05.25.06
Posted in rants, 360, friendster, hotornot, life, misscleo, myspace, online at 10:29 pm by admin
I will confess — if you’re looking to find me on the Internet, it’s not that hard. I have accounts on Friendster, MySpace, Yahoo! 360, Hot or Not (don’t scoff!) and probably even more social sites that I haven’t even thought of. My vast online presence has made me completely unafraid of posting pictures of myself, personal stories about my life, and all sorts of other identifying information. It’s so easy to hit “upload”, “send”, or “submit”, that I don’t often stop and contemplate the potential consequences. Until now.
The online threat du jour in today’s tale of horror and intrigue is MySpace. As a rabid opponent of the ugliest, most poorly designed site on the Internet, I was only forced to create an account because I wanted to view the accounts of my friends, who begged me to join. Because I fill in some non-required information (sexual orientation, for instance), I tend to get targeted by a lot of strange, unsolicited messages from complete strangers.
The most common messages that show up in my MySpace mailbox are from people with names like “HungBrandon” or “Top2Bottom” who are (or are posing as) porn stars, trying to acquire as many “friends” as possible. I usually deny those friend requests because I figure that the word “friend” should have at least a tiny bit of meaning. I don’t consider the lady who bags my groceries at Safeway a “friend”, and I’ve met her in person. Therefore, it’s silly to think that “Top2Bottom” is going to be on my friends list when he hasn’t even bagged my groceries.
Then, there is the type of message that I really loathe — the “let’s go for drinks even though I don’t know you” message from someone who I would never be even remotely attracted to. I know that this sounds snobby, and I generally feel quite bad for not replying to these strangers, but I usually don’t spend too much time thinking about it.
That all changed last week. But first, the background story. February 7, 2006, at 2:16am, I received this message on MySpace from someone I’d never seen or talked to before (personal info redacted out of respect):
Subject: your hella cute
Body: i wanted to say hello to you
CXXXX
408 417 XXXX
Although poor grammar is a deal-breaker for me, and I don’t much appreciate people thinking it’s okay to give me their phone number without even chatting with me first, I looked at his profile and decided to simply ignore the message. While I won’t go into to many details, his profile spends quite a bit of time (and poor spelling, and excessive amounts of bandwidth dedicated to pictures and movies of models, Frappucinos, and Pepperidge Farm Goldfish) explaining how he’s the “fun one” in his group, and how he makes “people show off their true humor in one self”. Uggh. So I didn’t reply. Yet, it didn’t end:
Date: March 14, 2006 8:06pm
Subject: hey cutie
Body: your hella cute and we should talk some more and hang out sometime
CXXXX
408 417 XXXX
Beyond the use of “hella”, can you guess what else is wrong with this picture? We should “talk some more”? We haven’t talked yet. AT ALL. Nor will we. EVER. Again, I ignored this unwanted solicitation. Yet still, he persists:
Date: April 19, 2006 3:27pm
Subject: hey steven
Body: i thought i say since i see you on myspace alot and never get around to saying hello, you are very handsome and if you want i wouldn’t mind talking to you a little more.
CXXXX
A much better attempt, with the use of the word “handsome”, but there’s no way I’m biting. You “never get around to saying hello”? You’ve already emailed me twice, and I’ve ignored you! And again, if we’ve never talked before, you can’t say we should talk “more”.
Although the saga of unwanted MySpace messages ends there, last week something substantially worse happened. I was out in the small park near my apartment walking Miss Cleo, my new chihuahua (who I owe a dedicated blog post, to come later). I had my earbuds in, and I was listening to one of my usual morning podcasts, when a total stranger approaches and starts staring at me and my dog.
After an awkward moment or two of this staring, I took my earbuds out.
The stranger asked, “Is your name Steven?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Do I know you?”
“No,” he said, “But I’ve seen you on MySpace.”
Then I recognized him. It was the unsolicited emailer. Standing there, approaching me randomly, in the park. Because I’m not rude, I tried to make brief small talk, and then I turned away to continue monitoring Miss Cleo to verify that she was doing her business. He just kept standing there, silent, for 30 seconds, staring at me.
Finally, he left. I reflected on this bizarre encounter for a few moments, and the more I thought about it, the more it irked and angered me. In the world of meeting people online, there is an unwritten rule that if you see someone from online who you recognize, and you’re not on familiar or friendly terms, you don’t approach them to meet them for the first time. It’s common courtesy. You don’t ever put someone on the spot like that. Especially someone who clearly has no intention of ever meeting you.
I’ve seen people from online before and I’ve chosen not to approach them because it’s wrong. Yet this socially handicapped crazy person felt that it was okay to approach me by myself in the park. I guess I’ll give him credit for having guts. But that’s where the credit ends and the fury begins.
I suppose I’ve learned a very important meta-lesson. However unrecognizable you think you are, there’s always the possibility that the wrong person from the Internet may see you and strike without warning. Then, the only thing you can do is think of some way to get out of it. Next time, I think I will just lie down on the ground and play dead until the attacker goes away. After all, it works on bears.
Maybe FOX will create a new special called When MySpace Freaks Attack. I’d be more than happy to participate in a reenactment of my brush with danger.
Tags: 360, friendster, hotornot, life, misscleo, myspace, online, rants
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03.22.06
Posted in rants, life, celebrity, fame, guilt, katie holmes, mission impossible 3, movies, nbc11, p51 mustang, scientology, south park, terry semel, tom cruise, yahoo at 9:37 pm by admin
As a Yahoo! employee, I feel almost obligated to blog about the experience of having Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes here at the campus yesterday. All of my comments are purely my own opinion, and obviously don’t reflect the opinions of Yahoo!, any of my fellow Yahoos, or the Church of Scientology.
First, let me ‘fess up to something. I’m a total celebriwhore. If you don’t know what this word means, let me try to sum it up. A celebriwhore is someone who is interested in seeing a person solely for the sake of their fame. In terms of a celebrity like Tom Cruise, I can understand why someone might want to see him because he’s a good actor.
The truth is, I think I’ve only seen one of his movies in its entirety, War of the Worlds, and I really didn’t think it was even that good. No, I have not seen Top Gun. I walked out of Eyes Wide Shut. I don’t really understand why he wants the truth and Jack Nicholson tells him he can’t handle it. I don’t even know what movie that is.
That certainly didn’t stop me from going to sneak a peek at the circus.
Armed with my digital camera and telephoto lens, I got into the line that was stretching around the campus outside of our cafeteria, URL’s, and waited for about 30 minutes to get my spot in a very limited seating space. Little did I know that we would be waiting much longer.
My co-worker Jenny and I took our seats in the cafeteria, which was completely full of people. We were seated conveniently behind a giant gray pole that was directly blocking the stage, so some shifting would be necessary to actually be able to directly see the presentation without having to watch the giant projection screen.
While I snapped test photos to figure out the correct exposure settings for my camera, this endless loop of song clips played, cleverly featuring songs taken from Cruise’s movies. I would have to say that after hearing 30 seconds of Take My Breath Away no less than 72 times, I was a bit worn out. The presentation was supposed to start at 10:30. As 10:45 arrived, and then 11:00, something wasn’t right.
This perky lady (who was either one of Tom’s people or a Yahoo! person — I’m not sure) came out and said something to the effect of, “I know, I’m not Tom Cruise. [laughing to herself] Tom is *SO* cool that he flew his own small plane here, and he’s delayed by the weather! But he should be here shortly!”
At that point, a large crowd of people decided to walk out. After more waiting, our CEO Terry Semel came out to nervously explain the situation and keep us amused while we waited. We watched a dramatic 9-minute montage of Tom’s movies that was supposed to be what was playing when he made his entrance, and Mr. Semel continued to get messages in his earpiece about Tom’s status and whereabouts.
Everyone was excited when Tom finally arrived, in aviator glasses and all. Rather than trying to remember the event enough to give a play-by-play, let me share a few of the highlights:
- Tom flew a P51 Mustang WWII-era bomber plane into San Jose airport.
- He brought Katie Holmes with him. She is at least 13 months pregnant and looked like she was ready to burst. Had Tom flown commercially with her, he would have arrived on time.
- There was no mention of Scientology or South Park.
- Even in his women’s jeans, Tom did not set off my gaydar in the slightest.
- He jokingly stood on top of his chair to make fun of the controversy over his behavior on Oprah.
- He arm-wrestled Terry Semel in response to a (pre-submitted) question about which of them is more athletic.
- He presented the trailer for Mission Impossible 3, and two clips from the movie.
- After the event, Tom and Katie were escorted on a tour of the Yahoo! campus. They stayed on campus for several hours, actually.
NBC11 in San Francisco decided to use some of the photos I took during the event. You can see their write-up on the story, complete with my photos, here.
The only word I can use to describe how I felt after the event is: filthy.
Honestly, I couldn’t wash the stink off. It wasn’t because of anything Tom said or did. I felt slimy for taking pictures of the guy just because he’s a celebrity. I think I’ve discovered why I can’t live in L.A. When the entire thing was over, I felt incredibly drained. Tom was very polite, and seemed like a good guy overall, but the fuss that was made over his visit made me a little sick to my stomach. I guess the concept of “celebrity” is just so deeply burned into our collective American conscience that there’s not escaping the excitement of it.
Perhaps I learned an important lesson about the utter absurdity of fame: That several hundred very smart people could be turned into drooling zombies over the prospect of seeing a celebrity talk about his career.
You can see the original versions of the photos I took here, and photos taken by other Yahoos here.
UPDATE: Thanks to one of my favorite blogs, Defamer, for linking to my photo! [Link: Tom Cruise Goes Yahoo]
Tags: celebrity, fame, guilt, katie holmes, life, mission impossible 3, movies, nbc11, p51 mustang, scientology, south park, terry semel, tom cruise, yahoo
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03.07.06
Posted in life, friends, miscellaneous stuff, drama, linus, mary j. blige, work at 8:06 am by admin
Oh, drama.
Mary J. Blige wants no more of it. I, in contrast, assert that the idea of being drama-free may in fact be misguided, and quite frankly a little bit stupid. Honestly, what is this “drama” that so many people claim to be free of in their online personal ads?
In order to answer this perplexing question, I have to gather some of the more dramatic incidents in my life that have occurred over the past few months. So, it’s time to make a list!
- Running out of gas on the freeway.
- Working tons and tons of hours trying to complete a really complicated project for work to meet a really important deadline
- Having my bicycle stolen from the garage
- Linus, my kitten, jumping off the balcony and nearly killing himself
- Ending a 5-year relationship and moving across the country
- Being abandoned by someone I was dating on New Year’s Eve
Wow! That’s a lot of drama. But for some reason, when I look back at that list, I don’t really see those things as drama. They’re just things that have happened to me. So, how does that list translate into drama? I think I’ve found the key. Drama isn’t perpetuated by the things that happen to you, but how you deal with them.
Certain people claim to have the ability to avoid drama, but it seems to me that this is just a bad attempt at abstinence. Running away from life experiences to avoid dealing with them is just plain stupid. The secret to not being overwhelmed by drama is knowing how to handle it, and take it in controlled doses.
I’m not always good at that, but I’m working on it. Some of my friends might say that I thrive on drama, and maybe I do, but that’s because I don’t want my life to be boring. Would people watch Desperate Housewives if nothing interesting happened on the show? How can I be interested in my own life if nothing ever happens in it? I realize that there are no ratings at stake, and that I need to be careful not to blur the fantasy/reality line, but there is a lot to be said for a little variety.
Drama is created when you get involved with people who are … different. Drama is created when you take risks. Drama is created when you do something outside the norm. To the dismay of many of my friends and acquaintances, that pretty much is a textbook definition of my life, and there really isn’t any escaping it. Even if there was, I doubt I would ever even try.
As long as I can keep my head on straight, and I remember to reflect on rather than obsesss about the things that happen to me, I suppose there’s no harm in having a maneagable dose of drama in my life.
I like hanging out with the crazy people. I thrive on having a challenging job. Linus enjoys taking death-defying leaps from the balcony, and it certainly makes for a good story to tell. Having my bike stolen sucks, but there has to be a lesson to be learned from it.
So I say, bring it on.
Tags: drama, friends, life, linus, mary j. blige, work
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02.23.06
Posted in life, gay, introspective, friends, castro at 8:11 am by admin
I’ve been spending a lot of time with gay people lately. One on one, in groups — I think I’ve met more gay guys since moving to the Bay Area than I’ve met in my entire life. My new life in California seems to have drawn out my homojo (a word shamelessly taken from the title of a Will & Grace episode), if you will.
When Mark and I were together, we never really had any gay friends. Keeping away from the “scene” was his way of keeping all the drama as far away as possible. Needless to say, since he and I met when I was 19, I couldn’t help but think that I might have been missing out on something during my early twenties — and it turns out that I was — but it wasn’t what I thought. Having seen Queer as Folk, I figured that I had only missed out on drug-enhanced sex orgies in the back rooms of steamy night clubs. While I’m happy to say that I did miss that (assuming that it even exists somewhere), I was also missing an opportunity for comradery.
I’ve been so social over the past few weeks that I’ve surprised myself. I’ve gone to karaoke twice, been bowling, met new people from online, gone to brunch, had a mini-cocktail party, and gone out to dinner numerous times, all in the direct company of gay men. Rather than it being a source of stress and drama, it’s been really nice to be able to relate to male friends on a personal level. All my friends have always been girls. I’ll now pause for a moment for the crowd to smirk at the stereotype I’ve effortlessly perpetuated. Now, the girls’ names that have been so much a part of my daily vocabulary — Ami, Jen, Roopa, Jessica, Kelsie — have been augmented, or almost replaced, with guys — Ernie, Andy, Josh, Dominic.
Now, I finally find myself being able to relate to people who are like me in a lot of ways. I’m thinking that this is a product of life in Northern California. I feel like one of the Sneetches with a star on its belly, happily frolicking with my own kind, and that feeling is very freeing to me. My entire life, I’ve really enjoyed being different, and I usually found myself drawn to the “weird” kids. My mother always used to tell me that I’m a “weirdo magnet” because I managed to befriend the opera-singing vampire wiccan lesbians. Now, rather than being one of a crowd of misfits, I feel right at home with others cut from the same mold as me.
Still, with all this newfound “belonging” comes a bit of apprehension. Because I haven’t had many gay male friends, it’s sometimes hard to know how to fit in just right. I find myself doing absurd things, like buying a new outfit to go out on a totally random Friday night, simply because Andy and I will be bar-hopping in the Castro. I ponder whether or not I own enough different pairs of shoes for different occasions. I’ve never really been “one of the crowd” and I’ve generally had very small groups of friends, so going out with people who recognize (and stop to hug) every third guy we see on the street is a very strange experience for me.
I suppose what I’m learning is that at 24, I don’t really need to know exactly who I am or where I do or don’t fit in. But I’ll be damned sure to keep trying. 
Tags: castro, friends, gay, life
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Posted in life, karaoke, introspective, ADD, cleaning, organization at 7:13 am by admin
I spent most of my three-day weekend cleaning.
After brunch on Saturday, and taking Josh to the airport, I headed home to try to sort through the human disaster area that was my apartment. I continued to clean non-stop until 2am, and the next day, I cleaned from 11am until 7pm, all in preparation for company — Andy and Dominic were coming to my apartment for the first time for some Karaoke Revolution and Hangar One lemon drops.
As I was sorting through the mess, I really started to wonder — does anyone else have to spend so much time preparing to have a few guests over on a casual evening? What if I needed to have unexpected company? Being embarrassed of the way that I’m living is a total drain on my psyche, and I’ve tried to get past this issue countless times, all to no avail.
It’s not just my apartment. My Jetta’s trunk is full of things from July when I moved here that I haven’t bothered to unpack yet. I have a box full of unopened mail. A box. This isn’t just any box — it’s the box that my new 20.4″ Samsung LCD monitor came in — the same monitor I was setting up when I should have been cleaning my filthy apartment. That’s a lot of mail. It has piled up so much that I didn’t realize I had received a new Chase MasterCard until I got an email about it. Then, I had to dig through the mounds of mail looking for the one envelope with the real credit card in it (not the one with John Q. Public’s name on it).
I’m happy to say that my social gathering was a success, and that my apartment was immaculate by the time Andy and Dominic arrived, save a few tiny details that I didn’t have time to get to. They had never seen my apartment before, so they couldn’t possibly know the extent of my madness, and thanks to the lack of photographic evidence, they will never have to.
Staring around me from my desk, there are a few tiny things amiss, but Mom was right — it really does feel so much better to work and live and play in a clean space. So why is it that I have such a hard time? I’m a successful web developer with a good job, a nice car (apart from the trunk), and a nice apartment.
Why the self-sabotage?
I used to think it was a lack of motivation. I simply can’t get motivated, I would tell myself. But believe it or not, it all comes back to those three letters: ADD. It’s not that I don’t feel like doing anything — it’s that I have too much that I want to do. Sitting here, concentrating on writing a blog post after over a week of silence is such a relief. Although there are 1,200 different things that I could be doing right now, such as putting away jeans, or watching Sunday’s episode of Charmed, or starting the dishwasher, or folding laundry … the list goes on … I’m focused on something. That’s the sign of a fantastic night.
Tonight was one of those nights. I came home and ate my steak & chili bowl from Quizno’s, and immediately got to work cleaning up what was left of the mess left from last night’s dinner with Dominic. I did what seemed like hours of work but looked at the clock on the microwave and it was barely 10pm. In hardly a blink, my place went back to being almost acceptable.
It’s so incredibly cliché when I think about the concept of “taking things one day at a time” but it seems to be the only thing working for me at the moment. I’m taking inventory of the successes and failures, and if one more thing is gone from my enormous to-do list of life by the time I collapse into bed at night, it should be a mark of success. It’s just hard to keep that in perspective some days.
When there are so many things that I want to do, how can I ever feel fulfilled without finishing them all? And how can I keep that discouragement from preventing me from finishing anything?
Tags: ADD, cleaning, karaoke, life, organization
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02.14.06
Posted in life, miscellaneous stuff, anger, baja fresh, customer service, elderly, fry's, retail at 8:08 am by admin
My biggest mistake was thinking that it would be alright for me to go shopping on an empty stomach. I can get cranky when I haven’t eaten anything all day, but Fry’s Electronics was on the way to Baja Fresh, so it seemed completely logical to stop there first.
As I walked through the crowded parking lot towards the giant Egyptian pyramid-themed electronics store, something caught my eye. The inclined automatic walkway that leads to the doors had a group of people just standing on it. At that moment, as one of my worst pet peeves was realized, I knew that this was going to be an especially fun shopping trip.
The purpose of an automatic walkway is not to allow you to stand still and be taken where you’re going. The benefit of this Jetsons-like contraption is that it allows you to get where you’re going faster. While I haven’t figured out the exact mathematical formula, I would guess that you can double the speed of your walk by walking up the moving walkway. However, the people entering Fry’s (awfully close to closing time, I might add) would have none of that. This walkway was there to keep their poorly toned calves from having to perform one single unit of extra work.
As I approached the moving walkway, luckily the lazy people had just stepped off. It would have been a shame if I had to walk through their little crowd of sloth at a reasonable human pace.
This was by no means a pleasure trip. I was braving Fry’s on a Sunday night to find a replacement for my LCD monitor which was on its death bed, flashing on and off repeatedly at the most inconvenient times. So, naturally, my heart was full of joy. After browsing around awhile I found a 20″ Samsung LCD that looked great, and the price wasn’t nearly as bad as I had expected, so I approached the salesman.
He was a young, acne-ridden gentleman with a lazy eye who seemed to be easily distracted. Perhaps it was because he was always forced to look in two directions and the same time, but he seemed unable to provide me with any assistance in retrieving the monitor I wanted to purchase. He was distracted by a large man who wanted to inquire about purchasing a small monitor that was placed onto a particle board desk as a display prop. The monitor was clearly several years old and only being used to show how conveniently a monitor could be placed on this piece of substandard furniture, and for some reason this translated into a very long exchange between the lazy-eyed salesman and the large man.
While I waited, I noticed two elderly men arguing over the difference between Windows XP SP2 and Windows XP Media Center 2005, another fat man walking around and clapping his hand occasionally as though he was participating in a performance of Hall & Oates’ Private Eyes that no one else could hear, and another thoroughly displeased group of customers who were also waiting to purchase monitors but were being thwarted by the salesman’s inattention.
At that point, I walked out. I couldn’t take waiting anymore, and I had tacos waiting for me only minutes away. As I quickly stormed through the store, all the thoughts that normally cross my mind in bad customer service situations came flooding back: Should I go tell the manager? I’ll tell him that I was going to make a purchase, but now I’m not! That’ll show ‘em! What’s the district manager’s number? Maybe a phone call or a letter is in order!
But then, a feeling of peaceful acceptance washed over me. I simply let out a sigh and decided that I would save my monitor shopping for Monday evening, at a different location. And that’s exactly what I did. I went out to my car, turned on my iPod, and drove away largely unaffected by the irritating ordeal that I had just endured. Perhaps living in Northern California has taught me something about being calmer, more diplomatic, and not wasting energy on unnecessary anger.
Or maybe I was just really craving those tasty tacos.
Tags: anger, baja fresh, customer service, elderly, fry’s, life, retail
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02.13.06
Posted in life, introspective, blog, blogging, blogs, censorship, honesty, writing at 9:07 pm by admin
An insightful co-worker of mine left a comment on my post about my personal motivation for blogging, and I really think that he asks the million-dollar question:
“…What the difference is between the diary you keep under lock and key and the diary you put on a weblog, knowing that your family, loved ones, friends, coworkers, once and future employers, etc., will read? Are you as honest? More so? Does it matter? Audience always drives rhetoric, even when we don’t know our audience very well. What is your perception of audience doing to enrich (or otherwise) the human story you are contributing here?”
I smiled when I read this comment because Eric asks the exact question that I’ve been struggling with over the past few weeks, especially after having gone back through my journal archives from 1999 to 2004. How much information is appropriate to post? Should I hide certain pieces of information about my life for the sake of being tactful and politically correct? Should I write anything that I would be afraid to tell my mother, or my co-workers?
The reality is that for me, writing is really an exercise in introspection, as well as a way for me to capture a snapshot of where my thoughts are at any given point in time for later reference. A friend and co-worker of mine gave me a very valuable piece of advice a few weeks ago. She said to me, “You should be comfortable with the decisions you make and the things you do in your life. If you aren’t, you’re not being honest with yourself.”
I’ve really taken this to heart. While there are certain personal things that I may choose to blog about privately, the things that I write here should be crafted with utmost honesty, if for nothing else than the sake of historical accuracy. I have friends with popular blogs that have experienced a certain amount of personal drama from being completely straightforward when they write, but ultimately the value of the output usually justifies it.
To answer Eric’s question, I try to be completely honest when I write. I may rant sometimes in a politically incorrect way. I may criticize the government, express distaste for certain population segments (such as bulk discount store shoppers, or circus folk), and I may be self-deprecating at times. However, I want my blog to be a positive window into my own self-reflection, so I will never write something publicly that personally attacks someone I know. It isn’t my intention to hurt anyone, although I’m sure that I will somewhere along the way.
Looking back, I can’t believe some of the things that I wrote freely on a public website, and I can see some very critical mistakes that I may have made. I think some of my candor came from my unawareness of my audience. Now that I’m older (and hopefully wiser), I realize that I’m not writing into a vacuum and that the things I say can affect others. However, anyone who knows me personally knows that it’s pretty hard (and damned near impossible) to shut me up.
If you keep reading, I’ll keep squeaking. I hope you enjoy it. 
Tags: blog, blogging, blogs, censorship, honesty, introspective, life, writing
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02.10.06
Posted in life, introspective, blogging, blogs, digital life manager, dlm at 1:43 am by admin
This week I had an epiphany. That isn’t something that happens to me all that often, I promise.
For some reason, I decided to go looking for my first online diary, which was hosted on diaryland.com back in the days before anyone had even heard the now over-used buzzword blog. I had started the online diary for the purpose of capturing my thoughts and communicating them to others, which is really not all that different from today’s concept of a blog, I suppose.
Scanning through the eleven entries I wrote in December 1999 while I was still a freshman communications major at the University of Houston, I felt like I was reading something that was written by a completely different person. I read myself recalling dreams and nightmares which I’ve long since forgotten, recounting a series of dates with someone whose last name I no longer can remember, and expressing the things that were important to me.
Later, I decided to import all my old LiveJournal entries into my blog as well, and the memories and feelings came flooding back to me — being unhappy at two jobs, being in the midst of a relationship that ultimately lasted 5 years, and glimpses into obscure moments that I had decided to write about for whatever reason, but never expected to be reading 3, 4, or 5 years later. Each of these moments is like a little diorama to me — frozen snapshots of moments in time that are like photographs, but expressed in words, and the feelings I got from reading them were very similar to the ones I experience when looking through a box of old photos, or watching home movies.
Now, I finally understand what my blog should be.
It’s okay for me to talk about things going on in the world, or to comment on interesting things that I hear or read around the web, but the real value in what I write (and the photos that I capture and archive on flickr) is in keeping a history of my life so that I can keep who I am and where I’ve come from in full perspective. I believe it’s really easy on a daily basis to lose track of how you got to where you are today, because we see ourselves in the mirror every day and become so adjusted to what we see that we don’t notice the gradual evolution that we’re going through.
Ultimately, the lesson I learned from the posts I imported is that I need to always continue updating my blog whenever it’s physically possible, and I need to not be afraid to get personal. I hope people enjoy what I’m writing (on days that I’m actually funny, as opposed to this one) but ultimately, it needs to be for me. A coworker of mine, David Beach, is an enthusiastic advocate of what he calls a Digital Life Manager — a tool that aggregates everything about a person’s life digitally, from journals, to images, to other types of media — and ultimately creates the story of a person’s life.
Welcome to my Digital Life Manager. It’s just a blog today, and it doesn’t track everywhere I go and everything I do (yet), but wherever I am in 2016, I can look back to this day and all the days between, and have a crystal-clear picture of my late twenties and early thirties. I don’t know how long I will live, but even if I never become a published author, I know that when I’m gone people will be able to look back and see what my days were like and what was going on in my head, and in that way I believe that this is not only an exercise in personal nostalgia, but my contribution to the human story.
Tags: blogging, blogs, digital life manager, dlm, introspective, life
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02.08.06
Posted in life, introspective, frustration, jetta, josh, relationships at 10:57 pm by admin
Last night I was on my way home, driving my black diesel Jetta, listening to the previous day’s Randi Rhodes podcast as I often do during my short commute home. As I was laughing at her rants about John Ashcroft, Oprah, and Bush’s lies, something horrible happened.
Flashback to the weekend.
I had noticed on Sunday that my fuel light was on, and I knew that I needed to fill up soon. Generally speaking, however, I’m used to being able to go quite some distance on empty because of my car’s outstanding fuel economy. I telecommuted Monday because I wasn’t feeling well, and didn’t really think twice on Tuesday about driving to work on a low tank because I’d easily be able to make it to work and to the diesel station closest to home without a problem.
Boy, did I miscalculate.
I went to Fry’s Electronics in Sunnyvale last night on my way home so that I could purchase a sound card for the new desktop computer I built on Sunday, but it was only a minor detour from my usual route.
On I-880 I began to realize that I was having difficulty accelerating. I was going 60. Then, 50. Then I began to say, out loud, “Oh crap! Oh crap! Please don’t die! Please don’t die!”
All my pleading was completely useless. I put on my hazard flashers and slowly tried to maneuver the car to the side of the highway. Conveniently, that portion of the interstate had no shoulder. So, I had the pleasure of sitting in the right lane right after an onramp with my flashers on, hoping that my battery wouldn’t die and praying that no one would hit me from behind.
I didn’t know what to do. I have roadside assistance with my warranty, but I knew I was in a tough spot and that it would take anyone a really long time to arrive to help me. It was almost 10pm, and my options were few. So, I called Josh.
As I explained the story to him and begged him to go get some diesel and bring it to me, I couldn’t help but feel like a total f*ck-up. Things have been strained between us since last week, and I had offered to give him some “space”. Saying that you’re giving “space” to someone you’re dating is really a polite way of saying, “I like you, but I think I’m getting on your nerves and I want to get out of your hair for awhile so you don’t stop liking me back.”
Asking Josh to put on clothes over his pajamas, drive to the gas station, purchase a gas can, fill it with diesel, and bring it to me on the busy interstate at 10pm is not exactly my ideal execution of “space”, so I felt insanely pathetic and needy, but he was the only person I knew nearby who could help me.
“Hopefully this little fiasco will teach you a lesson,” he said to me after he agreed to come to my rescue.
While I was waiting for him to arrive, I had my first encounter with the California Highway Patrol. A trooper pulled in front of me, and I approached his squad car to explain that help was on the way. He proceeded to pull back behind my car, and using the front of his car, he pushed me in neutral over to the shoulder about 100 feet past where my car had died.
I was amazed not only by the power of his patrol car’s engine, but also by how clearly I could hear him telling me to put on my seatbelt using his megaphone, even with the windows shut. The officer appeared quite obviously to be checking my plates (to make sure I’m not the stupid car thief who runs out of gas, I suppose) and then, he just left. Poof. No goodbye, nothing.
While I waited for Josh to arrive, I snapped some photos by which to commemorate this irritating occasion. I mused briefly about how absurdly vain I might have looked sitting on the highway in a dark car, photographing myself.
Josh arrived after a few minutes had passed, 1-gallon canister of diesel in hand. At first I was worried he might be annoyed with me because of his comment on the phone, but he seemed reasonably calm, considering the situation and his state of exhaustion. I poured the fuel into the tank, but the car just wouldn’t start. The engine turned and turned, but no matter what I did, it just wouldn’t start. My thoughts immediately turned to the fact that I was wasting battery power and might end up with a dead battery and an engine that wouldn’t start.
I’m generally pretty smart about cars, but I had no idea what could be wrong. Maybe the fuel needs more time to drip down into the tank? I thought, although that was a pretty stupid theory, considering that diesel doesn’t have the consistency of molasses.
As I’m pacing nervously around the car trying to figure out what to do next, patrol car #2, this time with two officers, arrives behind us. I explain the situation, and one of the officers says to me in a concerned tone, “Oh, it’s a diesel. You may have air in the tank. You may have to purge the fuel line.” As I’m trying to process this horrible news, he explains that they’re going to push my car to the next exit to a gas station right off the highway, which conveniently doesn’t have diesel.
Josh drives me to a nearby station, where I buy a larger 2-gallon gas can and fill it with diesel. My hope is that refilling the original empty can, along with this new one, will give me enough fuel to coax the stubborn car into starting. When we arrive back at the station where my car is parked, I notice that some fuel has spilled into Josh’s trunk. I have diesel all over my hands from picking up the containers. I try to empty the larger can into the tank, spilling some here and there, and try to start the car once more.
It won’t start. I’m on the verge of panicking. So I attach my portable battery charger to the car battery for some extra juice, and just let the engine keep cranking and cranking, frantically praying for the car to start. About 15 seconds later, the familiar sound of the engine starting nearly makes my heart stop, and I collapse with relief.
I sat in the car with Josh for a few minutes talking about the issues we’ve been dealing with, and explaining to him that the “space” thing was only my way of overreacting about what had happened between us and trying to make things right. I apologized profusely for troubling him, especially when I was supposed to be backing off, but he remained kind and calm, as always, and told me with a smile that I shouldn’t worry so much.
As I drove home, the stink of my diesel-coated hands mixing with the chilly night air, I pondered many things –my stupidity for letting the tank get to empty, my misfortune in not being able to get to a station before running out, the overabundance of friendly state troopers in California — but most importantly how lucky I was to have someone who would come rescue me even when things aren’t perfect between us. I suppose I shouldn’t worry so much.
Overall, it was a great night.
Tags: frustration, jetta, josh, life, relationships
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01.28.06
Posted in life, yahoo, miscellaneous stuff, work, caffeine, coffee at 3:12 am by admin
I’ve had a lot of crappy jobs in the past. Moving to California at the end of last July to come to work for Yahoo! was a dream come true for me because I always thought that a job at one of the “big names” in Silicon Valley would be the “holy grail” of web development positions. I ended up getting a lot more than I bargained for.
This company really takes special care of its employees, and the industry is taking notice. Yahoo! has, for the first time, made Fortune Magazine’s 100 Best Companies to Work For list, coming in at #73.
In honor of the special recognition Yahoo! received as being a great place to work, I thought I might, as an insider, share some of my favorite things about working here.
- All the espresso and lattes you can drink. How many shots do you want? One? Two? Eighteen? NO PROBLEM! They’re free, people. Not from some crappy machine that the office manager has to clean out every night, but from real baristas, like Starbucks, but organic (the coffee, not the baristas). And they have polystyrene cups! If you’ve never experienced polystyrene cups, let me tell you — they ROCK. Your hands never get hot, they’re more eco-friendly, and you don’t need those stupid corrugated java-jacket sleeves, so you have less moving parts with your coffee!
- Free valet parking. You can have someone park your car for you for free every single day, and the valet company doesn’t accept tips, so it really is free.
- Onsite haircuts available every Tuesday. And they’re decent haircuts! They’re affordable, and only 500 feet from my building, which is a big plus.
- A kick-ass free 24-hour gym. Sure, corporate gyms are plentiful. But the one at Yahoo! is open 24 hours daily, and it’s free! They have tons of equipment, much of which rivals the stuff at expensive gyms to which I’ve paid absurd amounts of money.
- An incredible holiday party. The Yahoo! 2005 Year End Party was amazing. Ice martini bars, a cajun buffet, and Earth, Wind & Fire. The most entertainment I’ve ever had at a holiday party at other jobs usually involved the boss’s Aunt Betty playing “Jingle Bells” on the piano.
- Tons of other perks. We have a whole directory of great things we get discounts on, from Apple, Dell, Office Depot, and we can also buy discount movie tickets! There’s onsite dental care, oil change & car wash, great health benefits, a subsidized public transit program, and a whole bunch more.
So, you may be asking, how can I work at Yahoo!? The answer is simple! Just check out careers.yahoo.com!
Link: 100 Best Companies to Work For: Yahoo!
Tags: caffeine, coffee, life, work, yahoo, yahoo!
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