Tag: self-improvement

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People used to say “And the winner is…” not “And the Oscar goes to…”

All men are created equal; we don’t stay that way

Didn’t watch the Oscars last night. Just not my thing. But I did manage to catch the very end of it where they’re singing a song to the “losers.” Found that interesting.

Because, I don’t know if you noticed, but they never say: And the winner is… like they used to; now they only say: And the Oscar goes to… .

The reason is obvious, they don’t want anyone’s feelings to get hurt. But that doesn’t change the fact that there are, indeed, winners and losers in life.

Which brings me to a friend of mine. Like most people, he only knows part of a saying and not the whole thing: It’s not just that “Curiosity killed the cat,” the saying finishes: “Satisfaction brought him back.”

That means the saying is exactly the opposite of what most people think it is.

It’s only after the cat’s curiosity is satisfied that he’s made whole again. Without satisfaction, curiosity was killing him.

As for my friend. He thinks the saying is, Everyone is equal. That is not the saying. People are decidedly not equal.

99.99% of the course of your life depends on the parents to whom you are born.

All men/people are created equal, but time, tide, and effort means that no one stays that way.

I have been wrasslin for over a decade now, on and off. I’m terrible.

However, I’m a pretty good fencer. Certainly not the best, but definitely not the worst. And the reasons for the two are the same: time, tide, and effort.

Put in much more time at being a good fencer than I did at being a good wrestler and my injuries mean that I can still fence but not wrassle.

Getting back to my friend, he’s also my fencing student but refuses to show me the proper respect as his instructor. That’s forgivable to an extent because he’s my friend.

But the moment he even hinted at disrespect for my instructor, I had to ask him to stop coming.

He had an easy out: apologize, pay a fine, and we could all move on with our lives.

And yet, he refused.

He only knows me as his drinking buddy Logan, his equal. And when we drink, we are. But put a weapon in my hand and I’m far and away not his equal.

And the reason is simple: I earned it, I worked for it.

The problem is the same with the Oscars, with the the soccer trophies everyone wins for just showing up, and him.

They confuse equality to equality of effort. They are not the same.

The other issue is that the other students have been part of other schools, and teams with coaches. They understand that they submit to the will of the instructor for two reasons: (a) safety and (b) to get better.

He does not understand this. At some point, one earns the right to be treated as an equal but he has not – not yet in this arena at least. I’m disappointed in both him and the situation.

To excel in something, one must bend. The winners in life are not the ones that futility fight everything but the ones that bend, learn, and come back for more.

If I had to rename this blog from On (or close to) Schedule, it would be to: If you can be anything, be bendy. I’ve said it a million times to him and everyone else.

We face a choice daily to be broken or be bendy; those that consistently choose the latter are the ones that survive and excel.

The door is always open for him, if he’s willing to pay the price of admission.

And a major part of the price is to shut up and learn from someone that did just that.

Mood: disappointed
Music: I won’t be coming this way again. Burn them bridges down
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That the North Americans speak English

The little things we do have big impact in our lives

View of New York City's City Hall from Chinatown NYC

Him: I’m unemployed and live at home again. How’s this good?
Me: You have a college education, speak English, live in New York City, and were lucky enough to be born here. (gently) You’re doing better than mosta the world.

A quote that’s stayed with me my entire life’s from Otto von Bismark towards the end of his life. He was asked what he felt would be the most significant shaping event of the 20th century.

Rather than replying that it would be electricity, or firepower, or any of that, he said simply, That the North Americans speak English.

Speaking of which, there’s this interesting theory that part of why English, not French, is the world’s dominant language is because of barnacles on ships.

See, the English plated the hulls of their ships with copper, which stopped barnacles from growing. This meant they could move just slightly faster than French ships that had none.

The French lost control of the seas,  England became the a superpower by the 19th century, and I’m more Bugs Bunny than Pepe le Pew.

A fella recently asked me how I get so much done in my life. Thought immediately about the barnacle story. Cause big things happen with slight changes in trajectory. What’s a small change today can make a huge difference later on.

As a fat 13 year-old, decided to drink a cup of water before each meal. A slight change. Lost like 10 pounds that year. Then changed over to skim milk, lost another few pounds. Always tell people that I look young because of a combo of Asian genes and constant maintenance.

Anywho, back to my friend. He wants to know how to get things done. Told him that it’s all about fighting the inertia. He’s super talented but he’s held hostage by the fact he’s good enough. And good enough is enemy of great.

There’s no one huge leap from good enough to great, just lots of little steps – your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to take those little steps.

On that note, it’s a busy week for me. Nuthin big. Just lots of little things. Let’s see what happens.

 

Location: apartment, getting ready for the week
Mood: cheerful
Music: thinking about the good things to come and I believe it could be
YASYCTAI: Do one small thing today. (2 mins/0.5 pts)
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Disappointment

It’s really the disappointment that wears you down

Sitting on a street curb in NYC

 

Me: You don’t care at all about that? It’s part of what makes a woman attractive.
Him: (laughing) Some like the attic, some like the basement. I’m a basement man, you’re an attic man.
Me: Well, that’s certainly a colourful way of putting it.
Him: (sighing) I still love her, y’know. Even though she’s evil.
Me: She’s pure evil. (patting him on shoulder) But I know. It’ll get better.

Take a lot of classes. Classes for wrasslin, fencing, law, etc.

Was talking to one of my instructors the other day, who’s been doing his thing for 20 years. We’ve known each other maybe seven/eight years. Told me outta the blue that he’s gonna be calling it quits soon.

This surprised me.

Me: Why?
Him: I can’t take the disappointment any more.
Me: (confused) The disappointment of your students quitting? Or the disappointment of them not practicing? Or of them not caring?
Him: (nodding) Yes.

It’s sad but true. My friends don’t wanna date cause it’s really the disappointment that gets you. Others have stopped looking for work. Still others have stopped trying to take those chances.

It’s bound to happen some time. He’s in his late 50s so maybe it’s time.

Still, it kept me up the other night. Something about teachers requires that they hope that someone listens, someone cares – no matter how many times they’re disappointed. It’s a hard and often thankless job.

So, climbed outta bed and practiced quietly in the dark. 1, 2, 3…

Location: in the back room
Mood: pensive
Music: It’s too late – much too late, too late for the young gun
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Art is…

The One where Logan rants about ranting

Almost Tribeca, NY

Her: If I left, I’d just take my stuff and walk out the door. You’re not a jerk so I don’t need one.
Me: Ok then, so I won’t write up a prenup if we ever get hitched.
Her: (laughing) It’s funny, we’re planning out the divorce before we’re planning out the marriage.

Immediately prior to Lincoln’s Getteysburg’s Address – which was only ten minutes long – a fella gave a two-hour, 13,607-word speech. You know who that was? Me neither. Cause no one remembers or cares.

Have you ever read just crap poetry? Or seen crap art in general? You thought, in some fashion, How the hell is this art?

When you’re a kid, you think that art is all about unfettered freedom and novelty. But real art comes from limiting yourself. It’s about conveying the maximum depth of meaning with as little possible – words, time, paint, whatever.

Art’s efficient.

Look, my drivel’s not art, but I still try. Whenever I’m done writing, pour a cup of joe, sigh, and then start whittling down.

Almost all of Shakespeare’s stuff’s in iambic pentameter, which is freaking hard enough without a delete key. Oscar Wilde wrote the shortest telegram in history to ask his publisher how his book was doing.

Oscar: ?
Publisher: !

Art only happens with restraint; and if you’re writing and not getting a dime for it, it should be art somehow, yeah?

Otherwise it’s just ranting and ranting is worse than a waste. It’s a bore.

Location: waiting to wrassle
Mood: melting
Music: You’re not here but it’s ok I assure you babe

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Let it burn

Sometime we have let go of the old things we love to let in the new

A roof on fire in the big city.

 

Did you ever wonder why NYC’s, NYC? That is to say, how it became the biggest city in the world? Why not Boston, Philly, or DC?

In 1776, this massive fire occurred and pretty much wiped out the city as it was.

Afterward, the city made a decision in 1811 to set up the grid pattern we all know in NYC – doesn’t sound like much until you think that most everything past 14th street was forest.

Other places, like Boston, would have been like, “Well, there’s a tree where the road should go, and no one’s here anyway, so let’s just build a road around the tree.” But the plan said to cut down any tree and fill in any stream in the way of the streets – which most people thought of as insane and wasteful.

But cause they did that, the city grew in an orderly fashion and immigrants – like my folks – that couldn’t speak a lick of English could get around the city. So they came here.

Another one of my buddies called me today:

Me: What’s the dilly?
Him: Flipped the company. For $100M.
Me: Oh, NICE! Are you rich? More to the point, do you owe me money?
Him. “Yes,” and “no.”
Me: Wait – $100K or $100M?
Him: $100M.
Me: Do you need a manservant? I can be like Cato.
Him: That would be awesome. “I’m home!” WHAM!

He too had a hard life, as did Sheridan. Something about suffering makes y’want to succeed, to make things better.

Chris Rock once said that, “There’s something about being picked on that makes you work harder to make a reality where no body picks on you.”

It’s not true for everyone; some people that suffer stay broken. But the ones that get better – oftentimes – get a lot better. Bendy. The broken ones tend to get more broken.

If you’re the former, sing it with me – We don’t need no water, let the @#$@#$ burn…

 

Location: near Grand Central
Mood: ambitious
Music: she all fly But I can take the heat
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Time¬=Money; Time>Money

Time isn’t money; time is so much more valuable than money

Antique clock

 

To add to the list of things that have the air of truth to them but no real truth at all, lemme give you one I particularly despise: Time Equals Money.

A buddy of mine put up this thing quoting just that and it reminded me that that’s gotta be one of the stupidest beliefs a body could hold.

Time is so much more valuable than money. Money, you can make and spend; time you can only spend.

Put another way, if given X years to live, how much would you pay for one more year?

Any idiot can make a buck. But in 432,329,886,000,000,000 seconds, no one’s figured out how to make an extra second for themselves.

Working at jobs you hate, to buy things you don’t need, to impress those you don’t know. That’s crazy.

So, if given the chance to make an extra $1,000 or go see your grandma, go see your grandma.

I didn’t and I gotta live with that for all of the seconds I got left.

———-

Sick again. You know the drill, please send soup.

Location: in bed
Mood: sick
Music: with you I’m having a good time I don’t mind
YASYCTAI: At least give her a call. (10 mins/1 pt)

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Make it alright

We only realize too late

The unlucky are nothing more than a frame of reference for the lucky, Mr. Fisher. You are unlucky so I may know that I am not. Unfortunately, the lucky never realize they are lucky until it’s too late. Take yourself for instance. Yesterday you were better off than you are today, but it took today for you to realize it. But… today has arrived, and it’s too late, you see?

—Lucky Number Slevin

So, another kid – a girl – killed herself because of cyberbullying.

Do you know about Lori Drew, the 47-woman that convinced this 13 year old girl to hang herself? She got off cause the laws never thought that a bored housewife’d torment a kid to death just for kicks over wire.

Always wondered what kinda douchebag you gotta be to torment someone just cause you wanna and then hide behind a computer screen or cell phone.

It’s a bitter thing to read cause I’ve lived almost three times longer than her and still feel like I’m a kid.

Wish you waited. Cause you grow up and wonder why people you barely remember ever affected you so much. Then they find you on some social-networking site and you think, “Man, they look terrible!” and start to believe in karma but then change your mind.

Maybe that’s just me.

Honestly wonder what people like Lori Drew tell themselves to make it alright for them to sleep at night.

I’d like to know, because, man, I could use the rest.

———-

On a positive tech note, pretty jazzed that as many people gave as much as they did to Haiti via text – something like $30 million in just a few weeks.

Didja know that Americans gave $1.8 billion to the Asian tsuanmi? I say the measure of a society’s humanity’s how they take carea those not as lucky.

Yet another reason I love this joint.

Location: a light green couch
Mood: wired
Music: Same birds that followed me to school When I was young (Spotify)

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Bully/I remember you

Me 25 years ago

Was recently mocked for being a 36 year-old man that carries the baggage of his 17 year-old self. Probably true.

Heard on the news that the woman that Roman Polanski raped when she was a child forgives him. Wonder what the child version of her would’ve thought.

There’s this line in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn that says of kids tormenting other kids, exactly as they themselves were, They learned no compassion from their own anguish. Thus their suffering was wasted.

To paraphrase my friend Somena, the hard part of life’s knowing much of your past to bring with you into your future. Enough so that you’re better for it, not so much that it hollows you out.

Finally realized why I detest Heartgirl’s creepy friend, Shawn.

Cause he’s a minority and, I suspect, probably a geek as a kid. And we minority geeks are bullied in the most spectacular fashion. Emmy award winning. Yet he’s learned nothing from it.

Never did tell you what happened, did I?

Without her knowing, he picked up HG’s phone and randomly dialed numbers to make them think that HG was calling. And when they’d pick up, he’d essentially just laugh at them for thinking a pretty girl would call them.

Recall saying to him, Not sure y’know who I am.

Guessing he didn’t think I’d end up her boyfriend.

He’s awfully brave for someone on the phone. Told him I hoped that he’d get the opportunity to say to my face what he said on the phone. And of course, he’ll say what they all say, I was drunk, I was kidding, blah-blah-blah.

Funny – been hammered enough times, and yet not once did I turn into a lout.

Still, just to refresh his memory – and cause he just happened to move a block from me – he’s said I’m not a man. And he’d show me what a real man’s like. OK, I’m in.

Cause an old bully’s the worst kind; the kind that’s taken none of his torment with him.

Evidently, the socially correct way to deal with this type of situation is to just let it slide. Not mention it again. As luck would have it, never had many friends growing up so I never learned that.

Look, can’t let it slide. Cause I owe that fat kid y’see up there. Call it stupid or insane, but I owe it to him to remember what it was like to be tormented. I owe it to him to remember him.

So yes, Shawn. Show me what a real man’s like.

Without a hint of sarcasm or irony, I’d like to see that.

ME now

Location: a block away
Mood: indignant
Music: Somewhere inside my childhood I missed

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Public Service Announcement 2009

How to learn a foreign language as an adult

Workmen fixing an escalator in a metro station in Washington DC

For those of you that speak geek: Spent the last 96 hours figuring out why I only got three clear QAM channels – turns out a weak signal and a kinked coax cable will waste four days of your life.

Picked up a signal amplifier, and some new cable and now I’m in business.

Knee-deep in cables, chili and rum. It’s the only way for a geek to spend Labor Day

———-

Speaking of speaking in a foreign language, Federico Fellini once said that, “A different language is a different vision of life.”

As promised and as a supplement to last year.

One of the things about being Chinese-American is that a vast majority of my friends are at least bilingual. Heartgirl and KG Betty speak several.

Me? Was always crappy at languages. My French teacher gave me a good grade for the effort. Hate pity so decided to learn how to be a good language student in college. Didn’t work.

Funny thing’s that the guy that teaches me how to break people’s arms also told me how to learn a language way back when.

Part 1 – from R. Dreifuss (doctoral candidate at Columbia U. and general bad-ass)

See, he said, they always teach language the wrong way in school. Every language’s has the same things, the same patterns. Once you learn the patterns, you just need the words to go into that pattern.

Once you have the patterns down, you need only learn the vocabulary that goes into the patterns.

English: “(noun) is better than (noun).”
German: “(noun) ist besser als (noun).”
Mandarin: “(noun) bi (noun) hao.”English: “Rum is better than beer.”
German: “Rum ist besser als Bier.”
Mandarin: “Rum bi beer hao.”

 

Part Two – From Barry Farber

Believe, truly believe, that language isn’t the words you read/write. It’s the words you hear/say.

Take the word Knife.

We say, nigh-feh but it’s supposed to sound like, ka-ni-fee – cause that’s how it’s spelled. Put it another way, the letters k-n-i-f-e just makes a picture that prompts us to say nigh-feh.

More eloquently, the written word is merely the symbolic representation of the language – it is not the language itself.

So stop learning how to read/write and concentrate on learning how to communicate.

I’m illiterate in Chinese, German, and, if you read this blog, English. Doesn’t matter. You understand what I’m trying to say. Which brings me to…

 

Part Three – From me/NLP

Language isn’t what y’say. It’s what the listener hears.

If you want to learn a language, pick up the Pimsleur series and supplement it with the Living Language series six months after you’ve started the Pimsleur series.

Good luck.
Viel Glueck.
Jia yo.

Man, all of this talk about rum…

Location: my front room
Mood: rum-obsessed
Music: Pour rentrer dans les soirées célib à 30 ans

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Logan’s 35

The lies you tell yourself

I submit that your misery is the sum of the lies you tell yourself:

  • I’m not good at languages, that’s why I don’t learn Italian.
  • I need a drink to talk to her.
  • I’m too old to start something like that.

My favorite: I’m not that type of guy/gal.

That’s the stupidest one of all. Following that logic: I’m not the type of guy that drives because I’ve never driven before.

It’s all horse___, you know? The lies you tell yourself. It’s all horse____.

Put another way: you’re not the person you know you could be, causa the lies you tell yourself.

I’m pensive. Turning 35 today. Halfway to getting my ticket punched, and still waiting for my real life to begin. Been thinking, maybe it begins when you stop lying to yourself. When you take that nasty truth, bite into it and swallow. Then go in for seconds.

Wish I did it a lot earlier myself. Then again, wish I bought Google at 300 bucks, kissed Stella in 9th grade, and didn’t have my life’s savings stolen. But whaddya gonna do?

A pretty lady from a sun-kissed beach just dropped me a line and another pretty lady’s heading my way for a spell. Plus there’s the weekend. Hoping for some awesome to head my way.

Some awesome, and maybe another whole wheat donut, would be nice.

Now…wish me a happy birthday, all of you bastards that read me and never say anything.

Location: 13:00 yest, Harlem
Mood: excited
Music: Coming outta my cage and I’ve been doing just fine