iron chef what?

cat lounging on fridge watching me putz around the kitchen.

after 2 hrs of running around, buying the necessary equipment, ingredients for my big project, i actually spent another few hours completing it.

wow.

i know. for other peeps, maybe it is nothing, but for the allergic to cooking me? it wasn't the norm. i have to admit though, it was pretty fun. it turned out ok, i guess. haven't really tasted it yet, but it looks somewhat like what its supposed to look like. tomorrow shall be the guinea pig day, either it turns out ok or i get food poisoning. we'll see.

all this for a skirt.

i see burnt stuff in the future

bravado.

that shit’ll get you in trouble.

hiding behind that cloak of false invincibility, you will find that certain things come out of your mouth unexpectedly, shocking even yourself. For that instant, maybe you’ll feel really good about it, but inevitably, you’ll find yourself crouched up in the corner, rocking back and forth, thinking to yourself “what the fuck did i just get myself into?”

crème brule? CRÈME BRULE?

here fishy fishy fishy

this is purely for my own enjoyment. something to stop me from smacking every single coworker of mine (well, maybe except one). something about going to my happy place or something.

--------------------

with a sly, slightly mischievous, i-know-something-you-don't smile on her face, she sits there, across from me. Strands of her hair cascades down the front, semi-covering her right eye. her face is tilted slightly downwards, but she's looking right at me.

i study the freckles on her face, trace the upward curling of her lips with my eyes, see her hand moving her hair out of her face, stare into her big brown eyes.

and i get lost.

note to self

go to bed earlier, you fumbduck.

cigarettes and coffee can only hold you up for so long.

rain, rain go away

come again another day.

it rained and rained. patches of heavy downpour sandwiched between brief spurts of relief.

i stood there, right under the entrance, staring out at the ghost town of a parking lot, thinking of those who left while it was still light out. i took a cigarette out of my pocket and hesitated a bit before lighting it up.

shit, i'm not supposed to be smoking here, am i? ah, fuck it. it's pouring. what the fuck are they gonna do?

so i stood there for a good 5 minutes, waiting for the rain to let up, wondering why i was even there at that time of day. it's hard to get motivated when you no longer care, and yet i was still there. sometimes i don't understand myself.

the rain didn't let up at all, so i just flicked the cigarette off somewhere, and strolled through the rain, jumping in puddles along the way.

rose

What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;

a name is only a label attached by others to define what it means to them. i used to want to label everything, but now i've realized that not everything we have in our lives can be cleanly labelled. somethings are in between definitions and doesn't fit into a clear cut box.

know what it means to you, and let that be it.

for once in a fucking long long time, i'm content, even though i can't really put a name to it.

maybe a few belly dancers had to do with it? i do not know.

i smell trouble

so i faxed in that stuff.

after procrastinating for months and months, i finally did it.  with blind faith and no research, i decided to finally commit.  ouch.  blimpie flashback, anyone?  this almost reminds me of how i choose stocks.  pure instincts, no research.  i seem to think that i can fucking will it to go the way i want it to.  only i don’t have any control in this once i’m in.

it almost doesn’t seem real, playing with equity.  it’s just numbers.  you don’t feel the weight of the money.  once in a while, you’ll have a moment of clarity and put things in perspective, only to realize that you’re playing with a somewhat significant amount of money.  but then that moment never lasts, and you forget it as easily as you take a breath.

funny how some poor fuck like me can play around with paper money and have so many chances to get in trouble.

oh, i’m in so much fucking trouble.

jab

turn the music on. not that loud. it’s late, and the neighbors are asleep.

wrap your left wrist first. make sure it’s tight. now do the right hand. make it snug, but don’t cut off circulation, dumb ass.

ok. let’s go.

right jab. jab. left straight. concentrate.

watch your steps.

breathe. jab. jab.

bob. weave. duck. move.

take it easy on the wrist, will you? space yourself better.

breathe. don’t think. concentrate.

feel the burn. don’t stop. keep going. keep those arms up a bit longer.

you finally stop. sweat dripping from your forehead, and you wipe them off with your hand wraps. you labor to catch your breath, leaning forward, hands on knees.

after a while, your body recovers, calms down, and your mind starts to wander again. a smile creeps up on you, and you feel a certain optimism in you.

with the smile still lingering, you stand up, face the bag again, and take on round 2.

meow

crazy cat picture posting person strikes again!

ba ba

when i grow up, i want to be just like my dad.

yesterday was fathers day. for the past 10 yrs, all that meant for me was a phone call back home and a 3 minute conversation with him. we talk a bit about golf, he asks me if everything's ok with me, and we end the conversation, always with him saying "you take care, ok?"

my dad grew up in a small town, poor. but somehow he turned that into a college education in taiwan, a masters degree in the university of kansas, a few years working on wall st in nyc, his own insurance company, an electronics factory, and now a plastic injection/molding factory.

through ups and downs, he always came home, leaving all the baggage outside the door. never once would he take out his frustration on his family. his job was the protector, and protect us he did. even now, he'll just smile when i ask him about the downs he went through. smile and say "when you grow older, i'll tell you."

i imagine the path he took, the difficulties he had to overcome to get to where he is now, and i can only admire the dedication, hard work and determination. maybe the last generation really was built stronger than this one. put me in his shoes, and i'm not sure i can even take one step, let alone walk a mile.

i strive to be just like him, and if i turn out to be only a fraction of the person my dad turned out to be, i'll be fine in life.

happy fathers day, ba.

sticky

just as things were progressing at a nice, steady pace, complications arise.

sure, i expected them at some point in time, just not right now. i wanted to enjoy this unbridled joy a bit longer. but things are the way they are, and i'm actually ok with it. dealing with the issues that arise are just part of the equation, i guess.

what will become of those bumps on the road? will i be successful in navigating past them? that, i do not know. all i know is i'll try. that's all i can do, i reckon. let the chips fall where they may.

it does feel kind of alive to actually care enough to want to jump through hurdles though.

wanting

you look over, and you see the corner of her mouth dancing as she's talking.

you want to reach over and trace the silhouette of her face, just to feel her skin under your finger.

you want to lean in, get in real close, and whisper something in her ear, your face brushing against hers.

you want to gently brush your lips against hers, feeling the heat from her lips, hearing your pulse race.

but somehow, you don't.

and you're left wanting.

man, i wish i were a cat

weekend by the numbers

total golf time : 12 hrs.
time debating if we should go to AC : 1 hr
drive up to AC : 3.5 hrs
gambling : 6 hrs
number of playable hands : 10
number of hands won : 3
number of times i cussed out the world : 3489962895
amount of cash donated to the AC township : 22849 (yen) / 5407 (rubles) / 200 (usd)
number of crack whores seen : 0
number of strippers visited : 0
time we departed AC : what time did i lose all my money?
time spent eating breakfast at mcD : 15 minutes
time spent driving before fading and finding spot to nap : 10 minutes
time spent napping at location 1 : 1 hr
time spent driving before fading again : 20 minutes
time spent locating perfect napping spot with shade : 10 minutes
time spent on 2nd nap : 2 hrs
time spent napping after somehow miraculously getting home : 3 hrs.
text messages received/sent during said nap : 2
phone calls during said nap : 3
phone calls that i can remember the actual conversation : 1
time spent staring : 4 hrs
time spent crying over my non-existant golf game : 1.5
time spent trying not to kill grey fluff for rubbing it in : 4

so it takes a weekend of getting your ass kicked in golf to feel humble, to feel that ok, maybe you’re not that good, no matter what your delusional mind kept on telling you.

it’s ok. sure, i’m hurting like a skinned cat right now, but mark my words, grey fluffy fuck, the day shall come once again, in the near future, where i will be able to look at your 270 yd drives, straight 7 wood, precision chips and dead-on putts and spit in it’s face.

because i am ed.

96

not 69, you fucking pervs.

my grandma turned 96 today.

naturally, it was another occassion for the dysfunctional bunch (taiwanese edition) to celebrate her birthday. and me, i was obligated to attend said function. it was either attend or have my mom scream at me for the next 10 yrs about it. i should've just moved out of the area, or at least told them that, when i had the chance.

so instead being somewhere else and doing something that i might actually enjoy, i get to deal with 1 cranky 96 yr old, 1 nagging mom, 2 uncles that i see twice a yr and never get past "hi", 1 aunt who probably hates being there more than i do, a married cousin, her husband and her two kids that makes me want to neuter myself so i never produce such offsprings.

ever had a 90 minute dinner in complete silence? no? you should come have dinner with us someday. i guess it probably is somewhat of an uncomfortable silence, but i've gotten so used to it i actually find it funny.

it's actually quite sad, when you com to think about it. here's a whole bunch of blood relatives that deep down inside, cares a lot about each other. but they suck at conveying that through words or actions. they bicker about the minor stuff at every opportunity. i can't even begin to count how many screaming and yelling episodes i've been a witness to.

but somehow, we managed to make it through dinner without spitting at each other, or gauging someone else's eyes out, so it was a success afterall, relatively. ha ha. get it? relatively.

can't wait till the next fucking family gathering.

i swear i had a point when i started writing this

this is not normal.

for me, at least.

imagine that i'm walking along a narrow path, minding my own business. birds were chirping, bees buzzing and all those images that evoke peaceful happy world peace emotions.

then the clouds moved in. the day became dark and the wind started to pick up. cows, houses, cars etc started cutting through the sky. just imagine the movie Twister, and instead of bill pullman and helen hunt, put me in there. so i'm there, dodging cows, Volvos, left and right, getting drenched and just generally battered by all kinds of shit.

now, get this. suddenly, i don't feel the wind blowing around me, and the pattering of raindrops against my skin is gone. i look, and the rain is still pouring, the wind still howling. The raindrops splatter and start to roll down to the ground before it reaches me. i see branches dancing in the wind, but i don't feel it. It's almost as if there's a protective coat around me.

and i stand here, stunned. this is abnormal for me. Things are going wrong everywhere, but somehow, it's not getting to me. Things around me are still in a crazy unorganized state, but somehow, i'm ok with it.

me? i'm just stunned. just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

sniff sniff

what's this little smoking shit?

by special request

stupid cat chilling in bed