View from the top of the V

For the uninitiated the "V" is a pictographic representation of the cycle of compulsive behavior and it can apply to just about any addiction.

The "V"

For many the V is a wholly inaccurate depiction, the WWWWWWWWWWW would be far more accurate. Having gone through my fair share of this unpleasant roller coaster, I finally find myself in the right place. People don't like to hear good news. In fact it has become almost vulgar to announce good news because it just makes you a target for those who need to validate their own endless shortcomings by ridiculing and belittling the achievements of others. Well vulgarity be damned, I clawed my way up here tooth and nail, kicking and screaming the whole way and well gosh darn it I intend to make some noise about it.

I have taken a machete to the dead weight in my life and made things extremely simple. I go to the gym, I go to work, I go to the bank and I go home. I have distanced myself from drama, negativity, and self destructive behavior. I have learned how to say NO. I have learned to distinguish between friends and acquaintances, assets and liabilities, family and family. I am on track to retire by 30 and spend even more time writing about things that people don't want to hear.

What is that I hear?

Lies! Impossible! He must be depressed. What is he really up to? Why is he trying so hard to hide the fact that he's miserable? Nobody could actually enjoy living that life, he's so full of shit. We'll see how long he lasts. He'll be back at the bottom of the V in no time. Well sure if I did it THAT way then I'd be fine and dandy too. It'll never work just wait and see.

Well doubt is ingrained in human nature and I am not immune.

Alas there is a conflict. (Aha! shout the masses)

Having put everything I want into place I find myself somewhat bored. The only thing that I can do now is create problems for myself either by getting into trouble or by tackling another person's trouble. When the hustle and bustle of life's endless petty issues have finally been resolved the resulting silence is deafening. I find myself slightly confused in these quiet moments at the end of the day. There is nothing more that I can do for the day except go to sleep or go stir up some trouble.

I have achieved peace, balance and clarity and I even accept that this equilibrium is bound to be disturbed by events beyond my control, but I also know that I will eventually return to this baseline. So I guess I'm here at wwwwwwww------------------

------. Temptation hovers at the periphery like a horde of barbarians lurking in the woods just beyond the gate. I suppose it's only a matter of time before they make a concerted charge, but until then I'll just enjoy the peace and do my part to keep those gates sealed.

Self-critique

You know the night has gotten a tad bit too boring when you find yourself re-reading your own rants. Just another item on the laundry list of symptoms that make up this deeply disturbed individual. Why do I type out these notoriously long tirades about everything and nothing? What credentials do I have to make sweeping generalizations about life, love and liberty? What have I accomplished in my 27 years that give me the right to pontificate philosophy from my increasingly uncomfortable computer chair in the middle of the night?

Absolutely nothing.

And that ladies and gentlemen is the beauty of the United States of America and the internet. If I was born 20 years earlier and didn't have so much work to do I'd probably be scrawling this out on the walls of a random highway underpass. But AOL, Asian Avenue, Xanga, and now Facebook have given me a forum to articulate my mundane madness for the masses. Well masses is a bit to melodramatic. It's more like the errant digital drifter who happens to find some relevant resonance in my rambling or perhaps just someone who has run out of energy on Mafia Wars.

But back to the self-critique. My rants tend to have the same pattern; offensive opener, endless analogies, run-on sentences, hyper-critical lists, attacks on governmental ineptitude, list of semi-comical one liners, a lot of self-referential humor all wrapped up with a few more endless analogies and concludes with a few more one liners with some vague pop-cultural or historical reference.

But tonight, since I stayed home for this entire holiday weekend, I'm going to talk to you with as little hyperbole as I can manage. I know I have a few serial readers whose feedback is always appreciated. But for those of you who read and say nothing. Thanks for reading and please feel free to chime in anytime.

So my questions to you in no particular order.

Where do you see yourself going?
What are you working so hard towards?
What is going to make you happy?
Is happiness really what you're after?
Do you think that facebook is wasting hours of time every day that you'll never get back?
If you didn't need money, what would you do?
If you're doing something you don't like and you don't have money then why are you still doing it?
If you're doing something that you do like and you don't have money then how do you get by?
What are you running towards?
What are you running from?
What are you going to do once you get there?
I no longer enjoy clubbing or partying or even drinking. Any alternatives for fun?
Why are we all trying so hard?
What have you accomplished lately?
Are you just going through the motions and filling the void with as much noise as possible to drown out the crushing screams of emptiness that fill your mind whenever the white noise dies down?
Is this getting a little weird?

That's all I have for tonight folks. Please feel free to answer any or all of the questions and ask a few of your own. If you read these regularly then you probably already know my answer to most of those.

Midnight rant: Gold diggers, Asian mobs and NYC cabbies Share

It's not quite midnight yet, but I plan on going to bed early, so I'm getting a head start.

Gold diggers. Once upon a time in a different forum, I wrote an ode to the time honored art of gold digging. Given the Great recession, record unemployment and an overall degradation in our society's moral fiber, gold digging is quietly shedding its pejorative connotations, at least in private. In these trying times there is often public outcry against the "haves" from the increasingly entitled and dependent "have-nots." For the sake of simplicity let's just use the terms really rich (RR) and not rich enough (NRE.) I hesitate to use rich and poor because true poverty is no laughing matter and falls outside the realm of even my cynicism.

Private jets, luxury sports cars, sprawling mansions and trophy arm candy. A few years ago this would have just been another episode of MTV cribs and 10 years before that it would have been an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. Nowadays that same footage is used as irrefutable evidence of the evils of the patrician elite who have preyed mercilessly on the proletariat for far too long, in other words CNN at 10pm. The RR have been vilified by the same media outlets that have dangled that lifestyle as bait for the NRE ever since mass advertising was invented.

This country was built on the unbridled pursuit of champagne wishes and caviar dreams. But since the NREs are finally starting to realize that they will never be rich enough, the hatorade begins to flow freely. The CEOs of the big 3 car companies got dragged through the mud for taking private jets despite the fact that they had piss poor performance. Well if that is the standard that we're setting then all of congress should get metro cards and the great Obama should be cruising around the capital in a KIA spectra. Last time I checked democracy was not synonymous with meritocracy and capitalism did not mean fair.

Hypocrisy is the rule of the day. We all want to be rich, but we cannot look like we want to be rich. If someone sells you a piece of junk car for $4500 then that's a criminal offense. But when you sell your shit to the government so everyone across the country can pay $4500 then it's bloody economic stimulus. A bad deal is a bad deal no matter who's making it. Putting lipstick on a pig doesn't change the fact that it's pig even though it gets more matches on Eharmony.

Now what in heaven's name does this have to do with gold digging? Gold diggers have been unjustly marginalized for far too long because to embrace gold digging would be embracing the truth and that is something that so many of us are terrified of. The TRUTH. The truth is we are a nation of gold diggers. In fact nearly every city west of the Rockies would be endless tracts of undeveloped land if it weren't for gold diggers. Gold diggers didn't always wear too tight dresses from Forever XXI, and just because they've traded their shovels and pickaxes for Prada bags and La Perla doesn't mean they don't work just as hard as my distant ancestors. A gold digger knows what they want and they go get it. Perhaps that clarity of purpose and commitment to a cause makes the rest of the aimless mob jealous and spiteful. There are many paths to the top of the mountain, but it's better to get there with gold.

In the same vein, last weekend at Hiro I witnessed a despicable scene. I am deeply ashamed to have been a part of such a fiasco. Outside of the too cool for itself lounge there was a throng of about 100 East Asian boys all decked out in their cream colored suits, shiny purple shirts and tight fitting polos. No it was not a gay club, just an another Asian party in NYC. Peacocking has been driven to unbelievably unnecessary heights. Anyhow, as everyone was patiently queued, a heavily intoxicated white guy in Princeton thug wear was screaming into the night sky while being dragged by his hot girlfriend. Infused with scotch fueled rage he was spoiling for a fight. He began screaming at a group of 3 Korean guys. "What the fuck are you looking at? You want some? What are you gonna do about it? BITCH! etc., etc." The Korean guys acted very mature and told him to go home, take it easy and call it a night. The girlfriend continued to apologize profusely. But as with all bullies, fascists and terrorists he was only emboldened by their attempts at appeasement. He came charging back at the group yelling racial epithets doing mock Tae Kwon Do kicks and eventually shoving one of the guys.

The whole time this incident was unfolding the other 97 Asian guys stood on the sidelines transfixed like a Coliseum crowd mesmerized by the prospect of impending bloodshed.

The shovee reciprocated with an angry "Now you're making me mad." The drunkard was not deterred by the strong language and took a swing at the Korean guy. The Korean guy's friend jumped in and I assumed he would begin pounding the fool senseless, but alas it appeared that it was Princeton's lucky night he had stumbled onto three oath bound pacifists. The friend just tried to break up the fight. Having already achieved a clear moral victory,the white guy let his girlfriend drag him away while still hurling threats and racial epithets. Everyone, myself included, just let him walk away unscathed.

After he was gone the collective group of 100 or so Zen warriors congratulated themselves on their expert self-control and maturity in the face of danger. BULL FUCKING SHIT. Everyone pussied out because it was a white guy in a blazer. 400 years of inferiority complexes, social suppression and groupthink allowed 100 people to be cowed by a single dude in a blazer. If Princeton had been Asian he would have been jumped. If he had been black, spanish or Sioux Indian he would have been similarly assaulted.

At the time I told myself that it wasn't my fight and that I shouldn't get involved. Now a week later I realize that it was definitely my fight despite the fact that the outcome would have been the 100 guys fighting each other.

Scenario: White guy shoves group of Koreans. I intercede on their behalf. They look at me and say I could've handled that myself. What are you trying to say? That I'm a pussy?

End result: Massive brawl while Princeton laughs at the civil strife he caused.

Lose/lose situation.

If it was a 100 black guys standing outside of Hiro. Princeton would've dragged his ass into a cab so fast he would've set a new land speed record.

So in the racial hierarchy of street fights, us Asians are still ranked at the very bottom of the totem pole. No respect, because we've done nothing to deserve any.

With that painful revelation we are brought to the subject of cabbies.

Why the hell do they drive like complete and utter morons. I understand that they're just trying to make buck, but what the hell? So am I and I don't need you endangering my life and my insurance premiums with your godawful driving and inability to use a turn signal or pull up to a fucking curb to pick up your fare.

Today as I was driving down Houston a cab driver was having a conversation through his passenger side window with another cabbie and then suddenly swerves left into my lane without looking. I narrowly avoided a massive collision to my passenger side. Perhaps the shame and guilt of last weekend was still brewing inside me, so I snapped. I pulled in front of him and got of the car to inform him of his clear need to improve his driving abilities. I also vehemently suggested that he should fornicate his vision or some such road rage colloquialism. Having vented my disapproval I turned to get back in my car when the bastard hack gave me the finger. Instead of apologizing for almost killing my passenger the piece of shit gives me the finger. Pet peeves: rude behavior and especially rude gestures.

So I walk up to his window and tell him to exit the vehicle so that we can discuss this like civilized human beings. He declined my invitation. So I figured he couldn't hear me through his window. So I opened it for him with my foot a fact that really didn't sit well with him and something that apparently was the source of endless amusement for a couple of fedex guys who had stopped to watch.

To the untrained eye it would appear as if I was engaged in felony assault. However a closer examination of the facts would reveal that I was acting in self defense. Since he was trying to kill me with his car, vehicular homicide, it was my right to defend myself by disarming him. In this case it meant separating him from his vehicle. Having made my point, I got back into the car fuming at what an annoyingly hypocritical and racist world we live in.

And now ladies and gentleman it is almost midnight and time for bed. Go forth and dig gold, fight the good fight and only tip the polite cabbies.

Don't eat your own shit!

What does it say about the state of the world when something so fundamentally simple is constantly overlooked? DO NOT EAT YOUR OWN SHIT! It's definitely disgusting, probably unhealthy and just plain stupid. Yet day after day and hour after hour I see one person after another shoveling handfuls of their own excrement into their own mouths.

Other people's excrement can sometimes be disguised with fancy fragrances or mixed in with cookie dough and covered in lovely little sugar cubes, so while still quite disturbing, eating the crapola of other people is forgivable. However when it comes to your own creation, there can be no doubt as to its content nor its origin. Quite simply, it's your own shit why on earth would you consume it? This may be a little too graphic, even for me, so let's get to the heart of the matter.

The moral of the story is DO NOT believe your own lies. It's the same as paying yourself with counterfeit money that you print using your own feces as a minting plate. While morally objectionable, lying to others is a necessary evil to lubricate social situations and for a wide array of other self-serving purposes. However when you lie to yourself you begin a slippery slope of detaching yourself from reality. Because honesty, the undiluted distribution of mutually accepted facts that withstand both objective and subjective scrutiny, is integral to a functional society. You can only tell so many people it's okay to walk off of a roof before you get in some serious trouble (then again, we're probably all better off without whoever listens to you.)

"Everything is going to be all right." This is the one piece of shit that nearly everyone has told to some one else at some point in their lives. But alas Virginia there is no Santa Claus, he was captured over Area 51 last November and is currently extremely busy with the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny drafting a universal health care bill for our commander in chief. But no everything will not be all right.

If you keep doing what you're doing then you will keep getting what you're getting. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Those physicists sure know their stuff. That being said, I really don't understand why people continue to repeat their mistakes and then marvel at the audacity of the universe to deny them their rightful gifts. If you eat shit, I daresay it will taste like shit.

I think that I am beating a dead horse. But let me be the first to say that I have eaten far more than my fair share of my own doodoo. In fact I was once a doo doo eating champion of the world. I made Joey Chestnut look like Ghandi on a particularly oppressive day of British rule. But eventually even I grew weary of the taste. Quite frankly, it tasted like shit. That is BAD. Bad is not good. GOOD is GOOD. So no eating shit=GOOD. Sarcasm is unattractive. (Snideness however is very amusing)

Other than the savory texture and mild hallucinogenic effects, eating shit had absolutely no lasting benefits. What ended up happening is that I spent years running a marathon on a treadmill. I may have logged 26.2 miles in record time, but I traveled a distance of exactly 0. For all those of you who have a penchant for dining on dung heed my warnings. Embracing your own lies will lead to social, financial, emotional and mental paralysis. As you retain more and more of the crap you will become increasingly unable to cope with life's barrage of challenges and adventures. Slowly your world will collapse into a Pavlovian or Opium junkie state of existence where your next bowel movement and your next meal coincide effortlessly.

Here comes the part that's gonna sting. Feel free to stop reading now. Just go grab some toilet paper and get ready for a midnight snack.




Seriously, unless you want to stop eating shit, stop reading now and go take a dinner break.




Well see there you go. You think that this doesn't apply to you. He ain't talking about me (please watch Chris Rock's take on misogynistic rap lyrics) This will apply in part or whole to nearly all of you and only one word in this sentence is a generous euphemism. (hint: nearly)

You will not go to the gym.
You will not lose weight.
Even if you do, you still won't get girls (guys.) If you do get them, they will still leave you for someone bigger (in every way), smarter, prettier, richer, nicer, cuter, better or in what will really sting, they'll leave for someone worse.
You are not going to win the WSOP.
You are not going to make a budget. If you do, you will not stick to it.
Your screenplay is not getting picked up.
Your only record deal will be a 2 for 1 special on Itunes downloads.
You will not make a million before 30. Most of you will be lucky to avoid Cuisine a la Alpo in your twilight years.
You will not win the lottery. If you do then obviously I am grossly mistaken and I had no idea that you were destined for greatness. Please forgive these eyes that do not recognize a great mountain. Now I have the perfect commercial development site for someone of your stature.
As for the rest of you.
You will not win the lottery.
You will not strike out on your own.
You will not break free of the rat race.
You will not meet the person of your dreams at an access nightlife party.
You will not hookup with that scantily dressed girl at the club.
For the girl in half of a dress; you will not command respect with your cleavage, but you will get free drinks, so more power to you.
For the girl in half of a dress that should be on the physical version of my metaphorical treadmill, please for the love of all that is holy, prove me wrong about the first item on this list and go to the damn gym.
You will not make millions with your next fabulous business plan.
Your buddies are definitely the worst people you can ever go into business with.
You can make millions without your friends and still stay friends.
NOPE. See even while trying my damnedest to be straightforward with you, I inadvertently popped a piece of shit into my mouth.
You CANNOT make millions without your friends and stay friends unless you break them off a nice chunk of said millions in which case they become quasi-parasitic prosti-friends which kind of nullifies the whole friend bit.
You are not special.
Jesus may love you, but if you can only derive solace from the affections of a supernatural demigod whose alternative is brutal torture at the hands of roman soldiers or living at home in the shadow of his omnipotent father then you really have some socialization problems.
You are not black.
In case you are black, then...you are not white.
In case you are white, then...you are not Chinese.
In case you are Chinese, then...you are neither black nor white, you do not have the best quality crab, you did grow up drinking more coca-cola than sorrow, but you sure do bitch a lot more than those who grew up with real sorrow i.e., boy soldiers, child prostitutes, amputated beggars and of course EVERYONE ELSE!
For the denser among you, including myself, that means PLEASE stop bitching.
You are reading the maniacal exhortations of a very frustrated and exhausted real estate agent who absolutely cannot stand the hypocrisy that blankets the world like a cloak of everlasting SHIT.
Therefore you have too much time on your hands.
You need to wake up.
You need to go to the gym.
You need not worry because

EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE ALL RIGHT.

mmm....shit....

Madman laughing at the rain and frowning at the clouds

Is it a sign of old age or dementia that the weather is increasingly becoming the dominant factor in my daily moods? On sunny days I feel as if every moment is another gift waiting to be unwrapped, I feel the boundless possibilities stretch out infinitely in every direction, nothing can stand in my way, world here I come! On cloudy days there's always too much traffic, too little time, too many people and way too many damned clouds. The ever changing choices that once seemed so prolific are whittled down to an interminable monotony marching towards inexorably towards inevitable oblivion. Maybe I should move to a sunnier destination, or maybe I should seek professional help and a big bottle of Zoloft for SAD.

The last week has been mostly cloudy with sporadic outbreaks of sun causing some tremendously unsettling mood swings. Usually these changes occur on a daily basis, but being able to observe them in such close proximity to each other have given me a unique perspective into my own cuckooness.

Most people aim to get through life by spending too much, eating a lot, avoiding hard work, finding easy ass and getting drunk. Those who manage to achieve in all five categories are exalted and envied by the rest who strive to over indulge to varying degrees of failure. The minority who aspire to loftier goals will still find themselves invariably stuck in the occasional rut chasing the fave five. It is probably written into our genetic code; following the path of least resistance must be an evolutionary fail safe designed to keep us curious georges out of trouble.

Today while driving down Division street, a street in Chinatown which opens up into a thoroughfare wide enough for 6 cars yet somehow only has two lanes, a woman in a minivan was driving at a speed which could only be described as a miracle of physics. It can only be described as the smallest quantifiable unit of velocity that would differentiate a stationary object from one in motion. Thinking that perhaps it was a parked car or that a million ants had decided to play move the minivan I decided to pass her on the left and when I turned to look I saw the reason for this anti-speed demon, she was having an animated conversation on her cell phone which must have been utterly earth shattering yet not so intense as to distract from simultaneously attempting to paint her face in order to lure more unsuspecting prey into the gaping maw where a mouth should be.

For a brief moment I had an out of body experience. A primal rage welled up from the recesses of my mind and summarily kicked the logic, empathy along with every other scrap of rational or compassionate thought from my head. I pounded the horn as if gold coins would fall out and swerved in front of her. At that same moment my higher brain functions snuck back in my other ear as I tried to calm down until the beast woman was snapped out of her riveting conversation by unbridled indignation at my apparent insanity. She honked back and in what was probably the most exercise she's gotten in the past four decades she extended an elephant leg outside of her window and raised what looked to be a fleshy stub covered in fish oils and fried chicken crumbs. Apparently she was giving me the finger.

Higher brain functions went on a brief sabbatical for another few moments as I unleashed a torrent of vitriolic insults in two and a half dialects of Chinese, English, Spanish and sign language. Nothing like a Quadri-lingual tirade to get through to someone. I don't recall too much of what I said but the indignation on her ghastly face quickly turned into outrage then fear then tears. That's when my logical self reasserted its rightful place and I drove off.

I began to dissect the situation in my mind as I continued on my merry way. She could have been lost and asking for directions, she could have had a medical condition which required her to keep her cholesterol at 450, she could have been having car trouble, etc. etc. my mind continued to invent scenarios that could explain her complete disregard for traffic safety and driving etiquette. Then again maybe she was a heinous bitch that deserved a lot more than a verbal volley.

Instead I decided to focus inward and examine why I would lose my normally exhausting range of self-control and patience over something as banal as road rage. That's where I found my answer. A deeply twisted Gordian knot of frustration. The frustration stemmed from the fact that some, actually most people will never understand.

I could continue screaming into this digital void till the end of time, I could publish books, host seminars, distribute pamphlets, organize mass cults to do the same, but still they would not hear, and even if by some miracle they did hear, they would never listen. Some people will just never ever see that they are narrow-minded self-serving fools who will never stop blaming others for their misfortune, for their bad luck, for their dead ends and their unfulfilled wishes.

I was the one who put myself in a position to be affected by that moron of a woman. I know that driving down that street while hungry and in search of a parking spot is a recipe for an angry explosion. I could have easily just driven straight to the uncrowded side of Chinatown and parked in a lot. I would've saved myself a lot of time and headache. Could the woman have been less agitating? Of course. Could the city have more street parking and less bike lanes? Of course. Could the other drivers have cursed at her ineptitude earlier so that I wouldn't have to? Of course. However all of those things are beyond my control.

The only variable that I have the ability to directly affect is myself; either my actions or my reactions. I chose to go down that road and I chose to get angry and I chose to lash out. I did those things and I suffered the consequences. ACCOUNTABILITY.

People will be assholes. Traffic will suck. Things will fuck up when you least expect them to. But those are universal constants. The only things you can change are your actions and perceptions.

We don't choose when, where or how we're born. We don't get to pick our numbers in the genetic lottery, but just about everything else is up for grabs. Don't be bitter, don't be jealous, just figure out what you want and go get it without worrying about whether you deserve it or whoever else may have it. Get some. Go. Now.

Wrapping Up

So I'm in the last few days of my self imposed prohibition. Ironically I cannot remember the last time my mind was so clear. For better or worse my brain has been operating almost 3 months without the interference of alcohol or card induced dopamine. Yet somehow I just feel....good.

I've had plenty of time to prioritize, exercise and realize. So what have I learned?

I've learned that willpower is incredibly simple. As easy as flipping on a light switch, or rather flipping off a switch. I've been reminded of how disgustingly hypocritical this world is. Without the many distractions that used to fill my life I've been able to see things and people for what they really are. Petty, self-serving, judgmental, close-minded, cowardly, arrogant and not in the least bit childish. Because I think that childish should among the highest of compliments.

Children are full of life, hopes, dreams and potential. They are devoid of the litany of neuroses and prejudices which plague adults to no end. When faced with an obstacle, children figure out a way around it while the adults fumble with their blackberry's contact list for a contractor, a lawyer, or both. Children know no limits. That's they beauty of it.

But back to people as we know them. Miserable lot I tell you, just plain miserable. The economic crisis is blamed on entitlement, lack of accountability, transparency and oversight. Big banks, Wall St., Bush, oil, Bush 2, mortgage brokers, etc. etc. But ultimately the blame is inexcusably shared by each and every one of us. The American dream is predicated upon the attainment of more for less. More house for less money, more money for less work, more work for fewer people. We've outsourced a lot more than software programmers and customer call centers. The American dream became universal and now we're paying the price.

I've said time and time again that if you have shit on your plate then you must have ordered it. That's a sweeping generalization that doesn't apply to X!!! Because you have a friend and X happened to them and they never wanted X to happen. Well ladies and gentlemen you can take your X and shove it up your Y. Hopefully that will stop the white noise from coming out. People create their own problems! Don't cry to me about the evil in Darfur or the huts of Dharavi. Just because you can spell Janjaweed and watched Slumdog Millionaire 10 times doesn't mean you understand suffering. I don't pretend to and I don't want to.

The overwhelming majority of you who are reading this live pretty damn good lives. Yet I'm sure each and every one of you also has plenty of problems. You can fix them. If they remain unfixed it is because you choose not to fix them. If the problem cannot be fixed then it isn't a problem, it just is. Dwelling on it only makes you all the more illogical.

So 3 months without a glass of Johnnie and I've become even more of an ass?

I think so.

Here's some heartfelt honesty that I don't usually share with the public. Since you've made it this far I think you deserve a little consideration. I am very aware of my own choices. I have had a lot of time to contemplate them. Granted the contemplation has often occurred after the choice was made, but there always is a whole mess of contemplating.

I hold no illusions about the way I live my life and I will offer NO apology for it. I do the things I do because I want to. I do not expect others to follow, forgive, nor understand. Not because it is overly complex, but rather because it is so simple it makes Ockham's razor look like a Rubik's cube marked with sub-prime derivatives instead of colors.

I treat those I like with the utmost sincerity and generosity. I treat those I don't like with courtesy. I share my convictions freely, but only when asked. I will not sacrifice a good joke for the sake of propriety and I will not take a difference of opinion as a personal insult. I believe that life is simultaneously fleeting and yet all too long which is why I don't have time for your bullshit, but plenty of time to luxuriate 29 stories above the desert watching the lights twinkle even if there's work to be done.

I earn it. I burn it.

People have to stop pretending that "I am a selfless saint doesn't begin with 'I' ". Motivated self interest makes the world go round, the sooner we accept that, the sooner things will get better.

Now someone find me a bottle of King George V.

One month to go

I am about 48 days into my New Year's resolutions. I am extremely surprised that I have held out this long. The strangest part is that it isn't nearly as difficult as I imagined it to be. Not drinking and going to the gym have become automatic. Almost 7 weeks without alcohol has left me feeling more refreshed than I've been in the last 10 years.

10 years...

10 years ago I started taking Kung fu lessons. I got my first car. I was much lighter, much faster, much smarter and much much more innocent. I was looking forward to college, I was wistful about the friendships I would lose and naive about the ones I would keep. I was young, I was foolish, I was scared and I was hopeful.

Today I find myself at a crossroads or rather I have been driving without brakes for the last 5 years and I've finally run out of gas. Several weeks ago I made a conscious effort to change and despite many failed attempts in the past, this one seems to be sticking. In a month's time my self-imposed restrictions expire. I will be free to drink, gamble, spend and eat like a degenerate monster. But doing those things doesn't fill me with the same giddy anticipation that it used to. I don't know when self-destructive behavior lost its appeal, but maybe that's a sign that I am officially getting old.

Today I told an old friend that, "we may not be where we want to be or have all that we want to have, but we have LIVED more than 99% of the world ever will." That's not just another classic Antonio Wong delusion of grandeur, that is a statement of fact. We have defied the odds, we have defied convention, we have both shattered and embraced the cliches of the good life. We have done the same for the bad life. We have been extremely fortunate and proportionately unfortunate. Life is not a contest, life itself is the prize. In my incredibly sober state I have learned to appreciate it and to truly savor it. Not just the moments of obscene extravagance, but also in the reliable rhythms of the daily grind and even in the middle of the mind numbing boredom on an uneventful Saturday and during the frustrating stresses of a Monday through Friday packed into a single Tuesday afternoon.

People often say that they are too busy to enjoy life and when X happens then they'll relax, then there are those who want to live life and use their faux carpe diem philosophy to excuse their extreme inability to face the fact that life comes as a whole. To try and ignore the troublesome bits is just a foolish as those they are trying not to emulate. Having walked on both sides of that line, I think I'm beginning to understand how this craziness works...

Looking forward 10 years I think I'll say pretty much the same thing; I am young, I am foolish, I am scared and I am hopeful. I don't know what's going to happen and I think that's the point.

Change Part II

January 21st is reportedly the most depressing day of the year. A combination of holiday debt, failed new year's resolutions, bad weather and in this very special year, a day after the installment of a wholly inexperienced showman as president of the United States of America (yea I said it! I hope golden boy proves me wrong) Anyhow, January 21st is definitely a very uncooperative date.

Originally I had planned a brilliant opening for this entry using the most depressing day of the year coinciding with Chinese New Year as a segue into a long rant about change and the cyclical nature of crap. Alas, there is no correlation. Too bad.

What is the opposite of happiness? Sadness? Wrong. The opposite of happiness is boredom. (Whose motto is this anyway? As many of you know, I'm not a big fan of citation. I freely admit that I doubt that I'm the first person to say just about anything that I say, so if I can't remember who said it, then I guess they don't deserve the credit.)

Boredom is the state of being weary or restless due to lack of interest. (In other words probably whatever it is you're feeling right now as you're reading. But don't worry the wittily snide remarks, soul-baring confessions and enlightening analogies will follow eventually.)

During the past few months, my friends and I have found ourselves trapped in a steadily intensifying state of boredom. Over the years we've run the gauntlet many times from blowout to bailout to burnout, but around the end of November all of the hooha seemed to lose its luster.

There's an advertisement on the sidebar as I'm typing this note. It's labeled $75/hr part-time job and it features a person holding a wad of $100 bills. There was a time when I thought it was the epitome of cool to whip out such a wad and "make it rain." In retrospect, that behavior seems extremely juvenile and it reeks of so much insecurity that it's embarrassing to type. There are moments where ostentatious displays of wealth can be extremely rewarding.

Those rewards stem from the deeply rooted desire for dominance that most humans, males in particular, feel a need to exert over their surroundings. Take a $ 100,000 annual income for example. It is a respectable sum and an admirable milestone in most careers. But it's positive effects are derived primarily from the person's surroundings, chiefly the peers that make up his immediate social circle, i.e. their facebook network of friends. For the majority of the 9 to 5 warriors in the low-to mid echelons of corporate America that 100k can make you the object of intense envy and inspiration. Outside of NYC it probably means a great house, nice car, corner office, etc. In other circles that 100k isn't worth 30 minutes at the craps tables. So some people earn more and some people earn less, what's my point?

Throwing your wad of cash around will only impress people do not have access to a similar wad of cash and make you look like a tool in front of people who do. Let's take a deeper look at each of those two scenarios. Also we'll disregard all of the people who say well I don't care what people think, I just do how I do. If you are flashing a rubber band bank then you definitely want the attention.

Looking like a tool is pretty self-explanatory. So onto impressing people. So you manage to lure some gold diggers and some free loaders with your display of footloose and fancy free financial freedom. They fawn over you and now you are happy. Now you are validated because people like you." What's your secret? I wish I was rich like you. I don't care if you have a girlfriend. Here's my hotel room key." If your sense of self worth is contingent upon the prostrations of the multitudes who lie fallow before your perceived wealth then you have a serious problem.

There will always be someone with a bigger bank account, faster car, nicer apartment, etc. etc. Money doesn't buy class and it sure as hell doesn't buy real friends. Don't get me wrong, money can definitely rent an amazing time with some pretty amazing people, but they will only last as long as the cash does. The watered down Gordon Gekko lifestyle is definitely worth experiencing from time to time, but it is just one big costume party. Eventually the masks have to come off or maybe you'll just grow weary and restless from wearing one.

What the hell does all of this have to do with change? Not exactly what you think it does. Well for starters I still love money. I love making it, growing it, and of course spending it. But my happiness is no longer tethered to it. More importantly I no longer feel the need to prove that money doesn't matter to me by wasting it in fantastically frivolous displays of faux wealth.

I stopped drinking because I no longer need a drink to dictate when I should be silly or happy. I go to the gym because I enjoy building strength and getting healthy. I spend less because I want to be able to spend more. I write because maybe someone is on the same path and now they know they have some company. I do what I want because I finally know what I want to do. That is change.