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Posted 2:34 AM by Anonymous

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Posted 5:08 PM by Blah blah

Happy Birthday to one of my friends, Liu! Here we are one year ago. You can see my highlighted brown hair:


I'm taking a long break from writing, guys. Need to sort out things in my life. If you'd like to get a message from me when I come back, please join my Notify List. Thank you.

This government decision is plain stupid. Give me a break!!...Japan Cuts Single-Mum Benefits, Blames Divorce Rate (Reuters):
___________
From August, eligibility for the maximum monthly benefit of 42,370 yen ($341) for a mother with one child will be restricted to families with annual income below 1.3 million yen ($10,470).

The benefit was previously available to women with incomes of up to 2.048 million yen ($16,490).

The new system will also factor in child support paid by fathers, income that was not previously included in calculations, and it will introduce a sliding scale of benefits for women with incomes up to 3.65 million.

"Many of the women here are victims of domestic violence and it can be dangerous for them to try to claim child support from their children's fathers," Ishida said. "Even when they do succeed, many men stop paying after a while."

Posted 6:54 AM by Blah blah

What Other People Think

Whenever I have a chance to glance at Min Jung's blog, I find at least one entry that is eloquent and profound. Here's her latest. "What I want to say is 'Oh, you know what? He's really cool. He treats me well. I like talking to him. He's tender & kind and I'm never bored or feel like I can't be myself, even totally cranky, when I'm with him. He makes me laugh, and I have a little ray of sunshine in my heart after I hear from him.' But if I ever honestly answered like that, I'm afraid that half of my friends would follow up with the question 'So...is he cute?' Of course if I'm interested in someone they're cute. They become cute in my eyes." I so agree with her about this frustration with others' standards. It's like that page of The Little Prince:

When you tell them that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essential matters. They never say to you, "What does his voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?" Instead, they demand: "How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?" Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him.

If you were to say to the grown-ups: "I saw a beautiful house made of rosy brick, with geraniums in the windows and doves on the roof," they would not be able to get any idea of that house at all. You would have to say to them: "I saw a house that cost $20,000." Then they would exclaim: "Oh, what a pretty house that is!"

That's exactly what my parents say, both about houses and my new friends. My parents own their house, but they will sometimes go to see houses on sale for the hell of it. Not because they care about architecture, but because they cost $700,000 or so and they want to reassure themselves that, twelve years later, they still got a good deal on it. That's one reason we have such a hard time communicating. Or whenever I talk to them, it needs to be in that materialistic, seeking mutual advantage-like, "grownup" way. And it's why they so little understand me.

(It's ironic I'm using this example, because I am going to an open house tomorrow. It's part of this real estate thing I'm starting to do on the side. "Field training.")

The first girl I truly loved---she was three to four years older than I. I didn't try to pin her down about her age because I knew she was self-conscious. Also, it was news to me when I discovered that she (and some of her male friends) would tell me she was overweight. HUH? I had gotten to know her gradually, through my roommate. I was enchanted by the playful sparkle in her eye, her quick wit and delicious laugh, her character, and her romantic view of life. I could talk to her about the Caltech physicist Richard Feynman and she liked him too. She was one of the best listeners I had ever met. She not only got my jokes and thought I was funny, she understood what I had MEANT to say even when I said it clumsily, awkwardly, with a hot feeling under my cheeks. She could tell my intentions before I did.

I'd say: "Yeah, that was like the time I got with my brother and we taped this radio play for our parents for Christmas. I got this book of scripts from the library, and we acted out all the characters together, complete with sound effects. Silly, huh?" She'd shake her head, fix me with her gaze, and say something like "Wow, Raymond, you are so kind, so original!" Just the thing every man wants to hear.

Every night, after dinner, she would excuse herself to go to the cafe in our dorm. It has a fantastic view of San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge. "Why?" I said. "To see the sunset," she said, rubbing her knuckle on her chin. Then she would go to the lab and work till about 2 am.

She was unique. She didn't fit into any "category" of girl I had met up till then. The result: I found her really sexy. My emotional and intellectual attraction to her naturally burst into physical attraction. I'd fantasize about her and her body, her voice. Her plumpness became wrapped up in my sexy picture of her, to where I started to like women with her fuller figure and assume positive things about them.

She'd wear these tight black jazz pants (?) that had these "stirrups" around her heels. "Why?" I said, completely innocent. It was a trick to make her legs look thinner. Through her, I learned for the first time about the harsher beauty standards of the world from which she came. And it made me unhappy thinking that she could be a brilliant scientist (which she was) and a wonderful person but still have people dismiss her with a glance, a phrase. "Oh, you remember what that chubby girl said...?"

From the SIRC guide to flirting: "80% of women think that they are too fat. In one American survey, women were asked what were the three words they would most like to hear from a male partner. The most common answer was not, as expected, 'I love you,' but 'You've lost weight.' "

About a week ago, I had dinner with someone whom I think is gorgeous. She watched me eat by myself for the whole meal and refused to touch anything except her drink. She had just finished telling me how she was going to the gym everyday and what she did there.

"So why aren't you ordering any food?" I asked. "It can't be...because you think you are..."
"FAT," she said.

You there.

Yes, you. Please stand there. Let me look at you. Don't squirm now. Well whaddya know! You've been taking good care of yourself, lady!

Don't be shy with me---you've lost weight, haven't you?

Posted 12:58 PM by Blah blah

I couldn't stop laughing here. If you think you've had a bad hair day...Woman Loses Case Over 'Bin Laden' Hairstyle (Reuters):

"A Hong Kong woman lost her case for compensation against a hair salon which she claimed made her look like Osama bin Laden when she wanted a hairstyle like Hollywood actress Julia Roberts. After the judgement was handed down, she refused to leave the Small Claims Tribunal and had to be taken away by ambulance following a standoff of more than an hour with court staff, the South China Morning Post reported on Thursday."

Speaking of Penelope Cruz, check out this new girl on RBJ, 20-year-old Lorenia. She's in Spain and full of life.

This guy and I were having lunch today, and we came up with this fantastic business idea! I won't say more, but we might do something with it. Hmmm...

I end today's sermon with some favorite poems:
I Do, I Will, I Have
by Ogden Nash

How wise I am to have instructed the butler to instruct the first footman to instruct the second footman to instruct the doorman to order my carriage;
I am about to volunteer a definition of marriage.
Just as I know that there are two Hagens, Walter and Copen,
I know that marriage is a legal and religious alliance entered into by a man who can't sleep with the window shut and a woman who can't sleep with the window open.
Moreover, just as I am unsure of the difference between flora and fauna and flotsam and jetsam,
I am quite sure that marriage is the alliance of two people one of whom never remembers birthdays and the other never forgetsam,
And he refuses to believe there is a leak in the water pipe or the gas pipe and she is convinced she is about to asphyxiate or drown,
And she says Quick get up and get my hairbrushes off the windowsill, it's raining in, and he replies Oh they're all right, it's only raining straight down.
That is why marriage is so much more interesting than divorce,
Because it's the only known example of the happy meeting of the immovable object and the irresistible force.
So I hope husbands and wives will continue to debate and combat over everything debatable and combatable,
Because I believe a little incompatibility is the spice of life, particularly if he has income and she...is pattable.

A Lady Who Thinks She Is Thirty
by Ogden Nash

Unwillingly Miranda wakes,
Feels the sun with terror,
One unwilling step she takes,
Shuddering to the mirror.
Miranda in Miranda's sight
Is old and gray and dirty;
Twenty-nine she was last night;
This morning she is thirty.

Shining like the morning star,
Like the twilight shining,
Haunted by a calendar,
Miranda is a-pining.

Silly girl, silver girl,
Draw the mirror toward you;
Time who makes the years to whirl
Adorned as he adored you.

Time is timelessness for you;
Calendars for the human;
What's a year, or thirty, to
Loveliness made woman?

Oh, Night will not see thirty again,
Yet soft her wing, Miranda;
Pick up your glass and tell me, then--
How old is Spring, Miranda?

I Lost My "Weenie" In The Car Wash
by Teresa McFarland

Late one night while driving home & nearly out of gas
I pulled off the freeway to fill my tank up fast!
I was tired & hungry, gotta pee
Texaco it was for me
The 'Star Mart' has just what I need
And a car wash that's for free!

While the gas was pumping, I got a key & visited the loo
Washed my hands then thought to myself 'now what am I gonna do?'
Bought a burger, a hot dog, a diet Pepsi
A burrito, Dorito's & a large cup of coffee
Yep, the Star Mart has all that I need
Plus a carwash that's for free!

Climbed into my van with receipt in hand & punched in the secret code
Green Light says "go", with windows up, red light stop! in idle mode
Suds & water swish and swash
Brushes are rolling - my "free carwash"!
The Star Mart had just what I need
And my carwash it was free!

Carwash is done, I'm ready to roll back on the interstate
A block away I look up to see the awful hand of fate
It occurred to me that I'd lost the Der Weinerschnitzel weena
That I'd carefully placed on my antennae
The carwash that I got for free
Had washed away my little weenie!

I lost my weenie in the carwash
I lost my weenie in the carwash
I was mindin' my own business & just followin' directions
but I still lost my weenie in the car wash!

Once I discovered it was missin'
I turned myself around
I was feeling optimistic, that it would be easily found
I peered in the puddles & batted the brushes
Looked in the gutter & under the rails
My weenie was gone, my only one
And now here's the sorry tale.

I searched high & low to no avail, my weenie it was gone
Then what do I see, an antennae ball and something else beyond
I kept lookin' for my special weenie, but you'll never guess just what I found:
5 balls from Jack in the Box, 2 basket balls and a soccer ball, 4 '76 gas
station balls and a Viagra fountain pen!
But I never found my weenie in the car wash!

Oh, I lost my weenie in the carwash!
I lost my weenie in the carwash!
Now I'm sad & broken hearted
I know I'll never find another
It was a one of a kind collectors item!
Oh my! I lost my precious weenie in the carwash!

Posted 4:37 AM by Blah blah

New blogs added: two cool guys, Mikey (Malaysian in Ireland) and Victor (southern Cal). And three girls, Helen Jane (Bay Area), Pei (Singaporean in Nottingham, England) and Alexandria (actress in SF). Mikey speaks Hokkien (like me!) and has been very thought-provoking on RBJ. He links to this from the NY Times, Taking risks to ensure survival:

"Zahavi’s handicap principle attempts to explain why babblers risk their lives by yelling at predators, why peacocks carry splendid but cumbersome tails twice the length of their bodies, and even perhaps why Ted Turner gave $1 billion to the United Nations.

Zahavi’s handicap principle holds that animals and humans alike prosper not in spite of our riskiest and most extravagant behaviours but because of them. These behaviours
are the way we advertise how prosperous, how fit, how fearless we are.

Because the world is a jaded, cynical place, we have to incorporate a significant cost, or handicap, in our advertising to make it persuasive. Thus antelopes really
are indulging in a dangerous waste of energy when they stot in front of a cheetah. But their willingness to risk it is how they tell the cheetah: 'Don’t even bother
trying.' "

Helen Jane wrote these thoughts about the new Fox show, "Looking for Love: Bachelorettes in Alaska" (sequel to ABC's "The Bachelor.")

Yep, she is quite a character. Of all the people on BlindDateBlog, she seemed most my type. And it looks like she is getting hitched. I'm not surprised. Each of her entries is tiny and reads like free verse. Very nice.

Posted 4:51 PM by Blah blah

For all of you who tell me you don't know how to flirt or gave it up a long time ago, check out this Oxford SIRC Guide to Flirting.

From Ellen: The Top 12 Things Uttered by Yoda While Making Love.

Open Your Eyes

I watched Vanilla Sky this weekend and I, despite the fact that most people don't seem to like it, identified with the movie on a bunch of levels. I like it. I like Tom Cruise too and what he tries to do. Vanilla Sky is like a clash of David Lynch's Mulholland Drive with Christopher Nolan's Memento, mashed with director Cameron Crowe's Rolling Stones perspective and his wife Nancy Wilson's funky, Hindi-sounding music. Except for the lousy ending, I LIKE IT. It's a remake of then 24-year-old Alejandro Amenábar's Spanish film, Abre los Ojos...abre los Ojos...open your eyes, Raymond.

Penelope Cruz's sweet character reminds me of people I have gone out with before, people I tend to be attracted to. Like Cruz is a dancer (here and in real life), N was artistic and paints watercolors. Small breasts, graceful dancer's figure, pixie-like enthusiasm and life. Check...check...my buying patterns come to the surface. It is not my only pattern, but it is a clear one. Well, if you've been reading this journal long enough, you'll know I wrote about my buying habits a while back. Find them if you can.

Other girls' and boys' buying habits: girlboy. It's meant for reading and chuckling over, vs. reading and making "action items." Here's how "girlboy" got started.

Why do I keep turning to this journal? I just heard something, nodded wholeheartedly at something. I lift my head...no one is there. I speak to a person. He scratches his ear and does not listen. I see lots of patterns. Spider webs. I am bursting to tell you, to trace the connections between the vertices for you. The webs of this site spin their strands into the web of my mind. I have untangled a part of it and tried to neatly---to simply---lay it here for you. Gift-wrapped webbing. Boy would Peter Parker be heehawing at that one.

Quote from In Search of History, memoirs by writer and reporter Theodore H. White:
**********
If men made history, he would seek them out. This thought had lasted for years...the thought that leadership is a quest of men seeking to find themselves and that in so seeking, they shape the lives of other people....He knew it was insufficient to explain politics. Identities in politics, he now realized, were connected far more to ideas than to ego, to id, or to glands. At the core of every great political identity lay an idea---an idea imposed on the leader from his past, which the leader absorbed, changed and then imposed on the others outside....He had discarded those boyhood teachings very early. He had later learned that money counted. That guns counted. That power counted. But the idea that ideas counted, that ideas were the beginning of all politics, was now, when he was sixty, pressing his thinking back to this adolescence. The men he had since reported in politics were all of them vessels of ideas....Whether is was Mao and Chou, or Nixon and Haldeman, or Kennedy and McNamara, or de Gaulle and Monnet,...their cruelties and nobilities, their creations and tragedies, flowed far more certainly from what was in their minds...

You could separate people out into the large and the small, he thought, by whether their identities came from their own ideas or from the ideas of others. Most ordinary people lived their lives in boxes, as bees did in cells. It did not matter how the boxes were labeled: President, Vice President,..."butcher, baker, beggarman, thief, doctor, lawyer, Indian chief," the box shaped their identity. But the box was an idea. Sir Robert Peel had put London policemen on patrol one hundred fifty years ago and the "bobbies" in London or "cops" in New York now lived in the box invented by Sir Robert Peel....When a pilot awoke in the morning, he could go to the air strip feeling that he was the hottest pilot in the whole air force---but he was only a creature of Billy Mitchell's idea....

All ordinary people below the eye level of public recognition were either captives or descendents of ideas....what a man did was what he was, and what you did, whether you knew it or not, fell to you from other men's ideas. Only a very, very rich man, or a farmer, could escape from this system of boxes. The very rich could escape because wealth itself shelters or buys identity. The very, very rich could become the greatest collectors of Picassos, Tang horses, rare books, stamps, stables, needlepoint, old coins or, simply, girls. They could exempt themselves from reality. And farmers, too, could escape from other men's ideas: A farmer made his own life in the fields; the weather, the market, the quality of his labor and devotion, connected him to another, primitive human condition which was not disturbed by ideas. Or---perhaps?---not even a farmer could escape.

Posted 11:01 AM by Blah blah

This is sad: Economic Woes Silence Silicon Valley Symphony (Reuters): "The San Jose Symphony Orchestra, the oldest symphony in the U.S. West and a Silicon Valley cultural institution, said on Tuesday it would lay down its instruments as officials seek bankruptcy protection....The 123-year-old symphony, saddled with debt estimated at $3.4 million, will play one final concert on Saturday before "going dark" for between 6 to 18 months while advisors devise a plan to reinvent it as a leaner group with new artistic direction and fresh sources of funding." Classical music is very feeble here. On the radio we only have one main classical station left in the Bay Area: KDFC.

Mag's Graduation. Clearlake Photos.

I've put up all my new photos here! Please let me know if you have a problem accessing them.

Mag's graduation (May 25). She is the one with sunglasses:

Amy Tan's back. She's the speaker.

What the hell are you lookin' at?

Our trip to Clearlake, Calif (May 26). We actually ended up going to a nearby resort to jet ski. Tony and June, plus Zhibo and I. Our cell phones couldn't reach the rest of our group, so we spent the whole day together:





The weather is perfect outside nowadays. Let's swim!

Posted 11:12 PM by Anonymous

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