Leave it to me, an avid reader of short stories, to assemble, unintentionally, a life of strung-together short stories. There really isn’t much continuity from beginning to end, I’ve realized, except for maybe the backdrop, meandering (though steady) career path and ethnic makeup.

I mean, you can really only do so much. You’re in control [...]]]>

Leave it to me, an avid reader of short stories, to assemble, unintentionally, a life of strung-together short stories. There really isn’t much continuity from beginning to end, I’ve realized, except for maybe the backdrop, meandering (though steady) career path and ethnic makeup.

I mean, you can really only do so much. You’re in control of who you keep in your life. Even at over 2000 Facebook friends, communication is at a premium. I barely talk to people from high school, or college, and if I do these interactions are limited to the usual (and, more often than not, unfulfilled) “yeah, we should totally hang out sometime”.

In most cases, if you’re right in front of me you’ll have my attention, until one of us moves on. And I move on pretty quick. Especially with drama or a particularly nasty breakup or, as I’ve come to discover, a discovery of more applicable intelligence elsewhere (not to say those left behind are unintelligent, just that their intelligence, at least for the time being, isn’t very entertaining).

Maybe it’s because i’m picky. I’m particular about who I associate with, and how we associate, and how that association reflects upon all my other associations. it doesn’t take a degree in advertising to realize that perception is everything. That is, perception without deception, anyway.

Then again, there’s everyday life. People move to Singapore. Or Dubai. Communication becomes harder. Beers can no longer be shared on a regular basis. But that’s okay, because you found a great opportunity somewhere else and need to take it. Or maybe you just got bored of me. Which is okay. Really.

So if we’ve somehow fallen out of touch unfairly, in your opinion, I apologize. Perhaps we can share a beverage of some sort, at your convenience, of course. We can then continue this chapter of our story.

And maybe it won’t be such a short one, after all.

Given that I’ve never been into the holidays at any point, not even my own birthday, I take great effort to enjoy the everyday. The rituals, the commute, lunch and dinner and coffee. I revel in it.

Christmas, Thanksgiving, the fourth of July… All great times, sure, but that’s once a year. Then come another 51 weeks [...]]]>

Given that I’ve never been into the holidays at any point, not even my own birthday, I take great effort to enjoy the everyday. The rituals, the commute, lunch and dinner and coffee. I revel in it.

Christmas, Thanksgiving, the fourth of July… All great times, sure, but that’s once a year. Then come another 51 weeks of waiting. Good luck.

I don’t like to live in stops and starts. I don’t believe in starving myself to wait for something bigger. I think of moderation, sweating the details, and being consistent. Having a full 365 1/4 days (yes, it’s a leap year) that you can actually enjoy.

Which is probably why I never take vacations. And probably why my Facebook photos are never as exciting as yours.

To me, though, they don’t need to be.

No, this isn’t a post about being single.

Anyway, i’m not always in the company of heroes. I go for drives, get coffee and, when necessary, dine alone, which I did earlier tonight at some no-name Thai restaurant on Geary, in the photo above.

Dining alone is something I never really thought I’d do, until I kind of [...]]]>

No, this isn’t a post about being single.

Anyway, i’m not always in the company of heroes. I go for drives, get coffee and, when necessary, dine alone, which I did earlier tonight at some no-name Thai restaurant on Geary, in the photo above.

Dining alone is something I never really thought I’d do, until I kind of had to on New Year’s Eve 2008.

I was at dinner with an inordinate number of Asian friends at a great restaurant in downtown San Francisco. As midnight approached, however, they all took off for their Asian club party. I passed on the event (why pay $100+ to celebrate with strangers?), and suddenly a group of 20+ was reduced to, well, me.

Anyway, the bill was paid and I was lingering to finish my 7th Makers Manhattan before I’d head to the Mission district for a house party.

Right then, however I decided I wanted some goddamn dessert. I ordered a creme brulee and coffee, and it was goddamn delicious.

(Naturally I was using the word “goddamn” a lot after having 7 Manhattans)

I mean, after seven drinks anything would’ve been delicious, but what made it great, I would discover, was the solitude. I didn’t have to yap or tell a story or entertain anyone. I could drink my coffee. And not have to save the best part of the creme brulee for a scantily clad companion (this time, anyway).

Fine dining, up until that point, I’d always considered a group activity. Sometimes, though, all you want is a good meal.

As I sit here in the only available seat in the far corner of this coffee shop, I think back about 24 years to a very distinct childhood memory: being sent to the corner in kindergarten.

We were told to stand in a circle and then make the circle as big as we could while still holding [...]]]>

As I sit here in the only available seat in the far corner of this coffee shop, I think back about 24 years to a very distinct childhood memory: being sent to the corner in kindergarten.

We were told to stand in a circle and then make the circle as big as we could while still holding hands. So we backed up. And kept going. As I backed up, I accidentally kicked some really big stuffed animal. Everyone started pointing and yelling “OOOOOOOOHHHHH”, and the teacher made me stand in the corner.

I had no idea what the hell was going on, but there I was, bawling in the corner. Of course, as a child you can’t control your sense of speech as you sob, with some unexplained breathing reflex kicking in that gets you all snotty and sniffly until you’re one big mucus-laden mess. I don’t even remember the aftermath.

I didn’t change a thing, and I was never again sent to the corner. Since I didn’t devolve into a life of crime and extended prison stays since then, I guess it was an isolated incident.

I’ve found myself picking up more and more checks in recent years. Not because there’s a mountain of cash i’m plowing my way through, but because I like the company. And maybe something else.

I wouldn’t call it a show of force, but it’s politics. People will be nicer to you if you pay for things, whether [...]]]>

I’ve found myself picking up more and more checks in recent years. Not because there’s a mountain of cash i’m plowing my way through, but because I like the company. And maybe something else.

I wouldn’t call it a show of force, but it’s politics. People will be nicer to you if you pay for things, whether they want you to or not.

Donate to someone’s cause. Pay for dinner. Buy an unnecessary gift. Suddenly whatever conflicts you had recently become a little more buried, a little less important. You move on. And you probably got yourself another mulligan.

Because, really, goodwill is worth its weight in gold.

So yesterday I forgot that it was my mom’s birthday. Worse, they were having a celebration at home and I didn’t get out of the office until very late.

At someone’s wise suggestion, I picked up flowers in Glen Park on the way back. I walked in, the fact that I was late was glossed over and [...]]]>

So yesterday I forgot that it was my mom’s birthday. Worse, they were having a celebration at home and I didn’t get out of the office until very late.

At someone’s wise suggestion, I picked up flowers in Glen Park on the way back. I walked in, the fact that I was late was glossed over and all was forgiven.

It made me think of other times I had to do a make-good. From making up for lateness and offending people to accidental affronts and cockblocks, we’ve all been there. My penance has run the gamut from dinners and lunches to coffee and beer (particularly).

In the end, everyone’s happy and all actions are accounted for. We do what we can.

Every weekday I drive along San Francisco’s waterfront to get to the office, and I always look to the rocketship at the end of Mission street. For some reason I decided that if there was a bird perched on the warhead, it was gonna be a great day. If not, all bets are off.

I’m not particularly [...]]]>

Every weekday I drive along San Francisco’s waterfront to get to the office, and I always look to the rocketship at the end of Mission street. For some reason I decided that if there was a bird perched on the warhead, it was gonna be a great day. If not, all bets are off.

I’m not particularly superstitious. I don’t knock on wood or throw perfectly good money into water fountains. I do the salt-over-the-shoulder thing , however, because the consequences involve me being undead. Which is unsettling. But anyway.

I don’t think it matters either way, because less than three minutes after passing the rocketship this morning I got cut off by some speeding jackass in a van and went on to flip him off.

Yeah, it’s gonna be an interesting day.

I tend to keep a lot of my receipts. Not because i’m a pack rat or anything, I just like to hold on to certain memories.

I mean, some receipts I can do without. Like the six times a week I get coffee. Or every tank of gas. Random trips to Target. Who cares?

But the important ones, [...]]]>

I tend to keep a lot of my receipts. Not because i’m a pack rat or anything, I just like to hold on to certain memories.

I mean, some receipts I can do without. Like the six times a week I get coffee. Or every tank of gas. Random trips to Target. Who cares?

But the important ones, even if I lose them eventually, I’d usually find again later and they’d trigger a great memory. Like that time we went to go eat and had foie gras. Or When I got you that really cool present you still use today. Or when we visited an establishment in Vegas whose receipt only had the letters “SR” at the top. Yeah.

Because some things are worth hanging on to, if for a time.

So this past weekend I was invited to a birthday party for an old college friend. I caught up with a few people, met a few more, drank and had a pretty good time.

It’s weird to think that I graduated college (undergrad) about eight years ago. Not long ago I still remember working at the mall [...]]]>

So this past weekend I was invited to a birthday party for an old college friend. I caught up with a few people, met a few more, drank and had a pretty good time.

It’s weird to think that I graduated college (undergrad) about eight years ago. Not long ago I still remember working at the mall and taking the bus everywhere for lack of a driver’s license. Things have certainly changed.

And while I appreciate being invited to see old friends these days, it doesn’t seem like I’ve held onto my old friends as tightly as I should have. I see people hanging out with the same groups they were in high school or college. They’re going to happy hours and snowboarding trips and taking part in each other’s weddings, throwing bouquets and all.

I barely talk to the old homies, seeing them maybe once or twice a year for a 4th of July barbecue which would awkwardly feature a coworker of theirs i dated, or a club party which i’m thankful for being invited to but can only really tolerate for about 20 minutes due to the noise and yelling and proliferation of ghetto G’s. I’m not being invited to the things that “close” friends are invited to, no matter how close the friendships i had with the participants were in the past.

I mean, I don’t see it as a problem. There isn’t a requirement anywhere out there that says anyone has to have a very tight-knit group of friends that you’ve known for years and years. Personally, I’d get sick of seeing the same people over and over, but other people don’t see it that way.

Still, though, when you see people you know having a great time without you, it makes you think.

Since the beginning of time, the fade (high or low, or a zero) has been the default haircut of the Filipino American male. It’s cheap, relatively easy and can be done at home. It goes with most outfits and isn’t all that hard to maintain.

I’ve tried variations, like the full head shave prior to my first [...]]]>

Since the beginning of time, the fade (high or low, or a zero) has been the default haircut of the Filipino American male. It’s cheap, relatively easy and can be done at home. It goes with most outfits and isn’t all that hard to maintain.

I’ve tried variations, like the full head shave prior to my first trip to Europe, the mullet that all American children have at some point due to the carelessness of their parents and the high and tight military style during Army JROTC in high school (which ensured that we looked bald outside of the berets we wore for drum corps). But I always went back to this.

And now that the frequency of my haircut isn’t dependent on how nice I am to my brothers during any given week (we cut each others’ hair growing up, naturally fights would delay these procedures), I walk out of a barber on Geneva every 2-3 weeks feeling shorn and hopeful.

It’s kind of a nice rhythm.