There Should Be A Word

One of my favorite scenes ever in a work of fiction is from this one issue of Catwoman written by Ed Brubaker, one of my favorite writers. The basic context is this: Catwoman, whose real name is Selina Kyle, has just experienced a harrowing loss after an encounter with a crimelord named Black Mask. (Black Mask is sorta like the Red Skull, except his head is black and he's a mafia guy instead of a Nazi.)

What happened is that Black Mask allies himself with a woman named Sylvia, who's from Selina's past. He ends up kidnapping Selina's sister, Maggie, and Maggie's husband. The Black Mask then tortures Maggie and her husband; it's pretty twisted stuff. There's this part where he pulls out the husband's eyeball and forces him to swallow it while his wife watches in abject horror. After he takes some more punishment, the husband dies. As a result of this, Maggie's mind just snaps and by the time Selina finally rescues her sister, she has to go to an asylum.

But that's not all. In the adventure leading up to the rescue, Selina's two best friends endure some more pain. Slam Bradley, an older private eye who's secretly in love with her, gets hit by a car and winds up in serious condition in the hospital. Holly Robinson, Selina's best friend, gets attacked by a gang of youths and gets pounded by their skateboards before being kidnapped as well.

And then during the final battle with Black Mask and Sylvia, Holly, who had been set free, saves Selina's life. But to save her life, Holly is forced to shoot and kill Sylvia. That's intense because up to this point, Holly isn't really part of the violent side of Catwoman's life. So killing another person, even if it's to save her best friend, is a traumatic experience for Holly.

The emotional fallout of this leads to a sort of uncomfortable rift between Holly and Selina. They both want to talk to each other and make things better, but I guess they're too messed up mentally to figure out how to go about it. As a result, they just drift apart while wallowing in their own separate worlds of pain.

I guess that was a long-winded summary of the context of my favorite scene, but here it is.

A few weeks after Slam gets out of the hospital, Selina's still pretty beaten down mentally. So they end up talking to each other at one point, at a diner, and here's the part that always gets me.

SELINA
I've been having these dreams, you know, about Maggie... They aren't nightmares. In the dreams, she's normal again, and we're friends. I get this weird feeling of calm, like everything's going to be okay... And I'm so happy I could cry. And when I wake up, for a few seconds, I think the dream was real... It fools me, you know? And then real life crashes through. And God, I just want to die. I could stand knowing I'd wrecked everything, if I didn't have to live through it again like that all the time. And you know, there really should be a word for that feeling... When the dream is better than your real life. That moment of realization. They should have a word for that...

And now, for the part of this post that doesn't necessarily have much to do with the majesty of Brubaker's Catwoman.

Last night, I had this dream where I encountered my first major crush. I don't know why I dreamt about her. Memories of this dream are sort of hazy right now, but I think I still remember the gist of it. We met somewhere and started talking and catching up 'cause it's been years since we last saw each other.

It was one of those feel-good dreams, you know, where somewhere in the back of your mind you know it's just a dream and you're smiling in real life. So in the dream, we were talking and it felt like there was some chemistry and stuff. And then when I was feeling optimistic she told me she had a boyfriend. Then I felt sort of disappointed, and woke up, and discovered it was only 4AM.

It took me some time to fall back to sleep after that. It was an unusual feeling. During most of that dream, I was feeling happy, but right before I woke up from it, I felt let down. I wasn't sure if that was a good dream or not; it just made me feel conflicted. I felt very, very strange after that dream.

And you know what? There should be a word for that feeling. There should be a word.

Diss Track

What's the greatest diss track in the history of popular music? "Ether" by Nas? "The Bitch in Yoo" by Common?

The correct answer is "You Oughtta Know" by Alanis Morissette.

Yes. "You Oughtta Know," that spiteful tirade against Uncle Joey from Full House. Alanis truly is the angriest woman in the history of Canada. Seriously, you have to be the most mean-spirited, heartless, and cruelest bitch in the world in order to write a song dedicated to emasculating Uncle Joey. UNCLE JOEY, folks! That's just wrong. On so many levels.

See, here's why I believe "You Oughtta Know" is the most threatening diss track ever recorded. The other week, when I was walking through a parking lot, I heard this chick just blasting that song from her car stereo. Her windows were rolled down and she was cruising, playing that song at max volume. I have never, ever heard anyone blast Alanis Morissette in public like that.

It takes some serious balls to not be ashamed of blasting one of Alanis' songs. I would not want to cross the chick who is tough enough to boast, through her choice of pop music, her unbridled and extensive man-hate. I feared for my masculinity when that chick's car rolled past me. I had to go straight to Big 5 so I could buy a cup to protect my manhood.

Family Trip

I recently went on a short vacation with my family, grandma, and uncle and aunt from Canada. We traveled to Las Vegas for the weekend by plane, and took a side trip to the Grand Canyon by car. I've been to Las Vegas before, and my impression of the city isn't very positive. Who wants to travel to a city where there are smokers seemingly everywhere? Ventures through casinos usually have me holding my chest in pain. I definitely appreciate California laws that don't allow smoking at most indoor public places. Man, I wish people who smoke would stop, for the sake of their loved ones who are around them, and for themselves as well. Of course the task is much easier to say than do.

Alas, I have strayed from my main topic. Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon. I'd say the only reason I went to Las Vegas was for the family time, seeing that my oldest sister is engaged and the family might not have future opportunities to go on a vacation together. But due to circumstances, both my sisters weren't able to attend. That was a downer, but there were highlights to the trip. I was able to spend time with my parents and grandma, as well as my uncle and aunt who I rarely see. Canadians really do frequently say "eh" by the way.

JOKE: How did the 3 discoverers of Canada come up with the country's name? (Answer at the end of the blog entry)

Another highlight of the trip, was a restaurant. Sushi Factory. Oh boy, I think I mostly loved this place because of the cheap cost. Many tourists may never eat there, as it is off the strip. Big mistake. My meal consisted of beef teriyaki, salmon teriyaki, and shrimp tempura rolls (6). The total cost for this was only $10.75, with good size portions. Not only was the cost cheap, but the food delicious. I could easily tear the beef teriyaki with my teeth and let its savory taste permeate through every nook and cranny in my mouth. Also, the place was run by Japanese people. Usually, I prefer Japanese people cooking Japanese food, Mexican people cooking Mexican food, etc. Its more authentic eh? So if you go to Las Vegas, pay this place a visit.

I also went to see a show at the MGM Grand called "Ka." I don't have much to say about the show, as I had a bit of a hard time following the plot. But I will say that the effects and stunts of the show were fantastic. I think "Ka" is better than the "blue man group" show.

Grand Canyon. I think that may have been the best part of the trip. It was unfortunate we couldn't stay there that long. If there is another family trip soon, I'll recommend staying at the Grand Canyon and taking a side trip to Las Vegas. Nature is sweet, no question. It would be great if I could bring a lawn chair a chill in the Grand Canyon. While looking at the Grand Canyon, I came up with an idea. Wouldn't it be funny if me and others threw a football into one the canyon's crevices each visit? Slowly a mound of footballs could accumulate, and you could see a canyon with a tumor consisting of footballs! Anyhow, for realz, the Grand Canyon was sweet. Definitely neat seeing the Colorado River snake through the canyon as well.

Yup, that was my trip, goodbye.

Answer: The three discoverers each decided to contribute one letter to the country's name.
1st man: "C eh"
2nd man: "N eh"
3rd man: "D eh"

If You're Feeling Sinister

I don't really look back too fondly on high school. Some people do; I think they're nuts. I have more fond memories of elementary and middle school than high school. I didn't even get picked on when I was in high school, either. I am not sure what it is about the high school era that makes me not really look back at it and think, Wow, what great times we had back then. I think I have just grown up a bit. Just a bit.

One thing I did back in those days was join the track & field team. Why? I don't know, really. I think it was mainly because I had a couple of friends who were already on the school cross country team, and they convinced me to run track. Plus, there were no tryouts so I was in no danger of hurting my self-esteem because I knew I wouldn't get cut.

I used to be decent, back in the day. I wasn't a superstar and I couldn't really compete with out-of-city private school athletic powerhouses, but the city league? I was decent. I've smoked a few guys in my day.

Also, back when I was in seventh grade, I posted a 12.24 in the 100 meters. I think that's decent for a 12 year old who didn't work out or train at all. I just got thrown in there and ran it cold, coasting to victory on pure talent and desire. I was a kid who peaked pretty early. I don't think I grew more than an inch or two between eighth grade and the end of high school. (I was also an amazingly powerful student academically in elementary/middle school, but only a decent high school student. I was a mediocre college student, but that may have had more to do with incurable high school senioritis than anything else.)

Sometimes, I look back and wish I never ran track back in high school. All that running messed up my knees. I had a couple of minor knee injuries and now I can't jump at all. I think Adonal Foyle can jump higher than me - that's how crappy I am in terms of self-propelled vertical elevation.

Oh yeah, and the head coach was a straight-up jerkwad. I hated him so much. Even today, thinking about him just gets my blood boiling. I remember my last year on the track team, in my junior year, I was part of the 4x400m relay team. (It's the race where each team has four members, and each member runs one lap before handing the baton to the next member.)

Well, this particular time, I had a handoff with a teammate that wasn't so smooth. After the race, the coach chewed me out like hell in public. I mean, I just finished my part, and was catching my breath on the sidelines, and he just towered over me and started cursing and screaming at me at the top of his lungs. The race wasn't even over and the dude was already swearing at me loud enough so that people in the audience could hear, as well as the other teams and coaches. I thought it was pretty humiliating.

I really wanted to punch that asshole in the face. I don't know why the hell I didn't. It's one thing to chew someone out when he makes a mistake, but the asshole was saying stuff like, "What the fuck is wrong with you?! You're shit!!" so that everyone could hear. I don't enjoy it when people talk to me like that and that sure isn't going to motivate me to try harder next time. Don't talk to me like I'm a fucking piece of meat, or a robot trained to run your fucking races, you child molester. Boy, I wish I had said that. Instead, I just sat there on the grass inside the track and blinked back my tears like a passive fucking Asian male while dozens of people watched in amazement.

I think that incident in particular changed me. That's the last time I can recall when someone was saying personally insulting things to me and I just sat back and took it. Nowadays, I will talk back or use my fists to retaliate. That incident in high school just used up my lifetime allotment of self-control. I don't think I have the patience or the willpower to let people talk shit to me like that without responding in kind. I need to learn how to turn the other cheek; sometimes I feel like I already know how to, but just choose not to do it. I would rather just return the hatred.

Even now, when I encounter a terrible driver when I'm going for a walk or driving myself, my first reaction is to curse or give him or her the middle finger. Sometimes, when I am walking, and a car cuts me off as I am about to cross the street, I will spit on the car as it passes in front of me. On a couple occasions I have banged on a car as it drove past me. I feel like a walking time bomb, ready to explode at any given moment.

Yeah, I know I shouldn't hate. A Christian shouldn't be hating on people. We need to be showing the love. But it's so hard not to hate. I guess I am just not a very good person in my heart. Seriously, though - if I ever saw this asshole again, and he got shot in his femoral artery, I'd probably wait ten or fifteen minutes before I called the paramedics. I would shed no tears if he died painfully. In fact, I would laugh and tell jokes. Nothing against him personally. I just hate him, that's all. He wouldn't be the first person I've hated who actually died, and then I told jokes and laughed about the fact that he died.

What's ridiculous is that now that I interact with children on a regular basis, and sometimes I see kids getting picked on. In my heart, I want to tell the kid being picked on, "Don't be a pussy. Stand up for yourself. Next time that jackass calls you 'stupid,' punch him in the mouth."

But I never do. I always end up just taking the offender to the side and preaching about how it's horrible to call people hurtful names, and how we should all get along or something. Sometimes when I'm talking, it doesn't even feel like me. I'm saying one thing and in my mind, I am thinking Okay, what is this nonsense you're spewing to this kid?

A couple of days ago, these two fourth grade girls got into some kind of dispute. Both of them are generally sweet kids, so it was kind of unexpected. Basically, what happened was that I was about to lead a game of capture the flag, so I had everyone sit down on the benches so I could organize the teams. Well, this one girl was playing with a rubber ball (after I had told her not to) and the ball accidentally hit the second girl's head. The second girl got upset at the first girl (obviously) and said something mean to her, and in response the first girl said something sarcastic and gave some "attitude." This caused the second girl to cry. Oh, and there was also a crowd of about a dozen other kids who were paying attention to this. (The other half was getting ready to hide their flag for the game.)

It's tough to ignore crying so I stepped in. I basically got both of the two girls together, and then I just lectured them both. It was absurd. I still remember some of the words and phrases I used...

It was something like, "First of all, [Girl One], you should not have been playing with the ball in the first place because I told you not to. I think you made a mistake here. [Girl Two], I certainly understand why you are upset; I would be upset, too. But still, it was an accident and [Girl One] was not trying to be mean on purpose. I'm not saying you overreacted, but she wasn't out to hurt you, so I hope you understand that. Now, I would like to get this game underway because the rest of your classmates are waiting to begin. I'm not your dad so I am not going to say you HAVE to shake hands, apologize, be friends, whatever. It's up to you. I hope you guys can settle this in a mature way."

That doesn't sound like something Dru Tan would say. Nope. I wanted to laugh while I was talking. I couldn't believe that was me. It was like I was on autopilot. Didn't have to think about anything as I was saying it, so I was just analyzing my own words. It all sounded so phony and cliched to me. I remember when teachers lectured me about stuff like that when I was a kid, I never paid it any heed. I still hated the kids who wronged me. So it's just useless whenever I give one of those spiels to kids.

Surprisingly, though, I saw both girls quietly talk things out. The first girl apologized - and I could tell it was sincere (because of her tone of voice, eyes, and body language), not one of those cheap token apologies kids usually offer so they won't get into more trouble than they already are. Also surprisingly, the second girl actually seemed to accept the apology, because the tears stopped coming and she nodded understandingly and said that it was "okay." A few minutes later, they both seemed all right with each other to me, and played capture the flag.

I was going to laugh because I was still feeling sinister, but I held off on that and just played the game.

I wish, sometimes, that I would have tried out for basketball and football and soccer instead of doing track. I wonder if my life would have been any different.

Linking Up

When I was stopped at a red light today, I noticed an interesting sight. There was a bus stop on the corner right next to me and there were maybe six or eight people waiting. Two people in particular stood out. Both of them were playing with their own Nintendo DS.

One was this Asian dude with thick glasses. He wore a backpack and looked like a scruffy college student. His hair was unkempt, almost as though he was so busy playing Dungeons & Dragons that he had no time for grooming.

The other DS player was this white girl who looked about the same age. She was... Let's just say she was extremely homely. I am not really in a mean mood tonight, so I won't say the doctor beat her down with the ugly stick when she came out of her mom or anything like that.

What was interesting to me was that they were both highly engrossed in their DSes. They were standing at least a good 10 feet apart from each other. The bus stop shelter was between them, and the dude was standing closer to the curb while the girl was standing deeper into the sidewalk, near the corner gas station.

I just imagined them linking up their handheld systems and playing games with each other - or maybe using PictoChat to engage in a lovely conversation. Two lonely looking people finding love at a bus stop while playing their Nintendo DSes. What could possibly be more awesome than that?

They were just so into their electronic devices. It fascinated me. The whole time I was stopped, I was just staring at them both, and they didn't look up a single time. They had no concerns. They didn't care about the bus, they weren't worried about a crazy driver crashing into the sidewalk, they didn't even blink or breathe extraneously. They were just focused on each other.

When two people who look like they have nothing in common with each other and just seem like complete opposites... When two people like that get together... Man, that's amazing, is what it is. Just full-blown, in-your-face romantic.

This one time back in Davis, I was buying some lunch at the coffeehouse and the chick at at the cash register had really hairy arms. They were intense. I couldn't help but wonder how hairy our kids would be. I thought about asking her what she thought about that. But I ended up just paying and not saying anything.

And that was the closest I've ever been to linking up with true love.

No Ordinary Meeting

For the past couple months, I've been doing some volunteering in a lab at a hospital in San Francisco. Usually there isn't anything too exciting or special that is going on, but my visit this past Tuesday was different.

The start of the day, I was assigned by the lab manager to do some computer work for her, nothing out of the ordinary. I completed the work in the afternoon, but the lab manager was nowhere to be found. She often disappears mysteriously whenever I need to talk to her. Of course I'm sure she is doing something important. So I decided to leave her a note that I had completed the assigned work and go on my merry way back to my Aunt's house in Daly City.

Before I left the lab, I passed by a room and saw a lady, named Agnes, who I had met about a month ago. After exchanging greetings, we soon began a conversation that I thought would only last a few minutes. She asked me what I wanted to do career wise, and I mentioned how I was looking into clinical lab sciences. Agnes responded with positive comments on how that was a good profession, and soon proceeded to mention something about doing work for God's glory. I surmised from her speech and the poem on her desk about God that she might be a Christian. I then asked her directly, "Are you a Christian?" And she responded in the affirmative. I acknowledged that I was a Christian as well.

I soon find Agnes giving me a couple of booklets, and I was a bit suspicious at first. Somehow she began to talk some theology about providence and election. She was saying some good things, nothing contrary to what I believed. However, I still wanted to take a look at the booklets she gave me. During the conversation, I looked down at the booklets, and she noticed. She then mentioned how those were good books, and how God used that man to help her healing of past trials. Agnes told me that I should go to his website desiringgod.org for more resources. !!! That's John Piper's website! And so I go on and mention to her that I'm going to Piper's conference in Sacramento this coming weekend, and it just so happens that she is too! Whoa, what about that huh?

I'm beginning to think that Agnes is right, that our meeting was not a coincidence. If I had not seen her then, I may have never seen her again, since she told me how she had a new job in southern California starting in about a week or two. I had not really given too much thought to the conference, as I just decided to go since the conference was in sac (I've never really been too fired up about conferences). But all of a sudden, I'm a bit more intrigued now. We'll see what God has in store this weekend.

Simple Pleasures

Job satisfaction is tough to attain. It always feels like other people aren't satisfied with the job I've done.

I made two kids cry over a span of three days last week.

The first kid cried because I got stern with him. This is a kid that I think most people would consider a bully. He is in second grade, but kind of big (portly) for his age. He has difficulties with the English language, so he lags behind his peers significantly. I don't know if he tries to compensate for his scholastic difficulties by intimidating other kids, but I constantly get complaints about his behavior.

Other kids tell me (and I see him do this) that the portly kid stole their ball. Or they will tell me he called them a mean name, or that he kicked their ball away while they were playing with it, or that he pushed someone. The list goes on. I have scolded him numerous times and lectured him about getting along with others. (LOL, can you picture ME lecturing a child on behavioral issues?!)

There have been occasions where I have lectured this kid and benched him, and then less than five minutes after he gets off the bench, I catch him doing the exact thing I benched him for in the first place. It's like this kid's skull is just too thick and he doesn't understand how to respect authority or his peers.

Well, this one day last week, he pushed me too far. I was leading a group activity of steal the bacon, and he pushed someone off the bench while I was about to pick teams. I must've been in a bad mood that day because I just chose to bench him for the duration of the activity.

During the game of steal the bacon, I had another controversy with another boy - he had found a ball and wanted to play with it during the game, and I asked him to give me the ball so no one would be distracted. He got upset and started to run away. As he began to run from me, the portly boy on the bench screamed, "Run away! Keep running!" And of course the kid ran away from me.

He ended up hiding behind the bungalow, which really annoyed me because I had to stop the game and I wasn't able to supervise the rest of the kids out there. (I was the only adult in the yard at the time.) That's just not cool, man. It's potentially dangerous and just a situation you want to avoid - not being able to have anyone supervise the kids.

I ended up defusing that situation fairly quickly, but I was super annoyed by the portly kid, whom I discovered had run off in the confusion to another part of the yard. That pissed me off even more. And of course, little kids have short attention spans, so the fact that I was gone from Steal the Bacon for 3 minutes killed the game entirely. I just let them have free play and do whatever they wanted.

Except for the portly kid.

I told him to go back inside to the cafeteria (that's where we run the program and do homework and stuff) and sit out the entire recess. I saw him go towards the school building... But he tried to hide in the stairway. (Portly kids have pathetic ninja stealth abilities.)

I can't have kids running around unsupervised in the building. I yelled at him to come back to me and just started chewing him out. I don't really remember what I said exactly. Just that he was doing something stupid and dangerous and disrespectful. I did my best to give him my Batman voice, too. I was laying it on THICK, for real, and just going all out with that gruff, take-no-crap tone of voice.

He got kind of scared, and tried to defend himself and explain what he was doing, but I was having none of that. I just growled at him and told him that the time for excuses was over and he needed to take responsibility for his own actions. (Possibly my exact words, which is likely why he didn't understand me due to his limited vocabulary. Oh, well. I was feeling righteous.)

Man, once I started snarling at him, he just broke down. He lost his will to talk back to me and tears just started coming out. I don't know if I had ever seen him cry before. But I've sure seen him make other people cry. He just doesn't know how to learn a lesson. I like to think I was was teaching him a lesson right there. I was kind of surprised because I wasn't really TRYING to make him cry. It was just sort of an added bonus.

The second kid I made cry was a totally different situation. This first grade boy loves to play football. On Friday, I had played with him and a few other kids for over an hour. After that long, I just got tired of it and decided to take a break. But this kid kept coming up to me, begging me to play with him again. He wanted to practice running routes (which would have been pointless, as kids that age are not clever enough to learn route-running).

I just told him I'd had enough and didn't want to play any more. He kept tugging my arm. I told him to ask someone else to play with him. He replied that he didn't like playing with big kids (even though I am basically just a really big kid). I asked him to ask another staff member. He did, and my coworker said he didn't want to play, either. So the kid came back to me and kept yanking my arm.

You ever been relentlessly arm-yanked? It gets kind of annoying when it doesn't stop even after you tell the person doing it to cut it out. I told the kid that I'd be willing to play catch, but I didn't want to play one-man football. Unbelievably, this was an unacceptable compromise for him.

He kept yanking my arm and begging me to play. He even gave me the puppy dog face. I almost gave in at that point, but then I thought, "Gosh darn it, Captain America would not surrender, and neither will I!"

I was immovable. I was a sturdy tree, rooted firmly in the grass right next to the river of truth and justice.

Eventually, the young lad began to cry. It wasn't just one or two tears, either. They streamed out of his eyes. He even grabbed my hand and wiped his tears with my hand. A sob or two escaped his breath. He continued to pester me.

I would not surrender. That A on Cap's head doesn't stand for France, dammit.

Eventually, he gave up and walked away to sulk sadly by himself. I hope I toughened him up a bit. Kids should be playing with other kids their own age, anyway. It kind of makes me sad that I (unintentionally) had to make him cry, but hopefully he'll learn how to be a man. Because he does have athletic potential. He's just a first grader and I think he can catch a football better than some third graders. Who knows, maybe I'll have had a role in molding him for a future in a professional sports league.

Job satisfaction. I've got plenty of it.

Why I Hate Humanity, Reason #6,921

Community college students listen to some whack music. Terrible stuff, really. Every single time I go to City College of San Francisco, there are always people driving in their cars and BLASTING their music. And they always listen to crap tunes. It's annoying and pathetic.

First of all, if you blast your music super loud with your windows rolled down as you cruise through the parking lot, you are an attention whore. You must have a skewed interpretation of reality if you think blasting cheesy pop music out of your lowered, spoiler-fied, and riced-up Civic makes you cool. Nobody thinks you are cool; doing something like that just shows what an idiot you are. Blast your music loudly on the open road, in the countryside, on a sunny day, as you enjoy your drive. No one wants to hear your garbage while they search for a parking space.

Secondly, everyone I have ever heard blasting music at CCSF has invariably played one of the following genres: crunk, hyphy, cheesy and bass-heavy pop, or radio rap. (Although there was one time I heard someone listening to salsa music, and that was probably the best thing I've ever been forced to listen to.) I would rather listen to another Shane Company commercial than anything from those genres.

Now, I don't care too badly if you enjoy listening to garbage. I completely understand that people generally don't think about what they listen to. I don't expect people to think about it. But if you're going to listen to something terrible, stop blasting it because I don't want to hear that shit. No one needs to hear Li'l Jon scream "Yea-YUH!" again. oh-KAAAAYE!!

Geez, I hate people who blast their shitty music on crowded streets.

Oh, and while I am on the subject of community college students... Here's tangential rant. [Originally posted by me on the Shoryuken.com forums.]

This one time, I took a Creative Writing: Novels and Plays night class at a community college. I tell you, lots of weird people take night class at a community college.

There was this one guy in particular who bugged me. I always referred to him, in my mind, as The Quintessential Douchebag. He had dark brown, curly, greasy hair that was semi-afro looking. He hardly ever shaved, so he had a half-grown beard most of the time, including neckbeard. He would always wear these brown corduroy pants and an orange sweater with a striped pattern. And he always wore these brown shoes... I don't know what you call them, but they are the kind of shoes that don't have laces.

Anyway, it was a creative writing class, right? So every week, there would be at least two or three people who would bring something to class so everyone in the class and the teacher could read and critique it.

The Quintessential Douchebag was such a loudmouth, egotistical, know-it-all. He would condescend everyone's work every week, offering pithy comments like, "The paradoxical ambivalence of this piece doesn't seem to resonate very well with whatever it is that you're trying to accomplish with this romantic-slash-slice of life fictional work. Nothing about this jibes with me. But keep trying, because I think there's some potential if you can weed out your negative tendencies."

I really wanted to tear this guy up when it was HIS turn to show us a story, but he never brought a single thing in to class for us to read.

At the end of the semester, the teacher asked each person in the class to go around and share one thing that we learned during the course. When it was The Quintessential Douchebag's turn, he said, "One thing I learned is that I'm not very interested in writing creative fiction. Even though I didn't bring anything in during the entire semester, I just came to the realization that poetry is my true passion. Good luck to everyone else."

And he was still wearing that orange sweater... I hate that guy...

A New Use for a Cell Phone

Earlier tonight, I was on the bus (technically, a streetcar - the L-car for those of you keeping score) and I observed these two dudes. They were sitting in the very back end of the streetcar. I think they were French (technically, cheese-eating surrender monkeys for those of you keeping score) because they were speaking what sounded like the French language. (It's possible they were Canadian, I suppose.)

So both of these dudes looked to be in their twenties, they were actually dressed like typical American college students (jeans, t-shirt, hoodie), and they were just chatting with each other. One of them was twiddling his cellphone in his hand. It was a silver RAZR, just like the phone I have.

It seemed like a normal enough scene: two buddies on the bus, around nine o'clock at night, enjoying a peaceful ride to their destination.

Then the dude holding the RAZR started wiping it on his hoodie. I guess he must have gotten some fingerprints or something and smudged the screen, so he probably wanted to clean it a bit. As he was wiping it on his hoodie, I started to think, Wow, he really wants to make that sucker clean. He wiped it for quite some time. I mean, we passed one or two bus stops and he was still wiping it.

After a while, the two guys stopped talking to each other. I looked over at them again and I noticed that the guy with the phone was now using his t-shirt to clean it. Only, the part of his shirt that he was using was the part that happened to fall right above his crotch.

It isn't an unusual location of one's shirt, except that this fella left that part of his shirt lying on his crotch. So it completely looked like he was just scratching himself. Blatant crotch-scratching! He left the phone and the bottom part of the front of his shirt physically all over his crotch area as he "rubbed" the "phone" clean.

It was strange. I know it's not polite to look. And in San Francisco, the fact that I stared (surreptitiously, I will add) could be interpreted as homoerotic (I assure you, that is not the case). I was just fascinated how vigorously the dude rubbed himself. It's not often that you see someone blatantly molest himself in public, and try to disguise his impolite action by pretending to clean his cell phone. In a way, that is sort of a clever use for a phone, although he needs to refine his technique to improve the stealth factor.

When I got off the bus, he was still workin' it. I'm guessing his phone is pretty much spit-shined by now.

Not a good week for Asians

My people have suffered alot this week.

Last Thursday in Constitutional Law, the teacher asked what exactly did the government have as evidence to use against the poor saps being held in Guantanamo Bay. As the class smartass, I immediately shot my hand up and said:

"They had *triple hearsay*, which might as well be like arresting a guy after u got a tipoff in a Myspace comment."

To which the teacher replied:

"Jonathan, I think they had more than that."

Jeez. It either went straight over her head or she just wanted to dick me.

(Editor's Note: For those who aren't in the legal profession, "triple hearsay" is the equivalent of "jack SHIT". As a layperson's example...it's like proving that PerfectDru is fat relying on the statement, "I heard my Garbage Man say he heard his cousin heard Bob Dole say PerfectDru is fat". Yeah. Jack. Shit.)

Anyways, throwing up a brick in class woulda been OK if some bitch didn't later comment in class (during a discussion of wartime Presidential power):

"I know internment camps weren't great, but basically, weren't they just gated communities for Asians?"

Memo to bitch: They were not gated communities. Mike Shinoda wasn't spitting fire about how his grandfather had to stay in Wysteria Lane.

And the worst part?
Everyone cracked up, even though I'm quite certain the bitch was not kidding.

WTF is wrong with folks?

Then
Then
Then, next school day? It's Discovery class.

We were learning about the ethical questions surrounding Conflicts of Interest (Example: Representing a Husband in a divorce proceeding when u banging his Wife or Bill Gates representing someone bringing an antitrust suit against Microsoft).

Essentially, if I have a Conflict of Interest with a client I accidentally (or not) accepted, I am supposed to stop representing that Client.

That's all fine and dandy, but does that mean my whole Firm (all my fellow lawyer co-workers) be unable to represent that Client any more?
Why can't the Firm just build an imaginary "Ethical Wall" against me and isolate me, pretend I don't exist, shut me out?

Well, the answer, according to another Bitch:

"Ethical Walls don't work because they're Chinese Walls."

Hrm.

Me:
"Why do the walls have to be Chinese"?

Bitch:
"Because they don't work! Look at the Great Wall!"

Me:
...
...
...

Damn. I had nothing. That was stone cold, man. Stone cold. Frickin' Mongolians.

Guilt Trip

I have been working at an afterschool program at a neighborhood elementary school. Technically, it is my job to tutor students and guide them in their road of personal knowledge and self-discovery. Some students are very competent and remind me of myself when I was a kid.

This year, there's this new fifth grade girl in the program. She's quite intelligent and so far she seems to be ahead of most of her peers, scholastically speaking. (I have noticed that the girls at this school are more mature and better at homework than most of the boys. Most of the boys would rather be playing, like, Connect Four or Uno. Sidenote to a sidenote: it really bugs me that kids are addicted to Uno but still don't obey the rules of the game and expect me to play with them.)

Anyway. So this girl seems to be able to carry her weight in terms of math and spelling and all that junk. Nothing too unusual about that because she also hangs out in the "smart crowd" with her friends. What's really strange is how absurdly polite she is. Almost every single time she speaks to me, she will take on a very deferential attitude toward me. Most of her sentences end with either a humble "please" or an overly enthusiastic "thank you!"

For example, this girl constantly finishes her homework promptly and needs very little help. I'll still look over her work to check it, even though she obviously knows she didn't make any mistakes. And then when I tell her that it's all good, she starts thanking me like I just pushed her out of the way of a moving truck and saved her life.

And then, there was this time when one of my coworkers gave the girl a challenging worksheet because she finished her homework so fast and needed something to stimulate her young mind. Well, this worksheet was pretty dang obscure. I mean, the whole thing was like this:

24 H, 7 D, 1 W

And the answer to that, of course, is to figure out what the H, D, and W represent, which is "hours, days, week". Only a lot of the other questions are weird, like "12 Signs of the Zodiac" and "3 Blind Mice" and "A 6 Pack on 50 Cent's Abs."

Somehow, I don't know how, but the girl figured the whole thing out. As a reward, she got TEN stamps for the day. (Usually, a kid gets awarded one stamp for successfully completing the day's homework. Stamps get tallied up later on and can be redeemed for prizes. I wish real life was just like that.) So I was impressed at her resilience and gave her the ten stamps. She must have said "thank you" for each stamp I placed on her stamp card. It was just ridiculous.

She was being so polite, I decided to give her an extra stamp just for the heck of it. And of course, she had to thank me for that as well.

It's really weird when a person keeps thanking you for something that they really don't need to be very grateful of. It's a strange feeling. It made me feel really guilty, like I had done something wrong. I can't explain it. I don't understand it, either. But just imagine how you would feel if someone kept thanking you all day long and you weren't doing anything special.

Thank you very much for reading this.