(no subject)
Friday was my birthday, and I had lunch with a bunch of work friends at Red Robin. Drew and Nina came as well. Ah, and the return of The Princess Gagtm.
Couple of years back, a group of us went to RR and Jim put his name down for a table. Now Jim's a somewhat fussy and cantakerous character, and I hit on this idea for a gag. I quietly went to the wait desk and asked them to change the reservation name from "Jim" to "Princess" and then I spread word of the change to everyone save Jim. So when our table became available, the girl yelled out "Table for Princess!" and we all went "That's you, Jim!" and we all got a good laugh at his expense.
Well, apparently Jim wanted to shirk off the Princess title so he did the same thing to Friday's reservation, which was under my name. But how lame is that, using the gag I invented on me? No originality! Hello?
I was planning on spending a weekend in San Diego with family; Eileen even gave me a plane ticket voucher from American. Unfortunately the dates didn't work out, so I'll probably see the fam in May. What's awesome is they are hooking me up with an iPod Photo. New toy! New toy!
Much Warcrafting over the weekend. My Tivo is not getting the love. I only watch The Daily Show and Gilmore Girls now.
And now for more semi-serious stuff. Something I was going to post last Thanksgiving but never got around to.
It's amazing for me to look back when I came to this country as a teenager. My family and I, we literally had nothing but the clothes on our backs. We had NOTHING. We split the family apart (left my older brother back home) and came to a new country with nothing but a desire to improve our lot. None of us were super-smart or charismatic or even good-looking, things that would set us apart. We were just your average immigrants. Poor, ugly, and completely clueless. But we were willing to do anything to make a better life. Fast food jobs. Mind-numbing factory work. Retail.
We struggled, and we complained, sure, but we did something about it. We tried to attend the best public schools in the state, and did. We tried to learn from our friends and their friends. We kept an open mind about everything. And now, years later, we're in a very good place. I work on the most kickass project for a great software company. My sister went to Wharton and now flies in Larry Ellison's jet and lunches with Paul Allen. Our family's reunited -- my brother is now here, starting a new, fuller life for himself. Our lives aren't perfect but we have a lot to be thankful for. The shirt on my back? It's not the only one I have anymore.
So what's my point? Well, my family could've wallowed in our misery during our lean, early years but we didn't. We DID something about it. And what I've picked up as a result of all this is an extreme distaste for whining. Whine whine whine *emo tearz*. Life is a roller coaster, it's sometimes good, sometimes bad. It's ok to be sad on occasion, to have self-doubt. It's even ok to complain. But endless, pointless whining gets you NOWHERE. The whole pursuit of happiness thing hinges on the word PURSUIT. Go for it, or shut your trap.
I had an awesome best friend, someone I knew since we were twelve. He was the scion of a wealthy family, and so it was a credit to his person that he didn't discriminate who he chose to be friends with, because I was dirt poor (and we lived in a very class-conscious society). He had a lot of great qualities, but what I liked the most about him was his fearlessness, his can-do attitude. He could do anything and do it well, and he inspired others including me to be at his level. I learned to play guitar from him. I remember when we wanted to play as a band in the senior talent fest. He signed us up, but the problem was we didn't have a drummer. I wanted to quit but he wouldn't have it -- he disappeared for a week and came back, and he knew how to fucking play drums. Like, at a near-pro level. He was unbelievable.
I lost track of him when his mother, who worked in foreign affairs, was assigned abroad, taking her brood with her. Years later we would find ourselves both living in the Seattle area. And I was so disappointed with what had become of him. The family wealth had dried up, but a thousand times worse, the can-do attitude was gone. He'd ramble on about how he'd someday become a great film director and how his ex-wife was the cause of all his troubles. He would go on and on about our glory days, his teenage sweetheart and how he should have married her instead, stuff from long ago peppered with what-ifs. He was trapped in the past, and it was heartbreaking for me to see him in such a state. So I made it a point to visit him often, offer encouragement, give suggestions on how to improve himself. I tried to point him in a direction, any direction, and pushed him towards it. But he wasn't budging. All he wanted was to sip a latte at Starbucks and write dark poetry. So I gave up. After a year, I said, fuck this. I love this guy, but I'm not going to watch him torture himself to death. So I moved on, and never talked to him again. (Except once, when a mutual childhood friend of ours came to town for a visit -- it didn't make sense to exclude him.)
Um, back to my point again. I don't wish this ex-friend any ill; in fact, I don't wish anyone any ill. I want goodness for all. But goodness won't come from wishing. Or whining. Happiness is a personal responsibility. You need a plan and you need to execute it.
Couple of years back, a group of us went to RR and Jim put his name down for a table. Now Jim's a somewhat fussy and cantakerous character, and I hit on this idea for a gag. I quietly went to the wait desk and asked them to change the reservation name from "Jim" to "Princess" and then I spread word of the change to everyone save Jim. So when our table became available, the girl yelled out "Table for Princess!" and we all went "That's you, Jim!" and we all got a good laugh at his expense.
Well, apparently Jim wanted to shirk off the Princess title so he did the same thing to Friday's reservation, which was under my name. But how lame is that, using the gag I invented on me? No originality! Hello?
I was planning on spending a weekend in San Diego with family; Eileen even gave me a plane ticket voucher from American. Unfortunately the dates didn't work out, so I'll probably see the fam in May. What's awesome is they are hooking me up with an iPod Photo. New toy! New toy!
Much Warcrafting over the weekend. My Tivo is not getting the love. I only watch The Daily Show and Gilmore Girls now.
And now for more semi-serious stuff. Something I was going to post last Thanksgiving but never got around to.
It's amazing for me to look back when I came to this country as a teenager. My family and I, we literally had nothing but the clothes on our backs. We had NOTHING. We split the family apart (left my older brother back home) and came to a new country with nothing but a desire to improve our lot. None of us were super-smart or charismatic or even good-looking, things that would set us apart. We were just your average immigrants. Poor, ugly, and completely clueless. But we were willing to do anything to make a better life. Fast food jobs. Mind-numbing factory work. Retail.
We struggled, and we complained, sure, but we did something about it. We tried to attend the best public schools in the state, and did. We tried to learn from our friends and their friends. We kept an open mind about everything. And now, years later, we're in a very good place. I work on the most kickass project for a great software company. My sister went to Wharton and now flies in Larry Ellison's jet and lunches with Paul Allen. Our family's reunited -- my brother is now here, starting a new, fuller life for himself. Our lives aren't perfect but we have a lot to be thankful for. The shirt on my back? It's not the only one I have anymore.
So what's my point? Well, my family could've wallowed in our misery during our lean, early years but we didn't. We DID something about it. And what I've picked up as a result of all this is an extreme distaste for whining. Whine whine whine *emo tearz*. Life is a roller coaster, it's sometimes good, sometimes bad. It's ok to be sad on occasion, to have self-doubt. It's even ok to complain. But endless, pointless whining gets you NOWHERE. The whole pursuit of happiness thing hinges on the word PURSUIT. Go for it, or shut your trap.
I had an awesome best friend, someone I knew since we were twelve. He was the scion of a wealthy family, and so it was a credit to his person that he didn't discriminate who he chose to be friends with, because I was dirt poor (and we lived in a very class-conscious society). He had a lot of great qualities, but what I liked the most about him was his fearlessness, his can-do attitude. He could do anything and do it well, and he inspired others including me to be at his level. I learned to play guitar from him. I remember when we wanted to play as a band in the senior talent fest. He signed us up, but the problem was we didn't have a drummer. I wanted to quit but he wouldn't have it -- he disappeared for a week and came back, and he knew how to fucking play drums. Like, at a near-pro level. He was unbelievable.
I lost track of him when his mother, who worked in foreign affairs, was assigned abroad, taking her brood with her. Years later we would find ourselves both living in the Seattle area. And I was so disappointed with what had become of him. The family wealth had dried up, but a thousand times worse, the can-do attitude was gone. He'd ramble on about how he'd someday become a great film director and how his ex-wife was the cause of all his troubles. He would go on and on about our glory days, his teenage sweetheart and how he should have married her instead, stuff from long ago peppered with what-ifs. He was trapped in the past, and it was heartbreaking for me to see him in such a state. So I made it a point to visit him often, offer encouragement, give suggestions on how to improve himself. I tried to point him in a direction, any direction, and pushed him towards it. But he wasn't budging. All he wanted was to sip a latte at Starbucks and write dark poetry. So I gave up. After a year, I said, fuck this. I love this guy, but I'm not going to watch him torture himself to death. So I moved on, and never talked to him again. (Except once, when a mutual childhood friend of ours came to town for a visit -- it didn't make sense to exclude him.)
Um, back to my point again. I don't wish this ex-friend any ill; in fact, I don't wish anyone any ill. I want goodness for all. But goodness won't come from wishing. Or whining. Happiness is a personal responsibility. You need a plan and you need to execute it.