Not so sad.

I didn't realize people would find the squirrel picture as amusing as I did (typically the case...for most things), so I figured I might as well share my other picture of the vagrant squirrel.

Try to ignore the weed garden in my backyard.

Check out how high it actually climbed on the screen! And this was one bold rodent. I tried scaring it from the other side of the window, and it didn't even flinch. It just stared back at me with its beady, defiant little eyes. (See previous squirrel picture.)

In other news, it's a good thing I took my car into the shop yesterday. Though it cost me $240 (yay, BMW), I was able to run errands without fear of the falling snow. Crucial errands like buying a snowboard! With a navy blue and lime green design, it was seriously one of the easiest purchase decisions I've ever made.

Sad.

It's always sad to see a car where one of the driver- or passenger-side windows has fallen out of its tracks and just sits there, stuck halfway in the door. It's even more tragic when it's your own car. (I look at the oblique window and can't help but think, "I've fallen, and I can't get up!")

I'd love to share with you this pathetic image, but I can't bear to take a picture of it. Indeed, it's hard to use a camera when my fingers are frozen stiff from driving around with a window down like that. This will be my third trip to the repair shop in a month, as my old car proves herself to be high-maintenance and costly. Ugh.

In other sad news, check out the "holiday tree" that's been erected in downtown Seattle:

O, Christmas tree?

Living in The Emerald City of The Evergreen State, it's no wonder that people are a little disappointed in this scrawny shrub. In fact, it's already been dubbed the Charlie Brown tree. You can read about how it got to be so ugly here.

Well, lest I leave you utterly depressed, here's a photo that I took just the other day. Imagine waking up one fine Saturday morning to find this at your window:

Cue Psycho music.

Not quite as repulsive as the black squirrels that terrorize the Stanford campus. In fact, almost cute. Almost, that is, if it didn't look so intent on finding a way into my house. Gah...

Rants of a Product Designer

I despise whatever conniving Marketing genius at Procter & Gamble decided that Dawn Direct Foam would be the next big advancement in dishwashing technology. Remember in recent past when all the liquid dish soap brands started advertising their products as "concentrated" (with little obvious change to the soap itself...just smaller bottle size)? Now it seems they've actually gone the other way, diluting the soap with water so that it can be turned to fluffy foam before it touches your sponge. And they put such a spin on it, it disgusts me.

Of course, the idea of a foam-dispensing pump is not all that bad. I appreciate the neat hand soap that comes from such an invention. For this, we thank the engineers. But I do not appreciate the bright bulbs in Engineering who designed Dawn's blasted pump, the spring of which cannot overpower the pump's internal friction. What do I mean by this? Well, you push the pump down to dispense foam onto your sponge. And then the pump just sits there. Stuck at the bottom. You literally have to pull it back up in order to depress the pump a second time. And you need to depress it that second time, and five more times after that, because each pump action yields about enough foam to clean one tine on a fork. This is hardly product improvement, if you ask me.

This irritates me to no end at work, where all we have in our kitchenette is this Direct Foam crap. I've seriously contemplated calling up the P&G consumer hotline just to complain, but then I remember that I also contribute to the design of a product, the end-user experience of which often leaves something to be desired. Whoops. And so I'll just shut up and appreciate the choice of colors that Dawn used for their Lime Surge variety of Direct Foam. There, I said something nice.

Uprooted

Tonight I did the inevitable. I replaced my car's beloved Illinois plates with new Washington plates.

Farewell, maroon font which beautifully matched my car's unbeautiful paint. Farewell, ghostly, free-floating head of Lincoln. And good riddance, long overdue tabs.


I shall miss the out-of-state excuse for driving like a moron.
Of course, now I have the in-state excuse for driving like a moron.

Yes, some clouds have only rusty linings.

Back in Town

So I'm back in Seattle now.

Tonight I watched a friend play a nun in a local production of "The Sound of Music." The entire musical was very well done, I thought. My favorite part was when Liesl climbed into Maria's bedroom, after her torrid midnight rendezvous with the postman/closet-Nazi Rolfe. She was drenched from the rain, and as she climbed awkwardly through the bedroom window, I was reminded of a scene from "The Ring," when the antagonist climbs out of the television, wet locks and all. I laughed.

There were several other funny moments (intentional or not) throughout the musical, but I'll just share one more. At the very beginning, as the pit orchestra started playing, it was apparent that not all the sections were playing in tune. And after hearing a few, mmm, jazzy chords, I had to look down and stop myself from laughing out loud. A friend seated next to me (also a musician/pitch snob) was doing the same. But while we merely smiled in condescending judgment, a Chinese woman behind us actually voiced her thoughts out loud. Some of the sentiment is lost in translation, but she basically muttered, "Aiya, how could the music be so bad? This is worse than a children's band." Ouch. It really wasn't that bad, and the pitchy punishment didn't last.

Speaking of outspoken Chinese people, I had a great time in Hong Kong and Chengdu. Even though my race was questioned constantly by the people I met. "Are you Korean? Japanese? Surely not Chinese..." And this would be after I spoke Chinese. Sad.

Here's a small selection of photos from my trip.

This was the seafood menu from one of my dinners in Hong Kong:

(Click on it to view the full-sized picture.)

On the bottom right: "Crispy yuppies topped with golden garlic, chili & onion." How appetizing...I always wanted to know what yuppies taste like! Also note the "Crispy soft shell crabs with Szechuan red pepper." I would've preferred "crab" singular, but what can you do? I ordered it anyway.

Behold, said crabs:

You can just barely make out pieces of crab drowning (burning) in the lake of fire. And I still don't understand the choice of presentation. My coworkers and I named this dish the Little Red Riding Hood Basket of Death. Dude, that dish was spicy.

Here's a picture of my favorite building in Hong Kong, the Bank of China tower designed by world-renowned architect Ieoh Ming Pei. The view from Kowloon, across Victoria Harbour:

Look how it dwarfs the Bank of America building to the left. (I am not making political commentary here.)

After Hong Kong, I flew up to Chengdu, China. And what's a visit to Chengdu without seeing the local pandas?

"Mmm, bamboo..." This one was a bit of a messy eater.

And here are the red pandas. I personally would have named them "raccoon foxes," but what do I know? Cute little monsters.

Eating...sleeping...yeah, that's the life.

Now time for me to take a lesson from the pandas.

Early Bird

Only when jetlagged might I be mistaken for an early bird. Local time is 6:54am and I feel as though I've slept in. I haven't decided whether to rejoice or mourn.

No complaints for now, though. I know the jetlag from flying back to the States will be far, far worse.

Flying By...

Geez, summer flew by fast. Heck, an entire year flew by fast. Looking back, I'm able to count four new roommates since I left college. Four weddings and a funeral. Six visits to Stanford and the Bay Area. As hard as it was to fathom back then, life does feel more fast-paced after college.

Anyway, my main reason for posting is to say I'm now in Hong Kong for business. Local time is 10:50am, September 1. Blogger tells me that Seattle time is 7:50pm, August 31. My biological clock doesn't give a crap for either fact, because I destroyed it back in school anyway. I've been in HK for twelve hours now and I just hope my luggage arrives soon, because a change of clothes would be nice.

Oh, and for the record, business class on Cathay Pacific is sweet. (In case you're wondering, it was a different airline that left my luggage behind in Seattle.)

Here's our Airbus A340-300 pulling into the gate at Vancouver prior to boarding:

And this was after boarding:

A "Cathay Delight" kiwi and coconut juice cocktail and scallop hors d'oeuvre. Even the neighboring glass of water looks good.
And all this was after, yes, the pre-flight champagne.

I decided to stop taking pictures, lest everyone identify me as that guy who had clearly never before flown international business class.

Her Birthday Wish

It is the birthday wish of my blogging friend Lara for all of her readers to celebrate her birthday by giving a gift to someone else and then describe it on the blog. Pretty neat idea, right?

Yesterday I treated a buddy to dinner. Today I helped another move some of his belongings into storage. But those were fairly spontaneous and spur of the moment. I figured I could be even more intentional with this birthday present...

So my gift to Lara today is a virtual one. It is an online ode to another dear friend who just happens to be celebrating her birthday today.

This is a friend whom I've known since my freshman year in college; who led me blind-folded into a fountain on my own birthday six years ago; who has sung some of the best solos in our a cappella group; who is one of the best partners I've danced with; who has been a great source of joy and irreverent fun whenever we've hung out; who is my horror movie-watching partner in crime (replete with snarky comments and rapier wit). This is my friend who goes by the name Kari.

Happy birthday, dear friend. :)

Psst, Kari, you're supposed to blow the candle out, not barf on it.

Pollen, Pathogens, and Flatulence

I've been a ball of snot for the past couple weeks. Besides the events surrounding my last post, this may be due to the pollen in Seattle. I'm not surprised, because I do have a history of allergies to a variety of airborne plant sperm.

On the other hand, I could just be sick from all my recent travels. I know from my college days that I have an immune system about as effective as that of an agar-filled petri dish. So what's the deal? Is my immune system hyperactive or retarded?

No, I'm not done ranting.

Besides my water faucet nose, I also have a water slide throat. One that feels as though some kid slid down it in a sandpaper raft. Ahem. (Ouch.)

I do look forward to the end of this. My octave-lower-than-usual speaking voice was fun for maybe the first hour at work today, but it quickly got old. Plus, I'm flying down to Stanford this Wednesday, so I assume my fellow passengers would appreciate it if I weren't coughing up a storm. That's like the third most annoying thing on a flight, right up there with screaming babies and silent-but-deadly gas-passers.

Speaking of all this, my like-minded roommate shared this image with me last night:

It's an Airbus A340-600 and the ill-placed attack on their competitor is supposed to read:
"Longer. Larger. Farther. Faster. Higher. Quieter. Smoother."

Now, thanks to the careless - or hilariously intentional - placement of the text, all hope of credibility is lost. Gone up in a puff of flatulent smoke, as my friend Jeff Russell would put it.

Awesome.

In other news, I turned 24 on Saturday. My maturity level apparently didn't get that memo.

In Loving Memory

It's a privilege for the second generations of immigrant families to have close relations to grandparents from the homeland. And so it was a real blessing for my sister and me to grow up in the presence of my maternal grandmother, who came over from Taiwan and lived for extended periods with us during our childhood. She became my closest grandparent. And that's why it's been so difficult to accept the fact that she passed away less than a week ago.

I saw her last Christmas when she came to Illinois for a family reunion. Though we knew she had cancer, and that it was only a matter of time, no one thought that she would pass so quickly. In fact, just last month she took a trip to her hometown, Hangzhou, China. At age 85, she was remarkably active and strong.

But I'm glad that, when the cancer took over, it happened quickly. Though her final days were excruciating, I imagine she was able to think back upon recent memories of joyful reunions with her children and grandchildren. My own lasting memories of her are of that pleasant, jovial, and sprightly old woman. The one who loved to play cards and go on walks. The one who loved to cook for me and my friends. The one who could find amusement in every situation, whose contagious laugh could be heard even as she recounted stories of her difficult childhood. The one who was beautiful everytime I saw her. The one whom I am blessed to call Grandma.

I look forward, in faith, to the day I see her again in Heaven.

Grandma
April 20, 1922 - May 19, 2007

New Friends, Part 2

A while back, I promised that I would introduce to you more of the new friends I've made in the Seattle area. And then you heard no mention of them for two months. Really, I can make friends. Look!

This is Sarah, the friend who left her three dachsunds at my place once upon a time:

Mmm, dachsund hot dog...

Sarah hails from Texas, and has spent time in St. Louis for college (woohoo, Class of 2004) and in SoCal for a previous job. After we met at work up here, she convinced me to join her in the Happy Hour class at the company gym. And, sure, it was a fun way to do cardio...until she ditched me. Now it's like the step aerobics from hell. (Okay, I exaggerate, but an imaginary gold star to whoever can identify the reference without Googling.)

Sarah has since redeemed her truant ways by hosting the occasional game night at her place. And our game nights are fun, even when I'm busy accruing idiot points in games like Continental. At our next game night we'll be playing Cranium. All I can say is, I am going to blind-sketch my team to victory, while Sarah and her team can die on all the spelling challenges. :P

One last random fact: Sarah's fiance Carlos and I share a common bond in our immature love of butt humor. Sarah really doesn't know what she's getting herself into...

I am reminded of one of my favorite internet comic strips, Cyanide & Happiness:

And suddenly my blog is rated PG-13.

You know you're officially a Stanford alum when...

You get your first call from The Stanford Fund asking for your donation.

I just got mine tonight and was absolutely thrilled. I totally declined the poor, persistent freshman from the women's rugby team, but still enjoyed a great conversation as she tried lowering the donation amount from $100 to $50 to $20 and finally to a bargain basement $10 with corporate matching. They've taught her well.

I remember the fairly recent days when I hand wrote letters to donors, thanking them for their contribution to The Stanford Fund. Thanking them because their generous donation made it possible for students like me to enjoy wonderful and unique opportunities at a world-class institution. And thanking them because whichever student group I represented at the time effectively received a cut of their donation. What was it, $12.50 for each letter that passed QA? Oh, those good ol' days of hand cramps, misspelled names, ink smudges, tears of frustration at 3am, and parchment-colored correction fluid.

Someday I will make a large donation to TSF just so that I can receive my very own perfectly handwritten thank you letter, the nearly-unique content of which will be seen by only seven other donors in the world. And only then shall I complete my part in the money laundering circle of fun.

Choir Nerd

Today is Easter, a celebration of the most significant person and event in the history of the Christian church, and I gotta say, Mars Hill Church sure knows how to celebrate.

This weekend was also the culmination of two months of rehearsals with the Mars Hill choir. On Good Friday, we sang "Lacrimosa" from the Mozart Requiem. It's a great piece that isn't hard for a classically-trained choir (most of us have sung the piece at some point in the past). So our singing on Good Friday went by without a hitch. Well, with just one exception. That was when a fog machine started generating smoke a little earlier than any of us expected, blowing the stuff right into our singing faces. It's a good thing we were behind an opaque scrim, or else people would've seen me trying painfully not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation. All this, while we sang about a day of weeping. But, anyway, Friday was Good.

Then there was our repertoire for Easter Sunday. We got asked to sing gospel-style backup for Mars Hill's resident funk band, The Brothers of the Empty Tomb. Now that was interesting. You must understand, there is not a single black person in our choir. In an earlier rehearsal, our director even did an impression of Kip Dynamite (brother of Napoleon) singing "I love technology"...as her impression of us. Sad. But, thank God for blessing The BET with an awesome lead singer and a world class guitarist (you can read about them on pages 6 and 19 here). With their energy and skill, it wasn't hard to get into the music today and actually move with it! It was awesome and fun.

So, yeah, Mars Hill is still working on diversity. In fact, look here:

Behold the diversity at Mars Hill.

Three of the basses got together for a picture today. Together we account for almost half the population of Asian-Americans at Mars.

Blue

Earlier at work, an email announcement of free brownie sundaes in the cafeteria led to the greatest sense of urgency I've witnessed all day. The stampede of engineers to free food is really quite spectacular.

Tonight I washed my car for the first time since driving up from Palo Alto. That was more than eight months of caked-on Californian, Oregonian, and Washingtonian dirt, grime, brake dust, and road salt that are finally off the car. The old school bucket and towel session brought back memories of car washes at 307, when the sun would dry your car before you were done soaping it up. (Some things are no longer a concern these days...)

Ah yes, the purple car parade.

Meanwhile, I've been seriously thinking about taking my car in for a new paint job. It wouldn't be cheap, but it would be nice to enjoy looking at my car for a change. Of course she'd become some shade of blue (or blurple?), which means I'd have to change her name, because a blue car named "Blue" wouldn't be nearly as funny. Well, one can dream...

So, anyway, after a nice, detailed wash, Blue looked pristine for a moment. And then it started raining.

Fo' Pizzle My Nizzle

Yesterday I went to the 99 Ranch Market to buy Chinese groceries. It's always quite the experience being spoken at in more dialects/languages than I knew existed...and later learning some of that colorful vocabulary from the arguments that break out in the check out lanes.

Still more interesting, however, are all the findings in the store. It is a veritable museum of plant and animal species. Imagine pomelos bigger than my head (think grapefruit on steroids), durian fruit on sale (the experience of rotting garbage in your mouth - yum!), and types of meat you wish you never saw.

Oh yes, the "meat."

Yesterday at the meat department I caught sight of a single package tucked away in a corner labeled "Beef Pizzle." What is this beef pizzle?, my curious mind inquired. The fact that it was left by itself, untouched, should have been my first clue not to go pick it up. Through the cellophane, I could see it resembled sausage, but chopped into segments. And each cross-section revealed fully intact muscle tissue (i.e., not processed meat product), suggesting this was definitely not the typical sausage...at least not in the literal, culinary sense.

Ahem.

I had my suspicions confirmed when I Googled it today. And then I wanted to barf. Suddenly, eating fish heads, duck heart, and chicken feet seemed like child's play.

If you're still not sure what I'm talking about, Google it, and enjoy the experience of upchuck in your own mouth. Here's my favorite search result: Dog chews. "No two bulls are created equal, so girth of pizzle sticks may vary."

Ugh, do my people deem anything beyond the limits of consumption?

Playlist Snapshot

Dude, I've been tagged. Thanks, Lara! These are always fun.

Instructions: List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what they are. They must be songs you are presently enjoying. Then tag seven other people to see what they’re listening to.

1. "Jesus Paid It All" by Kristian Stanfill
2. "The Valley Song" by Jars of Clay
3. "Walk On" by U2
4. "Stolen" by Dashboard Confessional
5. "Read My Mind (Pet Shop Boys Stars Are Blazing Mix)" by The Killers
6. "Where'd You Go (Big Bad Remix)" by Fort Minor
7. "What Goes Around...Comes Around (Junkie XL Small Room Mix)" by Justin Timberlake
And since I'm bad at following rules...
8. "The Birth And Death Of The Day" by Explosions In The Sky

The following bloggers are hereby tagged and should therefore consider themselves it:
TPiglette (Tag Dmeroit and complete the...square? :D)
Dokes
UnityXX
Howie C
Johnkangw
Theoderick
Alice

Haha, I think I'll have to personally notify the latter ones... I honestly don't know who else visits. If you're a visitor who feels slighted by my ignorance, don't blame me! There are simple ways to make your presence known in the audience... (Leave a comment, you lurker.)

Oh, and I should probably tag an eighth: Sei, wanna share your list in the comments? :)

Pedigree

My multivitamin pills are getting old. How can I tell? They reek. Like dog food. It's quite revolting.

Speaking of dog food, some of my college friends will remember how it seemed like every other project I did for my Product Design classes at Stanford centered around dogs. While I love dogs, it was not by choice that I ended up designing products for dogs, their owners, caretakers, veterinarians, and food manufacturers. You name it, I brainstormed it. (Don't believe me? Somewhere in a box I have logbook sketches of various devices to save owners the trouble of picking up poo. One design boldly assumed that dogs do not care about diaper rash. This idea thankfully never reached user-testing.)

Man, I don't know what sort of canine obsession our teachers all shared, but they apparently did not feel sorry for the one student in our class who was deathly afraid of dogs. No joke, she was in tears when our first dog project got announced. And she was in tears for the second one. And the next one. Of course, no one feels sorry for her now, because she braved through it all, graduated as the star of our class, and is now working at IDEO (the Google of the design industry). I don't believe she receives any sympathy from her unemployed, starving, designer friends.

So what was the point of this post? Oh yes. A classmate recently pointed out that Masterfoods USA, which sponsored one of our final dog projects, has begun implementing some of our design solutions for their Pedigree brand of dog food. I browsed the website and it's neat to observe how the fruits of many a late night actually came to see the light of day. That rocks.

New Hobby, New Friends

Okay, so one benefit to the snow is the chance to take up new hobbies. Like fishtailing. No wait, snowboarding. I've gone three times this season now, and it keeps getting more fun. Last Saturday, the powder was just awesome. It kept snowing all day and I learned how to link turns, do 360's, and tumble (of course) in the softest powder I've ever experienced. But let us not forget how much time I spend on my butt/shoulder/head/face... sliding/tumbling/skidding down the slope. It's pretty amusing for everyone involved. Oh, and I'm pretty sure I beat Jenn in Slinky status bragging rights.

Here's one picture of the aftermath on our first trip (thanks for the pic, Nick):

No, I do not have prematurely graying hair. Yes, I have since invested in a helmet.

Snowboarding has been fun, and it's largely thanks to the friends with whom I've been learning. Since some of you have asked (great idea, Lara), I might as well take the opportunity to introduce them. Meet James and Nick, two guys I've come to know through work, church, playing cards, and boarding.

That's James on the left and Nick on the right.

I met Nick first through work. He hails from Omaha, Nebraska, so I respect him as a fellow Midwesterner who probably faces more persecution than this Illinoisan. During one of my first weekends here, he took me and a couple coworkers sailing in Puget Sound on his boat, the Midnight Sojourn. Immediate impression: A nice, generous guy with a very cool sailboat.

My next impression of Nick came on his birthday, which he did not spend celebrating, but instead helping multiple friends who were having car trouble that day. He tugged one out of the ditch and provided another with rides to and from the repair shop. Selfless and considerate? Very much so.

Unfortunately, first impressions are often wrong. As I've surely proven to most of you, a nice, refined exterior oftentimes masks an evil bastard within. And yes, such is the case with Nick. He has a wicked sense of humor. And I don't mean wicked as in awesome. I mean wicked...like how you'd describe me. Case in point: A few weekends ago, while snowboarding, I performed a total face-plant on the slopes. I sat up, brushed the snow off my goggles, and saw Nick slowing down to check up on me. Or so I thought. He proceeded to peg me with a snowball as he rode past. I'm pretty sure I heard cackling. The pelting happens on the lift, too, if I should have the misfortune of sitting vulnerable in the lift chair in front of him. I tell you, he's mean.

But I guess that's why I get along with Nebraska Man.

Now, meet James:


Don't let the perspective fool you: James is a giant. This towering Texan was the third enginerd from my company to join our church community group in three weeks (our poor group...). James lives close by, so we've spent more than a few Saturday nights eating dinner, playing cards, and discussing matters of faith, life, and more. He's a man of principle and character, and I hold him in great respect. But, I must confess, that respect comes crashing down whenever I find myself on the receiving end of yet another one of his humiliating pranks or insults. There are just too many to recount. So, yes, he too has a messed up sense of humor and keeps me on my toes in more ways than one.

There he is in the back, suppressing his gag reflex after swallowing the nasty Luna breakfast bar that Nick and I left him (we grabbed the last two non-feminine-nutrition bars). I do not regret our actions that morning. Not one bit.

And there you have it...a quick toast to two of my new friends. Demented and mean as they may be, I am grateful to call them my brothers.

Cheers.

I do, in fact, have more than two friends in Seattle, so you can anticipate (or skip) more introductions in the near future. :)

Dinosauria

All right, Howie, this post's for you...

A couple weeks ago, my friend Howie commented that my new house needed more dinosaurs. To explain, we had bonded at good ol' 307 over our mutual love for dinosaurs. So, allow me to indulge him in proving that dinosaurs do continue to live in my house. Or, at least, in my imagination.

Behold the prehistoric scene unfolding on my dining table:

Check out the action, as Tyrannosaurus engages Triceratops in a battle to the death. T. rex lunges for Trike's neck, but all he gets is a mouthful of horns. OUCH! He'll be spitting blood tonight...

Hanging behind the battle scene is a rather unfazed Stegosaurus. He's got an armor-plated back and a spiked tail, so he really doesn't give a crap. Moreover, he's quite preoccupied with his romantic pursuits. He thinks he has found true love in the beautiful, blue "Ms. Sutego Zaurusu." Unfortunately, he doesn't realize that she is merely a fossil imprint on a cup imported from Japan. Sorry, Steggy...she's made of glass, you're made of plastic; she speaks Engrish, and you don't speak; it's just not gonna work out.

If we pan now to the left foreground, we see Parasaurolophus, the placid duck-bill dinosaur with a crest on his head. He's happy munching on foliage. Apparently parsley grew to gigantic proportions in prehistoric times, much to the delight of these fine-dining dinosaurs. But herbivores always had to watch out for the similar-looking, but deadly toxic cilantro bushes that littered the landscape of the Cretaceous period. It was the inevitable misfortune of dinosaurs with challenged taste buds to die early deaths because they couldn't detect the bitter poison of this vile, vile plant. We recognize this process as natural selection and move on.

Finally, hiding in between the cups in the background is Brachiosaurus. His long neck and gawky stance brought him endless ridicule all through childhood and have left him feeling like an outcast to this day. And so he mopes around, terribly emo, searching for a soulmate who will "understand" him. Like Steggy, he's also looking for love in all the wrong places. You see, that Buronto Zaurusu that he's flirting with won't be having Brach's kids anytime soon. For one, Buronto is another species. Secondly, he's male.

That's right, folks, you've seen it theorized on bumper stickers and on Facebook.com... Now we have photographic evidence: Gay marriage killed the dinosaurs.

(Thanks for the cups, Auds!)

Sheer Incompetence

Today Everett got hit with some noticeable snow. It's really beautiful...I love the sight of barren tree branches covered in snow. What is not so beautiful, however, is the resulting traffic. A ten-minute drive turns into an excruciating hour of torture. Seattle drivers apparently cannot handle inclement weather and, as a result, drive exceedingly slow. Even in those situations, like going uphill, when they really need to accelerate. Never mind the fact that, if they were to go any slower, they'd lose traction and start sliding backwards. They would evidently prefer to hit the car behind them than to enable traffic flow. Their collective ineptitude is mind-blowing.

Of course, not everyone is that bad. I'll occasionally notice a capable and respectful driver. The one who signals, the one who passes on the left, the one who realizes that the point of the carpool lane is to reward those carpoolers with a faster lane of traffic. And just when I think that maybe there's hope in such a pathetic population of drivers, I spot the out-of-state license plate. I should've known.

I have to repent of my evil, commute-induced thoughts almost daily.

So today's random bout of snow has cancelled most of my evening plans. Forget the doctor's appointment, no cardio at the gym... I was even gonna go to a salsa club downtown, but the thought of the road conditions (and, more importantly, the traffic) prevented all of that from happening.

And so I spend this quiet weeknight at home alone. On the upside, I finally get to enjoy a nice, home-cooked meal. On the downside, I have to go make it first.

Slinky

Some people are like Slinkies,
Not really good for anything,
But they still bring a smile to your face
When you push them down a flight of stairs.

Jenn Kim claims to be that Slinky, but I still think it would be funnier to push her down a well. Exactly what Jesus would not do when He met with that woman at the well. Oh well. I just ended three - now, four - sentences with "well."

Are Slinkies even around anymore? I remember when they were all the rage, along with Koosh Balls and slap bracelets.

And, speaking of childhood experiences, since when did Kellogg's start sugar-coating Rice Krispies? I happened to enjoy this classic cereal as a kid...back when it was a purely textural and aural breakfast experience, devoid of both taste and nutritional value. This morning I discovered that it's become all tasty and crap. What a crying shame.

My Home

There's one sure way to recover an audience after a punishing post like my last.

That's right, folks, it's PICTURE TIME!

And I figure that, since it has been exactly six months since I moved into my new place, what better way to celebrate than to finally share with you some photos of the house. Check out all its majesty...

The view from my front door. Yes, I know, the walls are rather bare.

My living room, with books to be read on the coffee table and various recent greeting cards on top of the fireplace. Send me something and you might see it up there next time. I promise I won't use it as emergency fuel.

A view of the kitchen from the corner of the living room. Did you know that more couples fight in a yellow kitchen than one of any other color? And babies are more likely to cry and old people more prone to agitation in yellow rooms in general. Good thing none of the above apply to me, but perhaps some painting is in order, anyway.

Another view of the kitchen. The yellow kitchen. Peering into the (less, but still) yellow dining area.


And the dining area. Not walled off, so I wouldn't call it a room, but it's more than enough space for me and a few guests. I'm a big fan of pub height tables, and this 5-piece dining set was an awesome deal. Some of you will recognize the poster hanging on the wall. No, I don't intend to keep it there. I just needed something to temporarily break up the vast, yellow expanse.

Ignoring the garage, coat closet, and bathroom, that would be the first floor of my house. Once I've decorated my bedroom a little more, I'll post some pictures of the upstairs. And then you shall realize that bright yellow was one of the tamer colors of paint chosen by the previous owner of this house.

All in all, I do enjoy living here. And I really enjoy the fact that my house is still clean from the last weekend. I know, I can hardly believe it myself...

Warm House

I really should be asleep by now, but I just enjoyed a weekend great enough to stay up late and post about. In fact, I might argue that I just enjoyed my best weekend in Seattle... I realize I haven't spent that many weekends here, due to numerous weekend trips and whatnot, but, still, this one was good.

Today marks exactly six months since the day I started work as a full-time professional. Two days prior to that was when I physically arrived in Seattle in order to sign and close on my condo in Everett. So, basically, I got here six months ago. And it took me until this weekend to thoroughly clean and organize my junk so that I could actually have guests over. And, at last, I did it.

First came the dogs, of course. They ate dog food. Then my (relatively new) friends James and Caleb came over on Saturday for dinner and games. We had pork fried rice and a chicken and bell pepper stirfry. I almost whipped out an egg drop soup, too, but didn't have enough time. After that we played cards (500) till almost 2am. It was my first time actually hosting and entertaining anyone here, and frankly, it was awesome.

Sunday was also great. The same James and another (relatively less new) friend, Nick, came over after church for a late lunch of Manhattan clam chowder and roast beef sandwiches. I went overboard with the ingredients and now have enough soup to last me the rest of the week. Sweet. Again we played 500, and I was temporarily tied at the winning score of 500, until I quickly got trampled by Nick in the tiebreaker round. Poop.

Anyhow, having people over this weekend was like having an extended, belated housewarming party. My house does feel like home now.

And there were other highlights to the great weekend. Like visiting the Bodies Exhibition in Seattle with my church community group. "I'll never look at salmon jerky the same again..." And driving past the most brilliant double rainbow I've ever seen (I guess that's one nice thing about the rain here...) while on our way to check out sailboats at the Everett harbor. And, most recently tonight, catching up with my dear friend Chinsan over AIM and laughing my head off.

Oh, and there was the musical worship at church earlier today. Let me tell you, one of the bands at Mars Hill, E-Pop, wrote arrangements of the hymns "Solid Rock" and "I'll Fly Away" that are so beautiful, it's ridiculous. "I'll Fly Away" is a song about death and a joyful return "to a home on God's celestial shore..."

Just a few more weary days and then I'll fly away
To a land where joy will never end, I'll fly away

I was moved to tears while singing the song today, and I assure you, even when a song hits so personally, I'm not usually a crier. The last time I recall was in 2004, at the old KCPC building (YAG service in the mortuary), singing "How Deep the Father's Love." Prior to that was at Urbana 2003, "Hope of the Nations." And prior to that was in 2001 while singing "The Lord Bless You and Keep You" for Kari's late father. This is rare, right?

I think if people played a song at my funeral, I'd like it to be the E-Pop rendition of "I'll Fly Away." Otherwise, Chris Rice's Untitled Hymn, "Come To Jesus." Both would be perfect for maximum waterworks. YES. Matt Redman's "Better Is One Day" would also do the trick. Perhaps not "Let Everything That Has Breath" (great song though it is). Unfortunately, it might get taken the wrong way at a funeral. Especially the "...praise the Lord" part. I, for one, would immediately think of "Ding dong, the witch is dead." Not quite the sort of legacy I would hope to leave...

All right, so I just wrote a fantastically underwhelming post with enough personal event narrative and limited-audience references to bore just about anyone. I'd try to salvage the post, but it's actually past 2:40am now and it is really time to go to bed, lest I die at work tomorrow.

("Let everything that has breath...")

Dogpile

This weekend I'm dog-sitting for a friend. Her three dachsunds Emma, Bella, and Joey. It's been a while since I've cared after dogs, so it's nice to have these guys over for the weekend. They're just a bit...energetic. In fact, Emma's freaking neurotic and Bella's a little princess/attention whore. But Joey's cool. He's a mellow dude, and I like him. The girls have surely figured out that I already picked him as my favorite. And for good reason. They had been with me for no more than three hours when the two girls escaped from my backyard. I had only stepped inside for a brief second and when I came back out, all I saw was Joey staring back at me with this inquisitive look, "Why did they leave me?" With some coaxing, Emma came crawling back and was sent immediately to her prison cell. On the other hand, Bella led me on a chase around the block before she decided that even confinement in prison was better than status as fresh roadkill. Good girl. Off to the cage with you.

And so I'm sure this will be an interesting weekend. Tomorrow I'll have over some dinner guests of the human variety. I'll try to remember not to throw rawhide at them.

Dairy Air

I realize it's already been a while since my last post. I've had numerous random thoughts recently that would've been blog-worthy, but I just never got around to posting them. Thoughts like, I can always tell when my mom goes through cleaning her e-mail inbox, because I get to read all her many, many forwards. I swear, the woman is trigger happy when it comes to that blasted Forward button. Thoughts like, My knees and butt really did not appreciate my most recent snowboarding trip... Especially when I got dragged up that black diamond. Thoughts like, I really miss all the people that I left behind in the Bay Area...but I'm feeling more and more at home in this new place, with new friends, a new church, and new hobbies.

Wow, I could get deep with that last thought. But not this time.

Instead, I'm sharing with you all a gem of a Facebook note that I wrote while at home with the family for Christmas a couple months ago. The note was going to show up here sooner or later, to prove to you my love for immature humor. Anyway, back to the original subject:

Dairy Air

So, I'm home for the holidays. "Home" is a funny term because I didn't exactly grow up here, and, in fact, I have few friends in the quaint township of Elk Grove Village...few in the greater Chicagoland area, in general. So, unless a random friend (Michael Lin) or collegiate a cappella group (Testimony A Cappella) chooses to visit the area, I all too frequently find myself taking advantage of the free DVD rentals at our local library to pass the time and catch up with pop culture.

Over the past few days, I have watched:
War of the Worlds (not bad)
The Royal Tenenbaums (I give up on Wes Anderson...)
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (AWESOME)
Shaun of the Dead (I love horror comedies about "the mobile deceased")
Lady in the Water (Daniel, Mickey, Michael - I'm so sorry.)

Just remember these were all free rentals.

And now my latest: Red Eye

Ah, "Red Eye." It's a thriller, and it's set on an airplane. My kind of movie! Now, if one were to think I am therefore, by default, excited to see "Snakes on a Plane," one would be very wrong. Maybe "Spiders on a Plane." Oh, but wait, they already did that in 1977. It was called "Tarantulas: The Deadly Cargo"...and I know this, sadly, because I've already seen it.

Anyway, in "Red Eye," the fictitious airline on which our main character flies is called Fresh Air. Ha! My sister and I couldn't stop laughing every time they announced the airline's name. Wes Craven sure has a sense of humor. And it got me thinking...If I were to name an airline, of course I'd have some fun with it.

Years ago, when United Airlines launched their low-cost subsidiary, Ted, I thought it was a genius branding move. And then I joked with friends about what American Airlines might do in response. They would have no choice but to launch their own no-frills subsidiary, Can. Just imagine the slogan: "Come fly the Can."

Tonight, Fresh Air got me thinking again... If I were to start a new Midwestern regional airline, I would have no finer name for it than Dairy Air.

"It's time to fly...Dairy Air."
"Come fly the friendly Dairy Air."
"Something special in the Dairy Air."
"Dairy Air. A whole different animal."
"Dairy Air. Wanna get away?"
"Dairy Air. The winds of freedom blow."
"Welcome to the departure lounge for Dairy Air flight 455. We will now begin boarding from the rear."

Oh, the possibilities are endless... In fact, here are some more.

As suggested by Danny:
"Dairy Air. More room inside."
"To access your account, just click on 'My Dairy Air.'"

And from Mickey:
"Dairy Air. We're gonna blow you away."

I'm open to more brilliant suggestions if you want to share them. If I were to launch this airline with your slogan, I'd gladly send you an honorary Turd Bird or something. It would be awesome.

Stupid Morning

It happened again.

I woke up this morning feeling great. The sun was out, all was quiet in my house, and I felt well-rested.

A little too well-rested.
Because my alarm clock was silent.
And, while the sun wasn't truly out, the sky seemed at least a few shades of gray lighter than usual. This is Seattle, after all.

I rolled over to check my alarm clock, which stared back at me with its beady little display: "9:45AM." It sat there, mocking me in its cruel silence...

It was one of my all-too-frequent "Oh crap" wake-ups. Leaping off the bed, cursing myself for turning off my alarm in my sleep, thanking God that my company permits employees to flex their time, cursing myself that flextime only applies when there aren't meetings to miss (like today), momentarily wondering why Sonicare didn't program a special panic mode for shorter duration brushing of teeth, and then cutting corners on other morning processes which don't need elaboration here. (No, this did not apply to my putting on clothes.)

I finally made it into work, fully dressed, but ashamed and bracing myself for the mockery of my coworkers. In fact, if my coworkers were feeling particularly evil, our first conversation could've gone like this:

Me: Morning, guys.
Coworker 1: Morning, Bryan.
Coworker 2: Is it lunch time already?

Oh, but that conversation already occurred some time ago.

Wings, Mostly

I forgot to explain that the title of this blog was also chosen for its verbal connection to my profession in the aviation/aerospace industry. While I won't name my employer, for reasons of corporate policy and the protection of my own butt, I can speak generally about the industry and why I am inspired to work in it.

Once upon a time, as a kid, I loved airplanes. And my fascination with them never went away. Today I thank God for placing that passion in my heart so I could pursue His calling while fulfilling a childhood dream. I am ever amazed by this industry, and I wish I could more eloquently share why. But I can't, so I instead invite you to watch the advertising propaganda of a couple big players in my industry:


I have got to get one of those holographic globes.


That's right, musical score in the same key. Slick, I know.


Doesn't this inspire you to work in aerospace?

Yes?

Hello?

Right.

On Roots and Wings

The launch of this blog signals a departure from my old blog. My six years at Stanford have more or less been summarized in those archives of my babbling. Now that I've graduated and begun life as a working professional, I figure it's an opportunity to begin anew on the blogosphere as well.

And so an explanation of my title is in order. In case you aren't familiar with the phrase, "roots and wings," you're not alone. It comes from an anonymous quote:

There are but two lasting bequests we can give our children. One is roots, the other, wings.

Roots signify a child's foundation, a definition of who he is and where he comes from. Wings, on the other hand, are his means of leaving the security of the familiar in order to discover new horizons.

Indeed, I am living in a new home in a new state, working a new job, and sometimes feeling quite distant from that which I hold dear and familiar. But I've been equipped with the lessons and memories of the past, and they'll color the way I see things in the future. And so it will be with this blog. While I foresee a different blogging style for a new audience, some things will remain constant. For instance, a good degree of sarcasm and cynical humor. A penchant for scatological humor. And, of course, an irregular (at best, infrequent) posting schedule. In other words, I still aim to destroy any high expectations you may have for this blog. (Just so we're clear.)

So what, exactly, is new? Well, besides the new template, I'm also implementing the aforementioned new blogging style. No longer will you be reading (or awaiting) endless updates on everything I've been up to. Instead, expect to catch the occasional random thought. A rant, or a rave, to offer you a glimpse of my crazy life here. I figure that, with such a mindset, I'll be updating this blog a bit more frequently than my last.

So I hope you might enjoy the change. I of course welcome your feedback, friends and strangers alike. I hope to have fun with this, and dialogue is one place to start.

And now, folks, on with the show...

The Next Chapter

2007. A new year. An appropriate time to start a new blog.