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Tuesday, 09 August 2011

My Old Beantown

Paulie stumbles out of the parked grey Acura. Daniel starts walking with him towards the restaurant.

"Are you alright?" Daniel asks. He's wearing a dark blue, Tommy Hilfiger pinstripe suit. The pink stripes on his necktie stand out in the dimly lighted parking lot.

"haha yeah..." Paulie takes a deep breath, "shit, I drank a lot today." Paulie is wearing his usual black suit, Hugo Boss. White fitted shirt, solid red tie.

"That you did, that you did," Daniel smiles.

The two walk up towards Cactus Jack, a local Mexican restaurant and bar. Two bouncers stand by the entrance.

"ID's please."

Paulie pulls out his passport and hands it to one of the bouncers. Then, all of a sudden, Paulie puts his hand over the bouncer's shoulder.

"Dude. I can't beat you up." Paulie mutters.

He's got everybody's attention now. The bouncer give him a look that says, "what the fuck?". Daniel is stunned. He knew that Paulie had been pretty talkative tonight, but this time, did he take it too far?

Paulie isn't done. "...you're too big. I can't beat you up."

Daniel carefully watches the bouncer, who gives Paulie a second look. He's wasted, and talking a lot, but he doesn't seem like he'd fight anyone. The bouncer decides to respond.

"you're right. You can't." the big man is trying to stay professional, but a small smile emerges from his face. The man in the red necktie is being silly.

"I know, I can't, shit. Wait, what's your name?" Paul's hand is still on the big man's shoulder.

"My name is Victor. Who's taking you home tonight?" Victor turns to Daniel, expecting him to answer.

"Yeah that'll be me. I'm driving tonight." Daniel replies.

"Ok. Take it easy in there."

"Yeah," Paulie answers, "You too, Victor."

Daniel and Paulie head into the restaurant.

'That guy is something else,' Victor thinks.

'That guy is pretty cool,' Paulie thinks.

Wednesday, 01 June 2011

The Wolf that Chases Me

It's two thirty in the morning and a combination of coffee and cigaretts have long overstayed its welcome in my system. I simply cannot fall asleep.

With my insomnia in full effect, I feel the need to say what's on my mind; yes, I will express my "Catcher in the Rye" sort of adolescent angst that hibernates within, eagerly waiting for such delirious moments of vulnerability as these to crawl out of its cave. I've crawled out of my cave, and I want to nourish myself by expressing my feelings. The fact that no one would probably read this forgotten blog is comforting, yet the posibility of someone being able to, and appreciating my candor, gives me enough motivation to share.

My parents having left me when I was two years old, I always knew, deep down inside, that I would be burdened with issues of abandonment for the rest of my life. Now, at the age of twenty nine, I am beginning to realize what that really means.

It means that everytime I meet someone new, I am already beginning to fear that I would lose them. Whether it be my parents, or simply a doorman that I see everyday, whenever a new person is introduced to my life I am forced to try and make them happy, and when they leave without an explanation, nay, when they act in such a way that makes me upset, I am burdened with the thought that perhaps it was my fault that they had done so. I start to feel that perhaps if I was friendlier, or more loving, or just a better person in general, that person would not have committed such an act, or had left me. It's what I like to call self-centeredness, in all its masochistic glory.

I have read enough self-help books and whatnot to know that when a child goes through a traumatic event, he/she always blames themselves for what had happened, and I am no exception. My parents left me for financial stability, but because they done so at an age where I could not yet form my own words, or express my grief, I was left with an unexplained pain that I had to deal with on my own, and rationalize, as a two year old. It would be the figurative equivalent of expecting a two year old boy to stitch himself up from the open wounds that he endured.

But as man is an adaptable being, over time I learned to live with my injuries and grew thick callouses over them. It allowed me to live on, and look forward in life, but at what cost? With every friendship, love interest, or even a casual relationship that whithers away, a part of me still clings on to the pains of my childhood and refuses to let it go, as if this pain that I carry is supposed to be a piece of me. But it's not.

One day, by being able to redefine myself without the burdens of my painful childhood memories, I would no longer be a product of my own traquilities, but a humble product of my Creator.

Friday, 28 September 2007

An Actual Conversation with Cerebrates and The Bear.

Bear: Can I get a piece of gum?

Cerebrates: Yeah.

Bear: [starts chewing, pauses] …I don’t know what it is, but lately, I’ve been really wanting to swallow my gum while I chew it. It’s to the point where I have to actively tell myself not to swallow it.

[Cerebrates looks confused]

Bear: I know… right?

Cerebrates: You’re a tool.

Bear: Don’t judge me, jackass.

Cerebrates: How can something like that start happening now? You’ve been chewing your gum just fine for the last 24 years. What could have happened in the last few weeks to make this happen?

[Cerebrates spends the next 5 seconds in silence, fervently thinking of a witty insult to direct at the Bear. Unfortunately, Cerebrates’ wits fail him miserably tonight, forcing him to just shake his head silently at the Bear instead. The Bear recognizes the failure of his friend’s feeble attempts, feels tempted to call him an idiot to capitalize on the moment, but thinks better of it]

Bear: …So what are you gonna do about that girl?

Cerebrates: …Oh, right…I don’t know, man… I’m so bad at figuring out wh…

Bear: AWW, damn it.

Cerebrates: What? [Looks around, obviously alerted by the Bear’s reaction]

Bear: …I swallowed my gum.

Cerebrates: …

Bear: [shakes his head and mouths, “whatever”]

[Pause]

Cerebrates: …well, did it taste as good as you hoped, at least? I’m going to guess, ‘no’, because seriously, it’s gum. Although it might taste good, it’s a piece of plastic. I’ve accidentally swallowed gum before, and I found it to be about a thousand times less satisfying than it seemed.

Bear: …this time, yeah… it wasn’t that good. I feel kinda gross, actually…

Cerebrates: This time? So you’ve been swallowing your gum on a regular basis nowadays?

Bear: Well, I swallowed one earlier today, on purpose, and actually, that one was pretty good. [looks away and smiles, obviously reliving the moment]

[Pause]

Cerebrates: …It’s like I don’t know you anymore. [Shakes his head]

Bear: Why don’t you try it out first, then judge me? [Cerebrates is still shaking his head] You know what? Shut up. Anyways, about the girl?

Cerebrates: Huh?…Oh, right… So I got really drunk, right…

Thursday, 06 September 2007

Fixing America the Way a Dysfunctional Father Fixes His Family... Cold Hard Cash

If I could fix just one problem in America right now, it would definitely be the ridiculously one-sided distribution of wealth. America is not as bad as certain countries, but what was once a middle-class country (80’s) has turned into a rich-class/poor-class country, with most of what was the middle class turning into the poor class. Before I write anymore lets take a moment of silence to thank Ronald Reagan and the GOP for allowing this to happen. Trickle-Down Economics my ass, Ron.

If I were to simplify the root of all the problems in America, it’s the simple fact that people can get jealous. Blacks are jealous of whites because whites have more money. Whites are jealous of blacks because they’re given special rights, such as affirmative action. The government has passed laws to try and even the playing field, but I believe that we should be tackling this at a more economical angle. After all, America at the very least is at a stage where a black man’s dollar is as good as a white man’s dollar. Wouldn’t black people have a more educated collective voice to fight for racial equality if the majority of them had the resources for a good education?

Every time a rich person buys himself a 50 million dollar house, we have to think that the money could instead have been used to pay teachers better, build more hospitals (thus creating more jobs), etc, etc. Imagine a teacher’s salary starting at $80K, and getting rid of the teacher’s union (and their archaic and often unfair tenure policy) in return. We’ll have more qualified teachers than we know what to do with in a decade. And the rich guy buys himself a 25 million dollar house instead.

I like to think that a lot of the problems that we see today in America, even racism, can be fixed with simple economics. The government can’t do any more than it already has in changing the way people treat each other, so we can at least make it so that it’s easier for everyone to be as rich as each other. In fact, although I want to stop hating on the political figures of this country, both Democrats and Republicans have basically been rich white people doing rich white things and hoping to keep it that way as long as they could.

We might be the most powerful country in the world, but that doesn’t mean that America is the best country to live in. And oh, by the way, America still kicks ass.

America~ %^&@ yeah~! Coming again to save the mother $#^%ing day, yeah! America~...

Wednesday, 29 August 2007

Why I'm Superman

It was at a small city named Weihai in China that I was able to meet one of the most beautiful girls that I had ever seen (She was a solid 9 out of 10 in looks). I ended up just standing there, staring like an idiot… it would have helped if I could speak some Chinese at the time. I was at a clothing store, and she was working there. It was just about the most unromantic scene ever.

[Girl]: Can I help you? (Now I know that she asked me a question, because whatever she said ended with a, “~ma?” but other than that I’m not sure what she said to me, so I can only make an educated guess.)

[Cerebrates]: (HOLY CRAP SHE’S SO HOT!)…um… hi… I can’t really speak… Chinese… (smiles nervously, keeps eye contact with girl. Btw men, never hesitate when it comes to eye contact. For best results, stare at her eyes for six seconds, give it a two second break, and then stare at her eyes again.)

[Girl]: Oh~… (reciprocates eye contact, blushes, then giggles. I’m going to guess she’s thinking, ‘He’s tall, he doesn’t have bad teeth, and he can get me a passport!’)

[Cerebrates]: Hehe… (smiles back, like an idiot (ditto), blushes)

(Queue armpit sweat on Cerebrates)

[Cerebrates’ Mom]: Ok, lets get going.

[Cerebrates]: (Turns to Mom then turns back) …umm… Good bye?

[Girl]: (Still giggling) …bye.

Greatest moment of my life. A “Nine” actually thought that I was good looking.

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’m an ugly bloke, but the whole point that I’m trying to make is that in frankly, in America, my chances of pulling a girl that attractive would be very small. The qualities about me (and many good men out there) can never be displayed, but only revealed, by spending time with others. And time is one thing people don’t have much of, especially when you start working. So the odds are against me when it comes to meeting these types of women… in America. This is why I should just move to China or Japan or somewhere else in Asia where my presence would be more appreciated.

It’s like the case of Superman. Superman is Kryptonian, and in the planet of Krypton, he is just a normal person. Although he was forced to leave his native planet as an infant, it can be logically assumed that “Kal-El” (Superman’s real name) would grow up to be an ordinary guy. However, it was when he came to planet Earth that his origin had made him extraordinary. Krytonians, whose native star is red, are granted superpowers when exposed to the light of a yellow sun, such as the star in our solar system (faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive… you know the line. Oh and lets not forget, ‘has x-ray vision’, which I would love to have, not because I can stare at naked chicks, which also rocks, but because, disturbingly enough, I would be able to tell if someone is holding in their fart or not. By the way, I want to know where it all goes when the "inner bangoo" happens. It sounds like you farted inward, and you feel relief for about 2 minutes, but what secret compartment did all that gas go into? ).

My x-ray vision tells me he's been holding it for the last 20 minutes. I can see his ass-cheeks, trembling with exhaustion.

To sum up my point, Superman: a nobody in Krypton, something special in Earth.

You see, I am Superman. I’m an American, and in America, I’m a nobody. I may be six feet tall, but so are many other people, especially non-Asians. I may be financially comfortable, but once again, this is America and so are many others. In Asia, however, these so called “mundane” facts about me can be make me quite desirable. If I tell a girl I’m 180cm tall, she’ll be thinking, “I’ve never slept with a tall guy before…” Just kidding. Who the hell knows what you women are thinking about when you’re in the presence of someone as fine as myself (when I’m in Asia). It is only when I go to Asia that my origin (as a Korean American) makes me extraordinary. Me being a Korean man in Asia can become a source of downright celebration if I play my cards right. Thank you, Korean dramas. Talk about a boost in self-esteem. To sum up my point, Mr. Cerebrates: a nobody in America, something special in Asia.

Look! It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s… Mr. Cerebrates!

…I can get used to that.