I had a conversation with my mom a couple months ago over lunch at a local buffet.

There were actually several of us sitting at the table including my dad, my wife, and my son. The topic of conversation was casual at first, nothing really too deep. You see, my mom and I (or anybody else in my immediate family) were never close. I could never talk to her about anything. We never shared stories nor did I ever confide in her. It just wasn't how our relationship worked. But the topic quickly shifted to how I look at life now since I have my own family and son.

I admitted to her that my outlook on life has completely changed. As a teenager, I was just a selfish person. I didn't think of what was good for anybody but myself. I lived for the now and didn't save one dime, didn't do anything for the longterm, and didn't think about how my actions at the present time would have lasting effects on my future. But as my son has grown up, I've changed.

Instead of thinking only for myself and my needs and my wants and my desires, I have someone else who I am responsible for. It is now my responsibility to give him a chance to be the best person he can be. And as simple as that sounds, it is such a hard thing to do when you lived your entire life for yourself. I can honestly say that I am driven to make my son's life better.

In the middle of this conversation, I even admitted how appreciative I am for what my parents have done. They didn't spoil me. They didn't buy me the best car. They didn't put me in the best schools. But they gave me a chance. They worked hard as hell to give me the opportunity to succeed. They didn't set goals for my success. They gave me an idea of what success is like and gave me every opportunity to be successful.

That's all I could ask of them. You can only do so much as a parent. "You can lead them to water", you know? My parents gave it their all to give me and my sisters the opportunity to blossom into respectable adults. And I'd like to believe that they succeeded. And I think the biggest testament to their success as parents is manifested in my desire to do the same for my own son.

It sounds corny, but it's so true. Monetarily, we didn't have a lot, but we had enough. But they equipped me with all the tools. I used that conversation to thank them for what they did. I saw it in my mom's eyes. She even asked, "Do you really think like that?" I nodded in affirmation because I knew for sure that I wasn't lying. I truly believe that my only goal in life is to make sure I leave nothing left on the table. My son will get everything I can give him in order for him to be successful.

That is my one and only goal in life. Sure, I can get a little selfish and spend a little more money than I should. I can get a little lazy and let my son watch more tv instead of stimulating his mind in more constructive ways. But I'm trying. Hard.
It's definitely not easy, but I know people who have done more in worse conditions. I witness it with my own eyes.

It was my parents.

Thanks.

Fans are obnoxious. And annoying. But why are we surprised? "Fan" is just short for "fanatic". But definition, these people are intolerable by default.

fa·nat·ic (f-ntk)
n.

A person marked or motivated by an extreme, unreasoning enthusiasm, as for a cause.

For some people, "unreasoning enthusiasm" is just a euphemism for "asshole".

But I can't lie. I admit it. I'm a fan. Warriors basketball. Giants baseball. 49er football. WWE wrestling.

I think there are different stages in the life of a fan.

First, you start off as a casual fan. You give attention to your team when it is convenient. You occaisionally check scores online or in the paper. You have one or two items of fan apparel. All is good in the hood.

The second stage in a little more fanatical. You go to a couple games a year. You check every day for scores. Sometimes you listen to the radio or watch the games on tv. You know all the players by name, but not by face. You openly talk about your team with your friends, and sometimes even with strangers. But never to you openly argue or disagree with fans of other teams or players.

The third stage is the asshole stage. In your mind, your team is the greatest thing in the world. You know the players, their numbers, their faces, their marital status, and the birthdates of their children. What happens, though, is that at this stage, you become your team's worst critic. In front of opposing team's fans, your team can do no wrong. In front of your fellow lunatic fans, your team can do no right.

Armchair quarterbacks and the world's greatest second guessers stay at this stage, sometimes forever. These are the fans that are the hardest to please but consider themselves the most "hardcore". They feel that they are better than your average casual fan (see above) and scoff at anybody who they here whispering "who was that player?" They are the hardest fans to hold a conversation or discussion with because they are always right. Hell, they are smarter than the general managers, coaches, and team executives who get paid thousands, if not millions of dollars to make the decisions that they make day in and day out.

I have been in this stage before, and looking back it disgusts me. What was a recreational activity and hobby turned into an obsession. It was no longer enjoyable. You get to a point where you know too much about one person, one teams, one league that you think you know everything that will and should happen. So I've taken a step back. From everything.

I understand the roll sports play in my life. I can regress into that semi-fanatical, more casual fan. Regardless of what happens, I will still enjoy watching and supporting the teams I consider myself a fan of. It's the right thing to do, and frankly, the most enjoyable.

Sometimes people have a hard time putting things in perspective and became such hardcore fans that they lose sight of why they became fans in the first place.

Eastern Culture is a culture that really just wants to "be down".

The collective nature of Eastern culture is completely different than the independent style seen in the West. Asians prefer not to stand up and go against the grain. This cultural preference stems from the "family" structure seen in the East. In Western cultures, business is business. It is never personal. In the East, business is always personal. Business relationships are family relationships, and vice versa. Everything is done as a group, for the group, and by the group.

So how does this affect the way Asians manifest themsevles in the American society? Well, for one, they are readily accepted. I think this is due to a few things. One of which is due to the collective nature of Asian cultures. Asians are seen as docile and passive. They accept their position within social and racial classes and seem content with what they have. They don't post a threat to what most perceive as "everyday America". Do they speak their own language? Yes. But they do so mostly within their own communities (i.e. Chinatown, Japantown, etc.).

When outside of these communities, Asians find themselves almost too eager and too ready to amalgamate into American society. They quickly latch onto Pop culture. While they shed their accents, they also shed ways of life. They tolerate blatant acts of hate and prejudice within school systems, the job market, and in the media for the sake of "being down". While layers and years of rich culture and heritage are stripped from their minds, the collective nature of Asians keep them at bay.


But there is now a resurgence of awareness among the younger, more Americanized Asians. Never before have cultural clubs within high schools and colleges become so popular. And they do a very good job opening eyes and minds. They identify issues very pertinent within our society, such as our misrepresentation in the media, the accepted forms of descrimiation, unfair immigration policies, etc. I've seen it in action. The knowledge shared is so empowering among the people who previously had nothing to be proud of, nowhere tangible to be from or the product of. It wasn't just word of mouth from older family members. It's in books and documentaries. There is this fight for Asians to be respected within American society, and all previous ills will no longer be tolerated. How beautiful is that?

But within all this celebration of our cultures and heritage, there is the dark underbelly that rarely is discussed. There is a self-loathing that not many people want to admit. We shout our cultural pride from the top of the mountains, yet we still make fun of people who have accents. We call them "FOBS", as if we are better than them. We make fun of their living conditions and their inability to mix into American culture. We make fun of how dark they are, how course their hair is, how chicky their eyes are. Even after we want to believe we have come full circle within white American society, we are still trying to rid ourselves of the thousands of years our cultures have been contaminated by Western belief structures.

Look. I'm not saying there is a right or wrong way to live your life. Western, Eastern, etc. One is not better than the other. But there are some realities in our world that have affected the way things are. I don't have any answers, because I think these issues are larger than any one person.

Whatever. At least I got it off my chest.

Do me a favor.

Click this (Real Player needed) and scroll to about 48:50. Talk about not fully understanding all possible reprecussions. I almost felt sorry for the guy. I mean, think about what he's going through as that professor annouced the laundry list of things that were on that computer. First, his heart starts to race. Then he breaks out in a cold, nervous sweat. Too bad he didn't have a piece of coal handy. He probably could have put it up his ass and squeezed it so hard that a diamond would pop out.

Okay, I take back the comment about almost feeling sorry for the guy. Fuck him.

Speaking about feeling sorry for someone, we have the King of Crunk himself, Lil John. Look at this dude.



Now, I don't really feel sorry for him. Shit, the guy is a fuckin' millionaire. He's one of the most popular people in Rap. But you know what? Unless he's already married, that dude knows that the women he fucks aren't there because they're attracted to him. But I can dig some of his music, so he gets a free pass from me. Nah, fuck it. He looks like a fuckin' guppie. Next.

There are people out there that live in New York City. They eat, breathe, sleep NYC and they will defend it until they die. They boast about how it's the "greatest city in the world". They rave about it's diversity, it's forward trendiness, and the fact that everything that is important in NYC is important throughout the world. They here of people in California and it's like, "Oh yeah, California? There's nothing but Asians, skaters, hippies. There's no way I'd enjoy myself there. New York is the place to be."

To us outside of New York, we just see it as stereotypical big city arrogance. We know how "they" can be like, so we don't think much of it. It's all they know. But in their little jabs at a place outside of NYC, you can see the little hints of fear. Fear of the unknown. Not the exactly your every day brand of fear. It's the fear of having to admit that there is a world outside your one's personal view. Fear of knowing that one's way of life, as great as it may seem, is not the ultimate way of life. Happiness and contentment is not uniform, and knowing that your lifestyle is the best is a hard pill to swallow. And it is from this fear that develops hate.

Now I know that this is as silly, almost meaningless example, but it really doesn't stop there. Think about how ignorance manifests itself among the way people perceive other countries, languages, and ethnic groups. It's hard accepting that how you life your life, while working perfectly fine for yourself, maybe isn't the perfect way for another person to live their life.

As basic as this sounds, it really is difficult. Think about individual relationships that you have with friends and family. Ever get frustrated how your friend or your spouse can't seem to approach certain things in life the same way you do? Ever have your parents tell you that your passions and your desires are meaningless compared to the goals they have personally set for you?

Now multiply that by millions and think how Western thinking countries have done the same to other countries and cultures around the world. Think about how the "Western" stardand of beauty has invaded even the most remote regions, forcing women to straighten their hair, lighten their skin, and shrink their waists. Think about how foreign accents are laughed at and looked down upon within our supposed "Melting Pot" US society. We celebrate it in front of everybody yet laugh at it when no one is looking.

We as a society are fearful through ignorance. We are scared that maybe our way of life isn't the "perfect" way for everybody around the world. So naturally, we shut it out. We get our little kicks by going to ethnic restaraunts and watching ethnic parades. We brag about our Vietnamese friends who brought Pho to the office. We keep it within viewing distance, but not too close to our lives because we are so set in our American ways. We hide our hate behind our patriotism and our pride as a advanced society. We remain ignorant to what is really going on in the world around us outside of our gated communities.

You know, I forgot where I was going with this, but I refuse to delete it. Oh well. Who's the Prime Minister of Canada? I don't know. But I had Canadian bacon on my pizza the other day. I'm CULTURED!

We all go on a hike every now and then. Sometimes it's involuntary. We don't initially intend on taking such a long walk, but we get caught up sight seeing and amazed by what we encounter. Other times, we take walks and end up looking down corridors and alleys that scare us, frighten us, and leave us wishing we never left the house. For most, this is enough to keep someone from ever taking a walk again.

But what makes some of these walks so scary? Is it the uncertainty? Is it the possibility of getting lost? Certainly.

You ever feel like you planned a walk and determined that your path was the correct way to go? You had the walked planned so perfectly. First, a stroll through the garden to look at the budding trees, welcoming the oncoming Spring. Then you want to make it up the small grassy hill, that most of the year brown and dry from the hot sun, but now is soft and green from the Winter rain. You want to complete the journey by watching the sun reflect off the water in the creek as it runs behind the horizon, first turning yellow, then orange, then red as it sets. Your trip goes as planned, but somewhere in between your destination and home you veer off the trail and end up in an unfamiliar canyon.

You feel lost. The trees don't seem as friendly. The sun has taken cover behind a flurry of dark clouds on the horizon. You no longer have your sense of direction. What's North is South. Or was it West? Every turn you make feels like the right way to go, but as you take a few steps in that direction, you realize that you're wrong. Do you stop, turn around, and head home? Or do you keep walking?

Well, I choose to keep walking. We sometimes plan as if we are impervious to change and outside forces. We can choose our destination. That is for certain. But we can't steer clear of obstacles and setbacks 100% of the time. We veer of our paths almost 10 out of 10 times, and we tend to see nothing but failure. So I might not see the sunset. That's okay. I'll try my hardest to find my way to the top of the hill so I can catch the last seconds of the sunset. But if I don't, I know I will run into something that I never have before. I will see the frogs emerge from the creek as the sky darkens. I will see the first stars in the sky skyly emerge from the increasingly dark sky. The journey to our destinations is what build our character and strengthen our souls, and the magnitude is multiplied ten fold when our walks don't go as planned.

I am no longer scared of what might happen should I get lost on my walk. I will just put extra effort into reaching my destination, making reaching my destination sweet and fulfilling. And if I can't reach my destination, I will learn from it, gain new experience, and be happy that I will be alive one more day to maybe witness the sunset,first turning yellow, then orange, then red as it disappears in the horizon.

This stuff is crazy:

The Perry Bible Fellowship

The Notorious BIG died today eight years ago. Rest in Peace.

Some say he's the greatest rapper of all time.

But Biggie's impact as an emcee is not as wide felt as some make it out to be. People have to face it. Biggie sold an image just as much as he sold his rhymes. Tupac did it. NWA did it. They were all larger than life rappers and heads bought into that as being "real". The image adds legitimacy to the rhymes. Why do people call him "Frank White"? Because he's the "King of New York", right? Well, that says nothing about his ability as a rapper. It was his ability to sell his IMAGE that made that work. Puffy had A LOT to do with that.

I'm not knocking BIG. Don't get it twisted. "Ready To Die" could be released tomorrow and blow heads away in today's market because it was so ahead of its time. I love his music. There's no doubt about it. But I still don't see him as the "Greatest To Get On The Mic", because he just isn't.

You take into consideration all the things that make emcees dope like wordplay, alliteration, cadence, breath control, timing, rhyme pattern, conviction, etc. There are emcees that had and have those skills and do it as well or even better than BIG ever did.

Some people think it's from Johnny Dangerously. Some think I stole it from Lobo.

But "Bastitch" actually started off as a joke between me and one of my good friends. It's a combination of "bastard" and "bitch", a two pronged attack against one's ego. So we'd go back and forth shooting "bastitch" at eat other followed by chuckles, and about half the time a "fuck you".

So one day I'm chatting with that same friend online and he links me to a message board. He tells me he already made me a user account and I should be receiving the email soon. Next thing you know, my user name on http://talk.to/niketalk is "Bastitch".

Initially, I was like "Hey, fuck this. I'm making my own user name." But I got lazy and put it off for a couple days. Then a couple days became a week. Then it eventually turned into a month. By then, I was already known as "Bastitch", so the desire to change it eventually wore off. Now, I AM "Bastitch". I've meet a good amount of people in person from that message board, some of which even call me "Bastitch" in person, even after they have learned my real name (which really irks the fuck out of me).

Nicknames such as "Bas", or "Bassy" have even popped up. It's kind of funny because in the virtual world of the Internet, you really become your screen name to some people. If I were to ever meet some one like Kool Keith in person, I'd be compelled to call him just that: "Kool Keith". Fuck, I don't even KNOW his real name. Maybe it's Keith. Who knows?

But I'd like to think that I'm a little more grounded in reality to think like that. The Internet causes a lot of people to act in ways they normally wouldn't in their personal lives. This reprecussionless nature of the World Wide Web has caused a lot of people to put out personalities not of their true selves, but of people they wish they were. Or maybe of people they think they are.

I can't lie. I am aware that there is some hypocrisy in my criticism. I'm guilty of putting out a facade to a certain extent. But I honestly do make an effort to be true to who I really am. Does it lead to a little self-censorship and slightly limit my ability to freely express myself? Sure.

But demonstrating restraint of any nature is a true form of power.

I like how that sounds. I love how that feels.

It kind of sucks how Michael Jackson has gotten himself into this mess.

I'll admit it. I'm a fan. They played that tribute special they aired on one of the major networks a couple years ago on VH1 recently. My wife and I sat down and watched as some of today's stars took their shot at honoring MJ by singing his classics. The culmination of the ceremony happened when Michael performed a medley of his songs on stage for the crowd. I couldn't help but get goosebumps thinking about how magnificent an entertainer he was, and to a lesser extent is.

When talking about Michael Jackson and the molestation convictions during last HBO Comedy special "Never Scared", Chris Rock asked, "Remember when we used to ask who was better, Michael Jackson or Prince? Prince WON!". It's sad, but true.

Michael Jackson's legacy will be forever tarnished by this accusations, whether they are true or not. But I still listen to and enjoy his music. And interestingly enough, so has my son. He's 4 now, and is begining to develop a taste in music. "Beat it" is his favorite. He also enjoys "Smooth Criminal", since he knows that it is my favorite. He requests it when I'm picking him up from school or dropping him off at his grandparents' house. He knows nothing about the molestation charges. He knows nothing about the rampant rumors that have circulated in the past 20 years. No Elephant Man remains. No skin bleaching. No sleeping in hyperbaric chambers. Just the music.

And that's how you know that American Society is hung up on celebrity. The music is forgotten. Video killed the radio star, and in turn badly injured music. We're so caught up in how someone looks, what they wear, what they eat, who they are married to, who they're fucking while being married to someone else, etc. And I love music. I don't care if you're retarded with three fingers and a banjo. If it sounds good, I'm going to listen to it. Unfortunately, I'm in the minority. People want the total package. They demand perfection, but not musically. They want artists to be more than they are. They aren't gods, they are musicians.

My son, with zero notion of celebrity understands this. It's cool, innocent, and refreshing. But the day is inevitable. The day when he asks "Why did you let me listen to that FREAKS music when I was young?" But that day is still off in the horizon. I'll let him enjoy it for now. No need to.

It's kind of fucked up that I'd let him listen to his music, but wouldn't let him meet Michael. Hell naw. Fuck THAT.

Interesting post script to this story, my son asked me the other day, "Daddy, is Michael Jackson a boy or a girl." I had to hold back the laughter and compose myself before I simply answered, "He's a boy." Little does HE know how literal my answer was.

When you work 12 hours a night doing pretty much nothing but watching TV and surfing the Internet (and fighting the urge to risk your job by looking at porn from your desk), you run into shit like this:

SlipUps.com

And I can dig it. Tons of movies. Tons of slip ups. Check out your favorite movie. I'm sure someone fucked up.

GoogleFight.com ain't no joke...

Round 1 - Bastitch vs. Muscle 68



Yeah, no upsets here.

Round 2 - Bing's Bangs vs. Leah's Boobs



No upsets here, either.

Round 3
Ryan having sex with a middle-aged Brazilian chick vs Drinking the sweat off of Kool Keith's balls



You heard it here folks. The upset of the century.

On the corner of King and 3rd st....



...you can't help but notice and love San Francisco's desire to find new and agressive methods of promoting safe sex.

The music we listen to is the soundtrack of our lives.

That's nothing new. I'm sure you've heard that before. But it takes on even more relevant meaning when you think about how certain songs seem to yank memories from the past and make them so vivid you feel like it just happened yesterday.

There's that commercial out now that refers to scent as the strongest sense linked to memory. But it's hard to argue against sense of sound, and and more specifically, music. It is one of the most literal forms of artistic expression. Unlike other forms of art such as painting or dance, music leaves little to interpretation yet Not only can the lyrics describe emotion and a state of being, but the melody itself is a form of descriptive expression. You can even dig further and look into the tone of the voice, voice inflection, and cadence as evidence of this unique art of expression.

This identification of music's place within our lives has even seeped into our everyday language. The coordination of cohesive but seperate parts in a beautiful manner are described as a "symphony" or "melodic". Good news is "music to the ears". When all is well, we are living in "harmony". These metaphors are not the product of coincidence. There is a reason why we associate music with happiness, joy, and well-being, and vice-versa.

San Francisco is filled with some of the most politically active people in the world.

You could pick any day of the week in downtown San Francisco, whether it be a busy Saturday filled with tourists and shoppers, or a relatively quiet Wednesday morning, and you'll see people picketing outside their least favorite stores.

Outside Nieman Marcus? People handing out flyers about animal cruelty, and the immorality of wearing fur. NikeTown? Yeah, child labor. I heard. Gap on the corner of Powell and Market? Yeah, I hear they're having child labor issues as well. Kentucky Fried Chicken? Animal cruelty.

Wait, what?

Animal cruelty?

At a restaurant?

Now we're talking chicken. K-F fuckin' C.

They kill chicken to make fried chicken?

Now, I know there may be some treatment issues. Like free range vs. caged, etc. And mistreating animals is kind of fucked up. But honestly, is that a battle that really needs to be fought? Should people really put in time and effort into protecting animals that are specifically bred for consumption?

I mean, there are hundreds of human issues that seem thousands of times more worthwhile.

But oh well. There I go again, worrying about what other people do. Find something to worth living for or something worth dying for.

Credit, whoever the hell said that.

Oh shit, dude.

I just found one of those "Kill an hour doing absolutely nothing" websites.

Tinypic.com

Go to the site.

Click random.

Now you're surfing through a plethora of images.

Completely random images.

Sure, there's some porn.

But damn, there's some crazy shit, too.

Shit that'll make you laugh out loud.

And shit that'll make you say, "Ummm, huh?"

But yeah. You get the point. Enjoy.

I did it again.

I went on one of those rampages through the Blogger world that I do from time to time.

I tried studying for one of my certification tests, but it just got boring.

So here I was clicking "Next Blog".

Over and over and over again.

I went around the world in 80 clicks.

Korea.

Singapore.

The Philippines.

Norway.

Austrailia.

Russia.

Saudi Arabia.

Could I read half of them?

Hell no.

And those are just the 13-year olds with fonts you simply can't read.

Or the people that choose to express themselves through written text but refuse to spell words in their entirety.

For the record,

"r" = "are".

Sure. I can dig it.

But for some people, "r" = "our", which is just plain retarded.

"lv" and "hv" are "love" and "have" respectively. Uhh. Okay. I'll still following.

Barely.

The use of "lol"...fine. I can deal with that.

But never...EVER...will I tolerate "lolz".

"lolz"?

What the fuck is that shit?

Is that the pluralization of "LOL"?

Can you even pluralize "LOL"?

Probably not.

Either way, it's intolerable.

I can dig stories, though.

Good stories, at least.

I also like journal/diary type entries.

Okay, maybe I don't.

I wouldn't bore you with an account of my past 24 hours that includes what I ate for breakfast and what Jane told me during lunch.

I REALLY like blogs that list open MP3 directories.

Those are awesome.

But, I absolutely dread blogs that have music autostart when the page loads.

That's just plain inconsiderate.

And a Java pop-up when the page load?

Fuck you.

Lots and lots of pictures?

Word.

Interesting wordplay?

Bring them on.

Colorful metaphors and vivid descriptions?

English is a beautiful language when put in the mouths of those who understand its power and beauty.

I guess it is safe to say that blogs can't please everbody.

Hell, some blogs can't please anybody.

But there's enough fun out there for everybody to enjoy.

And you knew that.

Awesome.

Group Therapy



"...supposed to be overly excited to be seen, but that's ain't who we are..."

"...feelin' confident, not to be confused with your cockiness.."



Last Tuesday night marked my final night of class at St. Mary's college of California.

That night, I presented my Senior Project. It was a project that I conducted at my workplace and was the design and implementation of a training procedure for new employees in my department. It was the end of a journey. And it was literally my coming out party. I was in my element. And after it was done, I felt a combination of relief and unadulterated joy. But it was the complete opposite of what I was going through the night before.

The night before, I was at work typing it all out and putting the finishing touches on it. I was scrambling to get done what I had over 6 months to work on. I got it all the documents together, noted the dividers for the attached appendices, three-hole punched each sheet of paper, and placed them in the binder. When I completed it, I held it in front of me and damn near cried. It was literally the culmination of what I had been working towards for the past 18 months. But now I'm done, and for that I'm thankful for.

As far as the presentation was concerned, I killed. It was enough where people felt compelled to stand up and applaud. I was amazed myself that it went as well as it did. I was the youngest person in the room by 10 years. But the way I handled myself, not only during the presentation, but the 18 months in class as well, placed me as a peer among my older and more experienced classmate. Not a week passed without a compliment from a classmate. It is because of that that I am especially proud.

Now I stand on top of the hill. The hill I was fighting to get to the top of for the past 18 months. At the top of this hill, I have an epiphany. This is only a foothill of the mountain I am about to work my way up. Wish me luck, and stand behind me in case I fall. Because I know I will. And I know you'll be there to pick me up, dust me off, and send me on my way.

Thanks.

"...because you can't, you won't, and you don't stop..."