissively thought it was some new lotion stand. A guy held out a large plate to me asking me if I wanted a sample. I thought, sure, these lotion packets come handy when I am feeling dry and can fit into my bag…it’s not like he’s going to ask me to buy anything

I absentmindly put out my hand, reaching for the samples. He suddenly pulled the plate away. Confused, I simply stared at the plate.

“You have nice fingernails,” he said. “Let me see.”

I cocked my hand to the side, still staring at the plate which seemed out of reach. Where’s my lotion?? Confused, I leaned forward gazing at the plate of samples wondering why he didn’t give me a packet. Did I have to earn it?

“Uh….” I responded. I knew people thought I had movie star-like fingernails because they weren’t stubby at all. Then I remembered a comment someone made about my uneven nails because I didn’t care enough to keep things perfectly manicured. “Um, I don’t think so. It’s uneven. I don’t want to show you.”

“Oh just let me see!” he said and brought out a nail buffer.

Oh no, I thought. What did I get myself into? Fortunately, I had been training myself for the last year not to be a pansy. So I said simply, “I don’t care about my appearance. Why do we have to define ourselves by appearance. I prefer defining myself by the things I do.”

Regardless, a moment later, he was buffing my right thumb saying things like…now this side is made out of silk and if you don’t take care of it, then it will have ridges showing age.

Then he said like he was about to reveal something shocking, as he buffed my thumb, “Now I am sure you’re going to be surprised.”

I didn’t have the energy to be nice, “Well…no I think I already know how it’s going to be.”

After telling him that I appreciated his efforts and that it was his job…and I should stop being a difficult customer…I walked away with one single shiny nail.

I have always wondered if The Game could work on me when I am in a daze and sleepy.

Like LocoRoco.

Every time that I walk pass a baby, I start thinking about how easy it must be. Smile. Cry. Sleep. And that’s all.

And then sometimes I pass by a cashier, a janitor, a blue collar job…how easy it must be.

I play LocoRoco and wonder if it’s easy to be a blob, creating world peace. And creating melodies causing envy, yet cheerfulness.

But I chose complexity, because in it, that’s where I believe happiness and success lies.

Today I watched three movies. Oh god, my brain is so fried from much mindless entertainment. Or is it?

The Dark Knight
Finally. In IMAX. Seems so awkward for the Katie-to-Maggie transition, but Maggie is more believable. Could not understand half of the dialog due to Christian Bale’s raspy voice as Batman and the too-good speaker system. Got lost in plot halfway through movie, figured out by the end. True internal human conflict is seriously the worst conflict of all. I wouldn’t want to live in Gotham City, but hope is so natural for us…that superstition that hope will come is what keeps us at bay.

Kung Fu Panda
Change of pace. Less gripping of the chair arms from fear that someone will die. I like pandas. Want to rub tummy. Made me want to eat noodle soup. I thought the tigress and Tai Ling would be a pair, descending from the same family of cats. Why didn’t Jackie Chan talk more? All you have to do is believe.

I Am Legend
Watched the first half on Friday and had it paused right before a scary part. Felt interested and intrigued enough today to continue. Initially started watching it while I was slicing strawberries in the kitchen. Not such a good idea. I said, kill me if you know that I will turn into a zombie. But wait a minute, this wasn’t as good as 28 Days Later. I should see The Omega Man right?

Going to work at 5th and mission, I saw first a Prius stopped. The driver’s door was open. Then I saw a Chinese lady yelling at a biker. A typical hipster biker. They were blocking both lanes of traffic.

The incident must have just occurred. As I crossed, I glanced at the stopped Prius. It was a new Toyota. License plate hadn’t even arrived. On the passenger side toward the back, I noticed a long visible scratch.

That’s probably what they were fighting about.

The hipster kid tried to bike away, but the lady grabbed the seat yanking him back. He jumped in surprise. As she held onto the bike, the Chinese lady was talking to the only “professional” looking person in the gathering crowd—a white male in a business suit talking on a Blackberry. Perhaps he already called the cops. Other people were just watching.

A bus the 14 passed by and I could see all the passengers turning their head to the commotion.

The chinese lady and the biker stood in a lane of traffic in front of a taxi. There were many honks. Clearly, she wasn’t about to let the biker go.

Who knows what the incident was? Did the biker come too close? Did she? Maybe she cut the biker off and the biker immediately went to scratch her car.

“Let me go!” he yelled but the lady refused to let go. He said it again and again.

Accidents suck, but finding who to blame is worse. I turned my head to look again, rubbernecking, but well…it’s not my issue to resolve, but I was curious about the clash of personalities.

I was reading a blog today where a mother starting dreaming about the hopes/dreams/aspirations of her unborn son. She said that he could excel in life. He would already be learning how to cook by the age of 6. He would have started a company by the age of 13. He wouldn’t let the lack of social security get in the way…he would succeed. She dreamed…then pedaled back a bit, because well he wasn’t born yet.

At first, it was a nice entry.

But it struck me.

Why do parents have to put expectations upon their kids? What if the kids were born with a developmental disorder and could never succeed in the way you want them to? What if you as a parent could be happy if they could get up every morning by themselves? What if you could be happy that your daughter worked as a nanny not making anything but still loved what she did?

I once told a friend that I couldn’t have kids because I would want to live through them. So that they wouldn’t have to go through the horrible awkwardness I experienced in middle school and high school. And living in a world where friendships are often in doubt. I think I would be happy if they can find people they can trust.

Don’t put undue pressure on them. Because in doing so, as some parents have been described to me, they live in unending disappointment of their children. Isn’t that the worse feeling as a kid? To not be believed in?

I hope it won’t be me.

I am making restaurant reservations 4 months ahead of time so that I don’t get the rejection like last year. When I attempted to make reservations one month ahead.

In order of preference:
1. restaurants up in Yountville; preferably the Thomas Keller restaurants like French Laundry
2. Gary Danko
3. Slanted Door
4. restaurants in Big Sur like that restaurant nestled in a tree house that is actually very expensive
5. Mcdonalds? I really do enjoy their soft serve.

For the last few weeks, I couldn’t help but play a lot of lumines. As a result, I couldn’t help but whenever I was sitting idly, blocks would appear in my hand and I would start thinking about how I would rotate those 4 squares so that I could make more squares. Those checkered blocks so hard to get rid of.

It was a good game, but finally last weekend, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was walking around, enjoying a day outside when those blocks would enter my head and I had this horrible urge to just beat the next level. Just. Beat. The. Next. Level. And it will be ok.

Fortunately, I beat all the CPU levels and the feeling almost evaporated.

Then I played GTA IV. A few moments after, we went to drive to a farmer’s market. I said almost thoughtlessly, “What if we could go through red lights and steal cars?”

And then that’s where the line begins to blur. I am curious if a car can be stolen that easily like in the game, but then what? I would be ridden with guilt and shame. Because unlike the video game, it’s real.

Fortunately, playing Burnout made me feel sick and I didn’t spend that much time thinking about how my car could smash other cars.

Why can’t you speak?!?!?! I stared at my computer. My 4 year old powerbook. A reason that I have refused to upgrade to a powerbook. But the sound, the sound had disappeared from the powerbook.

External speakers worked. As well as headphones. But the internal speakers, one of the many reasons I chose the powerbook over its PC equivalent did not work.

Was I to forever carry around an entity that depended on an external machine to speak?

But no, that wouldn’t be. And thus, I set upon a journey to fix it.

First I came across articles that said it was a hardware problem. But no, I could no longer bring it to Apple Store. WHAT IS THAT the guy at the genius bar would say and encourage me to buy a macbook or perhaps an apple care plan. Or perhaps they would notice my dents and usher me away because…apple care doesn’t cover owner-caused-damage.

I hate taking apart computers, especially of my own. It’s like how my mom even as a nurse who regularly worked in the recovery room…she didn’t want to even do the simple procedure of putting a needle in my arm for IV. It’s like hurting your own even though you believe you’re the only one who can care the most.

But second, it was a simple solution. The computer could not recognize when no jack was in. It thought there was something in there, telling itself not to use the internal speakers.

Declaring, ONWARD, cotton swab! Chris raced to the bathroom and grabbed a Q-tip.

Yelling, I said no! Don’t stuff the cotton in my computer. No, I calmed him down. I said, the guy used a toothpick with a bit of cotton dipped in alcohol.

Chris returned with the cotton ripped off the swab. It was lightly drenched in rubbing alcohol. My computer was still on and he turned it sideways as I watched in reluctance, telling my powerbook that it was ok. He put the swab in. Careful! I said.

And suddenly, he screamed. LOUDLY. As if electrocuted and he shook. I screamed in response in terror. Eyes wide open, terrified that I had caused horrific damage.

Thoughts began racing as he starting laughing. I furrowed my brows in utter UN-amusement. His expression said GOTCHA. But he pressed a few buttons on my computer and to my delight, the computer spoke.

It said, I am turning the volume up!