– Steven Weinberg, physicist
My asian-america.com may actually be seeing light soon. Finally… seriously… more of it to come by Summer 2003. But, I want to direct y’all to its sister site: asianamericaneves.com. I am currently finishing up a fictional short novel that I had mentioned earlier based on the girls that had did the photo shoot for asian-america.com. And I’m planning to sell it in ebook format. So, it’s time for y’all to set up your paypal accounts!I have totally overhauld my personal site and simplified it. Most of you illiterate bastards just go on there to look at my picture gallery, which I do still have there. But, it’s primarily a vehicle to showcase my writings and my projects. Check it out: rayhom.com
I originally had planned to write about hanging out with my buddies Dave and Jimmy. Informally, about once a month or so, all three of us end up meeting somewhere for dinner philosophizing about Life, females, and why we are still single. Although I consider them two of my best friends, I personally believe we are totally three different guys with the same goals: success, happiness, and, possibly, someday finding “the one”. Not only that, I also find them both to be two polar opposites: Dave is normally over-eccentrically optimistic and Jimmy is a narcissistic cynic (even though both consider themselves realist). And, being that I’m the one that consider myself the realist, I find myself the balance of the two. To be fair, they both do disagree with me on those points. But, this is my Xanga…Anyways, I totally scraped what I wrote. It was suppose to be a re-play about one of those philosophical nights, intersplicing events and dialogue reflecting our difference in personalities, seasoned with foul language and sexual references. I was writing and rewriting, editing, and cussing at my thoughts about what I was writing. But, I just said,’fuck it’. Whatever I wrote, it will end up being a male-ego driven created situation of what guys bullshit about when females are not present. Basically, it didn’t amount to much… it kinda disturbed me writing it. I thought, maybe guys do bullshit a bit too much sometimes.
Dave had lent me Tuesdays with Morrie. It was a book I have been furiously seeking for cheap when Helen Lee (Kristine Sa‘s marketing person) had recommended it to me a few months back. I devoured the book by the next evenin’ and these are my thoughts…Tuesdays with Morrie: An Old Man, a Young Man, and Life’s Greatest Lesson was entertaining as a conversational memoir but a total bore to read as a philosophical inquiry. Morrie seemed self-indulgent of his thoughts as he lay on his deathbed ranting about what’s wrong with the world and why Americans are living with the wrong values. But who is born with the “right” values? No disrespect to Morrie, himself. As I understand his biography, he was a well-respected teacher who inspired a lot of people. But, his words are for high schoolers who seek basic direction in life (love yourself, respect others, death eventually comes to all, etc.). If I had lived a full life and had the podium to talk to the masses, I would be enlightening them with my thoughts about dealing with the conflicting ideas of the world, understanding the literacy and interpretations of the world, egoism in the face of tragedy… basically, getting beyond the basics. Because I believe ignorance is NOT bliss. What you don’t know can hurt you… therefore, Wisdom is bliss.
I’ve made a promise to myself that if I make it to 70 or so, I don’t want to become a pompous, bitter old ass sitting in a coffee shop complaining about how “fucked up” the world is and whine about how it was so much cooler in my youthful days, self-indulging in mythological nostalgia. (Shit. Lots of you in your 30s are already acting like this.)
I remember back when I use to work in a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop called Ground’s Coffee House, I had a customer… an older man in his 50s/60s… he would sit there with a cigarette in his hand. His battered jacket, with his flooded pants exposing his loose socks… while his thick glasses magnified his droopy eyes. He had a deep look of confusion as he stared up at the ceiling. Then he turned to me and said,”You know, I could have had it all, the nice house, the cars, and the chicks. But, instead, I choose this life.”
If there is a god, sometimes I think she provides signs to scare us to “right ourselves” in mysterious ways.
Being that we are a gullible species that is prone to believe anything that makes us cynics, there are two books I would love to recommend myself:
How We Know What Isn’t So: The Fallibility Of Human Reason In Everyday Life by Thomas Gilovich – This is a well informed, witty, and common sense – which sometimes isn’t common – book about our need to believe in things that just aren’t. You know, stuff like coincidences, our need to find patterns in events, ESP – pretty much about how we are making some things out of nothing to fill in that void called boredom. This book is a great weapon against that kind of bullshit.
The Culture of Fear: Why Americans Are Afraid of the Wrong Things by Barry Glassner – I love this fucken book! It is by a social scientists examining American’s obssesion with assuming fears in ourselves about “crime, drugs, minorities, teen moms, killer kids, mutant microbes, plane crashes, road rage, & so much more”. It says that “the belief in a tangible threat makes it possible to explain and justify one’s sense of discomfort.” We are afraid of the wrong things… And, I believe, good examples of such fear mongers that promote these types of belief are the media, email, and your fellow gossiping best friend.
I chilled with Mike at Crepe’s Ville the other Sunday night before the last (make sense?). He’s a best buddy of mines that does not give me the “competitive” attitude like most other guys do. Whether this is good or bad, I’m not gonna get into now but there is the question whether lack of “competition” means lack of “motivation”.Anyways, we chit-chatted about how we’re getting older and part of my arrogance wants to say,”we’re not getting older, we’re getting better.” But, instead, we talked about promising ourselves that when we do really become “old men”, we’re gonna be those cool grandpas that children can look up too. We’ll tell dirty jokes, spoil the kids, and annoy their parents.
Lately, though, I’ve been half-joking with him that our goal is to be millionaires by 35. How we are gonna do that, I don’t have much of a clue beyond a dream. But, one can start by making the affirmation, even if it is part joking and part determination. Hey, some of you told me that you’ll be millionaires by 32… whattup now? I’m not gonna say anymore.
I don’t understand this new Friendster.com craze? I assume it involves the “six degrees of seperation” concept but is this world really that small? “Who knows who” doesn’t seem to be a big deal to me anymore… I mean, I do take pride in all the friends I have made but I’m not a groupie-wannabe nor do I enjoy playing any type of “popularity” contests… because popularity implies a trend. (I don’t plan to be a trend, as borderline cocky as that sounds.) Otherwise, the people I meet, I hope are real. And not because they know so and so and so knows so and so because so and so got with so and so… so does that make me a somebody?Anyways, I notice there are more people growing exponentially on Friendster exposing their “connections” than there are people on Xanga exposing their thoughts. Which is interesting, being that you can’t do shit on Friendster but post your profile and get your friends to praise or defame you (of course, you have the option to decline all comments). What I find annoying is that you don’t even have control over the layout (HTML, IMGs, etc.) of your profile. It’s basically a vanity site.
But, since were on the topic of vanity, check out my buddy Matt’s new Xanga Weblog at mrau, especially his first entry dated Thursday, June 05, 2003. He compares those that don’t share their thoughts similar in concept to the disparaging difference between the rich who don’t share with the poor.
Matt is one of the few (extremely rare) intellectual guys whom we can boast about the books we read one moment and talk about girls the next. (And, yet, we don’t feel a damn geeky doing so!) I use to joke with him that chicks dig guys that read. Actually, we’ve contemplated the truth in that… but, hey, we’re guys. We could be just bullshittin’… we can say that eatin’ shit impresses girls, and the whole entire male world may save on flushing. And by the time they reach 70, they’ll be sittin’ in a coffee shop throwin’ that shit back out of their mouths… man, my brain is hurting from this entry… anyways, I need to go take a dump.