/mike

Last Sunday, FEC commissioned a family to China. The couple had been seeking opportunities to be missionaries for over 10 years, finally getting their opportunity when the husband, who works in high tech business sales, received a transfer to Beijing.

They spoke frankly of their relationship struggles and ministry disasters. I was impressed with their honesty. By all accounts, they simply had a bad marriage. Despite their intentions, they weren’t helping anybody, much less themselves.

But they looked back on the hard times with joy. They considered those experiences to be crucibles, teaching them to be better, and better equipping them to set out on their newest challenge. As hard as it was to take, they needed those lessons, and the healing that followed. “With humiliation comes humbleness” was what they joked.

Now I’m a cynical guy and I’m also a sensitive guy. I also happen to believe I’m a solid judge of character, and these two are the real deal. I’m both touched by their story and impressed with their attitude. Not everyone can respond that way.

We went to another lobster festival, this time in Redondo beach. Despite warnings of lobster overload, our meal was still delicious. Mm mm mm! Unfortunately, I was humiliated by both the rope climbing and basketball games. We went home empty handed.

Today's church service is my favorite thus far.

Last night, Cindy and I joined the CEFC crowd at Kayo to see Carolyn Lee. It is always good to see old friends, though Carolyn did take me down a few notches with her comedic ribbing.

While talking to Wing, we were reminded that I only started to eat sushi a few years ago. It wasn't until after college that I ever had the stuff. Kayo is where I started. Their sushi chef Ichi-San is very much a familiar friend. He is the closest person I have to Sam Malone, which is a shame because the fish there has stopped wowing me. I still like it, but just not as much as before.

Since we are going to get lobster again at the lobster-festival in Redondo Beach, I looked up a few Japanese related places in Redondo. Marukai market and Tsukiji (the best bang for your buck sushi I've ever had) are both right there. Right there also means right by the room I'm renting. Hm! I would prefer if people would come visit me so I can go out there more often. These experiences are best shared.

Otherwise I fear I'll just keeping World Series Baseball 2K3 during all my after work, weekday hours. I'm playing franchise mode - where I can be GM, making trades, signing free agents, developing the minor leagues and setting team philosophy. My rosters make the playoffs through the simulated season, and then I play the postseason games against the AI. My revisionist history already has the Angels winning the 2003 and 2004 championships.

Dennis Byrne rants (registration required) that urban planners are getting tiresome with constant whining about sprawl. He ridicules the concept of smart growth as a thinly disguised pleading for concentrating political, zoning, transportation planning and other powers that influence the urban form in the hands of a few.

He doesn't make a point by point argument, opting instead for a quick slap on the face. It isn't necessarily convincing. Often, what we learn in school is about white flight and suburbanization as the evil monster. Byrne attempts to delegitimize that idea by claiming that most new suburbs are primarliy populated by immigrants, yet they are not ever a part of the problem of sprawl. They benefit from the affordable land and choose to live that way.

But his hit and run tactics don't make for a good argument. Planners are afraid to say anything bad about immigrants. Like a lot of social-oriented schools of thought, we are stuck in the 60's. It doesn't necessarily refute the concept of smart growth. Immigrants have to sit on freeways too.

Yet his stance does hit upon something that I have thought about. I don't like how planning seems to only have one school of thought. Smart growth and anti-sprawl movements seem to be all we have. I wish there was more rigorous debate, especially since I am not entirely convinced myself. Besides the discussion can only help right?

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This blog is a bit rough because I am at a wi fi spot. For some reason they are all free just for today, so I gave it a try. But I'm not quite very comfortable sitting here with my iBook. Do I look like the guy who rides his segway through town? I'll edit this later.

Actually, the past three weeks have been hard. I'm not trying to screw up at work. I just am.

I'm forumlating a new theology on failure:

Failure isn't bad. Fail early and fail often. Learn from failure. Don't fail the same way twice. If you already have, don't fail in the same way three times.

Failure failure failure.

Last Sunday, someone told me that if a student is absent from San Marino High School, the school district charges $30 per absence. He also told me that when he attended SMHS, he was one of only two Asians in the entire school. There’s also the rumor that white parents are enrolling their children in private schools so the kid's self-esteem won’t be damaged by over achieving Asians (who fill about 50% of the classes).

I’m willing to accept that there are elements of truth in this, but only elements.

You know, I have a theory for any parent who wants to motivate their kids in academics. All the high school geniuses I know had love/hate/competitive relationships with fellow high school geniuses. Iron sharpens iron, I suppose.

Things have worked out wonderfully. Then why is there still uneasiness within me? Maybe I am still in cinematic afterglow. Maybe.

Both sides of the family dined together at Lobsterfest in San Pedro. Having them meet for the first time wasn't planned. Events took on a life of their own, which makes it more meaningful that we all had a good time. Everyone had delicious Maine lobsters amid small town festivities. I have never enjoyed lobster this much in my life. My hands still smell; I'm not washing them.

We capped the night off with an overly jubilant South Pasadena crowd watching Lost in Translation, which has thoroughly removed the bitter taste I carried away from Once Upon a Time in Mexico. That one is gone from my short term memory, which is good because my review was going to be today's blog.

Lost in Translation was good. I was emotionally drawn in very quickly. Japan looked like the place I've always wanted to visit.

"Never imitate consciously, but do not worry about being an imitator; take pains instead to admire what is good. Then when you write in a way that comes naturally, you will echo the halloos that bear repeating."

-The Elements of Style

My mom has often reminded me of the first day we moved into the house in Pasadena. She tells me how immediately upon opening the front door, I ran around like a madman, exploring the house.

Her story has a point – as all stories told by mothers do – which is that I’m easily excitable. I’ve always been. She contrasts this behavior with more thoughtful types, who encounter new situations by cautiously surveying their surroundings.

Well I also remember that day too. I was half asleep during what seemed an unending car ride. I listened in as family talked about James, who wasn’t switching high schools for his senior year. When we finally arrived, my immediate impression was that the driveway was fantastically long and that the house was absolutely enormous. Once inside, I remember thinking that it was much brighter than our house in Montebello. My trampling feet felt that there wasn’t much carpet on the floor either.

So yeah, I was running around the house. I flew up the stairs to selfishly claim a bedroom. I took a sneak peek at each room, made up my mind, and quickly went back down to take Matt for a more detailed exploration.

I impulsively chose what I believed to be the pick of the litter – which of course ending up not being the case. Perhaps if I had slowly considered the surroundings, I would have realized that there was no phone connection, and that the path to the bathroom left me in clear view of the downstairs living room. Instead, I was impressed with how the window overlooked the front yard. I plotted scenarios where I’d sneak out by climbing through the window onto the roof, where I’d use either a rope or ladder to get down to freedom. It never happened. I accessed freedom by walking out the front door. My living quarters also ended up being the hottest room in summer and coldest in winter.

When I reflect on the past few years, I realize that my mom’s advice has a lot of merit. I do lean on the side of being too easily excited. Maybe part of what she has been trying to say is that it can lead to let downs, or even worse, sloppy choices. It isn't easy to go against natural inclinations, but I'm now trying to keep more of an even keel. I'm also beginning to believe that an important part that my mom forgets is that the same principle applies to disappointment too. In fact, it might be more important.

Oddly, the idea of not getting too high during good times, and not getting too low during bad times reminds me of none other than the zen master himself, LA Laker coach Phil Jackson. Who knew? I wonder if I’ll ever figure out what it means to be, as he says, in the moment.

Victor and Karena graciously gave me a sneak peek of their new residence before taking me to Tuesday’s Dodger game. The house gets a big thumbs up from me. Let me tell you, they are living large. Amazingly, the house is completely surrounded by street; the pavement serves as an effective moat buffering them from all neighbors. Hm, I’ll have to ask them if there are yard, setback, pool, or fence height issues.

After the tour (and some WNBA basketball), we drove to Chavez ravine. You can’t go wrong with a meaningful game in September, but going with Victor is a special treat. Not only is he a great baseball historian, we also go way back. Kazahiro Ishii did end up losing to Curt Shilling, but at least it was in classic 2003 Blue Crew form: good pitching and poor hitting. The game was decided by defense. Small decisions loomed large. We heckled at all Dan Evans’ acquisitions, and cheered home grown boy Paul LoDuca. Manager Jim Tracy got ejected as he impressively went ballistic on an ump, and Karena suggested Ishii might pitch better if he were Chinese.

Of course, my favorite part of the night was chatting it up with Victor. We laughed while reminiscing at some of our academic low points. From that perspective, it’s a riot we got anywhere at all.

My iBook is now the proud home of an airport card, thanks in part to the retrocheck I picked up last week. So begins the slippery slope of laptop accessories.

An airport purchase is undoubtedly in the works. Thankfully, I don’t need one yet. I'm sure the way my union works, I'll get another retrocheck in a few years. So far, Cindy’s place is the only location where I can flex my wireless muscles. I’m on the prowl for more, though I’m completely satisfied with its currently utility.

I believe in the Kingdom come. Yet, I find the current Asian-American brand of Christianity no longer compelling. Without ties to friends and family, churches do not hold up well to close scrutiny. This is obviously part critique and part personal issue. Though it may be necessary, maybe there is only so much two hours on Sunday can be. How much can a person justifiably expect? I ultimately know the goal is to simply find a place to belong, which is still no small feat.

The simple pleasures are a joy. Torrance is low on interpersonal stress, and I'm genuinely happy when I come home to Pasadena.

One of the ways I've changed in the past few years is in my interest in politics. There wasn't a bleep on the radar all the way up to college, but my interest in politics has grown steadily since the last presidential election, when I decided that I had best start voting and be able to hold informed conversations with coworkers. Politics is now one of my passions. So much so, that I fear I've become more politically minded than guided by my faith. In my mind, it should always be the other way around. I'm also wary of faith effectively pigeon holing a person into a specific political ideology. Christians don't all have to be in the religious right and not all Muslims are Wahabists.

Yesterday, I heard about a site called politicalcompass, which has a short quiz to indicate where a person stands politically. While I don't necessarily agree with everything they say, I was very interested in how they expanded on the typical left vs. right (liberal vs. conservative) model. Instead, there was a differentiation between economic and social ideologies. On the economic spectrum, you have communism and capitalism. The social scale goes from complete control by the state (fascism) or complete freedom for individuals (anarchy). Separating the two was clarifying for me, especially since we in America are primarily dominated by two parties. This model gives us four different ideologies.

When I took the test, I was afraid that my results would be politically extreme. After answering each question with complete honesty, I was happy to find that I drifted very little from the middle (I scored slightly towards free markets, and even less towards the libertarian side of social issues). I thought about it for a while, and have come to think that I'm not politically extreme at all. I'm just extremely passionate about the views I hold.

Of all people, Kyle MacLachlan narrated bravo's documentary series on reality television, The Reality of Reality. I didn't find this out until I saw the end credits, but maybe his voice was why I lingered longer than normal.

If you don't know, MacLachlan's character in Twin Peaks, Special Agent Dale Cooper, was a high school hero of mine. That is, until Cooper was possessed by BOB (a bad spirit) after Cooper's doppelganger caught him in the mystical dimension called the Black Lodge where he was trying to save his girlfriend Annie Blackburd (played by a young Heather Graham whom I so happened to see at a placed appropriately named Big Foot Lodge). Whew!

So I watched the last half of Reality on Reality. It was interesting to see the TV executive types talk about drawing large audiences through the humiliation factor, whether it be rude critiques on American Idol, or watching a woman find out that Joe Millionaire is NOT rich, after she has likely compromised herself for him. Oh it's so tragic! Doesn't tragedy that is set up for television seem cruel? But people watch it and frankly Mr. Shankly, the participants ask for it. They beg for it. What is society to do?

One more thing before I go. They showed this clip from Cheaters, a reality show that investigates suspected adultery and ultimately confronts guilty parties in public. Anyway the host, a woman, and her child all confronted a man with his mistress, and the man reacted by slashing the host with a knife!

My simultaneous swell of patriotism, gratitude, and tension is too intense for me to blog about certain topics, though they weigh heavily on my heart.

So instead...

New X-Men #146 came out yesterday. I wasn't able to go to The Comics Factory in Pasadena, where repeat customers get 15% off, so I dished out the extra 30-some cents to pick up a copy at the local comic/anime shop in Torrance.

The big plot surprise was blunted by my experience in reading Grant Morrison back in his Doom Patrol days where the whole traitor within the team's ranks concept was done, therefore making the clues in New X-Men fairly easy to predict. The utter audacity of Morrison's choice of mastermind villain might have given me a grin except for the fact that I read spoilers in a message board.

One interesting side note about Grant Morrison is that he sees himself to be a mage of some sort. If you are interested in the details, you can do your own google search, but suffice to say that he believes that some aspects of comics he has written have come to pass in reality.

Before you laugh him off as a crazy, know that Alan Moore and Neil Gaiman have had their own suspicions along the same lines (though they have kept this close to the vest). So maybe they are all crazies. Or maybe I'm crazy for knowing this.

Comics are a fairly embarrassing choice of media to consume, but I have had surprising success in using them to bond with cohorts at work. So there you have it. We're all in the closet about something or another, aren't we?

As you can tell, /mike has not been updated very often during the past few weeks. Here's my list of excuses: lack of internet access outside work, potential topics being too personal, potential topics involving confidential Port information, potential topics being too political, being too busy to keep up on planning news, being too busy to come up with an opinion on planning issues, and laziness.

I hope to figure something out soon. In the meantime, I will try to post blogs more often, even if they are bad, boring, and boorish. By all means, don't feel obligated to read them.

"Fortunately, the act of composition, or creation, disciplines the mind; writing is one way to go about thinking, and the practice and habit of writing not only drain the mind but supply it, too."

-The Elements of Style

Last night, Cindy came by to check out my brave new world. She got the full on treatment. We snuck in a game of ping pong after a quick tour of my lovely cubicle, and then stopped by a local brewery for dinner. The setting sun, combined with being with her made our exploration of the industrial world of the Port majestic and romantic. We took photos under the Vincent Thomas Bridge (are there any other bridges in LA?) and got lost among the liquid bulk terminals and shipping cranes. Ultimately, we ended the night watching Seinfeld while lounging in my new living quarters. I'm still reluctant to fully embrace the rent-a-room-from-a-nice-lady idea, but Cindy helped me realize just how good I have it. Having a brand new bathroom all to myself already is a dream come true.

My interest in music is beginning to resurface. I've found a few bands out there, though I resisted buying The Postal Service without doing my due diligence. Upon deconsruction, I find that my taste in music can be primarily categorized as anglo/male/group/jangly/emo/rock/mainstream-indie music. Bah. Thinking about life in such terms steals away any taste to living.

I'm packing for my four day retreat in torrance. The trial run starts tomorrow. By cutting down my commute, I figure I will have four extra hours of life this week. I hope I don't end up eating Alberto's burritos every night for dinner.