Are you down with the T to the L Tenderloin - how to move with drunk homeless guys all up in your grill.

My brother in law is a great person. Very smart and original, his art is amazing. I like it a lot and its linked to my blog! Partly because he is such a great artist - he's in art school (graduate) at the Academy of Art. The Academy of Art is in a great city - San Francisco Downtown. Thats great - except for the fact that rent is ridiculous there. So what does a poor graduate student do to get a place? He has one of two choices:

1) Rent a place that is so small that you don't ever see or touch the floor. Need to eat - hop over to the chair. Need to sleep - hop to the bed. You never touch the ground. I thought someone was kidding when they told me they live in a closet in SF. Now I know they weren't.

2) Rent a place in a shady area. You want a real non-homogenized city experience? Live where the pimps, hustlers, crackheads, homeless, and hoes do. If you survive, its a mark of strength. If you somehow manage being mugged only once, you're a fucking superhero.

My bro-in-law (henceforth referred to as BIL) was forced with this decision too. I felt bad for him. BIL had really no choice - renting in SF sucks hardcore like Kobe Tai (an example of how a porn star can go from decent looking to used faster than Cuba Gooding movies go straight to video). He was forced to take what he could.

Initially, we all thought it was in Lower Nob Hill. Nob Hill being a neighborhood that is Hollywood friendly - you see it all the time in film and TV. The rich white folk don't like looking up - its too tiring for them I guess. Lower Nob Hill is sorta an in between. Where more middling restaurants and shops proliferate - but still tourist friendly enough to keep the riffraff from gaining hold. Although at night, Lower nob hill gets a little testy.

Well, my BIL ended up not in Lower Nob HIll as the ad advertised - lo and behold he ended up in the Tenderloin. Say it out loud once - TENDERLOIN. Does it sound like a good neighborhood to you? It sounds like a meat market. Which, well, it basically is. The Tenderloin was named as such because cops got paid much more to work in that district - and they could thus afford choice cuts of beef - aka Tenderloin. I guess Filet Mignon wouldn't do to describe a district full of pimps, crackheads, and drunk homeless guys that smell like 2 day old concentrated urine.

Well, anyways, I had a premonition once I found out where his joint was that things would go badly on the move. It almost did. After parking the moving van hella illegally (like the cops cared), we opened the door and immediately was greeted by some drunk homeless dude tryiing hard to lobby his services. I didn't mind, until he was basically 1 inch from my face and not taking no for an answer. Then came his friends.

It got so bad, we had to go take a break inside the building until we could get more of BIL and my friend Terry to help out and provide a uniting force in numbers. Not that we were an intimidating looking bunch (art students aren't particularly strapping) but hey - we looked like we could run fast and calculate better than anyone there! Pitiful.

Anyways, we finally moved in with the increased numbers without incident and realized again how nice BIL's place is. However, based on the daylight conditions, I could tell that once the sun went down there - nobody wants to walk around alone in the Filet Mignon, er, Tenderloin.

Overextended

There's not much to say when it comes to this. This weekend has made me feel severely overextended. And its not due to the amount of work. Its more due to the stress associated with work. I don't get stressed operating, doing bench work, or talking to patients. I love that. I get stressed trying to deal with 90% of other shit.

I actually believe in 10% of what I do. 90% is kissing ass, dealing with bullshit politics, and covering your ass.

Oh wait - that's what Marketing Majors do. I guess college should really be reorganized, such taht the curriculum is 10% whatever (premed, engineering, history...etc) and 90% Marketing. Because really, if maybe I had realized in college that 90% of my life was just trying to spin things to be positive for me and the people I work for - I would've left college and do some crazy artistic stuff. Okay I'm lying. I'd just sit at home, browse the internet, read books, wash cars, and clean toilets in between eating McDonald's Chicken Selects.

Fuck ya, that's an awesome way to live.

But seriously, we all should have Marketing majors or minors.. .or something. Because in the end, its never how good/smart/talented you are. Its how you sell yourself.

I'm on fucking discount right now.

The Roots vs. Lil' Jon

YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH
OOOOOOOKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY
WWWWHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAATTT

I've been depressed about R&B/Hip Hop music for awhile now. Not necessarily for the lack of things to listen to really. There's the Roots, Alicia Keys, Mos Def, Jill Scott, Erykah Badu, Kanye West, Lenny Kravitz, Angie Stone just to name a few.

Really, I'm just depressed at the crap thats out on the radios these days. MTV plays crap too. In fact, any public radio/tv station these days - CRAP.

Why don't artists like the Roots get more airplay? Why does Jill Scott's (who I just figured out by the way) absolutely brilliant record get second fiddle? Why does someone who just yells at the top of his lungs in monosyllabic growls carrying a "pimp cup" get all the adoration? Why do we have to hear about how "even a thug need luv" everyday?

Its just shameful to music. Actually, make that intelligent music. Cause that's the root of the problem.

I'm not going to lie - that music is just dumb. There's no sense of musical understanding about it. No exposition of themes, ideas, or deeper topics. I get the feeling that the new group of "artists" don't quite grasp things like keys, clefs, bars, fortissimo and, most importantly, pianissimo. Is it that hard to have musical education?

I think to be the new "pimp playa thug gangsta but caring thug," all you have to do is master the art of rhyming about - booty, guns, and pimpin. Really thats it.

Don't get me wrong, big phat booty is great and all, but after the 72nd song about it, its a little shallow. Sir Mix-a-Lot set the bar - and nobody ever came close. Why is his song a standout despite all the pretenders that have come? Because it was pioneering and talked about how nice it was to see women with actual meat on them bones.

Guns? Well, they always talk about shooting each other. Tupac Shakur, NWA, Dre, and Snoop did too. But what set them apart was that (despite the occasional ass kissing to pop music) they framed it into the context of ghetto tragedy. There was no glorification about it. They said it was wrong and they new it. Now? Every rapper claims to be ready to "pop off." I'm not sure how this appeals to people. Why should I go to a show when they might "put a cap in dat ass." I might need to run up on stage and help the capped ass' ass. Its like they just say - act like a thug - but don't ever ever talk about why its wrong and how you wished you didn't act that way. Tupac did. Biggie did. Dre did. NWA did. No, as far as I'm concerned, most of the G rappers are being real. But being real is being mediocre. Being exceptional, well you can still represent the streets and be exceptional - just look at Tupac.

Pimpin. As much as I like to kid about Tlish's pimp hand, I see no cool factor in being pimp. I mean, use of the word "pimp" is fine as an adjective. Like, damn that shit was pimp. Or, those rims are pimp. I don't mind that - its just a figure of speech. The problem is that these rappers today? They don't understand the concept figure of speech. They figure that if they speak it, they have to live it or at least perpetrate like they do. Apparently, you can only be a real rapper if you got hoes and bitches lining up to have a bit of your pimp juice. Pornographic really.

In the end, all of it points to the shallowness and phoniness of the boasting that is tearing apart hip hop. The unfortunate thing is that pop music shapes the minds of young people and their perception of what is good and right in society. Current music and music video is seen by them as a CNN of the world. A way to gauge what is proper and what is accepted by the general public for behavior. This is scary. You see at all teh time now. People without manners, a higher level of materialism, and a lack of appreciation for art. Yes, art. A word that has been defiled by any of the booty, pimp, and gun totin rappers.

As you can tell, I'm pretty disgusted by it all. I think I'll just leave with some lyrics from a classic hip hop song from one of my favorite groups - The Pharcyde. From the song, "Passin Me By."

"Now there she goes again, the dopest Ethiopian
And now the world around me be gets movin in slow motion
when-ever she happens to walk by - why does the apple of my eye
overlook and disregard my feelings no matter how much I try?
Wait, no, i did not really pursue my little princess with persistance;
And I was so low-key that she was unaware of my existance
From a distance I desired, secretly admired her;
Wired her a letter to get her, and it went:
My dear, my dear, my dear, you do not know me but I know you very well
Now let me tell you about the feelings I have for you
When I try, or make some sort of attempt, I symp
Damn I wish I wasn't such a wimp!
'Cause then I would let you know that I love you so
And if I was your man then I would be true
The only lying I would do is in the bed with you
Then I signed sincerely the one who loves you dearly, PS love me tender
The letter came back three days later: Return to Sender
Damn!
She keeps on passin me by..."

Brilliant.

Do you IM like you talk? Or do you talk like you IM?

Boredom breeds a pensive neo today. I'm bored here at the lab at 11pm waiting for things to happen so I can leave. People ask me what I do at the lab. I tell them I tickle rats. Someone needs to study if there's some sort of giggle response in those fuckers. Why not be me?

All joking aside, I was just thinking about people who IM. IM, or instant messaging (for the thorough) is really a wonderful creation. There are huge benefits. Really, I see three. For one, it lets me multitask. Despite my maleness (which, according to my wife, means I have a reduced ability to multitask), I can surf the web, do some labwork, or pick my nose and still carry on a pretty good conversation with someone. For two, its very convenient for long distance friends. Instead of hoping and praying that they're home or I'm home (which is rare), IM tells us if we're both available to chat and we can do so without paying huge fees or losing minutes. For three, it allows a little bit of evilness to pervade. A friend and I can hold a conversation with a third party seperately - and cause a whole bunch of retardedness. Yes, I have no life.

But there's one HUGE, interesting thing I've noticed. Well, annoying for me. People don't treat it like a conversation. Here are some intriguing IM habits I have noticed:

1. Long ass pauses that happen every 10 minutes or so.
I mean, I don't really care if someone is busy - but got damn. If you're going to leave for 30 minutes - at least say something. Tell me, hey man, I gotta do something for a little bit. Something. Its like as if I was talking to someone and decided to just walk away for 30 minutes or so and just come back like nothing happened - expecting the other person to be there waiting for me to say something.

2. Barely there messaging.
You know what I mean. Its when someone does the bare minimum to keep an IM going. They figure they'll do just enough to feign attention upon the other person. You can't fake me. I'm not dumb. You're like IM'ing a million people and I'm WAY at the bottom of that list. OR you just don't really care. Either that or I just talk too fucking much. Most likely that I talk too fucking much.

3. IM as a bulletin board.
I treat IM's like a conversation. I focus as much of my attention on the fellow IM'er as I can (other than when I'm picking my nose, scratching my ass, or fucking). I feel like if they're talking to me, they would prefer to have my full attention and not my half ass job of noticing. Imagine talking to someone and all they do is work, watch tv, or pick their nose. Would you want to talk to them anymore? Well, the problem is that some IM'ers feel that IM isn't really a conversation. They feel its a bulletin board - where you can post and then leave, and come back anytime you please. This is most likely redundant to no. 1, but hey, I'm typing freestyle like Eminem. Psyche. Anyways, i'd prefer to IM in packets of time - like a real conversation. I don't have the time to check up on the bulletin board that some call a conversation every 10 minutes or so to see what the other person said.

4. Close the damn conversation.
Why can't people say goodbye? Whey do they just leave? I'll be conversatin with someone on IM for a good 15 mintues or so, then, inexplicably, they're logged off and gone. I just got ho'd (never actually tried spelling this out before - looks rather amusing). At least say "later." Again, if you say goodbye in real life, say it in IM! It's only 7 letters to type. 3 letters if you 3/7th ass it. It ain't that hard. C'mon now.

Well, now that I've got that off my chest. I'm sure I've offended about... everyone. Trust me, you're not who you think you are. My closer friends are great on IM. Its the ones who don't read this blog and the ones I rarely talk to who suck.

Bitches. (I gotta get that Tourette's fixed or somethin')

RIP Johnny Carson

I can't even count the number of times that I fell asleep at the couch watching the Tonight Show as a kid. I loved it. Yeah, most kids my age played video games into the night, but I loved watching Johnny Carson - there was something very comfortable about him, very reassuring.

In fact, I liken him to Mr. Rogers - but the late night version. His easy demeanor, his calming voice, and his sincerity always made things right. Of course, I stopped watching Mr. Rogers after the age of 5, but the same feeling of home pervaded on the Tonight Show. I could always bet on feeling like my time was worth it to watch the show - Johnny always brought a smile to my face even when there was nothing during the day to smile about.

Which is what I remember most about the show. For one hour, I could escape the familial dysfunction, social pressures, school pressures, and teenage angst just to watch and be entertained. For that one hour, I didn't have an opinion, I didn't need an opinion, and I didn't want an opinion. I just laughed and smiled. And that meant a lot to me - during those years.

Even in his last show (which I stayed up to watch eagerly), his humble and subtle cool shined through - as he said goodnight one last time to me, his show, and an era. I'll miss him.

Spongebob Squarepants Censored? Proof that Homophobic Republicans are Gay.

I'm usually pretty annoyed by Spongebob Squarepants and Barney. Both seem a little to contrived to me - I prefer my Elmo and Big Bird. So in no way do I advocate polluting the minds of our young with these two excuses for parental insufficiency. Yes, you heard that right - I think parents only buy this shit because it keeps them from dealing with their kids.

In a capitalistic society - you throw money at the problem to make it go away. Where can I pay for the gadget that eliminates stupidity?

Anyway, this morning I came across an article that said some conservative group felt that Spongebob Squarepants and Barney were bad for children? Agreeing with the end argument, I was curious as to why they would say that. I figured that some of these were reasons:

1. Spongebob Squarepants resembles no living thing I've ever encountered. I take that back - the Pizza delivery
guy looks sorta square with scrawny limbs. But for the most part - no one looks like that. Kids will grow up expecting that only square sponges will be nice to them.

2. The level of cheese is beyond comprehension. I mean, most kids programming is wholesome and very very cleancut in presenting any type of social dilemma. But Barney and Squarepants Cheesiness rival only A-Ha's and Tiffany's music from the 80s. If anyone breaks into, "you love me, me love you..." I'm going to pimp hand them (props to Tlish for the pimp hand knowledge). I guess I wouldn't mind so much if they did that as a group singalong - but it typically happens after something bad happens - like a kid falls down, or a kid loses his crayon or a kid feels left out. Imagine if Barney was on the Apprentice. Donald vs Barney. Ultimately the cheese just sets kids up for failure. They imagine the utopia they're embarkign upon and the reality is that - people just fucking suck. So singing wont' help. Barney needs to teach kids how to use the pimp hand - if you ask me.

3. They need to prepare kids for the street. Look, we're becoming an increasingly urban society. These kids on Barney and the lessons on Spongebob are ludicrous. The golden rule don't work in the city. You can't cooperate with the drunk, vomiting, urine infested homeless guy on teh street. Ain't no G around who'll count to 20 and jump for joy with you. Kids gotta be taught how to survive on the street. They gotta develop that scowl that keeps strangers with bad intentions at a distance. They need to maneuver quick like cat between tourists. Most importantly, they need to catalog where the acceptable bathrooms are. I wish someone taught me this.


So after hoping that those were the same conlcusions the conservatives came up with, I read the artcile. To my surprise, they came up with something I never, ever in my craziest sleep-deprived, caffiene laden state imagine:

They think they're gay.

WHAT?!

Yes you heard me. They are gay. Clearly Spongebob is like a penis. Soft and flimsy normally but get him all worked up in moisture and homie becomes full and sprung. Barney - well he's a walking penis as well. Both of them clearly are so gay that you're suprised that you haven't seen a Playgirl hanging out their back pockets.

How retarded is that. What kind of disturbed imagination must one have to think that these two horribly flawed but harmless kid lovers is gay? I mean, teletubbies - now this? I'm surprised they haven't asked to censor Sesame Street. I mean, how old are Bert and Ernie anyway. Where are their parents? Why do they bathe together? Don't they act like "a couple?"

While they're at it - I think they better censor Elmo. Homeboy is clearly gay. Who in their right mind would let anyone tickle them so much unless he thinks its foreplay?

I'm at a loss actually. I really believe that the most vehement anti-gay people are deep down... gay. Why does it bother them so much? Is it because they need to hang on to this historic convention that gets passed on as a basis for marriage? Do they need to convince themself that God actually cares where a man sticks his third variable length lower limb?

I think that the whole thought of gay sex intrigues them so much that they terrify themselves into a lather. Afraid of the social consequences of their thoughts, they have to act completely opposite - in an act of utter denial. I mean, I don't mind it if someone says.. hey, I'm not about that gay marriage thing. Its their opinion - I don't hate them any less for it - but I certainly disagree with them. But when they go out and try to tell me that a yellow sponge and a purple blobosaur is gay? Homeboys and homegirls are hella homophobicly homo (I like alliteration).

Its like that damn playground boy picking on the girl again - he only does it cause he secretly likes her. I bet you put these conservatives in a world full of men - and they'd make the Queer Eye guys proud.

So they say moving is supposed to be the 2nd or 3rd most stressful life event?

I believe it.

Problem is, we're moving for us and our brother (The Wife's brother). Which means that I'm nursing my coffee like its some kind of stress elixir. And browsing the internet way too much - its like my security blanket. Oh man, I just read what I wrote - what kind of a sad headcase am I?

I like moving - its exciting to see and be in a new place and to get to know the neighborhood. But the process is so painful that it just makes it so excruciating to do it. The stress lies in the details - getting the boxes, getting the moving company figured out, making sure the place is clean and in order. Nothing major, just little things that gnaw away at your conscience like maggots.

I think the biggest pain is telling everybody your address has changed. The phone company, the utilities, cable, etc. So many people to call and repeat the same thing over and over again. But we don't get to use automated voice programs like they do. Add to that the magazine subscription changes, and I'm at Starbucks again on Wi-Fi trying to get away.

Oh well, at least now I get a garage for both cars. Oh yeah, and I can stop naming spiders as I did in our current place - its never good when you know the 8 legged freaks on a first name basis.

*Thinking Positive While Sipping My Mocha*

I think I offend a lot of people..

I realized the other day that nobody reads my blogs any more. Not like I'm going to go into the corner, crawl into the fetal position, suck my thumb and hold on to my teddy bear, but it'd be nice to know that something I say seems to make sense. Maybe not.

Thinking about this, I've come up with plenty of reasons....

Maybe people don't understand what Neoprufrok stands for - or decisions and revisions?
Maybe people think that blogs should be used purely for kissing ass - not calling people out?
Maybe I'm too arrogant in my blogs?
Maybe I come off as trying too hard - so my humor is as forced as constipation?

I dont' know, I've mulled over this for about 35 seconds today. Cause as much as I like blogging - I'm not going to lose sleep over it if no one reads it.

But I think the biggest thing is that I've offended many people.

Some may find my humor too crass, crude, derisive, or painful.
Some may be Republican.
Some may think that blogs are supposed be flowery and full of personal anecdotes of fulfillment? Bleh.
Some may think that I'm self-serving and self-applauding by way of disrespecting others? (yes, somebody told me this the other day)

I think the reason is, though, that the truth hurts. And the truth (if you can call it that - its really my perception) is offensive. Its even more offensive if you see it in the mirror - because you never saw it before. Kinda like when you get acclimated to your own stink (after a number 2) and when somebody tells you how toxic it is - you're offended you could be that way.

I mean no harm. I'm as harmless as a bag of fruit snacks. That doesn't mean, however, that I can't say whats on my mind. You see, I probably would normally tell people what I think of them - but its hard to. I don't want to do it in front of other people - nor would I like to do it the first time I meet them. Its smacks of phoniness - but hey, I do think that cordiality means something, even in this mannerless age of the internet.

So the solution is to discuss them in my blog - without mentioning names. In fact, I tend to be general - as the inspiration for a scathing blog usually is not one person - its many. So if a person sees themself in my blog - I apologize, but it wasn't and isn't directed toward them... necessarily. I would love to talk to people and then call them out in person - but that's just not possible most of the time.

If you do see yourself in my blog there's two reasons. For one, I'm totally off my rocker - which happens a lot. I pull stuff outta nowhere all the time - but thats' the price I pay for being an imaginative retard. Many times - I'm wrong - and if I am, I'd love to hear people tell me.

The other reason? Well, the other reason you may see yourself in my blog is because you actually are the person I talk about. You may have not thought about it before, or you may have thougth about it but noone really confirmed it. And when you suddenly hear it from left field (cause I'm WAAAAAY out in left field most of the time), it catches your eye. I hope so. I hope it makes you think and challenge yourself and me to prove that I'm wrong.

It all sounds awfully arrogant actually. One man blogging about the maladies of the world, claiming that what he says is the truth. And in a sense, it is. But blogging is an act of arrogance - it assumes that you have an audience and the audience actually wants to listen. And, more importantly, its also very real - its me unfiltered and concentrated, not bound by social norms.

So when I yell, FUCKERS BITCHES HOES, yeah its not my tourette's, its my blogging voice - not bound by social norms.

Going the expected extra mile

This will be a relatively short one - I'm way too tired from my recent attempt at self-prescribed mental health rehabilition in a 10,000 elevation town to write a long one. Yes I got some altitude sickness. No I didn't get the bends or anything like that (someone actually asked me this today).

I'm starting to get a sense that people expect the extra mile from me. Not sure why, but its been that way since I was a kid. When I got straight A's for my 8th grade, I got the , "nice, but why is it such a big deal - he's smart anwyays." When I gave my valedictorian speech at high school, I got the, "nice, but why is it such a big deal - he's smart anyways." When I got into medschool on a full tuition scholarship, got the second highest boards score in the nation and went on to get my first choice in residency, I got the, "nice, but why is it such a big deal - he's smart anyways."

And its not limited to scholastic/career achievements. When I'm there for a friend or a family member, I got the, "nice, but why is it such a big deal - he's a nice guy anyways."

Don't get me wrong - I'm very happy with what's transpired in my life. I've got a good career, I'm married to a beautiful woman, and I have a fun loving dog. And I've got wonderful friends.

But I think people tend to expect me to go and do more than others would. If I do happen to succeed in it - its not so surprising or special. But when somebody else goes the extra mile - WHOA NELLY - they're a hero/heroine or some sort of demigod. I think what bothers me more, though, is that the golden rule seems unbalanced. Do for others what they would do for you seems like a great idea, but in reality, its poorly executed at best. So while I do things because I think its just downright necessary - I rarely see it happen in return. And I mean that. Rarely. Except from my wife - because, well, she's special. I don't expect it to happen in return, but damn it would be nice if it did once in awhile. Again, it has, but not as often as I would figure.

Not really a rant, not really a complaint - just a little bit of a melancholy perspective on expectations. Maybe I need to hit these so called oxygen bars JFunk and TLish tell me about.

Mountains are made to make us feel small I think

So here I am in Breckinridge Colorado, trying hard to keep my oxygen about me and stay hydrated. 10,000 feet is no joke - but I'm getting used to it, I can actually walk 2 blocks without feeling like I need a respirator.

That said, I love it here. The view of the mountains outside of our room and the clear mountain air make for a refreshing take on the world we live in. Not only does the majesty of the mountain caps remind us of our dependence on Mother Nature's good graces, it also serves to remind us how far we've come.

If you think about it, we're not supposed to be here. Humans are not optimized for living at this elevation. Especially an Asian like me - I'm supposed to be wading in rice paddies. Dry air, cold weather, and low oxygen doesn't suit my genes. I'm about as odd looking up here as a polar bear on South Beach.

This mother nature at odds with humans thing has been beaten to death - but it never tires for me, especially when I'm driving through here and realizing that just 100 years ago, getting into and over these mountains caused more deaths than getting to the moon ever will. We're spoiled.

In the end, I wish I could wake up every morning and look out my window and see snow white mountain caps against blue skies. Something very freeing to be disconnected from reality for that small amount of time. Then again, I'm not here to snowboard or ski (mental health rehabilitation I call it) and I'm here on the internet... blogging. See, us yellow skinned folk don't belong here!

Ridiculous Lawsuits.... And more ramblings

Someday, I'm going to be so offended by a TV program - I'll watch it (knowing full well what it shows), throw up, and sue the network for airing it. Sounds pretty dumb right?

Well, apparently, a lawyer (I don't like many of em) and his/her client is suing NBC for emotional/other damage (i'm not a lawyer, so I don't know the specific terms). Basically, this man watched a Fear Factor episode where they took rats, put em in a blender, and made the contestents drink/eat the contents. The rats were cooked, I believe. Either way, the client said he got so distressed, his bloodpressure increased, he developed a huge headache, and started vomiting. He's suing for emotional damage - apparently its scarred in his memory for life and anytime he thinks of rats, he'll start vomiting.

Now, some lawyers have told me that for every frivolous lawsuit, there's the client who wants it. Well, thats fine and all, but for every crack dealer there's a crackhead. And honestly, I have no respect for either one. I'll take that back - I have more respect for the crackhead than the crack dealer. At least the crackhead is only hurting himself. The crack dealer not only is hurting the crackhead, he's hurting his own moral standing in society.

Oh yeah, I forgot. Moral standing doesn't count for much anymore. Because you can't measure or quantifiably see that. The only tangible way to measure societal standing is the size of your chrome rims and the number of hoes you pimp. Better yet, how bout the bling you flash and the guns you carry. Actually, I think you've become a highly regarded member of society if you can throw 100 dollar bills at the camera. YEEEEAHHHH!!! WHAAAAAT?!!!! OOOOOOO KAAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!!

I don't know whats more sad - that this is essentially true, or that I have to say right now that the last paragraph was dripping with sarcasm. Yes, I have no faith in our country's ability to teach reading comprehension - so sue me.

Shoot, just writing this my blood pressure increased, I developed a huge headache, and I nearly lost my McD's breakfast reading about this retard. I should sue this guy and his lawyer for emotional distress, wasting the court's time, and just being dumb.

FUCKERS, all of em.

Bearing Bad News

From my third year med school rotation in Surgery.

The disappointment on my face was visible, even through the surgical mask. I never knew how well eyes communicated inner feelings, until I started rotating in the OR. Apparently, my chief resident knew as well. He saw what I felt. Knowing full well that the stomach cancer was nonresectable, he looked up at me and without saying a word, told me that there was nothing else to do - nothing else to try. I was even more helpless, as a third year med student who knew the books but little else.

I knew this man briefly. Far too briefly due to the demands of a busy clinic schedule and the reduced resources in the current age of managed care demands. I knew of his name, of his wife's name, and of his occupation. I met him once and in that one meeting - I saw the fear and desperation that was cloaked by a stoic acceptance. He thought surgery was his last chance, as did his family.

After we scrubbed out, my chief asked, "Hey Rich, have you talked to patient's families after surgery before?"
"Yes, I have - but only to give them good news."
"Well, I have to run to take care of an emergency in the other side of the hospital, can you do me a huge favor?"
"Sure." But my level of fear was raised in my voice - I'd never told a family that their loved one would most likely die in 3-4 months.
"Its not that hard," my chief continued. "Just say like you mean it and be honest. Its at these times that honesty and empathy is most important."

With that, he left, leaving me to my own devices.

I took the long way back to the ICU room where the patient and his family were residing. More than once, I ran into the wall as I stared at the ground, trying to come up with the words to communicate to the family and the patient. I was scared. In the elevator, I repeated to myself over and over, "Mr... I'm afraid to say," or, "I wish I could bring good news..." Either way, anything I thought of sounded crass, dishonest, and almost too slick. I knew that this moment is the moment families and individuals remember and keep with them. They remember your face, your emotions, and your words. They remember looking for some sort of glimmer of hope in what you say. They look for the signs of impending doom as well.

What if I messed up and all they could think about was how bad I was, how horrible my bedside manner was? What if I got nervous in front of a roomful of family members? What if I'm just not cut out to do this kind of thing?

I stopped for a moment and thought about that harder. All of a sudden, I realized the selfishiness in those thoughts. Who cares about me? That man is going to die. In 3 to 4 months, he will fit into his life all he has ever wanted to do in his life, all the while doing it under a constant cloud of uncertainty of death and a constant reminder of his illness when receiving his care. My thoughts and my lot in life is nothing in comparison to what he has to go through. How self-centered was I to put my fears and self-esteem ahead of his.

For a moment, in the hallway that leads up to the ICU, I stood quietly. The thought of the memories of his childhood, the remembrances of the joys, and the thoughts of the lows overwhelmed me. I'd never felt this much sorrow for a stranger. The least I could do was to tell him the truth. Tell him what he needed to know to move on. To put this moment behind him - a moment I could never put behind me. The ICU doors opened.

Walking into his room with a lump in my throat that stifled my every breath, I stopped to observe the family. As tears began to well in my eyes, I sat down next to him and said, "Hi, my name is student doctor Ha... how are you feeling?" With that, an hour and a half of words and emotions I'll never forget passed.

About four months later, I received a letter in my med school mailbox. It was addressed from the wife of this patient. He had died. Without movement, I read through the letter - he had died comfortably in the presence of his family. In the last paragraph, his wife said this:

He wanted you to know, that in that instant when the news was contrary to his wishes, he found comfort in your words and your caring. When I asked him how he knew, as you had not said much, he simply said, "It was in his eyes - his eyes gave away his sorrow." Your sincerity and honesty touched him, when he thought he would feel despair. I hope you move on from that day as Doctor Ha, you were his doctor at that moment - never a student doctor.




Through the years, people have asked me why I chose medicine. Was it that I was a generous person with a good heart? Was it because medicine is a marriage of science and altruism? Or were there selfish motives behind it? I can say now that the first two reasons are true. The last - partially true. I am selfish in wanting to be a doctor - but not for the standard selfish justifications. I am selfish because it is only in Medicine that you can share with a person their moments of greatest joy and their moments of deepest sorrow. And its during these memorable moments that the commanlity of humanity and altruism is confirmed. Nothing else will ever get me as close. Nothing.

Terry has no excuses not to get women anymore

Since Terry is too shy and coy to post pics of his car - I will. I love his car. He just recently purchased a 2005 Black S4 with all the trimmings except for navigation. He apparently feels that he can navigate his way through any urban jungle with only his eyes and his Korean herbs. The car is fast - v8 with 340hp and it is definitely nice inside - hell the seats are the most comfortable thing I've ever sat in.

The coolest thing about this though - is that Terry has all of a sudden developed the car enthusiasts' obsessive complusiveness. We spent the good part of a day waxing his car. Whereas before he didn't give a lab rat's ass if someone hit his car and urinated in it, now he can't stand the thought of rainwater on his car. It just gets worse Terry - there's no going back. Every car you own from now on will be like this!

Congrats are in order - you earned it! But now you can't claim that your car is holding you back - no more the other guy has a Porsche or a BMW stories Terry. You can't use that as an excuse anymore!

Oh yeah, and here are the pics - first one is my car compared to his - mine far more sporty, his far more luxurious.

John Mayer - Daughters

I know a girl
She puts the color inside of my world
She's just like a maze
Where all of the walls all continually change

And I've done all I can
To stand on the steps with my heart in my hand
Now I'm starting to see
Maybe it's got nothing to do with me

Fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters, too

Oh, you see that skin
It's the same she's been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she's left cleaning up the mess he made



I will confess. Beside my collection of Dr. Dre, MC Eight, The Roots, Louis Armstrong, Guns N Roses, and Metallica - lies a few CDs that seem out of place initially. Both of them great. Both of them very very touching.

Since only two people (who love the 80s music and generally dont' listen to hardcore genres) regularly comment (and thus I assume read) my blog, I figure that I'm safe with this admission.

I dig John Mayer.

There, I said it. I can't even tell you the number of times I have to defend my ownership of these great, great albums. Its like defending how your mom looks. You just know she looks right, you just don't know why - nor would you ever really want to go into detail about it. If you do, you're just sick or a mama's boy - both not really something you want to be.

Thus, I'm going to stay out of the details of John Mayers music, except for one song.

The lyrics above are from John Mayer's song (an unexpected hit by the way), "Daughters." The topic and name of the song would seem to lend itself to an 80's style cheesiness, which was exemplified by such classics as "Take on me" and any Tiffany or Debbie Gibson song. But the truth is, the song doesn't stray into cliche. He takes a topic which seems to mystify everyman - why women are the way they are - and gives a solution. He sets up the dilemma - he loves this woman - but he can't quite figure out the reason for her quirks (I'm being nice). He offers the explanation - this woman was shaped by her father and it was his mistakes and his missteps that have shaped her and the difficulties that consequently arrive. His solution is left open - he doesn't say where this relationship will go, which is brilliant.

At least thats my take on it.

And if you think about it a little further, he's right. I've yet to meet a woman who's personalities haven't been in one way or another shaped by her father. Of course, you can say this about sons and fathers as well. But the difficulties in a woman's personality (and I'm not singling out women - men have more difficulties) seem to me to somehow be related to her father - in a six degrees of seperation sort of way. Think about the women you know - and think about her father treated her - and you figure out how it works out the way it does. Just my thoughts anyways.

I'm being ambiguous on purpose - but I only got 3 hours of sleep - that's my excuse.

Happy New Years!!!

Well today is the official start of 2005. Although I move into 2005 with some sorrow for the tsunami victims, I'm looking forward to a new year. I'm not one to make resolutions. For some reason, they just always never work for me. What I like to do is go back on my year and reflect on the good and the bad.

I could list a ton of both good and bad things, but in the end, there's really only a handful of things that I would like to mention.

First, I had another wonderful year being married to an incredble woman. She had her ups and downs, including a promotion to a Director level, a new car, and continued success in her investments. Despite her incredibly difficult work schedule (works 16-18 hours a day), she still serves as a source of strength to everyone around her. She has also learned to better tolerate my negatives (I'm very sloppy with clothes and not turning off the faucet fully). But most of all, she is even more beautiful than the day I met her and I love her everyday even more. She continues to inspire me and those around me, and I hope that 2005 brings her everything she could ever want - as a reward for her incredibly hard work.

Second, my friendships have become stronger and even more fulfilling. I started out 2004 with a fear that I was very lonely - I felt I had lost contact with some older friends and some of my newer friends were disinterested in getting to know me further. 2004 changed all of that.

My relationship with Jimmy, Christo, and Mark has gotten stronger - despite the distance. We've found new ways (IM and message boards) to communicate and to share in each other's experiences. Christo has a beautiful new baby, Jimmy got married and has a kid on the way and has a new house, and Mark is settling into his role as a strong husband and father - which I always knew he could be. These guys remind me of home - and they will always.

I became even better friends with Terry (aka the Stud). Terry, a fellow surgeon, is a great human being with a strong sense of loyalty, generosity, and friendship that I find very rare. He may have issues with women, but for Chi and I he is a great great friend. Congrats on the new S4 Terry!

Dawn has become one of my best friends. I wouldn't have even met her had I not bought an Audi and became an active member of Audizine. Dawn is one of the most generous, caring, nice, and real people I have ever met. Out of all of my friends, she had the hardest year I could ever imagine experiencing - her father died, her grandma had a serious stroke, her health was difficult as she had a serious illness which required urgent surgery, her car got hit and egged, and she has been underappreciated by those around her (and yes JP that means you too). But through all of this, she has still been the first to smile, hug, and greet me with an bright and sunny personality that radiates strength and trust. I hate to see her go through what she has, I dislike as well the fact that she supports so many around her, and I do not know if her boyfriend realizes how lucky he is. I really do believe that 2005 will bring her many good things.

I don't call em my Audizine friends anymore - they're just my friends. John, I wish he stayed here and didn't move to Santa Barabara. Although 5 years younger, he's just a great guy and I know we would've become even better friends had he stayed in teh Bay Area. Just a fair, nice, and generous guy - John is the epitome of a cool guy. Leonard, I've come to know and appreciate as a smart, generous, and very loyal person. Willing to give up his garage at a moment's notice and talk to me about everything from politics to chess, he's also a new friend I've learned to appreciate. Ken, has been a great person to talk to - about cars and Dawn (haha - yes we talk about you Dawn) and life in general. Deep down, Ken is a generous and caring person who likes everyone and doesn't have a hateful bone in his body (okay maybe for some people but noone I know).

I've become better friends with my labmates. Andy, Jay, Hsieh, TamDelicious, Erica, Stacie, Maria, Karine, Kazu - I've come to appreciate everyone in my lab to be generous, nice, and super intelligent friends who are willing to drop their labwork just to listen to my philosophy on life, sports, and mango thunder. More importantly, they've let me into their world of research and I'm very much the better for it. Together we form a great group of snide, witful, and hilarious bunch of book smart retards. I'm going to miss them when I go back to the Hospital.

PHEW!!! I didn't know I had that much to say haha.

In the end, its the friendships and love that everyone experiences that makes the years memorable. Even unfortunate circumstances reveal the strength of friendship and the quality of friendship - which makes a bad situation good, through it all. I'm very lucky and I hope to continue my friendships this year - as I transition from research back to the grueling 80 to 90 hour work weeks at the hospital.

So with that said, I wish everyone a Happy and Safe New Year!!!!!