tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351525622024-02-20T01:12:29.690+08:00stainedhead: thoughts on traveling the worldrandom thoughts of a person learning more about himself by living 12 timezones from home.stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.comBlogger225125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-84547294595254249252013-12-26T15:02:00.004+08:002013-12-26T18:01:02.972+08:00be betteri have been a grumpy bastard for much of 2013. not every day, not all the time, but enough that i am sick of myself on a semi-regular basis. i realized this morning how close i am to the end of the year, and that this is a good chance to do something about the self-loathing. i need to make myself some promises for the coming year. next week a new year begins and i need a framework to work towards my goal.<br />
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some points to note. i almost never make new years resolutions. they seem forced and fake, picking something to do to change yourself ... yeah right. if you wanted to be that way, wouldn't you be already?<br />
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people choose things that they have always wanted to do and have never done. "write a novel" ... when you have no history of writing is a pretty big jump. they have no idea of the time and effort the resolution would take because they have never done anything like that... any resolution you make while blind to the effort it takes is destined to fail. rule #1, nothing you haven't done before.<br />
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people also choose things they don't really enjoy. a smoker who has smoked for 20 years should not be thinking about giving up smoking; unless there is something else they want even more ... like living after their second heart attack and signs of lung cancer ... then again, if they really love to smoke, leave them alone, they love it, and have been looking at the pictures on the pack for long enough to have thought about what their lungs look like ... rule #2, pick things you actually enjoy (or have strongly enjoyed in the past).<br />
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what about having failed at it in the past ... i have an issue here, i have decided to lose weight before, last year in fact, not at new years -- it wasn't a resolution, it was a plan... and i failed, miserably ... self-delusion is the driver for too many when they make their resolutions, they just don't appreciate the limits of their ability to change. rule # 3, try to not make the same resolutions you have made and failed at the past. if you do repeat, find a way to change them to make them achievable.<br />
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the other thing people do is take on too much at one time. the ability to get through something difficult is both the strength of conviction, and the level of strain someone is under. get someone stressed, or tired, and will goes out the window. comfort behavior kicks in, and the bad comes on like a warm blanket ... so, don't take on too much. allow yourself rest and reward between stressful events ... rule #4, don't over due your commitment.<br />
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sounds good right? i have clearly given this thought and do know how to set reasonable goals... i need to find things i really enjoy, i have been successful with before, focus on the ones that will really make me happy and make them achievable both in number and scale...<br />
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and in that vein i have decided to go with 10 changes, the first two are elements of the same goal of getting my fat-irish-ass back to a shape other than round. the others support other themes.<br />
<ol>
<li>exercise almost every day (run a 10K by the end of 2014)</li>
<li>eat to live, instead of live to eat (lose 50 lbs in 35 weeks)</li>
<li>use <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kanban" target="_blank">kanban </a>to plan work and home</li>
<li>use moleskine to-do to track days</li>
<li>actively code</li>
<li>call all three kids 3 times a month</li>
<li>call mom once a month</li>
<li>motorcycle at least once a week</li>
<li>travel to focus on sanity</li>
<li>be sociable, delay the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Misanthropy" target="_blank">misanthrope </a>tendencies</li>
</ol>
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you don't like that, you think that is too many things to focus on? maybe i need to be more selective and find achievable goals. these are too tactical for you, huh? hmmmm, lets summarize these up into their themes.</div>
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<ul>
<li>get fit</li>
<li>be a better manager</li>
<li>be a better father/son</li>
<li>relax and enjoy life</li>
</ul>
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yeah, i didn't go with a list like this in the first place because of the lack of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/SMART_criteria" target="_blank">SMART</a> goals. this is the middle of review season, and goals are due in a week or two, how can i go with a summarized list that doesn't give me a structure to measure against ... the original list of 10 each had fine grained steps below them, steps that were suppressed for brevity ... that was a good thing right ...<br />
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you want more brevity? now that we are summarized to themes you don't really care about any details ... these themes are all about one thing; driving the grumpy bastard down the road. </div>
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if you don't care about the details at all, you just want a single simple goal. how can i boil this down to something concise... </div>
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okay, here this is it:</div>
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<ul>
<li>be better </li>
</ul>
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that is a goal we could all embrace for 2014. you do your part, i'll do mine and we can get together at the end of the year and see how we have done.</div>
stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-84396103527782416302013-12-23T20:36:00.004+08:002013-12-26T15:40:29.236+08:00gibbs rules<br />
i watch NCIS ... it's not my favorite show, but it is on the comfort list. i have other shows i definitely like more; mostly with protagonists who are more moody or clearly broken than this show. this is a feel good, team work, do the right thing, what ever it takes kind of american show. at the center of it is leroy jethro gibbs and the set of rules that have become known as gibbs rules.<br />
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<a href="http://www.ncisfanwiki.com/page/NCIS%3A+Gibbs'+Rules" target="_blank">gibbs rules</a> are not unique, most american kids grew up hearing some subset of these from our fathers, coaches, uncles and grand fathers. some of them come directly from john wayne who taught us to "never apologize mister, it's a sign of weakness", stays on the list of most men; although the better of them break this rule when needed.<br />
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having a personal set of rules is part of getting older. it's a sign of maturity that you have learned so many lessons you need to write them down, or are willing to share them with others. a personal list may have come with hard lessons, but the lessons are not shared, just the rules. everyone needs to learn their own lessons, but when they do that's when they might remember someone saying words they didn't really understand at the time. rules are just words until you have the context to put them in. some people might be able to follow rules without the lesson, but i need to feel the bruises before i learn the lesson.<br />
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in an effort to remember and share, here is my personal list of rules:<br />
<ol>
<li>family first</li>
<li>secrets are not secret if anyone knows</li>
<li>everybody lies</li>
<li>balance requires flexibility</li>
<li>to remember it, write it down</li>
<li>don't assume, check; then confirm</li>
<li>listen, hear, think then talk</li>
<li>when in doubt; don't</li>
<li>never go anywhere without a knife</li>
<li>make a mess, clean it up</li>
<li>do what you are, use your strenghts</li>
<li>team, corp, god, country</li>
<li>it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission</li>
<li>bend rules, don't break them</li>
<li>swim across a riptide</li>
<li>don't apologize; it's a sign of weakness</li>
<li>when you are sorry, fix it </li>
<li>if it doesn't hurt, it's not worth the effort</li>
<li>you want it, you carry it</li>
<li>wanting it is not needing it</li>
<li>you need less than you packed</li>
<li>carry on, or be left behind</li>
<li>slow is smooth, smooth is fast</li>
<li>you don't need to to outrun the bear, just the other guy</li>
<li>when the map doesn't match the mountain, believe the mountain</li>
<li>never swim alone</li>
<li>lead, follow or get out of the way</li>
<li>promises made are promises kept</li>
<li>what is measured improves</li>
<li>delegate, trust, then monitor</li>
<li>hire, train and get out of the way</li>
<li>see one, do one, teach one</li>
<li>elegance is engineering without extras</li>
<li>nothing lasts forever, enjoy it while it does</li>
<li>always be ready to walk away</li>
<li>when the ride ends, get off</li>
<li>shake hands when the game is over</li>
<li>there is always someone better, work harder</li>
<li>easy is boring, hard almost never is</li>
<li>just good enough usually isn't</li>
<li>bad things happen, wear a helmet</li>
<li>if paying for it takes longer than the enjoyment, its probably not worth it</li>
<li>you don't know enough, keep learning</li>
<li>you are going to be wrong, get over it</li>
<li>when you're wrong, don't be the last to realize it</li>
<li>when you see a contradiction, check your assumptions</li>
<li>simple is best, correct is better</li>
<li>fear helps you focus, keep moving</li>
<li>happiness comes from inside</li>
<li>its all about the love</li>
</ol>
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this list is neither complete or finished. i am hoping to keep learning my lessons and growing the list when new bumps teach me things. some of these lessons go back to a very early age, some are newer... all are part of me now. i own the rules, because i have the memories, the scars or bruises, that back them up.</div>
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as i type this i am thinking about standing in the kitchen and holding e back from the stove. i was taking bread out and he wanted to help. i told him it was hot ... he didn't listen... i stood back and watched him reach out to the door again... the shocked look on his face said it all, he had just learned to not touch the hot stove. his eyes accused me of burning him and is said, "i told you not to do it, did you learn a lesson?" ... i don't think he even remembers this moment of my sideways parenting. i wonder if he has a rule that applies?<br />
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i mentioned that gibbs is not my favorite character, but a number of my rules are close to his. one of mine is a direct copy, including the number. after quoting it to angel too many times to remember, she has just begun to remember it. now is not the time to change it.<br />
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gibbs rules are part of his teaching of staff. i am not sure how many of my rules any my staff have picked up over the years. what is more important is that they have rules of their own. everyone's rules are their own, or should be if they are going to be actually appreciated.<br />
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these are mine, if you want your own, remember rule #5.<br />
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stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-14513482579208995692013-06-15T15:36:00.000+08:002013-06-18T18:27:46.096+08:00splitting lanesi just had a really good morning. i have been sleeping well; but not last night. i have been feeling more alive and awake. i have been more connected, engaged and aware of my surroundings. the level of frustration and anticipation have both broken and settled to a much lower level. life is really good, better than it has ever been maybe. i am happy. but happy people are boring in most ways. they are just going about their lives being happy, so why write about that... no one wants to hear how happy you are. no one wants to hear that you had fun this morning, that you burned off a little stress. drama and comedy both come from tragedy, never from contentment. contentment is boring and you should keep it to yourself.<br />
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i got my honda cb 650 back from <a href="https://www.facebook.com/HungryghostCustomInc" target="_blank">hungryghost</a> last week. the paint job is exactly what i wanted, vermilion was perfect for a bike named <a href="http://id.w3dictionary.org/index.php?q=nakal" target="_blank">nakal</a>. the build striped a bunch of weight from the bike. its faster, feels like it has more torque off the mark and snaps to a new line when you push it over. it's well worth the cost, and i an really happy i argued that i needed another bike. i can't wait to get it out into the hills and explore. this bike is all about sharing and having fun. you can feel the good karma as you walk up to it.<br />
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but this morning was a quick hop to antip-TT. i needed to go to kampung pandan yet again. the frame is back ... and the wheels are on. there is no sign of the engine and no one was able to give me an estimate ... wait, there is that frustration. there is the drama, the urge to take matters into my own hands and elicit a response ... but i talked with some people about this earlier this week, and saw shock and possibly suppressed fear bubble out when i did, so i am going to put that aside for now and focus on the good. i will remember the advice i saw along with the fear, i will "hug it out" and suppress the urge.<br />
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one of the great things about riding is KL is the fact that splitting lanes is legal ... well, much like the majority of life here, i am not sure if it is legal but it is common. it's one of the things that got me riding again. i would be sitting in traffic and watching the people on little scooters slip by between the lanes. friends back in the states, especially those in winter climates have no idea that asia runs on small low powered motorcycles. it is not uncommon to see <a href="http://worldsupertravel.com/main/families-with-babies-riding-on-motorcycles-chinaindia-etc" target="_blank">a family of 4 riding down the roads</a> of asia on what in the US would be seen as a bicycle with an tiny engine. think moped without peddles, but with 4 or more passengers, and you get the idea.<br />
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but KL is also a modern city with congested highways. the middle class here love their cars, and because of government cronyism pay three times more than US prices for them. they are status symbols more than transportation. the model and year of your car sends a strong message to the community on who you are. when you spend more than 60,000 USD for a mini-cooper, you are driving a hipster mobile that rather than saying "i am a recent college graduate" as it does in the US, says "i ... or my parents ... am successful". can you imagine the pride the mercedes driver feels knowing they could afford 1500,000 USD for the luxury name plate?<br />
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the government has been defending the outrageous cost of cars here by pointing out that if prices were to drop more people would have cars and traffic would be worse. this doesn't seem to motivate the poor who ride with their children tucked between the parents on the mini-cycles to vote for new government. and the middle class don't seem to mind sitting in the traffic jams that they already suffer. they suffer not because of the number of cars on the road, but because the highways are a mish-mash of crony-company owned toll roads that were never designed to be used as a unified or logical system of transportation. the toll roads are designed first to collect money, and much less so to move people around the city.<br />
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which gets me to why i am riding again. i am so sick of sitting in traffic that i have elected to join the working poor and embrace the only logical mode of transportation in this city. i can now zip past the chronically trapped cars, sometimes in a special lane only for motorcycles. i am not paying tolls, because toll roads are free for motorcycles. i am exposed to the rains, but this month is the dry season, and i am getting better and better at timing the showers. i also have met people in the motorcycle community and get waves and smiles all the time from others around me. KL is much more pleasant when you are not trapped inside your car waiting. the feeling of the wind on your face, the sound of the engine, the pull of the throttle as you move off the line, these are just added positives to the ability to avoid the pain of "the jam".<br />
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this is some of the reason i am happier. but, even this comes with a caveat ... although splitting lanes is common, and fully legal, there are some that seem to want it to stop. i don't think it's the lane splitting per se. i think it's the fact that others are getting ahead while they are stuck. you know who you are, the drivers who put your tires as close to the centerline as you can. at times you go further and just move over the line an sit in traffic half way over. you are not merging, you are blocking. you do not stay in line, or have the courtesy to move over and make space for the poor people who are on bikes. its either to block the way fully, or make the job of squeezing through the jam that much harder. you know you are doing it, i can tell by the way you stare straight ahead, ignoring the plight of others.<br />
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splitting lanes is a system of sharing the roads and making way for the smaller bikes to move between the cars. asian's should be proud of the spirit of cooperation that it takes. only one state in the US, california, allows splitting lanes. americans see it as dangerous, but numerous studies show it is not when it's allowed and expected. although, it can be down right scary when you are on a bigger bike and some dumb ass in a mercedes moves to the middle as you come up on them. the locals on the little bikes are amazingly talented at slipping between cars, with acrobatic moves to avoid such active agressive tactics, but anything over 400cc takes more space to get through. <br />
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have a little generosity of the soul, sharing is good for you. just because you felt special in your overly expensive car, but lost that when poor people on the cheapest vehicles around started to pass you. why don't you listen to some music, sit back in your leather seats and relax. the jam will open up and you will get home, just not as fast as the smart people on motorcycles.<br />
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if you can't share, why don't you get out of your car and buy a bike. stop needing the status symbol of your car to give you a sense of worth. feel better by getting out and enjoying getting around. begin to connect with the people around you again. maybe someone will smile at you, hell you might smile back and wave like a human being, rather than staring forward to avoid eye contact while you are being a jerk.<br />
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i feel better. i got this off my chest and i get to go out and ride again. i am fully aware you are not going to change, you are going to keep doing this... but lets be clear... you are running a risk. if you merge into the wrong person, maybe one who is not a local, is not constrained by asian shame and culturally false-courtesy, maybe one returning from a quick trip to check on the project that has slipped into a black-hole of delays, lies and missed deadlines, that person may very well exercise a generous portion of directed anger upon you. it could be enough to show you that pretending not to notice is not going to work. american road rage is something you do not want to experience.<br />
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if this happens, we will not be able to "hug it out, bitch". <br />
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...<br />
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honestly, that might make me more happy than i already am.<br />
<br />stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-80096418981857246332013-02-16T14:51:00.001+08:002013-02-16T17:57:57.957+08:00market segmentationhaving been in malaysia for 7 years, i have been through the stages of expat experience. i have gone from disoriented wandering, to sponge-like learning, to stabilized living in the rut the foreigner lifestyle. i am now at the point where i can give directions as good or better than locals, discuss food using native names only, and have begun to notice how things have changed rather than how they are different from home. this week led me through an adventure of malaysia in the state of change. i am seeing a culture shift happen right in front of me, and like what i am seeing.<br />
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last week i saw an ad for a suzuki gs550, which is the former standard for 1980s malaysian police motorcycles. the bike in the ad still had the paint job and gear of a police moto. the inner voice sitting next to me hated how it looked, but imagine the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYKdayl7BHM">chips theme song</a> going off in my head. it could be possible that i spent a few moments considering the use of the bike's police lights in KL traffic and i might have re-imagined a pre-teen fantasy of helping <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gu9bc9PuYSM">ponch and john</a> during a chase. </div>
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given there are few in country who could recognize the chips fantasy ride in action, i thought i was safe from an immediate need to modify the bike, but the desire to do it was still there. so if i wanted to do this the next step was to find a builder who would be able to help me get it to the modernized cafe vision. there is a emerging cafe racer community, and there are custom builders beginning to pop up, supporting conversions and rallys. </div>
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the first place i dropped into was is an american chopper boutique in bangsar. they sell harleys as the primary business, but allegedly also do service. their website promised full service maintenance and rebuilds. the shop is on a street i slip down a few times a week, but i have never seen any activity. the place normally looks closed; i have only seen people moving around outside once or twice. but i decided to start here, they are the most convenient location and being in bangsar i assumed would be expat easy.</div>
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the shop was dead quiet when i walked in. it was clean, spacious and well polished, with 6 or 8 new harleys parked around the show room in a dark and calming environment that was more art gallery than motorcycle shop. there were guys hidden in back, we had a good conversation and they know their stuff about motorcycles. but they have no history of building a custom bike. there were no cafe bikes in the shop and none of them ride one. they knew the theory behind the project, but were focused on explaining to me that "sometimes shit happens". this was clearly a warning that the project could be longer and more expensive than the estimate. malaysian pace meets expat target, i learned these lessons years ago when i built the office. i fully understood the between the lines reality.</div>
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the process they suggested was that once i purchased a bike we would make sure it runs and from there the conversion would be 3 - 4 months with a rough-estimate cost of 15 thousand RM. when i challenged the time, i was told that once we have all the parts together it would be at least a month to put them together and maybe some work following that to shake things out. i left the gallery with a mental picture of 4 - 6 months and 20 - 30K RM as the cost. added to the cost of the bike, my expat easy gallery would deliver me a ride in time for merdeka with a probable cost of 40K RM (13K USD).</div>
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the next option was to try to dip into the more localized solutions. rather than going expat easy, i would need to move toward a malaysian solution. a similar cultural revolution that drove the british <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caf%C3%A9_racer">cafe racer</a> culture in the 1960s is happening in malaysia now. people are embracing the freedoms of speed and individuality. middle-class locals cannot afford triumphs that cost 3 times what they do in the US. the desire to ride something more than the average 125cc scooters is there, and old bikes rebuilt and customized for individuality is the solution. even if i can afford the higher price, i am not going to pay it. this is what has driven me in the this direction, so it must be time to go there.</div>
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google maps and a sense of direction led me into an area of KL i have never been. kampung pandan is behind embassy land but not quite as far as ampang. finding the shop was surprisingly easy, maybe i am just getting better at working with less than complete information. the hardest part of the adventure was squeezing my car down the road in front of the shoplots. seconds after smashing my side mirror against another cars with a loud shock of attention, i saw the shop with greasy guys lingering outside.</div>
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the rest was amazing easy. the shop was jammed with people and bikes. it is considerably less polished than the bangsar art gallery; clearly a work space rather than show room. i counted at least 9 project bikes in various states of construction. bikes of all shapes and sizes in the process of conversion to cafe trim. custom seats and bars being fabricated in the open proved that there is a culture of conversion in the shop. the owner is a former lawyer who clearly loves cafe, he pointed to his personal ride that had a new seat being bolted on. he was open that he is not a mechanic, but introduced me to the american kid he has working for him to assist with the build process. if the bangsar shop was a motorcycle version of datin louis vuitton shop, this shop was more borneo ink with metal.</div>
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i felt at home almost immediately. sam and i chatted about what they do, and how they work. he told me he had a stream of bikes to source from. if i wanted i could put half down and in a week he would have a bike for me. if i wanted that one i could sign up and we could begin the build, otherwise the shop would keep it and he would find another. he shared that his standard customer is very price conscious, so some of the things i was asking for could be done but for a price above the 1.5K RM he would normally charge. all in i am estimating 15K for the bike and the build, he said one month, i am fine with two if that's where we end up. anything short of 4 will be a major victory.</div>
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both of these shops have only been around for only a few years. the one in bangsar is old malaysia; they are focused on expats and upper class older riders. the kampung shop is new malaysia; focused on the younger crowds who are in the process of moving upwards. they have to build because we can not buy. the crazy import fees need to be avoided, they can get former police motorcycles and convert them to something fun and cool, rather than just purchasing something, to be shown like a branded hand bag, they are building something unique and personal. welcome to the rocker culture.</div>
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i rode the brat over to kampung this morning to give them the downpayment on the project bike. i should be able to go back next weekend and see the bike. the process has begun. i am happy to support this business and the cultural shift it represents. i know what i will be doing on weekends for the next couple of months. i will balik kampung to help the guys create my vintage motorcycle. i know exactly what i want. i can <a href="http://classic-motorbikes.net/images/gallery/8715.jpg" target="_blank">picture it</a>, and can't wait to <a href="http://www.caferacertv.com/do-the-ton/">do a ton</a>.</div>
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vintage hip, cafe cool; rocker culture over louis vuitton for sure.</div>
stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-86534050482717454982013-02-09T15:20:00.000+08:002013-02-09T17:36:00.900+08:00size mattersi was just saying that i take safety into consideration more than others might think. i argued that sometimes safety conscience decisions lead someone to be "overly cautious". they make the choice that seems prudent and adult at the time, but quickly realize that what they choose is not what they want. what they want is most likely bigger, faster and stronger than what they have. they are then in the position of replacing the safe choice with the real desire, or living with safety rather than enjoyment. no matter what anyone tries to tell you, when it comes to enjoyment, size does matter.<br />
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there has been a debate raging in my head for the months. i wanted to recapture a piece of my youth, but realized that i was past the point just leaping back on and going for it. i needed to weigh the cost and benefits. i needed to decide if the risk was worth the reward. i wanted to do something which made perfect sense to me, but i was sure would cause others to question my sanity.<br />
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i wanted to buy and ride a motorcycle. i could not get the desire out of my head, every time i was stuck in a traffic jam and watched the parade of local scooters flow by, i wondered why i was so old and protected in my mid-sized commuter mobile. i imagined myself in the flow of traffic. lane-splitting my way home, and cutting my commute time in half. this "<a href="http://stainedhead.blogspot.com/2012/12/object-desire.html">object desire</a>" came close to being an obsession as i considered and rejected multiple plans to scratch my itch for speed.<br />
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i test drove a <a href="http://www.enfieldmotorcycles.com/models/classic-c5.html">500 cc royal enfield classic</a>. this was the first time i had been on a bike in ... a long time. i was able to take the bike around the area, and get it up into third gear. the feeling of power as it moved from zero to 60 km was amazing. i was completely sold that i wanted to get a bike, but i was not sold on it being this one. i did more research and found reviews that discussed low highway speed and shuddering that "felt like god had grabbed the handle and shook it". this was not the experience i was looking for, i decided to do the adult thing and wait for another option.<br />
<br />
i was still doing <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-bW_w4RpV4&list=PL061D914B66D2A0AF&index=17">internet research</a>. the standard advice was to start smaller and then upgrade. the memory of the 500 cc pulling itself off the line was there, the thill of the power and speed. was it too much? should i be more conservative? would it be safer if i started with a 250? would the smaller bike even make it up a hill with me on it. let's be clear, a bike built for an asian frame does not sell in the US for a good reason. we are bigger and used to speed. would a smaller bike be a sad reminder that bigger is better; in the most negative way.<br />
<br />
i test drove a 250, still enough power to be respectable. but the size of the bike was cramped. i could see it working, but knew it would be temporary. it was also a cruiser, which was not what i wanted. i have this old school image of riding a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWkQTbR_-xA&list=PL061D914B66D2A0AF">cafe racer</a>. all the rage now with a certain segment of the 40-something crowd; and for me a touch less annoying than the wild hogs of american chopper infatuation. i love the idea of a bike that comes into its own by stripping all the extras away, by grinding pieces of the frame away and beating the gas tank into a tucked in shape. beauty and power within the less is more metaphor.<br />
<br />
and then i found it. a local bike customized down into a japanese brat package. close to the cafe image, in a small and tight asia implementation. the test drive happened on the hill outside the condo. my idea was that if it climbed the hill with me attached then there was plenty of opening power. the 175 cc was surprisingly fun and more powerful than i expected. it is a small bike, but it was passed the test by defeating slope and mass with acceleration. there were two days of torment as i tried to decided; more worried about how i looked than how it felt. how i felt won, and the deal was done.<br />
<br />
i am now into my third weekend of ownership. i am happy with the way the bike gets around. it doesn't have the top-end speed that will allow it to be the one for the long term, but it is fun and is perfect as the training-bike i made the mature-choice to buy. it was also 7% of the price of the bike that i really wanted. i am riding at a deep discount to the original object of desire. as i go from place to place, tucked into the bike to drive the speedometer over the 100km mark, it's more fun than i expected. but this is not the bike for the longterm. it gets me around the expat enclaves, and brought me into the city today. but we are not going onto the highway; for that, we need to upgrade.<br />
<br />
this was the right choice of conservative caution. it ticked off all the boxes of need; but not all those of want. if you see me on the bike and have a comment, bring it on. but understand that i am happy with the choice. i will also be happy with the next choice. the next one will be bigger, faster and stronger. it will scratch that itch to take on more. it will be the platform for the customization that only an over-40 engineer/executive would take on.<br />
<br />
i might be a spoiled little boy with too much time, money and lack of adult oversight; but i am also man enough to know that one-size does not fit all.<br />
<br />
my little brat is just what i need.<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #999999; font-size: x-small;">/******</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #999999;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">i know boys and girls who might want it, but maybe i will keep the brat anyway. why give up on your first, even if the upgrade is even better in the corners.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #999999;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">******/</span></span>stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-40873163671586984482013-02-08T15:17:00.003+08:002013-02-13T11:44:11.598+08:00be careful<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;">i have someone in my life who gives me the same advice almost everyday. the advice is not just a parting gesture, it is a genuine hope that i will take the advice and incorporate it into my daily life. the issue is that i may not really understand what they are telling me. it seems to me that i already reasonably careful, if not strictly cautious. i wonder why someone would feel the need to give me this advice; </span><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 18.899999618530273px;">especially</span><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;"> someone who knows and hopefully understands me. it makes me worry sometimes that they feel the need to tell me this. maybe they see something i don't see. as i speed away, i hear the echo of them saying "be careful".</span></span></span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;">i see myself as a risk taker, but not as a stupid risk taker. i wear my seat belts when i drive. i wear a helmet when i ride my bike. i believe in safety, unless it gets in the way of enjoying the activity. the example that jumps out at me is the use of a life preserver. when someone hands me one of these as i step onto a boat i cringe at the idea of putting it on. not that i want to risk drowning, but that i know i am going to be uncomfortable the whole time i am wearing it. i also know that i can swim better without the bulky orange vest, than with it. unless i am sailing far from shore, and at real risk of being swept off the deck by storm waves, i am not going to wear something that just gets in the way.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;">why do i wear a helmet then? well, the risk/reward calculation is different. i have ridden bikes long enough, hard enough and fast enough to have lost 4 of them to crashes. when i say lost, i mean folded up into sculpture like shapes by high speed impacts with larger and higher mass vehicles. in one of these impacts, i walked way with barely a scratch on me, but with a long white stripe of paint on my black helmet. i have always wondered what my bare head what have looked like after the same impact sans plastic safety gear. prior impacts, most while doing nothing close to risky but mixed with speed, boredom, stupidity and the elements have taught me that i am not in control while on a bike. i am at risk because of others, and i need to take extra precautions.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;">we are all always at risk. there is risk in walking out onto my balcony, or so i should believe if i listen to the stories of people being hit by lightening. but when i review the studies, we find that most deaths occur in non-urban environments around the world. if i were in the rural world, i might need to take more direct precautions. but in my urban environment, staying out of the pool during a thunderstorm should be enough. doing the things i heard as a kid, turning off the TV, not using a phone and staying away from windows might be a bit of overkill in todays world. i would rather get up in the middle of the night and go out onto the balcony to enjoy a good thunderstorm than to hide from it because of some mythical belief carried from an earlier age and situation.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;">i do take risks. the kids and i are talking about going skydiving. but we are not into taking dumb risks. we all agreed that if we are going to do it, we will do it in the US rather than asia, and we will find a reputable firm to do the training with. everything might have risk, but being smart about which ones you take are part of the game.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;">when i first realized how often i was being told to "be careful" i wondered if there was an underlying message i had been missing. much like when i tell people to "be good", in most settings in asia i do not think i am giving them the same advice they would be getting from their parents if they were told the same thing. i am suggesting they be self aware, be the best they can be and embrace the opportunities to enjoy life. this contrasts with the asian version of, "don't do anything that will later be a mistake or bring shame". when i try to imagine getting this asian version of the advice as a child, i remember my father saying, "fuck em if they can't take a joke". which i translate for my kids as, "life is short, enjoy yourself". clearly my blue-collar-hippie dad was not an asian parent; thank god for that.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;">i try to be careful, but living life stops me from avoiding all things risky. i got a tattoo, and loved the process and results. i take the kids out far to the break, i ride motorcycles and enjoy driving in storms. the thing i miss most about winters are going snowboarding. bungee jumping and skydiving are both on the list. i would love to ride across asia, or sail across an ocean. i hope retirement comes with a surfboard and a local break over 6 feet. i am just dumb enough to paddle out and risk it, because i know i can and i love the thrill of actually doing it.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;">if being careful means not driving fast, not feeling the wheels slip a bit in the rain, not feeling that pull of mature fear of failure be replaced by the satisfaction of success, then i am not ready to be careful. i don't want to be that guy now, or ever. if i was going to be that guy, i probably would have been before. maybe i was when the kids were young, i was not taking as many risks and i was always worried for them and their safety. i was much less fun, and i was clearly much less happy that i am now. i have realized they didn't need me to be that guy, what they needed was for me to go along and participate. sharing the risks and the laughs are much better than being upset that they are on their bikes without a helmet; i am sorry we ever had that conversation.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;">some people can feel a thrill while safely locked into a roller coaster. others have the ability to drive themselves into the thrills that get their heart going. when i hear the advice to "be careful", it's not saying don't drive yourself. what i hear is, "i know you enjoy this, i know you know there is risk, i want you to come back safely and tell me how the challenge felt and much of a charge the act of success gave".</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px; line-height: 18.90277671813965px;">or maybe i am just translating "be careful" to "be good".</span>stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-83720476314652522132013-02-08T15:17:00.002+08:002013-02-09T13:04:05.999+08:00choosing culturemuch of what i write about here reflects the differences between myself and the cultures which i experience as i live my life. i started writing when i moved to asia, during a period of other change in my life. as i was experiencing the new environment, i began to see the similarity and many more differences between asia and version of the US i felt i had left. the questions i was asking were mostly about why people would make the choices they make. this was both at the micro and macro levels, as well as specifically about myself and those closest to me. we make choices, we live publicly and privately inside our own culture; and next to other cultures. but many of the choices people make seem oddly foreign, even when they are made for cultural reasons you understand.<br />
<br />
i have asked the same question of three friends in the past few weeks. they have signed up to join cultures which are not their own. in all cases i was told the reason was their respect for the same small group focus that would have driven me away. these are guys i know and respect. we have a lot in common, but these choices are beyond my ability to understand. they are making a choice to join a culture, and will be expected to live within those choices. all three have strong individuality, the proven ability to separate themselves from those closest to them, and yet all three are signing up join groups that limit the individual for the ability to hold the group tightly bound together.<br />
<br />
when people in asia talk about being multi-cultural, i smile and shake my head. there are cultural differences here, but they are small differences. the differences are mostly external, focused on what language you speak, what you eat and what you wear. these are surface items, that allow a very high level of cross over. not only do we have baba-nyonya culture, where chinese took on the outward elements of the malay/indonesian culture, but we have HIGH number of chinese, indian, thai and other ethnic mixing that make the malay group what it is today. i have to smile when someone tells me they are "fully malay", but then admits that one or more of their grandparents where from a non-malay culture or ethnicity.<br />
<br />
don't miss understand me. i am not saying this is disingenuous in any way. what i am arguing is that there is not as much difference between the groups as people would like others to believe. all three groups are family focused, and patriarchal. viewed with a more critical viewpoint, especially through the american lens of individuality and egalitarianism, this can come across more as paternalism and softly-veiled misogyny. but to each other, the traditional asian value system is strongly held by the other groups. it is clearly much easier to dislike the western value system than to acuse one of the other groups of being socially dangerous.<br />
<br />
and there is the danger i see for my friends. they are choosing a culture where what is considered normal for us could be subversive and riddled with danger. unless of course they are looking to join, and take advantage of the male-focus of the culture. as i think about this more deeply, they are each from different western cultures which were previously paternalistic. am i misunderstanding the desires here, is it that they truly want to go back to the more conservative times of the past? is that the attraction for joining?<br />
<br />
you could point out that i also recently joined a asian group dynamic. although i did it in slightly different ways. i selected a group with the smallest amount of differences of all the situations. same religion, same focus on education, same professional level, history of crossing ethnic boarders and possibly the most important of all shared native language. fully asian, but with a strong western vibe deeply ingrained and a focus on the strength of women and matriarchy. hopefully they will continue to be accepting of my semi-bohemian individuality. there is evidence of this acceptance being core to the group; so i am less worried than i would be otherwise.<br />
<br />
we all choose cultures. we may choose to stay within the one we were brought up in, or to go along with the changes our culture is experiencing as we mature. we choose our culture by selecting family, friends, education, occupation, workplace, hobbies and groups we join and even the places we choose to live. we make choices about what we eat, where we go and who we spend time with. we decide to be alone or in a wider group. we choose to dress up, dress down or dress with the norm to send statements about who we are and how we fit into the wider group dynamics around us.<br />
<br />
i still don't understand the choices others make. why any person would stay with someone who uses the threat or act of violence to keep them is beyond me. why a woman would not throw off a misogynistic culture, may always be a mystery. but i no longer question the validity of these choices; not most of them. many choices i would never make can valid for others. i am not going to advocate against most of them. i will not suggest they are wrong. i know they are not right for me. <br />
<br />
but, as a self-professed free-thinking libertarian, what else would you expect.stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-80987811791627320942012-12-30T19:43:00.003+08:002012-12-30T19:46:34.889+08:00choosing freedomi was just settling in under the umbrella today when my angel pointed out the topless woman a few chairs down. yesterday there had been an equally free woman at the other end of the long set of chairs; too far to see who she was with or around. just close enough to notice her choice of freedom and move back to my book on evolution. but today we were closer, and there was more of a chance to put the entire scene in perspective.<br />
<br />
last year i was sitting in the same chairs with my daughter and noticed an older woman a few chairs down who had chosen freedom. i asked ash why she did not make the same choice, she said "i don't want to show them". i noticed the age of the woman, and although she looked good for her age, she may have passed some point where things had looked better. the reply and the observation caused me to muse, "isn't it sad if there is a inverse relationship between someone showing, and someone wanting to be shown?"<br />
<br />
the attraction is not the freedom, but the act of choosing to be free. i find it interesting. why do some women who would look wonderful choose not to be free? how do others, regardless of how they look, make the choice? this same question can be repurposed for lessor acts of freedom. bikini, sheer blouse, braless, short dress, tight jeans, sleeveless, tudong, burqa are all points along the same spectrum of choice. we live in a multi-cultural environment so many of these points will be accepted in the right situation; if you choose them. but there is cultural conditioning that takes the freedom away.<br />
<br />
few people are surprised or offended by children on the beach that are topless or with less. this happens across all the cultures, in the past week i have seem families from all over asia, europe or australia with kids in less than a complete swimsuit. it is the same in the US, no one gives it a second thought. but as we age, the conditioning kicks in, to the point that actions accepted by some are are stopped by fear or shame by others. in my standard libertarian bent i believe each person should have the ability to choose, and should not be oppressed by others into making a certain decision; wether it's wearing a hajib or not wearing a top on the beach. both are equally valid, and the right to choose should be protected and celebrated.<br />
<br />
these thoughts all kicked in as i looked past the woman of freedom, and her equally free friend, and noticed that immediately next to them was a muslim family with a woman in tudong. men, women and children in the group eating their early lunch and discreetly ignoring the two european woman. there were others all around; men and women, local, asian, aussie and russians. no one seemed to interact with these woman, to be offended or to try to get them to be less free. not while in the chairs, or when they laid at the waters edge with their toes in the surf,<br />
<br />
this is the point, these women made a choice, others either respected it or ignored it. i find this as a very positive thing. this is a muslim country; although it is also a hindu island known for bare breasted women 100 years ago. it has a very large number of tourists coming and going with a certain surfer-chic hipness baked into the vibe. other asian-muslim countries are not nearly as relaxed about these things, i really can't imagine any form of public immodesty being ignored in malaysia. last year people were shot with water cannons for wearing yellow shirts, no telling what could happen if there were no shirts. note the lack of anything close to a world-class vacation spot and do the math.<br />
<br />
so, hurray to the freedom and to the freedom to be free. this kind of simplicity and respect is exactly why i needed to get away. i just needed to be somewhere that let's people live and stays out of their life. the hotel has armed guards, a bomb sniffing dog and metal detectors to try to keep the guests safe from another round of bombings, but on a day to day basis there is more freedom and sanity here because of cultural acceptance; and the surfer vibe.<br />
<br />
as we talked sitting on our shaded chairs, i remembered a morning long ago. i had just climbed up into the tower and was putting on sunblock. a woman walked up called for me to come down. when i got there she said, "i am not a prude, but i have kids with me and those people are doing something under their blanket that i hope you can make them stop". i looked maybe 100 feet down the beach, no where close to anyone else there was a lone blanket. as i watched the blanket did have a certain rhythmic movement to it. i looked at the not-a-prude-mom and told her i would take care of it.<br />
<br />
i strolled down slowly, hoping things would resolve themselves before i got there. when i got to them, there was still some movement, and i cleared my throat to let them know i was there. two heads popped out, with shy smiles. we had a very quick conversation, where i apologized for having to do it but asked them to take the party somewhere else.<br />
<br />
when i got back into the tower, prude-mom waved thanks to me and i went back to putting on sun block. i remember sitting and wondering if i should have handled the situation differently. i needed to enforce the rules, but i didn't feel right doing it. not-a-prude-mom could have ignored the situation, and distracted the kids down at the water. i doubt her kids ever noticed, and if they did she could have used it as a teaching exercise on freedom. but she decided to be legalistic and to impose her "not-a-prude" views on others who were nowhere near her; safely hidden under a blanket.<br />
<br />
it is probably 28 years since that summer morning. i am on the other side of the planet and i have seen things. if i had been working on the beach this morning and prude-mom had come up to me and asked me to take care of this situation, i am not sure what i would have done. but today was not that day, and i was not in that role.<br />
<br />
today was vacation; one built on freedom and openness i am very happy i was with someone who appreciates my love of freedom, and who is open to pointing something out if i would have missed it.<br />
<br />
what did she choose? what she is comfortable with, and i love that she knows it's all her choice.<br />
<br />stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-89421259034507713942012-12-29T18:11:00.000+08:002012-12-29T18:27:27.985+08:00collective intelligenceas a software engineer who works in the e-commerce space, i am not usually impressed by the positive ways a site works. most sites are no more complex than an insurance salesman who takes their customer though a long profiling exercise, in an effort not to select the right product but to know how to best pitch the basic set of products he would have suggested before the interview. there is one site the continuously impresses me, amazon the largest ecommerce site in the world and the one site that seems to be able to anticipate my interests pretty well.<br />
<br />
i got to thinking about this when i saw the suggestion for the movie "in the line of fire". clint eastwood plays "frank horrigan", a secret service agent with a long history and a jaded past. through the movie there are scenes with a small hotel in DC i stayed in long long ago, and another in the westin bonaventure in LA where i stayed only long ago. i begin to empathize for some of what clint's and john malkovic's (the assassin, mitch leary, horrigan is trying to stop) are feeling as they play their cat and mouse. they both have are aging and have histories that drive them.<br />
<br />
horrigan, like many of the eastwood characters over the years, delivers great one-liners as the action unfolds. one is, "i know things about people", which he uses through-out the film to explain how he can read into the behaviors of the people around him. the other is after he tells a female agent (renee russo) that her character is window dressing out to court the female vote, she asks him what demographic he represents and he replies:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">l<span style="background-color: white; font-family: VERDANA;">et's see... white, piano-playing heterosexuals over the age of fifty. there ain't a whole lot of us, but we do have a powerful lobby.</span></span></blockquote>
this always makes me wonder which demographic i represent. the same thing that happens when i use amazon, which tries to know me and compare me to others to help make suggestions. the idea is that the collective intelligence of the crowd being the best indication of the behavior or desires of the individual. if others like me enjoy things then i should too. but to be good at this they need the ability to put people into the groups and then use what they know about all the people in that group to make projections on individual behavior.<br />
<br />
the ways you know things about people are to ask them questions and then to watch their behaviors. amazon knows where someone lives if they have delivered purchases. from this they get a zipcode that ties into a demographic sample, telling them the income level, ethnic profile, education level and political party affiliation if not of the individual, than the community around them. all good information, but not as good as the actions of the individual. i for example are not a good match of either of the places i live; well maybe expat-malaysia but not exit-8.<br />
<br />
so they also watch what someone does. what does the user view? what do they buy? what items do they put into a wish-list? or what do they rate, even if they didn't buy it on the site? this has all become standard ecommerce marketing behavior. smart engineers use huge amounts of data to target people because they "know things about people". apple uses former purchases, and itunes match information to make genius recommendations. look at yours, mine are spooky good at knowing what i like.<br />
<br />
all of this has me thinking, what do you need to figure other people out. i know you start by asking questions, and then you watch behavior. if you believe the house-ism that everyone lies, then you need to consider that too. people may lie, they may spin, but if you watch carefully and use enough data, you can figure them out and be able to make projections. <br />
<br />
so, what do you ask first? how much data do you need?<br />
<br />
what would you need to figure me out? what about the first 30 buckets i would put myself into?<br />
<ul>
<li>male</li>
<li>late-forties</li>
<li>european-american</li>
<li>liberal-arts education</li>
<li>deep reader</li>
<li>software engineer</li>
<li>fallen catholic</li>
<li>ENTJ</li>
<li>east-coast</li>
<li>traveller </li>
<li>asia</li>
<li>father</li>
<li>married and divorced</li>
<li>libertarian free-thinker</li>
<li>triathlon</li>
<li>lifeguard</li>
<li>inked</li>
<li>beach-bum</li>
<li>craft beer</li>
<li>ethnic food</li>
<li>non-halal</li>
<li>cook</li>
<li>leatherman</li>
<li>iphone</li>
<li>macbook air</li>
<li>crumpler</li>
<li>evolutionary theory</li>
<li>anthropology and psychology</li>
<li>politics and economics</li>
<li>open-sharing</li>
</ul>
<div>
maybe i cheated keeping the list to 30 by doubling up a few, but there is the behavior you need to watch. those are the clues on what is important and how life is approached. i wanted to go back and reorder things. it felt like there might be a ranking inherent to the list, but i didn't reorder because this is the way it came out of my head.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
as i look at the list, i realize that if i met a new person on the beach i would share most of this, the rest they might be able to see if they looked. but is this enough for them to know things about me? could they make a projection on my interests?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
apple knows the shows i will buy. amazon can suggest books and music to me. but if asked, which demographic would i represent?</div>
<div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
let's see... white, open-minded metrosexual tattooed book-worms near the age of fifty. there really aren't a lot of us, and i like it that way.</blockquote>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-83412268073303495322012-12-28T19:15:00.001+08:002012-12-28T19:22:41.679+08:00two spoonsthere was a time a few years ago when i was struggling to understand who i was and where i fit in. my life was both overly complex and minimalist-simple. i kept it that way on purpose because i did not like the directions life had taken me in, i did not like the responding directions i went in afterwards and i was not ready to make the corrections needed to course correct. allowing, or more honestly engineering, the chaos allowed me say, "things are just complex" while living with only two spoons in the kitchen.<br />
<br />
i had a fully stocked kitchen in the US. i had no intention of going out and stocking a new one here. when i came to asia, i stopped cooking because i didn't have an oven. i ate take out, because it was fast and easy. the lifestyle came with no need to clean up, no need to plan and no need to have my own plates, bowls or utensils. my landlord had provided some kitchen items when i moved it, but they were not mine and i didn't care. i had the bare minimum required, it wasn't mine and it could go away at any time. it kept things simple in some sense, but it was never simple and i was never happy.<br />
<br />
the past few years that has changed. the condo is still temporary, but i decided i needed it to be more than an unloved space. i needed to build some comfort into my surroundings. i finally found myself in a place where i could stop worrying about the kitchen in the US and find the things i needed here to be happy.<br />
<br />
this has lead to some real improvements. not all of these are my doing. there have been changes in malaysia that has helped. BSC improved it's expat food market, and now has a much broader selections of goods. ben's grocery opened in publika, the big groups attempt copy a western supermarket (grocery store, bakery, deli and eat in/out food outlets). i can now get beer, bagels and other comfort foods that allow a more western-comfortable living experience. the complexity has dropped and simple stay at home life has taken over.<br />
<br />
in the past few months this has settled into an even deeper cycle. i am going home for tea after work. a small event between work and dinner, that focuses on rebuilding energy and settling into the night to come. starbucks now sells via coffee here, and that means very good coffee at home, add a little brown sugar and its the best coffee in town. there is no reason to go out, everything i need, i have. i remember the days of teh tarik, but have no interest in having it now. what i have at home is much better.<br />
<br />
i have also started cooking again. pork/beef meatballs, home made sauce, chorizo ready to be added to an omelet, or fried as a base for stuffed mushrooms, or a quick yummy sandwich are all in the freezer ready to be pulled out when the call of dinner comes. there is still the chance to call for take out if needed, but its not a requirement every night. cooking is a way to be creative and loving, and with a ready audience for the results its all the more interesting.<br />
<br />
the house is more comfortable. the books are on shelves. the walls have photos and paintings. the closets are full, and the kitchen is stocked. i now have a home, not just a house. the front door is open, with a sarong covering the grill. this lets the air blow through the apartment, and provides the modesty demanding shades from accidental eyes. it's not perfect, the couch needs to be replaced and the question of when comes up when talking about it. but it is more comfortable and move lived in.<br />
<br />
the time of two spoons was good. but having a fully stocked kitchen is much better. coming home to a bagel with yummy cheese is much better than coming home to emptiness. sharing the things i love, cooking with simplicity and for comfort are all more than worth the effort put into it.<br />
<br />
all it took was getting rid of the complexity and deciding to embrace the comfort.stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-63612069504015166792012-12-28T11:00:00.001+08:002012-12-28T11:00:18.312+08:00selective identityi enjoy people watching. i am sitting next to the pool, having morning coffee in an effort to jolt myself awake. i could have slept in, but i would rather sit here and take in the people around me. there is a table with an aussie flight crew, two pilots and two cabin crew, there are tables with singaporean chinese and others with chinese from the mainland. there are tables with indians, russians, indonesians and the occasional americans. most of the time its possible to read which group someone falls into at a distance. haircuts, clothes, shoes are all hints that can be used to categorize. if you can hear them talk, you may be able to go deeper, hearing regional-locations and education level. if you have a real discussion, you can read even more.<br />
<br />
i enjoy people watching because i like to see how close i can get to the truth. is the woman who just took the table next to me aussie as i thought when i saw her walking across the pool... confirmed when she asks for coffee. why would this matter? i can give examples of when it has come in useful. like when i knew the older aussie couple the other day at starbucks would speak english, and most likely be friendly and open to conversation. but honestly, it's more about the process. the challenge, the fun of the puzzle and the thrill when i find out i am wrong.<br />
<br />
human's are natural categorizers. we are programmed to identify in-group and out-group members quickly. a good skill to have on the savannas of africa, when the risk of misreading the membership of the person coming toward you could be fatal. but one that can cause issues when in a cosmopolitan environment with complex social structures. this may be why some people choose to remain deeply ensconced in their tribal group of choice. rather than being asked to choose who is safe, they are given a default zone of safety by staying within "their group".<br />
<br />
beyond the opportunity cost this imposes, the most glaring issue with this kind of exclusion is when they find that those inside the group cannot fully be trusted either. once the group becomes suspect, people wonder if anything can be trusted. if the group does not have a strong enough hold, this could drive someone to look for identity outside of the group. it could cause one to learn and accept things that could be a challenge to the wider group gestalt. this is how schisms happen, or how someone commits apostasy.<br />
<br />
this risk of losing members is a major reason that group dynamics work to protect the trust that membership brings. why groups have such strong policing mechanisms on member behavior. limiting or stopping actions that risk group cohesion. whether this is living away from the groups warm loving embrace, embracing thoughts (education) that contradict the orthodoxy, or sin of all sins embracing people (dating) outside the group. allowing someone to begin to empathize with foreign groups removes the simplicity of accepting the communal bonds of the original tribe.<br />
<br />
i literally lived on an island as a child. i was the fourth generation to be born there. my family was if not well known, then a bit infamous. we were standard irish catholic. it was likely that i would stay on the island, build a life and be happy going to the irish american club on saturday afternoon to have a pint with the boys. but there were issues, my mother was not from the island, she was not catholic, she had come to college in town and met my father. after my parents divorced, 8 years and 4 children too late, i spent time wondering what else is out there? i wanted to know why and how church of england was different than roman catholic. i wanted to know what other family i had off the island. i wanted to take my irish catholic boyhood off, and try on the WASP side of my heritage.<br />
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i spent my college years off the island, i began to travel, i studied religion, history, politics and economics in a search for some understanding of the wider world. but one weekend i went back to the island and went out drinking with the boys. my friends, my closest friends in the world, and i tipped back a few glasses and told stories. towards the end of the night, one of my friends came over to me and accused me of having lost my identity. in his view, i was not entitled to drop back into the group like this. he had stayed, i had left -- i should not be coming back now. i had a new life, a new group. in the moment i knew he was drunk, i thought it was less about me and more about his connection to others in the group, i wasn't angry it was more a sense of embarrassment for his display. but that night was the last time i went to the island and saw this group of friends. i have been back, but i never have the time to join this group. i never make the time, because i am no longer a member.<br />
<br />
i had always had a sense of distance from this group. to be completely honest, i have always had a sense of distance from almost all of the groups i have been a member of over the years. this may come from the need to be prepared for changes that would change the group dynamic; a compensation technique that a child of divorce could find useful. this could also come from a the early understanding that orthodoxy was at times about stopping someone from asking the questions that come when outside the box.<br />
<br />
but i love being outside. i don't trust the easy answer, because they almost never seen right to me. on this trip i am reading about the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Evolution-Back-Readers-Pick/dp/031606744X">evolution of god</a> that has been driven by social evolution of humans and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Why-West-Rules-Now-Patterns/dp/0312611692">why the west rules</a> which argues that the industrial revolution and cultural bias is not enough to explain the history of east v. west. the group i want to be a member of is the one which will appreciate and discuss these theses. both of books challenge orthodoxy, but i enjoy the challenge and care less for the orthodoxy than the wider-view cosmopolitan discussion that they can drive.<br />
<br />
i could not have been the guy who never asked questions. i could not have accepted the orthodox through faith, or the simple answer that should not be questioned or challenged. i knew early on that people of the in-group were wrong, dangerous or both. the biggest danger i faced was not being able to search for better answers. it was not being able to see the world, meet new people and share views that would be shut off if we each simply followed the simple path of staying inside our groups and never challenging ourselves and others to think.<br />
<br />
i like people watching because i am in situations where there is complexity. if we were all the same, all from a single tribe with shared norms and social expectations, what would be the fun of watching? there would be nothing to parse, it would all be decided for us.<br />
<br />
i like people watching, because i like to decide for myself.<br />
<br />
<br />stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-42444349694545964532012-12-27T09:24:00.000+08:002012-12-28T18:23:42.570+08:00formerly athletici am on the beach, have been here for a week, and i have not gone for a swim. today is the day, i am going to go down to the beach and swim out to the far buoy. i can paddle around out there and then come back in. as i come out of the water i will feel clean, and stressed. not stretched to the limit, but warmed up and strong. it will be a half a mile or so in the water, but i will feel better after doing it than i do before. i know this because at one point i was actually athletic.<br />
<br />
i still feel athletic. i have a running machine in my office, a semi-stationary bike and an ergometer (rowing machine) at home in a converted bedroom. it takes no more than a quick look to see that it wouldn't hurt if i used them more. but when i do use them i feel good. that athlete inside is happy to get out. he is happy to be used, happy to be free and able to move. he repays me by doping me up with endorphines when i really let him loose. he makes me pay the price when i don't let him free, through creaky ankles and sore shoulders.<br />
<br />
nine years ago, my brother had a heart valve replaced. thickening walls of the heart had worn away a valve and a hole formed. my younger brother was now a heart patient. but i was doing triathlon with my teenage son. i had just dropped serious levels of weight and was stronger than i had been since my early 20s. i had not been this fit since before i was a software engineer. becoming a developer, and having starbucks move to boston, were closely timed events marking the beginning of my athletic decline.<br />
<br />
when i first got to malaysia i would wake up early every day on weekends. i would strap on water bottles, and put on a hat to shade the early morning sun. i would go for a loop in the expat neighborhood, and feel great as i climbed the hill back to the condo. i needed to push the run, i was racing the heat as the sun climbed higher into the sky. if i took too long, that last climb would literally be a hard steep incline inside a sweltering sauna.<br />
<br />
but one saturday i didn't go for a run. i asked myself why i was running. there was no race coming up, and no one would notice if i didn't go. i could snuggle in and go to the bakery later for a croissant. thats what i did that weekend, and the next, and the next. i had started on the downward slope, i let gravity take control and just let myself lean into the decline. the pace picked up here and there, i reacted enough to steady the decline and level it out, but years had passed where stress, travel and dessert had taken their toll.<br />
<br />
last week, my sister had a cough and went to see the doctor. she was sent to the hospital, admitted and is now a heart patient. there are follow up appointments planned, but the signals are pretty clear. i need to get my ass out of bed in the morning and go for a run. i need to ride my bike, row my ergo and swim to burn the weight off. i would not call this a race for my life, but the melodrama could be a positive if it added to the commitment.<br />
<br />
i knew this was coming, and started moving this last summer. the athlete inside was demanding his time. the little voice got to me before the email from home. but the little voice was not strong enough to keep the trend going when travel and allergies kicked in. now i have something else to use as motivation. with two of the four siblings now heart patients, and stress-induced hypertension looming in the background, i do not want to be the next one to tip over into active cardiac care. there is an element of sick competition in that statement, but it is always competition that drives me.<br />
<br />
so maybe my sister at home is willing to race me. her doctor is going to prescribe meds and suggest she get in shape. she was also formerly athletic, not a member of as many sports or as driven maybe, but this is her chance to turn that around. i could use the motivation, i need someone to race. maybe she wants the challenge too. i will let her pick the race, either we focus on the losing side, or we do a race of some sort. i remember her as a sprinter. 400 meter run? i might push for 800 meter. we can go to cardines field and go around the track.<br />
<br />
if she doesn't take me up on this, well i am going to need to find another challenge for my inner athlete. maybe the challenge will be to come out and become my outer athlete again. the tides need to turn. maybe i can coax him out and get him to stay around. it's time to feel that hill again. the stress of climbing it, the sweat cooling the body from the heat and carrying the former desserts out of their storage locations.<br />
<br />
it is time to get my ass moving again. let the active slacker take note, his days are numbered. the athlete is coming out and he wants to get moving.stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-24107077215261440642012-12-26T19:31:00.002+08:002012-12-26T19:33:35.073+08:00object desirewhen asked if i like malaysia, i tend to answer with an hedge. there are good and bad elements to it. i discuss them to explain myself. i can tell most people don't really want to hear the answer, they tend to be asking in the way americans ask about the weather or the local baseball team. it's filler conversation, i should just compliment the food/weather/people and stick to the cultural pattern. but, there are things that get deeply under my skin. rather than just accepting them as part of the deal, i work to find ways around them. the most recent irritation is a something i didn't realize i wanted, or thought there would be time for later, but over the past few months has been a constant desire.<br />
<br />
let me preface the next part of this conversation by admitting, i know this is a little bit nuts. i can hear a friends saying, "your tendency to for absent-minded multi-tasking, mixed with love of speed and willingness to push limits" make me less than a perfect candidate for this. i realize the above is true, which seems to me to be exactly the point. i am not reckless ... well... what about ... if i am going to concentrate my addictions, in this case my need to push the edge, this appears to be the best of all options.<br />
<br />
similar to my <a href="http://stainedhead.blogspot.com/2008/09/coffee-love.html">coffee addiction</a>, this one comes with some accepted risk. also, i am betting that it will actually help calm the voices. part of my absent minded multi-tasking is that my mind is in overdrive and seeks stimulation, when the environment doesn't provide it -- it finds ways to provide it by itself. with the waning ability to burn for hours through code, other distractions are needed. a few months ago, while reading <a href="http://archive.mensjournal.com/whats-new-october-2011">mens journal</a>, i decided i wanted a motocycle. not the racer in the magazine, but the blacked out <a href="http://motoguzzimalaysia.com.my/motorcycles/v7-classic.html">v7 classic</a>, i have never been a custom chopper kind of guy, and the superbike strikes me as a penis extension. but when i looked at the classic lines of this bike, it clicked. i want one. what's stopping me ... malaysia.<br />
<br />
the issue is not like the christmas presents from amazon or custom bag from timbuk2, like most international sites neither of those companies will ship to malaysia. the reason they give is the amazingly high level of fraud they see coming from my adopted land. apparently, malaysians made a habit of having things shipped, and then they claimed they never got them and refused to pay. i know this doesn't sound like something a malaysian would do... no, never.<br />
<br />
i can get a moto guzzi in malaysia, the list price is RM 77,000 or US$ 24,839. it lists in the US for $ 8,990... yeah the same bike is 176% more in malaysia. unbelievable, well for someone who doesn't live here. why is it so high? the most direct answer is that it's malaysia. there are formulas about import duties and approved permits, but that is political cover for the reality that people are getting milked.<br />
<br />
earlier this year i decided i wanted to get in shape, and thought the rowing machine i have wanted since college would help. i did my research, and discussed shipping it from the US. shipping was a hassel for family members. because companies refuse to ship direct i needed someone to have a big box delivered to them and then have it shipped to me. the upside of this plan was that exercise equipment is exempt from import. long story short, i bought local for twice the US price. the reason given when i asked about the mark up? import taxes. i mentioned that there were no import taxes, the manager of the store smiled at me and said, "well that is true, but we are the exclusive importer". the twinkle in his eye was ... part of living in malaysia.<br />
<br />
there is a process to avoid a bit of the markup on the motorcycle. i can buy in the US, have it shipped here. we are then back to hassel of family members in the US doing the shipping. but first i need to apply for and get an "approved permit" (AP or import licence) in malaysia. then its simply paying 85 - 130% of taxes before it can clear customs. there apparently are "rumors" that each step in this process involves malaysian officials with open palms, which because of my role i am not able to fill for fear of US jail time for "foreign corrupt practices" or lose of my job for playing by local rules. the "rumors" insist not being corrupt would seriously delay, or completely derail the plan.<br />
<br />
i know this seems like an intelligence test. <br />
<br />
the american viewpoint on this is that i am paying US$ 8,990 for a bike, and US$ 15,849 (RM 49,132) for the ability to ride it inside malaysia. i could pay marginally less if i go through a highly convoluted process and potentially put my career and freedom at risk; neither of which i am willing to do. the other option is to delay the purchase until i leave the country. this would fall into the 6 year delay i have had on using pandora, the two year delay i have had on using hulu (both because access is restricted due to fraud) or the long list of purchases i have not made locally over the years (because of 100% - 300% mark-up with most retail purchases).<br />
<br />
when i started this posting i was going to explain why i was going to just suck it up and buy the bike. i really want it. i want to get around KL and slip through the grid lock, rather than sit in the traffic thinking about how much worse it is now than a few years ago. <br />
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i would like to have something fun to do, something that would help release the pressure. but as i wrote, the resentment has bubbled back up. that is the point of why i do not love malaysia, bullshit like this happens all the time. i am back to saying, no way i am not going to play this game, i would rather buy three motocycles in the US with the same money.<br />
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this is an intelligence test, not for me but for the voters of malaysia. i have the option of getting off this goat rodeo and moving back to sanity without protectionist tariffs and "rumored" corruption. where is the demand for this to change?<br />
<br />
enough of me bitching, yeah i love malaysia, the food, the people, the weather are all wonderful. that really is what you wanted to hear right?<br />
<br />
you know what would help this mood? if i could go for a ride.<br />
<br />
<br />stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-83986984189371640792012-12-26T15:22:00.001+08:002012-12-26T15:33:58.798+08:00writer blockedits nearly three months since i last wrote. i have been far below the normal production level over the past year. the last time i made the effort to consistently express myself was a year ago. it happened when i was away by myself on my favorite beach. i am back for another holiday holiday, and i have wanted to write, but after a week i am just now breaking out the air to try to let the thoughts loose. i have had to accept that i find myself blocked, i am not sure how or why but i have not been able to share.<br />
<br />
the past year has been one of change and impending change. during times of change i tend to withdraw, which may be what has happened to me over the past twelve months. but i have not found myself curled up on the couch, alone with my woobie. as those closest know, that is the historical sign of my withdrawal. more recently my version of withdrawl translates to a vacation seeking comfortable space. but have you noticed that vacations also allow me to open up and write? getting away drives my need to open up, and it enhances my crave to connect.<br />
<br />
i see this as a positive sign. rather than taking space to allow the inner devils to embrace the darkness, i have come to sit in the sun and strip layers off. i have been needing to get away for months now. finally the migration, the post-migration and the reorganization are all over. strategic alternatives have lingered, but the need to be in the northern kingdom have slowed to the point where i can get away. there is plenty of work left to do, but it will wait for the new year. i have disconnected.<br />
<br />
the underlying reason for the congestion of thought i have been experiencing is difficult to diagnose. much like my allergies, what causes them is not always clear, the stuffiness comes when it comes.<br />
<br />
in both cases, the causes are hard to pin down because they have complexity. it is not one single trigger, they layer upon each other. part of it i am sure is that circumstances have changed. i have always talked about things happening around me, and given structural changes going on around me i have been less and less able to be open. some of these blocks were cultural, some were familial or organizational, but some have been legal. given the cross currents of demands to say less and protect information, i have imposed a "say nothing til you hear more" rule of thumb. my other default compensation technique to reduce complexity and ensure simplicity.<br />
<br />
i have also considered the fact that i have simply not had the space to sit and do this. given the [overly long] style of my writing, i need time to accomplish this, and i have not felt as though the time was there for me. but i have been here for almost 6 days, i had my laptop out for google/wiki/youtube and nightly fringe, i still didn't even attempt to send thoughts into the ethernet.<br />
<br />
two days ago i spent the afternoon doing cold reads on two very nice new friends. friends could be too strong a statement, i don't know their names, have no contact information and unless the winds of fate somehow drive us to the same line in an airport some day we will probably never speak again. but as we sat and chatted over halal-beverages, there was a surprising level of sharing going on. i learned things, some of which were not expected. while i was there i realized that rather than writing, i was spending time with real people and talked rather than typing.<br />
<br />
this morning i decided it was time to buckle down and cast some thoughts. i had a 20 minute conversation concerning the correct location. caffeine, alt-cafe tunes and armchair comfort are all key to my process, the much to long conversation sent me to the starbucks so close that my motorcycle barely warmed up getting here. i struck up another conversation in line, and a third when i sat down. going to a very american version of the worlds coffee location and talking to a surprising number of amercians took precedence over typing. again, real connections over the semi-anonymous conversation this medium brings.<br />
<br />
is that it then? have i somehow found myself in a place where my extroversion has finally wiped away my need for distance? rather than observing from a safe distance, i am directly interacting. the nice couple from seattle who live in china ended our conversation by telling me "we come here every day... at 11:00 am". that kind of specificity seems to invite further conversations. still no contact information, still limited name exchange, but connection.<br />
<br />
i am writing now. funky christmas tunes are decking the halls around me. i am watching the multi-cultural groups pausing around me. an indonesian chinese couple and teenage son just moved from the sun warmed chairs to the shade-covered couch touching my chair. a little too close for my american sense of personal space, and the dark sunglasses dad is wearing inside do not invite conversation. mom seems nice and keep smiling at me; actually that is a little more sketchy than the shades in the shade. i doubt this will turn into a blocking conversation. good thing, i am typing again and want to keep the flowing motion.<br />
<br />
the congestion has lifted, i am able to breath again. the weight on my chest has gone, i can take a deep breath and feel the air filling my lungs. i can touch the air and feel myself opening up. <br />
<br />
hopefully you are not offended by the sounds of me clearing my blocked head.<br />
<br />stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-49884451390820771672012-09-29T14:42:00.003+08:002012-09-29T14:42:46.143+08:00comfort hoteli really need to get away. i was talking to a friend yesterday, and the analogy for the past few months was the power bar in the HUD while paying a video. i smiled and realized it captured how people are feeling. the stacked lines have disappeared from repeated hits without finding the health packs needed to recharge. the sides of the screen are fading, the sounds of breathing from around the corner let you know the fight is still on, but the lack of ammo and health points also let you know that finding the hidden space with the recharge packs are a must if you are going to keep playings. the issues are the time and ability to find that hidden door.<br />
<br />
as i type this i am sitting in a cafe, trying to find a sandwich to match the comfort food desire i am feeling. i spent the morning at a six year old's birthday party. watching kids play in large plastic tubes and swim through pits filled with multi-colored balls both made me happy, and stoked the fires of missing home. the feeling that a sandwich would be a good idea before going back to the condo took hold as the party broke up. standing high in the midsts of expat-land, i searched my options for a simple sandwich.<br />
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as per usual, the solution does not match the demand. the seriously delicious burger is not, the "classic" reuben is actually a rachel (substituting pastrami for the truly classic corned beef) and the "classic" hotdog is a sadly chickened sausage that has none of the bite, snap or flavor of a truly a real hotdog. all of this is acceptable by the those who do not believe that something described as classic should actually be a reasonable example of the original. i went with the chicken avacado sandwich, which is not described as open faced, but comes that way. i ate the chicken and ignored the brick-hard toasted piece of bread. the comfort of enjoying the mingled flavors of meat and bread a lost-cause.<br />
<br />
this lunch is the smaller example of the issue i am really struggling with. how can i do a quick get away to allow myself to relax and recharge, while actually having the flavors that will help me feel relaxed. i was almost in singapore this weekend, and that may have been close. the san diego run by disney vibe would have helped. the library-sized book stores, genuine-feeling hipster-staffed starbucks and non-sambal infused western restaurants would all have given comfort. the taxi queues and casino-culture would not have. low blood pressure delayed the trip, so i won't know if it would have given me a chance to relax. <br />
<br />
which leaves me in not-so-truly asia. as i was driving home last night i began to consider my options. where can i slip away to, sleep in a big comfortable bed, have room service that is non-halal comforting and relax by the pool with a drink in my hand. much of this i can get, sure alcohol is not a problem, hotels exist and have comforting beds. there are hotels in KL that i have checked-in to check-out before, no flights and room service, but they do not deliver the "classic" feel. they are weak examples of a truly 5 start hotel, as though polish and badly designed parking garages are enough to make the trip worth it.<br />
<br />
i live in a minor city, that tries to believe it will be major within 8 years. when i got here there were 15 years to go on that goal, and there was some chance of it happening. but with each year that passes its clear that it won't happen. to become a major-city you need to be able to attach the top talent, the best and the brightest and make them want to stay. this is what hong kong and singapore, new york and london have done. they allow the communities who move in to feel welcome inside their own enclaves. they allow them the comforts that enable the newcomers to feel welcome, and overtime make those comforts part of the larger single community. note that although the "big breakfast" is here, the british have left. my point is that if malaysia had known how to keep outsiders happy the brits, japanese and even locally born chinese would not be heading for the doors so quickly.<br />
<br />
this isn't meant to be a flame or to turn into a bitch-session about the lack of comfort i have felt for a long time. but i am tired, i need a break, one that will not have anything to complain about. i can get on a plane and go to indonesia, thailand or vietnam and have a short break. but i don't want to the flights. or i can hang in there, and wait for the next trip to the land of smog and exports. i know there i can slip off to NOLA or home plate and find some moments of non-halal happiness. but why do i need to? can a community building itself on diversity not support a single hotel that does nothing more than provide the same as other world-class hotels.<br />
<br />
no wonder i am tired. the same issues stay out there, i can hear the scraping steps and raspy breathing around the corner. the bullet count it low, the energy meter is flashing red and i am staring down the corridor wondering what is hiding; ready to take more shots.<br />
<br />
fight or flight; when neither is really an option it really is the time to check in and hope the room service menu is good.stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-71541200886842145892012-04-08T11:54:00.000+08:002012-04-08T12:27:40.796+08:00hacky thoughtsi was sitting in an airplane a few weeks ago, thinking how much i wanted to write. i have been missing the process, the effort, of casting my thoughts outwards. i had just had an interesting conversation with the lead flight attendant, the majority of which i have already forgotten. as i sat there, i considered the coming lose of the thoughts embedded within that conversation. i knew they would slip away, left to float in the clouds over the great wall of life. i wondered if the next time we bumped into each other we would even remember that we had met, that we had shared the conversation and smiles it evoked. was the banter worth having, worth trying to save in any form, even just a memory, or should it be allowed to be lost in the wind.<br />
<br />
i have not been writing at all. it has not been intentional, it just has not come. my process of writing is to have a random thought and to feel it bounce around inside my head until i get a chance to let it out. before throwing it out there, i wonder if i could expose the thought to my inner circle. these are the people who i make the effort to share with. they are the ones that when i am not with them, i take the time to tell them what i am doing. they are the ones i imagine around a table enjoying unstructured randomness together. my circle is not surprised by the randomness, they see it come towards them and they step up and kick the thought in a new direction.<br />
<br />
this inner circle is not elitist or ceremonial. it's not difficult to join, you just help keep the thoughts floating through the air, adding your own spin as you take a turn. we are like an slacker collection of oddity on the quad, or the relaxed skaters hanging out in the park below trinity church. people come and go, they join or leave the group without structure or formality. it's all about keeping the ball in the air and being nimble enough to react to the new direction of a moving thought. when the thought does hit the ground, there is a laugh, a bit of teasing and someone helpfully adds a new thought and throws it back into the mix.<br />
<br />
but what does a player do when there is no circle. sitting alone watching other jets zip by at the combined speed of modern travel, wondering if there is someone over there looking out their window with their own thoughts, considering what would happen if you had the chance to stand together and share. randomness comes, but no one is there throw in with. you might be standing among a group and consider if they would appreciate it when you reached into a bag to take out a colorful package of thoughts. would they hack in, or stand there wondering why one would want to play? writing is my attempt to keep that circle going, when time and space keep it apart.<br />
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lately, i have not been writing because i have been too busy; which is a convenient lie covered by truth. i have been busy, but the therapy value of massaging thoughts usually gets prioritized. the honest reason i have not be writing is that i don't know what i want to share. i am blocked by an anxiety of the clock. i remember being in the playground and rather than playing, i was watching for the streetlights to come on. this was our neighborhood's sign that it was time to go home. when the streetlights came on, we would burst towards our bikes as the game came to an abrupt end regardless of score. i have not been playing, because i am watching the streetlights. i am in the park at the top of caswell ave, it's almost dark but the lights have not come on, the rules say i should be in the game, but i know it's almost time to race. i have been focused on the ending, because of my inner clock's ticking.<br />
<br />
in the mean time, the game is being played around me. i have been felt my turns for randomness come and go. i have thought about sharing and have simply let them pass. the lights have not yet come on, and the game is not ready to end. playground rules say these moments matter most, playgrounds do not have clocks for a good reason. having the ability to play, and seeing friends send that thought back through the air is worth ignoring the anxiety of formality. now is not the time to take yourself out of the game and watch the lights. the game will end, but for now it's time to hack in and remember that the circle matters.<br />
<br />
that flight attendent came back to my seat as i was considering the germ of these thoughts. she might have thought she was asking about my tea cup sitting alone, untouched, when she asked, "are you done?". that was the question i have been considering without really knowing it. <br />
<br />
i looked up at her and smiled as i replied, "no, i am not".<br />
<br />stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-30362804213421953202012-04-07T16:01:00.000+08:002012-04-07T16:04:48.336+08:00second shot<br />
i started writing this blog... a long time ago. <br />
<br />
i started writing this blog to raise my voice and keep a record. it gives longevity to thoughts that might otherwise be lost. i am doing this for me, and for a very select few who i actively want to share with. i have never thought of this as a forum for general consumption, it is too personal and frankly too boring. these are the thoughts that bounce around in my head, the posts have given them a vehicle to escape into the wild while also being stored safely for later. but, mostly, the posts allow half-thoughts to be worked into a completed form, my version of cleaning up a workspace.<br />
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my first <a href="http://stainedhead.blogspot.com/2006/09/opening-volley.html">opening volley</a> was more of an invitation than a thought. it was the commitment to carry on with a goal. it may feel like one and a half lifetimes ago, but was truly just a moment at a cross road. for anyone who has been following, i am warning you now that i am at a cross road again. i remember hearing that we change every seven years to become a different person, and although i am in the middle of the calendar cycle, change is looming.<br />
<br />
i am declaring the close of one phase and the opening of another. as i sit on a balcony overlooking the south china sea, i am feeling like a nordic athlete soon to be transitioning from skiing to shooting portion of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biathlon">biathlon</a>. i know i need to lower my pulse rate before i transition, my legs are tired, i am dripping in sweat and my fingers are tingling with the effects of adrenaline. it is almost time to stop and focus on the target, the driving effort has to be tempered, so i can take on the shot and avoid a penalty.<br />
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if the metaphor of biathlon while hiding in a resort on borneo doesn't work for you, stop reading now. i am going to write; long, strange and personal, because it is what calms me. this is my way of settling myself down for the effort. this is my race, and i want a record of it for later. i want to be able to look at the tape and see my form as i took that hill. it's not for others to see me win or lose, but for my inner coach to monitor and remember how i felt on days like today.<br />
<br />
this is my second shot, let the new chapter begin.<br />
<br />stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-51937874761134612692011-12-26T18:07:00.010+08:002012-04-07T14:35:25.193+08:00good lifei woke up this morning to the quiet sound of falling rain. i love rainy days, but while on vacation in paradise, rain is a mixed blessing. today it would be a good thing, because my skin is crispy, painful, red and itchy from too much sun. rather than giving up on the beach, i decided to ride over to have breakfast. kopi bali and jaffle pisang was the thought, but just spending the time on the sand was what i was hungry for.<br />
<br />
the day has been slipping by, and it's lunch time now. i just finished a wonderfully simple burger. it was served dutch style with mayonnaise, to which I added soya. empire meets local; or east meets west on the crossroads of trade. enjoying is all about finding the fusion. after this long in asia, i have given up on the idea that american burgers are the best way to eat. it's impossible to find them consistently, and using the local ingredients just make it taste better. i did skip the sambal sauce, there needs to be limits in life.<br />
<br />
while sitting on the beach this morning, the third squall of the day passed. most of the other early beach-goers had abandoned hope during the second squall. it had lasted more than an hour, and prolonged tropical storms while sitting on the beach are just too much for most people. i waited it out because i had a feeling it was going to clear. at the first short break, i hopefully moved down to the chairs. minutes later the third gentle squall came through with another extended rain that brought visibility below VFR. i sat under an umbrella not made to protect anything from more than sun, and listened to the rain and surf. water dripped down my back, as i laid comfortably within the white noise cocoon.<br />
<br />
as i walked back towards the cafe, i was coaxed into a visit to the beach-side massage hut. i amused myself by playing with a local kid whose mother was telling him to take a nap, while getting massaged by the aunties. it's hard to remember that they are my age. after 20+ years on the beach they look as though they have a generations head start on me. the beach community is a village of families who watch each other, we are just visitors to their lives.<br />
<br />
it's when i experience others lives up close that i think about how blessed i am. i get to travel, but have people i love to keep in touch with while on the road. i never feel as though i am alone. my major fear 7 years ago. but while learning to enjoy being solitary, i also learned that out of sight does not need to be out of mind. distance does not need to limit connection; if you work on it. technology helps; sms, email, youtube and voice have all been used in the past few days to allow holidays around the world to be shared.<br />
<br />
these are good days. the sun is out and the rain is losing its 60% chance of impacting beach time. i am drinking storm and i can feel the energy levels rising. it reminds me that i have been playing doom with a red light flashing; warning me to take cover. the trip feels like i have slipped into a quiet room, steel door protecting me from attacks, and i have found an energy pack to bring me back to health. just in time, because one more blast and i could have lost this level.<br />
<br />
when ash was here this summer she told me that I was living large. she meant that expat housing, jockey parking, friends who own restaurants and the ability to slip away to the beach should be appreciated. sometimes i forget that, and i should apologize for my semi-occasional tantrums. i am not one of these 9 year olds, working on a beach selling bracelets and hoping for good luck to make a sale today. but sometimes, i do feel like the distracted kid being told to take a nap.<br />
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<br /></div>
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i get to have connected travel. i get to relax with my storm. i get to talk to the aunties, or strike up random conversations with nice strangers. i can go back to my hotel and take a hot shower, send my wet clothes to laundry, order a car for tomorrow's angel, and think about what i want for dinner. if i add in apple store purchases, and coming christmas presents, i know my bug is right. i am living large.<br />
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<br /></div>
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all I needed was a few days under a wet umbrella to realize:<br />
<br />
this is the good life.<br />
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</div>
</div>stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-78150630614101979152011-12-25T20:53:00.008+08:002011-12-26T19:26:08.957+08:00wishing youi am at dinner in a local restaurant with a sign board that promises mexican food. it also has indonesian, italian, chinese and seafood listed, so i am not sure what to expect. the staff appears to speak english and russian equally well, not sure if this is a hint that mexican should not be the feast of choice, but then again, that is what this whole trip is all about, exploring.<br /><br />i spent the day at the beach. hiding under the umbrella, reconsidering the need to add sunblock to my packing list for the beach. i wrapped myself in a sarong-tudong and wondered how I had gotten so far without SPF enhancement. the days of sunblock magically appearing are gone, time to take responsibility for my own skin.<br /><br />as the day wound down a large crack of thunder in the distance got me headed back. already late, i took a few intentionally misguided turns and ended up in a small back-road village. the sales-kids on the beach had told me about a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barong_(mythology)">barong</a> tonight. there was an old gentlemen in a crisp white outfit I have seen at temple festivals. i slowed and asked him if the barong was here. he shook his head no, and pointed around the corner.<br /><br />there was a crowd of men loitering next to the temple. one was holding a rooster dripping blood from its legs. money was being passed back and forth between the men; somehow i had found the islands christmas night cockfight. i guessed this was a different form of cultural event, just not one in the guide books. given the theme of the week, i parked my motorcycle and tried to merge into the crowd.<br /><br />that merge was not simple, my presence was clearly unexpected. it caused more than several looks, and a few whispered comments. this is where common sense kicks in for most. in a village that the 5-star hotel crowd never sees, my peers would neither get here nor intentionally stay. i tapped into my inner gonzo journalist and started talking to locals in a rough english-indonesian mix and did the polite thing by placing a bet.<br /><br />the next contestants were both scrappy looking. liking it dark, i bet on the black cock with psychedelic green coloring on his sides. as they brought the birds together to snap at each other, i noticed the size of the white cocks claws, and knew i had made my first cock-fight mistake. there is some saying about big feet and winning cocks, but the action was ready to start and i needed to focus. i decided to let the contest play out; my bet more of like an entrance fee than a wager.<br /><br />the "fight" lasted about three minutes. the white bird kicked my colored bird's ass. my guy left with a chunk of his neck missing, but alive and able to lose another day. i had visions of being deep in mexico while watching the combatants, they seemed more beach-asian, with a laid back surfer approach to fighting, than the gangsters they and the homies could be mistaken for. back on the road i knew there was a lesson to be learned, i still haven't figured it out. it will come to me.<br /><br />it rained while i napped and showered. it was dry by the time i was ready for my christmas feast. i rode over to the place i had seen the day before and found it mostly empty; with a local guy playing christmas songs on his guitar. music to go along with my natal enchilada.<br /><br />"feliz navidad" was interesting because he sang the english parts with a thick accent and the spanish memorized without accent. i was singing along so it was the second verse before I actually listened to him and heard:<br /><br /><blockquote>i want to miss you a merry christmas. i want to miss you a merry christmas. i want to miss you a merry christmas, from the bottom of my hot. </blockquote><div><br /></div><div>i was sure he was doing it that way on purpose. it's the perfect end to this day. semi-yoga, cafe, beach, cockfight, motorcycle, sunburn, nasi goreng, madi-kutu in the afternoon and acceptable mexican food with bintang besar and a guitarist that mistranslates to improvement.</div><div><br /></div><div>this is the best release ever; wish you were here.<br /></div>stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-15571240207518178692011-12-25T10:29:00.011+08:002011-12-25T23:53:24.070+08:00happy holidayi just paid USD 2.45 to drive my motorcycle onto one of my favorite beaches in the world and for an umbrella with two chairs to hide my burnt skin from the sun. i was met by smiles, "selamat pagi" and high fives as i walked to my chairs. i know the kids will swarm be again today, because i proved to be a good mark with the bracelet purchases yesterday. but i don't mind, it's part of the process of being remembered the next time i come to geger. <br /><br />i woke up this morning and called family in the US. one call covered the kids, their cousins and my christmas purchase partner. I was able to send hugs to others opening presents in grandma's living room. my gift was hearing the fading sounds of christmas past. it was good to connect with a bit of holiday cheer. it's also important to remember where you came from.<br /><br />i then called my mom and had a long conversation about moving forward when you just want to stop. she is missing my dad, but she got her rose today and has friends and family around her. we discussed afterlife on multiple levels, reminding me why i always loved the way she thinks; and how lucky i was for the conversations of my youth.<br /><br />as I got to my umbrella I noticed clouds on the horizon. less than five minutes later it started to rain. big drops of tropical rain, shimmering against the blue sky just off the beach. the clouds look like they will pass off to the north, so i made a move to the sand-side cafe just before the rest of the beach caught on that the clouds behind them had malicious intent.<br /><br />the tables around me are filled with other non-traditional christmas revelers. in front of me are the aussies with tattoo-surfer dad and happy mom who talked to me accidentally and then told me a joke about a wankers miscommunication in the men's room. to the side, a bit behind me actually, is a local transvestite who smiled at me shyly. she is with a P90X addict who seems to think no one has caught onto their ruse. the younger daughter from down under waited until they passed before asking mom if she was a he. more new friends on my favorite beach.<br /><br />as i sit enjoying my morning storm, i am thinking about jk rowlings. i watched a profile on her this morning. not being particularly harry-fanatic i was not sure why i watched. the day was passing, and with it precious beach time. but the profile ended with a quote she delivered to a harvard graduating class.<br /><blockquote>the knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. you will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won...<br /></blockquote><br />the entire speech is titled "<a href="http://harvardmagazine.com/2008/06/the-fringe-benefits-failure-the-importance-imagination">the fringe benefits of failure and the importance of imagination</a>". when i read it, i found the paragraph immediately before this qoute was the real reason i was not able to leave the cafe on time this morning. some how, one of the jk out there was sending me a message. it was a message that i knew, but clearly i needed to hear:<br /><blockquote>failure gave me an inner security that i had never attained by passing examinations. failure taught me things about myself that i could have learned no other way. i discovered that i had a strong will, and more discipline than i had suspected; i also found out that i had friends whose value was truly above the price of rubies.<br /></blockquote><br />the sun has come out and it's time to move back onto the sand. my storm is gone, and i have ignored the water for to long. i know that i now have the skills needed to see the rain before others and to get under cover before the crowds make a move. but i also know i can make friends in the strangest of places or moments. <br /><br />even the happiest holidays can be in places you don't expect.stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-43889730383194343702011-12-24T18:55:00.007+08:002011-12-24T20:19:14.165+08:00indonesian scroogewhat do you do when you realize for the second time in 4 months you need to break with convention and escape your responsibilities? the past few months have been difficult. i have been hanging in more or less one week at at time. but weeks ago i knew i needed to escape. i looked at flights to asia/oceania locations with the hope of mexican food and good beer. it took me three days to decide on my second choice, a process of whittling hope and fear down to action.<div><br /></div><div>as an american in asia, i am constantly asked if i am going home for christmas. it's a strange question because i am not really sure where home is anymore. if home is where the heart is, my heart is spread over the world. i do not have a singular location to go where all the people i love will be sitting together as a unit of holiday joy. there are my american and european families, both of which i feel joining would be intrusion.</div><div><br /></div><div>i have two groups who i love in KL. one is a mixed bag of non-christmas people; atheists, communists, muslims, sort-of-muslims, hindus and buddhists. there are a few christians mixed into this group, but walls limit the sharing of holidays. there is also a fully formed family group who will be celebrating praise and worship without me. this is an interesting ensemble that i enjoy being a member of; but i did what i have always done during holidays, pushed myself away from the table.</div><div><br /></div><div>my parents allowed this to become a tradition of mine. i am not really sure why i am this way, but i am. when the holidays loom, i feel the need to back away. i love the christmas spirit, the trappings of the holiday, the food and buying presents for kids, but i feel very uncomfortable in the family setting. thinking about it, it's not being together that bothers me but the thought that i might not get to be with the family at the next holiday. echoes of divorce bounce in my head as i am visited by the ghost of holidays past. i love the memories, i cherish them, but i will never be invited to join in again.</div><div><br /></div><div>if the ghosts of christmas past are haunting me, the ghost of christmas present has been a warm and loving soul. she and i discussed my separation, and agreed that i needed to get away. there is mass missed, dinner and singing to follow. there will be no tree to wake up to, there will be no stockings to stuff. my ghost of christmas present is allowing me to get away, to sit in a cafe serving bad coffee and pseudo-parisian pastries, to listen to spa-christmas fusion muzak and to write alone. having gained enlightenment about being holiday-solo, i am not upset by christmas present. but then ebenezer wasn't either until he realized family missed him; or was it their pity.</div><div><br /></div><div>this leaves me with the ghost of christmas future. with birth parents gone, siblings 25 years separated and acquired family lost in agreement, i can not honestly imagine a future christmas like any of the past. i can imagine a time-share christmas, the exact thing that i have been avoiding for 4 years. having a tiny tree at home sounds good, but being away on the beach has become a bit of a tradition now also.</div><div><br /></div><div>i realize that i am dangerously close to bringing my ghosts with me on my impaired holiday. in some ways, this year is a dry run, a phased approach of escape followed by reconnection. i honestly wish i were able to enjoy the holidays without the angst, but as i said i know this is who i am, and i appreciate that my parents, living and dead, my ghosts and my children understand that being here is not a way to say that i don't want to be there. i want to be there more than anything in the world.</div><div><br /></div><div>the scared kid who cried the christmas eve he found out santa was a evil hoax, the young man who closed the door thinking of a camera, the husband horribly allergic to christmas cheer and the sun burned pirate are all looking forward to many happy holidays to come.</div><div><br /></div><div>haunted duck will be served, god bless us all, every one.</div>stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-44514874133781334932011-10-14T21:08:00.013+08:002011-10-16T11:31:51.482+08:00ugly malaysians<div><br /></div><div>while sitting in a cafe having a drink the incessant bleat of a horn began to waft in from from the street. this is a common sound here, it means, "dude you double parked your car and i a can't get by you, i need to go and you are nowhere to be seen, i am getting frustrated so wake up and move your car before i have an aneurism". this was taking away attention from my reading of an opinion piece, "<a href="http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2011/10/14/focus/9686993">less form, more substance</a>", about malaysia needing a clear plan to move the country forward economically. the author's point was that there is more than enough infrastructure here, but that people's mindsets needed to change.</div><div><br /></div><div>as the bleating increased in tempo, the woman sitting next to me looked out the window absently. as she continued her conversation she craned her neck to see where the horning was centered. i followed her gaze and saw three cars double parked down the street. this is when she dug out her keys and slowly got up to move outside. had the people who had been sitting there for 40 minutes having a leisurely lunch really parked a car in a way that obstructed others from getting by, and simply ignored the sound of horn for the past 5 minutes?</div><div><br /></div><div>the woman walked toward the horning, but when she saw that it was not her illegally parked car that was the obstruction, she turned and happily walked back to the air-conditioned cafe with its happily kiwi coffee culture. she came into the cafe and re-took her seat, prepared to pick the conversation up where she had left it. unfortunately western culture comes with the concept of social peer pressure, something that does not normally happen here -- other than the anonymous reporting of suspect morality lapes to JAIS.</div><div><br /></div><div></div><blockquote><div>i turned to her and said, "hi, do you have your car double parked"? </div><div>she replied, "yes, we do".</div><div>i said, "can i ask why"? </div><div>she took a beat and looked at me, but said, "we are just stopping quickly".</div></blockquote><div></div><div><br /></div><div>i have been sitting here since they came in and watched them linger over a drink before ordering, see friends come in and have a quick catch up conversation, order lunch, wait for it to be delivered, eat lunch while talking and then order another drink to lepak over.</div><div><br /></div><div></div><blockquote><div>"really, you have been here at least 40 minutes and your car has been blocking other people the whole time? does that seem fair to you?"</div><div>she looked at me with open shock on her face, "well, there is nowhere to park".</div><div></div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>this is friday, there are prayers going on and the area is busy, but there is plenty of parking for anyone willing to use it. there is an expanded version of her short-form sentence for those who know that it is just malaysian for: "there is no <b>free</b> parking available, and the parking that is available would require me to walk more than 50 feet. it's hot out, i am lazy and the police are all at prayers. no one is going to give me a ticket so i can do what i want without anyone saying anything about it". </div><div><br /></div><div>with the local lack of social peer pressure, she is right, people will get back to their car 10 minutes or more after someone starts horning, and will just wave as though they had been in the car the whole time and was moving it immediately; the standard response is to say something in an unshared vernacular language and drive by.</div><div><br /></div><div><blockquote>i said, "there is jockey parking, BV2, jollygreen and BV. plenty of parking, off street and not blocking anyone. do you think it could be better to park there or to block the streets so that no one can get by. malaysian's talk about how bad the traffic is, but it could be that it's not too few roads or too many cars, but that people block streets so no one can get by. do you think this needs to be fixed so the country can get better?"</blockquote></div><div><br /></div><div>this is a complete stranger, and maybe i have no reason to get involved or take it on myself to question her on why she is so self-important that courtesy should not be followed. except that i use these roads, and are constantly blocked by illegally parked cars; or people driving against traffic on jammed oneway streets to avoid doing a longer loop, but that is another rant. the whole country is in perpetual grid lock because some clearly have an inability to line up in an orderly way; or to follow simple rules. if you live here, you know it's not everyone, but the ones that do this do tend to drive expensive cars and have the time and money to sit is kiwi cafes.</div><div><br /></div><div>this is when she really got mad at me. i can tell she was mad because she took the standard malaysian approach of thanking me. this of course is either learned behavior from political groups, or a deeper cultural reaction to any questions from someone you feel is not in a position to question you. </div><div><br /></div><div></div><blockquote><div>she said, "thank you for your comments". this was delivered dismissively but with a quiver of outrage. </div><div>rather than push the point, i replied "you're welcome" and smiled with my best smart-ass exclamation point.</div></blockquote><div></div><div><br /></div><div>i am far from a saint, i am willing and able to break a rule. the last time i was in the US, i was driving above the speed limit and passed a truck. in the corner of my eye i saw the driver wave to me, which i thought was interesting. i looked over and saw that he was telling me to put my cell phone down. he wanted me stop talking, and probably slow down, to make the roads safer for others. i waved back, smiled the same smile i had just given this woman and accelerated down the pike.</div><div><br /></div><div>asian culture reinforces a shame based society. the people who are double parking have no shame for doing it. "i am just running in" is a common excuse, even if they are clearly sitting and having a meal. it's also friday afternoon, when attendees are allowed to turn major roads into parking lots if they are close to the mosque. this is used as an other-cultural excuse to park illegally, along with the desire to take 3 hour lunches. this falls into the childish category of i get to do it because he does. i was sitting there having lunch, i am not throwing rocks at the lepak, but my being there had nothing to do with anyone else.</div><div><br /></div><div>western culture is the guilt based system. guilt is inwardly imposed controls based on the conditioning to follow the rules. it is a self-control, rather than "what would people think", we live in a "i can't, it's wrong" culture. but to keep the system honest, you occasionally need negative reinforcement in the guise of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Social_control">informal social control</a>. this is where the guy in the truck came in, telling me to hang-up and stop relying on unconscious driving skills to keep me alive.</div><div><br /></div><div>but this is what is lacking here. or so i thought. as i turned back to the paper, the next article i saw was another opinion piece, <a href="http://www.thestar.my/news/story.asp?file=/2011/10/14/focus/9694463">the rise of educated 'ugly malaysians'</a>, by s. sundareson a retiree who appears to be leading the charge on fixing malaysian bad habits. his examples are illegally parking, running red lights, littering, wasting things they are not paying for and not attending meetings they have RSVPed. his piece has run in both of the major english newspapers here, but i wonder if any of the ugly malaysians are listening. </div><div><br /></div><div>i wanted to show the couple with the car illegally parked, who where still lingering over drinks 30 minutes later, the article. but i thought that would be piling on, and clearly a breach. besides, i had lost all desire try to get through. it wasn't the dismissive thank you that did it. it was a few minutes later when:</div><div><blockquote>the woman's companion said, "don't be upset. do you understand mandarin? ta [something] hundan".</blockquote></div><div>dude, i already know i am an asshole. </div><div><br /></div><div>sometimes, you need to be if you are going to be honest with people who don't want honesty. the real ugliness here is that people won't say it to your face, they switch languages and assume they are covered by language. this is why there are vernacular schools, to teach people how to talk behind others back. but let's be clear... </div><div><br /></div><div>you don't need to listen to me, but i know what you are saying.</div><div><br /></div>stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-64407500452373784472011-09-28T12:44:00.020+08:002011-09-28T20:05:24.398+08:00boy blue<div><br /></div><div>i am ignoring the world and passing the time until mass. i have been trying to get in touch with how i feel all week. emotions have been flowing since the phone rang in the middle of the night to tell me my father had died. when i asked when the funeral was, my sister said they were waiting to know when i would be back. but i had decided two years ago that when the time came, i would not fly home. i should have warned my family, but when does that conversation come up. no one understands, and i have been asked to consider what i am doing; no one wants me to live with regrets.</div><div><br /></div><div>my father had a heart attack and stroke two years ago. my mom has been nursing him towards recovery ever since. as i watched from far away, i could not remind her that they sent him home to die, not to recover. there was no recovery, he was bedridden, had lost most of his mobility and communication skills. earlier this year, persistant open wounds forced them amputate his legs. when i called home she would tell me how he had gotten up and moved around a bit, or that he was having a good day, but i have known the days were limited.</div><div><br /></div><div>when i was in college, we would blow off campus during exam season and drive over to the ocean. classmates were in the library or studying in the dorms, but once i had studied i knew that what i needed was to get away from the enforced quiet time that others required. it was best for me to sit in the back seat of the car and drink a beer, listen to music and talk to my closest friends. i don't remember a single conversation, but i can still feel the closeness of the group driving through the night; far from the acceptable behavior of studying or sleeping.</div><div><br /></div><div>at the end of my sophomore year we were driving to the beach in the middle of the night. i was thinking about the coming summer, i would go home for a few weeks and then off to parris island for my marine corp summer camp. i would not be spending the summer with my family, but i was already spending my school year away, so this seemed like the next step. </div><div><br /></div><div>i had called home every week the first year of college; sunday at 7:30 on the dot. it was the time between sunday mass and the return to my studies. i would call home and let them know how i was doing, what was going on in my life. but early in my sophomore year i had made the call, and after talking for a few minutes a frustrated voice on the other end asked me, "why don't you call and tell us good news. it seems like there is always something wrong. can you not call until you have good news to tell us?" i got angry, and tried to debate the point, but they hung up. i stood in the phone box, staring at the receiver which i then slammed down, twice. the following week at 7:30 i wanted to call, but still angry i refused to edit my conversation. i wanted to share, but the sharing had stopped. i never called regularly again, and 27 years of drift has happened in between. </div><div><br /></div><div>later that year, when i told my father i was joining the marine corp to fly helicopters, he asked me, "are you sure about this? you don't like anyone telling you what to do." when i think back on the tractor accident, and premature end of my military career, i realize in some ways he might have been right. i have learned to take and execute orders, but i have always needed to make my own choices.</div><div><br /></div><div>on that drive to the beach we had ROCK 101 was playing. i was in a quiet mood and for the first time actually listened to harry chapin's "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cat's_in_the_Cradle">cats in the cradle</a>". i knew the chorus, but the lyrics had always blurred by unnoticed. this time i listened to the story of a father and son's relationship over the years. it begins with the son asking for the fathers time, and ends with roles reversed. it was in this moment that i understood my childhood, but i also saw my future and realized how i was moving away.</div><div><br /></div><div>when we got to the beach, i zipped into a sleeping bag on the sand. as i laid listening to the waves with my girlfriend i started to cry. she had no idea what had set me off, she might have thought it was exam stress, but i was sobbing over a broken childhood that i had no ability to fix. i might have gone into software because i like to build systems, or to fix those that are broken, but this one was out of my hands. my childhood may also drive my need to be in control, but in those moments i had no control. i didn't explain the emotions that night, but i have gone back to them over the years.</div><div><br /></div><div>i cried two years ago when i thought my father was going to die, i haven't cried this week. i want to, but i can't seem to push the button. it feels wrong, i am not going to stand over the casket so why do i get to shed the tears from the safe emotional distance that i am keeping. </div><div><br /></div><div>the words that have always haunted me are from the end of the song, when the father calls and asks to see the son who says he is too busy... i have never believed he was busy, work is not an issue, just a convenient excuse. the father ends the call and says:</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px); "><span class="Apple-style-span"><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span">as I hung up the phone it occurred to me<br />he'd grown up just like me<br />my boy was just like me</span></blockquote></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>i am divorced, i live away from my kids, i do enjoy work. but i am not my father. my father would have gone to the funeral, even if he didn't want to. i am not perfect, and i never needed him to be. i am sad that he is gone, and that we never found enough time to spend together. but i loved my dad, and i know he loved me. we just never really understood each other, and that is how i want to be different, i want my kids to know the person i am inside.</div><div><br /></div><div>this is not the end of the song, because i am the father now and my kids need me to call and make time to be there; so they can know me. i live half a world away, and have been home for e's birthday 5 years running; i wonder if he has noticed that. either way, i know i am no longer the son, i am now the father.</div><div><br /></div><div>the song ends with:</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px; background-color: rgb(192, 192, 192); "><blockquote>and the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon<br />little boy blue and the man on the moon<br />when you comin' home son?<br />i don't know when, but we'll get together then son<br />you know we'll have a good time then </blockquote></span><br /></div><div>goodbye dad, i love you.</div><div><br /></div><div>i am sorry we didn't get together then.</div><div><br /></div>stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-15556143477928474132011-09-26T19:23:00.009+08:002011-09-27T16:50:38.763+08:00fundamental laws<div><br /></div><div>i am sitting in a cafe and watching two boys enjoying the confines of a playroom. their mothers are sitting outside and chatting over coffee. the blond boy continues to scream at the top of his lungs each time the possibly-asian playmate moves towards his toys. his american soccer mom continues to tell her son to shhhhhhhh and to move into the room to quiet his emotional outbursts. the semi-asian mom sits quietly in her headband and sweats as she and her son both politely ignore the noisy playmate. i am taking this in while watching "finding nemo" on the playroom dvd and reading a local paper to disguise my real focus.</div><div><br /></div><div>the dominant story in the paper is over the proposed imposition of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hudud">hudud laws</a> in two of the more conservative states in malaysia. when this story first broke i assumed it was the majority party creating issues within the opposition as the general elections come closer. but if it started that way, the opposition has not been smart enough to side step the issue. PAS and DAP are now demanding the other side clarify it's position, and threats of leaving the opposition union are flaring.</div><div><br /></div><div>the fact that hudud was passed by the states 10 years ago, and was shutdown as unconstitutional doesn't seem to matter. the advocates for this are fundamentally demanding that thieves have their hands cut off and that adulters be stoned to death. these are the mandatory punishments for these crimes in islamic law, but you can see how most of UNMO would be against their imposition. a week after the internationally positive press that ISA is being reformed, there is now a discussion of stoning people in public. you can sense the expat community, and many of the locals, cringe at the thought of universal sharia bedroom checks.</div><div><br /></div><div>this story was placed next to the discussion of a church suicide-bombing in indonesia. the religious violence in the most populous muslim-dominant country continues to raise. the local paper stressed that the majority of the indonesian's are moderates. the international papers stressed that the country sliding down the slippery slope and again pointed out the 202 people killed 10 years ago in bali, and the muslims stoned to death by a crowd early this year. the leaders of that crowd were convicted based on the youtube video, they received 3 - 5 months in jail for murders committed with a policeman watching.</div><div><br /></div><div>the members of the murderous crowd may have been directed by their leaders to protect their faith from less than orthodox beliefs. this could be similar to the statements made by pope benedict this weekend, saying the church could not accept gay marriage and urged young people root out evil in society and shun a "lukewarm" faith that damages the church. this is definitely a message to the non-orthodox majority of catholics, as well as those more fundamentally believing. you can imagine similar words being used to send the crowds out to stone less than acceptable muslims in indonesia.</div><div><br /></div><div>there were other stories, bombings all over the world, conflict in nigeria, UN votes over palestine. the world economy is a complete mess, and people seem to find any reason they can to be at odds. all of this came into focus as i listened to the little boy wail with indignent pain because the other boy took the green truck and left him with only the red one. nemo was in the fish tank plotting an escape, but the boys were focused on the differences rather than coming to a common ground. the semi-asian mom sat serenely while the american mom fussed over the boys trying to solve the disruption.</div><div><br /></div><div>this is when i came across the article, <a href="http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5it22l65LFHIjhD0fCFc_3AXAjbBA?docId=9876beb665154d4cac8a57a18c152710">san francisco protesters: no nudes is bad news</a>. it is a discussion of the nudist movement in the city by the bay, where they "generally allow public nudity". the malaysian newspaper did not have photos and was heavily edited from the original AP story. but did get the point across that people would like nudists in cafes to be polite and "put a cloth under their bottoms if they take a seat in public". the online version made it clear that is already the common practice.</div><div><br /></div><div>this is a story which might only come out of san francisco, but it gives me hope. if i choose to focus on this story, i get to believe that the entire world is not degrading into conflict. the bay area has always been an early adopter and leader in cross-cultural acceptance; and cross-dressing. if soccer mom's taking their 7 year old to see the little mermaid could see the protest and simply say "i think you should cover up a little", then at least one part of the world can see something they disagree with and not need to kill the non-breeding nudist for the insult.</div><div><br /></div><div>san francisco is a truly multi-cultural place. when malaysian leaders ask the people to modernize and become a high income nation they may not want to become san francisco, but they might want to consider it. to be truly successful we need stop the tension and allow the focus to be on success. debating lifestyles is not productivity, accepting that others are different is the progress this world needs.</div><div><br /></div><div>when the taliban imposed fundamentalist islamic law in afghanistan they demanded women wear burqas and be escorted by male relatives outside the house. they completely shut down the economy, health care and education systems in kabul. san francisco on the other hand is one of the most successful cities in the world, it has cable cars, a great museum out on alcatraz and wonderful wine in foodie havens on the embarcadero. it also has naked guys walking around the street and moms who do not ask for anyone to be stoned to death, appendages cut off or even beaten with a stick.</div><div><br /></div><div>the kids have stopped playing, the caucasian mom ended the playtime by taking her son into her lap and rocking him to sleep. the possibly-asian kid waited for this mom to get him, which she did when it was time to leave. i am here thinking about the US, but glad that i didn't need to worry if the last person who had this table was naked and refused to put down a cloth when they sat.</div><div><br /></div><div>i am fighting an emotional outburst of my own right now, it's not over the newspaper or that someone took my toy. maybe i should just let go and scream, but i can't seem to break through. in the mean time, i suggest we allow others to live on the bell curve wherever they want, burqa to bare, halal to haram, let them be and don't get emotional. if you get upset, find a mom and ask her for a hug. watching that kid fall asleep was oddly soothing... </div><div><br /></div><div>i wonder if there's a law against that.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35152562.post-1631137678673054782011-09-22T15:39:00.010+08:002011-09-30T14:28:42.692+08:00schweddy balls<div><br /></div><div>people don't really understand why i miss the US. it's not all the time, i like malaysia, in fact that might be why i am still here. there is incredible room for growth here, it is just stagnated under a culturally imposed corruption and social constriction. other than the promised to be repealed, or was that replaced, ISA and EO most of the fear in this country is self imposed. what we need here is a sense of humor, and the ability to say/do stupid things. because, sadly, that is what drives the economy.</div><div><br /></div><div>if you don't believe me, i have an example. i was sitting in a cafe, and reading NPR when i came across the example. national public radio is a news organization in the US which is funded by the US government and it's listeners. they are tasked with being high quality and free of government interference with content. that doesn't really have impact on this story, but if MY locals are reading imagine news that lacks censorship, is not biased by any government overseers and has the freedom to report as they see the truth.</div><div><br /></div><div>for example, try these articles:</div><div><ul><li><a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=140524201">Malaysia To Abolish Two Unpopular Security Laws</a></li><li><a href="http://www.npr.org/2010/11/22/131512384/in-malaysia-web-s-popularity-breaks-a-grip-on-power">In Malaysia, Webs Popularity Breaks A Grip On Power</a></li><li><a href="http://www.npr.org/blogs/monkeysee/2011/08/22/139854650/finding-a-student-who-wasnt-lost-social-media-to-the-rescue">Finding A Student Who Wasn't Lost: Social Media To The Rescue?</a></li></ul><div>you might notice differences between those and articles that run in the NST or Star, beyond the quality of the writing.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>as i read i came to an article titled: <a href="http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2011/09/21/140662704/stop-schweddy-balls-effort-begins">Stop 'Schweddy Balls' Effort Begins</a></div><div><br /></div><div>the article is about an organization that says:</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">Are you tired of all the negative influences our children are forced to contend with?</span>"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;">and</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><blockquote>"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">Our goal is to stop the exploitation of our children, especially by the entertainment media (TV, music, movies, etc.)"</span></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div>to further these goals they have taken a stand against ben & jerry's ice cream for its limited edition product, '<a href="http://www.benjerry.com/flavors/feature/schweddy/">schweddy balls</a>'. beyond the fact that its a dumb name that no child under 15 could pronounce, it's not even targeted towards children. ben & jerry's is a premium ice cream and shelved well above kids view. the press release actually points out the companies last limited edition product that the less-than million moms had an issue with:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><blockquote>"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">a special edition of Chubby Hubby called Hubby Hubby last year which celebrated gay marriage</span>"</blockquote></span><div style="text-align: left;">and there we are. the mom's aren't seem pissed at the balls, they are still pissed at the company for failing to support "family values" and celebrating loving families that happen to have 4 balls, rather than the assumed mom accepted standard of two.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>i might have taken a while to get to the point here, but here it is. all of this is happening without the national leadership condemning the impact to "social harmony".</div><div><br /></div><div>a conservative religious group is looking to boycott a liberal-hippie company for a product that spun out a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OdEwIwGsqqw">skit on saturday night live</a>. SNL was making fun of NPR for being news of the liberal intelligentsia, which just happens to be the target market of the B&J's products. SNL is owned by GE, one of the largest companies in the world, NPR is largely government and private donation funded and no one is making a police report that tina fey told a baldwin brother she wanted to taste his balls on television.</div><div><br /></div><div>the only coverage is about a product, and a fringe group that is calling for a boycott no one is going to engage in. a news outlet is then publishing that as news, which gives added coverage to itself and the product. the real result will be for people who haven't watched SNL at midnight on saturday since belushi left will now go out and buy a product they would never have noticed. exposure drives the economy, and humor helps drive that exposure. having semi-stars make fun of a radio network my daughter gets a headache from listening to is not news until someone without a sense of humor makes an issue of it for them.</div><div><br /></div><div>what is it that i miss about the US? it could be the lack of censorship, definitely the lack of ISA and RELA, but really what i miss is a sense of humor. in the US they get to laugh at the skit, at the ice cream, at the repressed moms for the press release and at the NPR for picking up the story. i asked a few malaysians around me to try to pronounce the title, they looked shyly away and said "i don't know". come on, you need to try say it, its all about the</div><div><br /></div><div>schweddy balls.</div><div><br /></div><div> </div>stainedheadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08496123294492776180noreply@blogger.com1