[above are some of the best examples of my heyday, though I'm sure [...]]]> When it comes to enjoying my young adulthood, I think I’ve had a great run so far. But I realized that at some point it has to come to an end, at least in its traditional, lauded drunken form.

[above are some of the best examples of my heyday, though I'm sure they're nothing compared to yours]

In high school it’s a common goal to be seen with the popular & pretty crowd, except that we only get four years to try. If you stick around any longer, you just might get arrested.

In post-grad adult life you get all the time in the world to try to be seen with beautiful people. It’s high school all over again, except with more vodka, better income and, unfortunately, no inevitable structural change to force you to move on (i.e. graduation). “21+” has a huge “plus” attached, which leaves the door open just a little too long.

It’s interesting to see older people keep trying to pound the drinks and dance and post pictures of their “exploits” and perceived debauchery. While the occasional party is perfectly acceptable, it’s those who seem to press and still go regularly that I worry about. A lot of the time it’s those folks who, I’d found out, want to make up for lack of social success earlier on, or whose idea of entertainment hasn’t quite evolved.

Yeah, that’s me and mah boyz getting bottle service!!! OMG we’re going to Vegasssssssss!!! Dude, when are you gonna invite me to one of those Asian parties you’re always at???

Because after a while it gets a bit… awkward. Not too long ago, a girl at a club asked me “so, what grade are you in?” A little later, as I was explaining to someone that I graduated from high school in 2000, she asked “2000-what?”

When the time comes, you’ll know.

I was introduced to this bar by the Accidental President himself, where he knew of other intelligent and like-minded individuals whose presence I quickly became accustomed to. Though I’d occasionally opine [...]]]> Recently I was asked if there’s any one place I always go. Let’s just say that I had a response well prepared: the Bitter End.

I was introduced to this bar by the Accidental President himself, where he knew of other intelligent and like-minded individuals whose presence I quickly became accustomed to. Though I’d occasionally opine during the rounds of weekly trivia, they were already known to regularly win the $30 grand prize- I would just tag along for the ride.

The group has changed a bit in the past few years, and among them are some of the best friends I’ve ever made, with adventures such as backseat fight night, a trip to Santa Barbara and many a keg of Marin’s finest ale. Some of them are in bands, several of whose performances I’ve been a spectator. When I used to live in the Richmond district, they were neighbors, with whom great and noble ideas were forged over coffee at 5am.

It’s interesting to think of how parallel our lives can be to a TV show, being indelibly linked by a common place despite our different backgrounds. The group may evolve, the dialogue and costume may change, but the set stays the same. And the drinks are as stiff as ever.

Seinfeld has Monk’s, Cheers has (obviously) Cheers, we’ve got the Bitter End. And even if we end up there on the worst of nights, the name seems oddly appropriate.

Which brings me to my niece. She turned 2 [...]]]> Little kids make the world go ’round. It’s not adults, what with our complicated and wanton desires, but the wee ones who gently coax tribute from their parents and families and everyone else who thinks that no cuteness shall go unrewarded.

Which brings me to my niece. She turned 2 not all that long ago, and the occasion called for a party replete with Disney theme and costumes and about 50 mylar balloons that needed to be carried 4 long blocks by your author because there was no room in anyone’s car and because it seemed like a pretty gnarly adventure at least until they got tangled up in some equally gnarly tree branches. But I digress.

She’s smart and can speak clearly beyond the usual grunting and screaming. She eats like there’s no tomorrow, and upon trying to pick her up the first word to come to most people’s minds is “heavy.”

More importantly, though, this little girl finally made me realize that I don’t hate kids, after all.

In college I volunteered for two years at a Vietnamese community center on Geary, doing my best to tutor and teach despite the pushback and brattiness and budding ghetto-ness of the kids that spent their Friday afternoons there. But it didn’t work, and of all things it made me never want to go near kids ever again, though that’s putting it lightly.

All that changed when my niece was born. She was handed to me about a week out of the womb and was roughly the size of a Papalote triple-threat burrito*. And within a split second, I hadn’t even brought her close yet, she pooped.

Feeling that vibration and realizing what happened (and also being unfamiliar with remedial measures) initially horrified me, but at that moment I realized that these kinds of things happen, naturally. Babies poop and cry, because they’re not quite aware of the intricacies of how to run to the bathroom or wipe up or grab a bite to eat just yet.

Extrapolating it a bit, maybe the punkass kids talking back to me at the community center so many years before didn’t know any better, either. They weren’t aware that I was using my free time to help them and that I would’ve appreciated if they shut their yaps for just a few minutes so we can get through their homework, upon whose conclusion the screaming may begin again in earnest.

So that’s why kids do what they do, and, hopefully, cut the crap as they mature. Now I love kids, and have the patience to deal with them. While I won’t be running a daycare anytime soon, having kids in my presence is no longer something I dread.

And it all started with the poop. Maybe it wasn’t the most sanitary epiphany the world has ever seen, but I’ll take it.

I’ve always been an outspoken advocate of seeing the night through. You hang out, you eat, maybe get a head start on the hangover, and you talk about it. The ideas are fresh. The stories may be blurry, but they’re more focused than they will be the next [...]]]> Why do I like being up late? Art.

I’ve always been an outspoken advocate of seeing the night through. You hang out, you eat, maybe get a head start on the hangover, and you talk about it. The ideas are fresh. The stories may be blurry, but they’re more focused than they will be the next day.You’re probably tired, but part of showing solidarity with your friends is getting through it, getting over yourself and contributing.

Besides, every good night needs a recap, or a reset, or at least some kind of analysis to ensure that subsequent nights are more successful, whatever that may entail. You get your cup of coffee, maybe some eggs and bacon, and you get to it.

We’re seen having that discussion in a window off of Geary or Mission or Market at an ungodly hour and that makes us “Nighthawks,” indeed, just like the Edward Hopper painting. Though idealized, I’d always envisioned, and experienced, that scene as a great way to end the night. No matter how the evening went prior to the scene, you’re with your friends having a meal or a brew and life is good and simple.

Maybe it started with my fascination with 1940s America (the painting was released in 1942), the very definition of simple. Axis & Allies, life in analog (the TV hadn’t caught on yet), cars with fins and people wearing hats & ties. A bygone era, to be superseded by the information & drama overload of the present day.

So on those nights spent out with friends, or when I’m just having a long night either working on a project or trying to get into a book, I’m trying to boil it down. Trying to relax and process what went on in the daylight hours. Trying to escape days and nights and weekends spent controlling crowds and managing expectations. Maybe trying to do so with some style.

And I really don’t care what time it is.

In the makeshift marketing career I have, it’s been defined by [...]]]> As individual as I like to think I am, my successes are always tied to big groups. This pack aspect tends to magnify an achievement due to the shared sense of effort. “Look what we did together, and this is what Chuck did to help.”

In the makeshift marketing career I have, it’s been defined by big clients and big agencies popularized by the show “Mad Men.”I always had a great team of creatives behind me, and a roster of clients everyone could recognize [if not despise]. “I work in advertising,” I thought, always had a nice ring to it.

Athletically, it’s been team sports, from 8th grade basketball to the drum corps in high school JROTC [hey, it was covered on a sports TV show once] to the dragonboat team. They all involved uniforms, running and a whole lot of yelling [though not always at a decibel level acceptable to the human ear, for which I apologize, but also warn will not stop].

[I'll group my performance (if it can even be called that) in the 2009 SF Marathon with the dragonboaters- most of the effort was fueled by a desire to look competent in front of other team members running the race. And speaking of which, Bay to Breakers does not count.]

Socially, it’s with the foot clan [don't ask], the dragonboaters, the accidental presidential crew [again, don't ask], the stanford nurses and the 2000 Facebook friends I barely talk to. They’re all good people, with families and (mostly) jobs and an at least somewhat developed capacity to keep on the straight and narrow.

I assimilate well and usually don’t have trouble fitting in. I can give and take directions. I have a role. Or I make one for myself. The camera usually helped.

It took me quite a while to get comfortable, socially, in high school. The cool kids hung out in their spots, and despite my best efforts I’d never gain “official” entry into the cliques. Only after years of this social study [if you will] did I learn to fit in, take what was given to me, and the numbers [as partly illustrated by my facebook friend count] began to speak for themselves.

But even then, you don’t fit in everywhere. Some people will inherently dislike you. Others won’t be able to stand [or keep up with] your verbal output. Others still will belie friendliness due to long-standing loyalties. Or they’re just not into the shit that you’re into. It happens.

While we’re all good-natured, we can’t help but see a group’s unwillingness to take us in as an affront. I don’t always take it well, and I’ve paid the price on occasion, but you can’t say it’s for lack of trying.

Then again, you shouldn’t really have to try. There are plenty of fish in the sea.

it’s a lot of work, [...]]]> a lot of what i do is, technically, damage control, from making sure clients don’t freak out to keeping random birthday celebrants well-fed/drank to ensuring my family remembers exactly what happened on any given day that we’re together [even though all we really do is pay attention to the bigass baby].

it’s a lot of work, with the result looking like fun. the rest of the time i’ll spend in random coffee shops trying to further myself with works of western literature, occasionally lending a pen to a hobo so she can complete her crossword. but i digress.

so anyway, before it’s April first and no one takes anything seriously, here we go.

a lot happens in nine days, especially in my life. and even apart from dragonboat.

my tuesdays are usually pretty interesting, but with some University of California students up here on spring break, last week even more so.

whenever my brother brian is in town, we go to snobby coffee shops. maybe to try their bacon doughnuts. maybe their coffee. maybe just to see if the yelp reviews and food network mentions are really a load of crap. but we go.

last week we tried Philz Coffee, the original location in Potrero. let’s just say that it takes the dirty hipster coffee experience to an entirely new level, plaid-draped clientele and grimy craigslisted furniture and all.

i had the day off due to the recent and very untimely death [so to speak] of a client, so jess took me to see the king tut exhibit at the de young museum.

the title of the exhibit, “Tutankhamun and the Golden Age of the Pharaohs,” is misleading because the bastard himself isn’t actually there. it should be called something more like “King Tut’s Stuff.” still, there were a lot of interesting things in there, and you can plainly see where writers get their stereotypes about ancient Egypt. or Ahn’Qiraj. whatever.

the observation tower was also kind of cool. we finished off the day looking at considerably more modern things in japantown.

when thursday rolled around, it was time again to continue the bay area’s celebration of my brother, this time with his old coworkers, all architecture-heads.

i still think i do a good job pretending to be an architect, so i was able to keep up,  though i definitely started to fade when pete showed us the kickass view from his civic center pad.

the next morning we decided to try out Dynamo Coffee, apparently the original purveyor of the bacon doughnut, but we ate more of the spiced whatever and sticky rolls, which were $3 apiece all around and, honestly, a bit ridiculous.

the night that followed was a happy hour for the dragonboat team, and the unlimited sake definitely shoved some inhibitions aside. it didn’t get too messy, though. we had practice the next day, after all.

and following the next morning’s practice [which involved the usual struggle to try out for the A-Boat, chronicled here, though a boat flip did make things interesting for the newbies], we finally got to celebrate brian’s 29th birthday with the family.

even though every family event revolves around the baby now, none of us seemed to mind, though a few minutes to peacefully drink my coffee would’ve been greatly appreciated.

on this particular monday and tuesday i got to catch up with some people i haven’t seen in a while, making a last-minute trip to berkeley for coffee [where, thankfully, cafe milano wasn't blasting bhangra at maximum volume again] and to Samovar in the castro for tea, which turned into dinner, which thankfully didn’t turn into anything else because the conversation began to repeat itself, though the food was actually pretty good. Darjeeling ain’t no joke, either.

and so it goes. i run around. i take time to acknowledge people beyond their facebook walls. i give my creative and athletic efforts to a dragonboat team that gives me so much more in return.

everybody’s happy.

[do the math, [...]]]> so i finally stopped putting up facebook albums, aside from the occasional picture of food. the predictable comments began to get on my nerves after a while. and i was getting sick of the less social of my friends branding me as a “party guy,” when nothing can be further from the truth.

[do the math, read my twitter feed, parties are rare compared to the nights i spend reading at starbucks. duh!]

…and there’s the whole issue of uploading twice- i already put up pictures for this website, which by all accounts gives people a much better understanding of the world i inhabit. i don’t need to facebook it when i do it here, already.

so… busy month. here we go.

a good friend of mine in the Mainit family, of University of San Francisco fame, came back from Korea for a few days, so I took him to a Warriors game with my stanford crew, did some sightseeing, smoked some hookah, and did the whole tourist bit.

the warriors lost, by a lot, and i got lost on the way there, but the beer made it bearable. i don’t see any of these people all that often, so i figured why not go.

i continued my appearances at the bitter end bar on tuesdays for trivia night, with our team walking away in victory most of the time, though not after arguing the position of certain ‘things’ on certain posters in the bar. being considered a ‘regular’ is nice.

i also went to see the old prom date at the NoisePop “Pop & Shop” Craft fair, but it didn’t go as well or as reassuringly as I’d expected, for some reason. but at least the stuff being sold remained interesting.

[maybe not great, but definitely interesting. they even had a bar, and i found the combination of crafts and alcohol to be at least somewhat okay.]

following a day at the lake, i got sucked into walking with the Loong Mah lion dance troupe for the Chinese new year parade- which I hadn’t marched in in exactly 10 years, since the old JROTC days in high school.

it wasn’t as easy on my knees as i would’ve liked, but i figured why not. and there were a lot of interesting things to see, culminating with, of course, the miss chinatown float. ray made it a point to be aware of its proximity to us.

a dinner back on clement street followed, as did crepes at Genki and a box of Pocky. a big one.

that sunday we had brunch at cliffhouse for the first time in a while, and it ended up being being worth the drive to the far, far end of Geary. a lot of discoveries were made that day, from the epic combo of crab and avocado to the goings-on in suburban los angeles. and proper phone etiquette.

rebecca’s birthday came the next week, and we had a great time at zingari with her and the dragon warriors crew. though the conversations occasionally repeated themselves [i mean, i spend half the week with dragonboaters regardless] and the food was so-so, it never hurts to make new homies in different industries.

at the end, however, the birthday girl kind of walked away with the signed check. i walked them all to the club and returned the damned thing to the restaurant myself, which got me a lot of dirty looks from the staff, but they got what they wanted.

and after another night of epic pictures and great conversations with some interesting, albeit older people, so did i.

in between the ides of march and st patrick’s day, i saw Full On Flyhead and Late Nite Drive at Bottom of the Hill. i have a lot of friends in local rock bands, and seeing two of those bands performing together was incredible.

[my apologies to Angelo for not being able to make his performance with Delicate Pie across town]

and the last of it, following the usual practice, was the night at Swig with misters yee and the dragonboaters. it wasn’t bad, though the flogging of brendan was pretty much expected.

perry and i had a good post-mortem at my favorite 24hr diner afterward and we finally called it a night.

and other than all the ‘social’ stuff, it’s been work and dragonboat, and my trek to make in onto the A-boat for the first tie in three seasons. keeping the intensity up without destroying my vocal chords or collapsing was never much of an issue.

but it’s hard, and it’s a separate path, which i already document on the Ripple Effect website, though i’m legally bound to make it sound optimistic, even perky, the rest of the way.

you know how it goes.

more later. i’ll try to get to this thing weekly, eventually.

“good food and intellectual dialogue and a strenuous workout with minimal emotional distress.”

for [...]]]> it seemed convenient that the holiday no one wanted to talk about, least of all me, happened to occur on the same weekend of president’s day and lunar new year. i think it gave us all a certain degree of comfort, but still.

“good food and intellectual dialogue and a strenuous workout with minimal emotional distress.”

for the seventh year in a row, last friday was the collective birthday celebration of christian, stephanie and irene at Miyake in Palo Alto, best known for its sake bombing ritual and party-friendly atmosphere.

it’s remarkable to think that my college friends and i have been coming here for seven years straight, sometimes with a group big enough to fill the restaurant.

it’s now one of the few times during the year that i get to see all my college filipinos in one place. we’d been through a lot together in the Kasamahan filipino club back a the University of San Francisco, but our lives keep us apart more than ever before. engagements, babies, people moving away. we try.

i saw my brothers at the end of the night back at the Chili’s in san bruno. just like the other filipinos, i don’t see these ones together all that often, so the drive was worth it, even though the two previous dragon rolls didn’t leave any more room to eat.

the next day was week two of my third season of dragonboat at lake merced. more new faces, lots of optimism, a very familiar face and a relatively good practice ensued, though i did have my issues with the day’s particular coaching. ha, dragonboat drama…

that sunday was february 14. officially lunar new year and… that other thing. after a long morning on the books, i headed to the San Francisco Pillow Fight at justin herman plaza to take some pictures and likely run into some people.

i ended up finding diana and nikki and jay and anthony, and we watched the ensuing violence. let’s just say that some people have aggression issues, and it got scary at times, but the profusion of down feathers made the spectacle worth coming to.

afterward we headed into the mission for dinner and hookah, ending the night relatively early because i had to be up at 5am. still, i had the most intelligent february 14 i’ve ever had, technically i got to spend it with two women, and the whole day ended up being a lot more entertaining than i originally predicted it to be. win. win. win.

my president’s day involved driving brian to the airport at 5am, but McDonalds was offered (and accepted) as payment forthwith. i had a late afternoon run along embarcadero, followed by attempts at fine literature.

later on, Tarusan the older and I tried the locally vaunted carne asada and carnitas fries, respectively, though i still don’t find the endeavor particularly compelling.

good food and intellectual dialogue and a strenuous workout with minimal emotional distress, the last of which made the difference between this and last year.

a good weekend? sure.

“nothing makes you feel slightly more important than you are than a white tablecloth meal.”

on a very sad and rainy friday night came the last show (for now) for mr. sankin & [...]]]> since it’s only gonna go faster and faster from here, i might as well post more regularly. like next week. i’m foserious. shall we?

“nothing makes you feel slightly more important than you are than a white tablecloth meal.”

on a very sad and rainy friday night came the last show (for now) for mr. sankin & ahern’s band, the Dubious Ranger. since i’ve seen limited action with scott and james in recent months, i thought a night would do me some good.

we ended up as part of alia’s sequin party, because such theme parties are common in these parts, and even before we partook in the festivities at the Red Devil Lounge, we were already in good company. mister haas showed up at the right time, as well.

later in the week was the blessing of my sister-in-law’s new dental office branch. the usual filipino fare awaited us at Tselog’s, and my niece took full advantage.

there’s something about these family parties that grounds me, keeping me reminded of how important your past is to your future. even if that involves an explanation by your brother as to the benefits of using suspenders, a reminder of the secret lives of dentists or just another excuse to eat 20 pieces of lumpia shanghai.

the night after, the entourage for the upcoming Pabalan-DelaRosa wedding met for the first time, and for some reason i was asked to attend, though my actual degree of participation in the wedding is suspect.

though i thought that the bar, rather than the dessert shop, would be the center of the night’s activities, the conversation at Tart to Tart lasted well into the night, until the yawning began in earnest. still, it was good to catch up with Lucy from high school and discuss  the drama of 1999. so. long. ago.

the next sunday i met the old prom date for brunch at duboce park, followed by a trip to Uncle Boy’s burgers in the richmond with james. predictably, the menu at Uncle boy’s featured both lumpia and turon.

talking with these people always leaves me feeling more intelligent afterward, and i needed all the mental capacity i could gather for the dragonboat team’s first informational meeting of the 2010 season, over at mission cliffs.

how they managed to pack 40 people into a walk-in-closet is beyond me, but i was already having a hell of a time trying to remember all of their names and not re-use the same jokes when people who’d already heard them were nearby. but at least the turnout was great.

the next day after an interview in the gulch i met my last best corporate homie downtown for lunch, and after a protracted debate we went to Seasons. nothing makes you feel slightly more important than you are than a white tablecloth meal.

[this makes me want to spread a white tablecloth on my own kitchen table, though eventually it'll fall victim to soy sauce, olive oil and fish sauce staining.]

i took a walk afterward, making the obligatory stop at acme bread before circling back. herb loaf ftw.

the next saturday was the first dragonboat practice of the season, and thankfully the weather stabilized as the morning wore on. there were a lot of new faces, and apparently some old ones, so despite the rain there was reason for optimism.

hard to believe it’s the start of my third year, and that it all started when i walked by a graphic designer’s desk and inquired when i noticed that it wasn’t exactly our work that he was progressing on. it’s gonna be a long and fulfilling seven months. that is, if my arms don’t fall off.

later in the day i met with some elementary school peeps at tanforan mall for a meal and a movie, which is now becoming a monthly tradition. we’re so different that we wouldn’t hang out any other way, and it’s the traumatizing bond of a parochial education that brings us together.

[oddly enough, we watched another bible-related movie, Book of Eli, which i liked.]

that night was rose’s birthday dinner, also at tanforan, so i got to catch up with her and her friends. i also realized exactly how small this world is, for better or for worse.

superbowl sunday was spent in daly city with the dragonboaters. the best part had to be the food, with mr. tsunekawa’s crab fondue and the salt & pepper wings. i’ll have to thank whoever called ahead and ordered wings for getting the tray ready!

the game didn’t matter to what was a majority 49ers crew, though i was hoping for the colts because half of my old world of warcraft homies were fanboys.

on the two tuesdays in between i made a stop by the bitter end trivia night to see exactly how things turned out since our favorite host left town, and things seem to be going strong in the post-keane era. though for the sake of my kidneys i’ll stop bringing pringles.

…and so here we are. at the start of a new season of dragonboat, of trivia, of a wedding planning and of traditions great and small [though mostly small]. usually you only get worked up over something before it starts, when the optimism comes to full boil and before things get all complicated.

here we go.