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Created by mikeleeorg on Oct 6, 2008

Last updated: 04/07/10 at 07:58 PM

• The Geek-Turned-Player Theory
  Apr 4, 2010 1:34 PM

  Being a self-admitted geek, I’ve known many other geeks in my life. I’ve seen some grow up and become successes. And I’ve seen some grow up and become, for lack of a better word, players. Dangerous players. Not players in the sense of metrosexual predators or greased-up Jersey Shore rejects. These guys are more clandestine. Girls don’t suspect they’re in the clutches of such a geek-turned-player until, well, sometimes never. First, some background. A geek-turned-player (GTP) grows up as an unpopular teen. He is the typical nerd, dork, dweeb, pick your favorite insult. In a phase where fitting in is so crucial, they stick out like a limb with gangrene. Though many make it through as strong, self-confident adults, this can foment into a deep psychosis for a few. This bitterness can evolve in many ways. Some embody the taunts and turn them into strengths, such the skinny nerd who grows up to be a muscle-bound guy. Others harbor the acrimony until the acids melt away their relationships. Some do both. A GTP is the latter; he does both. He also turns rejections from girls into a dictum of life: he wants to be a guy who can “get” all the girls who’ve rejected him. As you can imagine, a layer of misogyny pervades their actions. They want to get those girls, or girls in general, and hurt them. Ironically, they overtly state a hatred of players, the guys who can go to any bar or club and get a phone number as easily as a mosquito can feed in a nudist colony. GTPs see themselves as the antithesis of the traditional player. “I would never have a one-night stand,” they declare. “I will always honor and respect women.” Therein lies the danger of a GTP. Not only are they shattering hearts like a player, but they are unaware of it. How do they get from geeks to heart-shattering GTPs? After college, they tend to do well in their careers. They become white-collar workers and executives in well-paying jobs. They date a few girlfriends along the way who imbue them with some fashion sense. They may even start exercising and getting fit. To look at them now, you would never know they were scrawny four-eyed nerds in high school. Now, they look like intelligent, respectful, well-paid knights in shining armor. At this age, these traits start to attract women in numbers not before experienced by these geeks. Where girls once ignored them, women are now being drawn to them like ants to molasses. And here they sit, happy as anteaters. Much of this happens to average geeks, regardless of their proclivities. All sorts of sociological and biological factors play into this phenomenon. Single women in their twenties or thirties tend to seek men who are stable, financially, emotionally, etc., even if they didn’t seek those factors when they were younger. That’s how I’ve lucked out, at least. Go sociological & biological factors! The GTP differs from the average geek in his behaviors after meeting a girl. The GTP, flush with the exhilaration of meeting a girl, starts to behave like a traditional player. Despite his proclaimed position on one-night stands, his qualms melt away in the heat of passion. Then he does it again. And again. And again. He starts to realize his sexual prowess and magnetism and begins to flaunt it openly, oftentimes to the chagrin of his peers. He believes himself to be God’s Gift to Women: he has all the qualities of a traditional player, along with money, status, and success. What girl wouldn’t want him? However, he still puts on a veneer of respect. His misogynic beliefs are well-hidden. Women see him as a nice guy, even months or years after he has broken their hearts. For the unfortunate, this heartbreak is infinitely worse than being with a player, because of the emotional connection made. Indeed, the GTP’s armament includes psychological weapons such as long, deep conversations, the kind that make women think about marriage and children. Breaking up with a deadbeat player is one thing, breaking up with a potential husband and father of your children is another. Deep inside, the GTP doesn’t see himself as a player, however. He still harbors a resentment of players and sees his actions as innocent. This belief reinforces the effectiveness of his weapons. Those long, deep conversations, as they are happening, are earnest and from the heart. So what changes the morning after? Something subconscious. A switch flips. The emotional connection from last night fades as the excitement of new prey emerges. As soon as another woman starts up a conversation, the previous one is forgotten. For the goal isn’t to meet a woman and start a wonderful relationship. The goal is to meet women. And to see if he can “get” them. The exhilaration of each new encounter has become a drug. This is something the GTP never experienced as a teen. He never got the intoxication of fleeting puppy love out of his system like others his age. While most of us are moving on in stable relationships, he is stuck. He is a late bloomer who is addicted to the high of new women. I haven’t seen much written about this phenomenon before. I suspect it is, thankfully, rare. However, I’ve seen it enough times to discern to articulate this theory. The popularization of geek culture may be partly responsible for the rise of the geek-turned-player. Or maybe it has always been around and I’ve only begun to notice it. Whatever the case, the GTP is a dangerous animal on the dating scene. I’ve seen female friends unknowingly wrecked from them. I’ve seen colleagues & acquaintances evolve into GTPs themselves. The result is always disastrous, especially for the women they’ve left in their wake. Beware the geek-turned-player. ©2010 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved.. Related posts:Nice Guys Don’t Finish Last The Pendulum Theory Men Are the New Women
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• The Danger of Extremists
  Mar 28, 2010 1:34 PM

  “People who speak in absolutes absolutely bug me.”- Me I don’t take kindly to extremists. Especially those with a public platform. Such public speakers strive to polarize their listeners with provoking rhetoric. This can be dangerous in the minds of those who are easily influenced and in a position to inflict harm on others. An extremist is a person who holds an extreme opinion to the point of disregarding facts that may refute the opinion or support a counter argument. The extremist will never admit this, of course. In that person’s mind, counter-arguments carry no weight and should be dismissed, no matter the strengths of the facts. Extremists may further harbor the paranoia that an opposing group released such facts as part of a conspiracy against the extremist’s point of view. A person with a strong opinion differs from an extremist in the severity of the belief and the actions the extreme opinion propels. Strong opinions can ultimately be changed if there is enough supporting evidence to the contrary. Extreme opinions, by this definition, cannot, and may even be strengthened with fanatical zeal. Many will argue with me about the danger of extremists. “What’s wrong with passionate devotion to a particular opinion,” they ask. “Without such passion, some of the world’s greatest art would not exist.” Neither would war, for that matter. A stronger counter-argument is: “Humans are hard-wired for extreme opinions. It is in our nature.” That I cannot deny. It doesn’t change my opinion of extremists, but I realize it is futile to do much more than rant on my lowly website about them. And to avoid them, as I tend to do. Another good counter-argument: “Isn’t this an extreme opinion against extremists?” Heh, funny. This opinion is not an extreme one. I don’t take kindly to extremists, but I do realize their contributions to society. Art is definitely one. Books, music, movies; some of the most moving creative works are born of intense passion. The extremists I don’t like are those with a public platform and the desire to use their influence to inflict harm on others. History is littered with such examples. Adolf Hitler and Osama bin Laden are two infamous examples in the Western world. And unfortunately, I’m sure there will be many more in the future. There are also many less heinous examples. Broadcast and cable television have given many the ability to reach millions in their own homes. The Internet has exponentially expanded that reach, though extremists on television still seem to have more influence than those on the Internet, for whatever reason. That will most certainly change in the future. Bill O’Reilly is an easy example, though he would argue that he is not an extremist (or extreme conservative) and prefers to be labeled a “traditionalist.” He does have a public platform however: the O’Reilly Factor. For better or worse, he is media savvy enough to know how to exploit this medium. The economics of television programs means those with the highest ratings stay on the air. In order to continue the survival of his show, he has to maintain high ratings. One of the most effective ways to do this is through sensationalism. And what is more sensational than a pundit shouting his polarizing views with fanatical zeal? A show that carefully weighed both sides of an issue would not score high ratings, sadly. Most political issues are so complex that it would take hours to explain them all. No major media conglomerate would risk the loss of advertising revenue from such programming. (Thank goodness for NPR and PBS. Too bad more people don’t listen & watch them.) Therefore, short sound bites about a particular political topic coupled with polarizing rhetoric is the best way to incite an audience and encourage them to tune in again and again. The end goal isn’t to disseminate the facts effectively; it is to cultivate a viewing audience. Therein lies the danger of extremists. An extremist in isolation is not going to cause any harm, but an extremist with the ability to spread that opinion to millions could. Let’s return to Bill O’Reilly again. In 2005, O’Reilly publicly denounced Dr. George Tiller on his television show. Dr. Tiller is a physician known for performing second and third trimester abortions. O’Reilly referenced the doctor as “Tiller the baby killer” multiple times across multiple shows. There is anecdotal evidence that this rhetoric may have influenced Dr. Tiller’s murder at the hands of Scott Roeder. It isn’t fair to say O’Reilly directly led to Dr. Tiller’s death. The correlation is weak at best. But just as conservatives argue that heavy metal music and video game violence leads to violent behavior amongst teens, many have drawn a connection between O’Reilly’s words and Roeder’s actions. Roeder has a history of mental illness. At 20, he was diagnosed with possible schizophrenia. His ex-wife believed he was suffering from bipolar disorder. He has also been involved with extremist organizations such as the Sovereign Citizen Movement (an anti-government organization) and the Army of God (an anti-abortion organization that believes murdering doctors that perform abortions is justifiable homicide). It is fair to say that Roeder has a predisposition for violence in line with his extreme views. It is also fair to say that David Leach, another Army of God member and publisher of the anti-abortion newsletter Prayer & Action News (another example of an extremist with a public platform) had more influence on Roeder’s state of mind than O’Reilly did. But unfortunately for O’Reilly, he is more famous than Leach and therefore more influential on the nation as a whole. This is why he caught a lot of criticism for his statements, especially calling the doctor “Tiller the baby killer.” In my opinion, no, O’Reilly did not directly contribute to Roeder’s murderous actions. But his influential voice did amplify Tiller’s demonization. Even journalist Gabriel Winant asserted that O’Reilly’s anti-Tiller tirades contributed to an atmosphere of violence around the doctor. The influence of public extremists is strong, much stronger than many realize. With more and more Americans turning to commercials (yes, it’s true) and television shows for their political education, programs like The O’Reilly Factor and The Daily Show (I’m not biased here, even Jon Stewart holds tremendous and potentially dangerous sway) are becoming mouthpieces for political parties, whether they like it or not. Since both sides resort to short, catchy sound bites instead of verbose, drawn-out arguments, the viewing public is in danger of falling sway to extremists with public platforms — especially those who are easily influenced and in a position to inflict harm on others. ©2010 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved.. Related posts:Is That Anthrax On Your Shoulder? Been Thinking
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• Premarital Counseling
  Mar 21, 2010 1:34 PM

  I’m getting married! My fiancee and I just attended our first premarital counseling session the other day. We don’t have any particular problems or issues. Premarital counseling is just something that is recommended to all engaged couples. It brings up common problem areas for couples, such as finances, children, in-laws, etc. These are all topics we’ve discussed before, but we figured it wouldn’t hurt to try this out. The verdict from our first session: We are an awesome couple! We have lots of the traits of long-lasting relationships. Woo hoo! Okay, okay, enough bragging. The session taught us some interesting relationship concepts. They may seem obvious when you read them, but it’s fascinating to think of them within the frameworks they provide. The Five Love Languages According to Dr. Gary Chapman, author of the book, “The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love That Lasts,” there are five basic ways that people give and receive love: Words of Affirmation – Offering unsolicited compliments and saying affectionate things Quality Time – Sharing your time and undivided attention Receiving Gifts – Giving thoughtful, meaningful gifts Acts of Service – Helping out around the house and doing thoughtful deed Physical Touch – Holding hands, giving hugs, and offering physical affection Each of us has a preferred way of showing our love for someone. At the same time, each of us has a different way of interpreting love from our partner. Happy couples tend to be ones that communicate their love in ways that match their partners’ preferences. Fortunately, these methods of communication can be taught and learned. For example, if the husband tends to demonstrate love through giving gifts and the wife interprets love as words of affirmation, then the mismatch may cause the wife to think the husband does not love her. Simultaneously, if the wife prefers to show her love with words (sometimes, but not always, the way we interpret love is the same as the way we communicate it), while the husband interprets love through physical touch, then the husband may think the wife does not love him. This tragic mismatch can be salvaged by understanding how each person prefers to give and receive love. The husband can save his money and resolve to compliment her and say “I love you” more often. The wife can add hugs and shoulder rubs to her repertoire of love. The Circle of Care According to Dr. Carmen Knudson-Martin and Dr. Anne Rankin Mahoney, authors of the book, “Couples, Gender, and Power: Creating Change in Intimate Relationships,” there are four areas where gender and power issues can effect relationships: Emotional Attunement – How in tune, sympathetic, and empathic one is with the other Influence – How much one is able to change the other’s mind Vulnerability – How much one is able to show and express vulnerability with the other Relationship Responsibility – How much one takes responsibility for maintaining the health of the relationship Typically, men are not taught to be emotionally attuned, show vulnerability, or take much responsibility in maintaining relationships. By that same token, women are typically taught to let men influence the decisions in the relationship. Although these are just stereotypes, more often than not, these gender roles persist. Problems arise because the burden of maintaining the relationship falls upon the woman. This can lead to anger and resentment over time. Long-lasting relationships tend to have a balance of these four areas, according to Dr. Knudson-Martin and Dr. Mahoney’s research. This means husbands should strive to understand and be sympathetic to their wives, especially when their wives just want to vent and not problem-solve (which men tend to do whenever they hear a problem). Husbands should also feel comfortable sharing their emotions and asking for help. At the same time, wives should share in making decisions for the couple, speaking their mind with the understanding that the husband will listen and respect their opinions. Premarital Counseling Some of you are nodding your heads as you read this. Others are scratching your chins and going, “I don’t know about that…” I’m no marriage expert. This is just what we’ve been told. They are interesting frameworks for long-lasting relationships and marriages, however, and definitely have merit. And I’m not just saying that because my fiancee and I share many of these traits (we are so awesome! Woo hoo!). Okay, okay, enough with the bragging. We’ve still got more sessions to take and a lot more to learn. I should see how the rest of the premarital counseling sessions go before I boast anymore. Turns to fiancee. Winks. Woo hoo! ©2010 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved.. Related posts:A Simple Lesson Trained Why Asian Girls Like White Guys
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• The Drama of People When You’re a Pet Owner
  Mar 14, 2010 1:34 PM

  I love dogs. I grew up with dogs, have a dog right now, and would love it if I could raise my kids with dogs around because they make great companions and can teach them about being responsible when they’re older. I also believe that pets are pets. They are a part of the family, but they are not human and it can be dangerous to treat them as such. Doing so can lead to the kinds of behavior you see on The Dog Whisperer. In my opinion, the better you understand a dog’s psychology (and realize it is not the same as human psychology), the happier the dog will be. Not everyone shares this opinion, of course. There are extremes along the pet sentiment spectrum — those that hate pets a little too much and those that love pets a little too much. Bewilderingly, I’ve been running into these extremes lately. The Pet Haters These people hate pets. They may have a traumatic history with a dog or cat, were raised to be weary of pets, or have a genuine disdain for animals. As you can imagine, they typically aren’t vegetarians. At least, I haven’t met any vegetarian Pet Haters yet. Around these people, you can’t bring your pets. They’ll shriek, shrill, and shrink back in horror. For all the cuteness you think your furry little friend has, they’ll see nothing but four legs of unpredictable fearsomeness. Even tame, well-behaved pets cannot break their shell of hate. Some Pet Haters have an additional annoying trait: They go out of their way to reveal the extent of their hate. Woe to the dog owner who crosses the path of a Pet Hater while on an afternoon walk. The vitriol from such Pet Haters can be caustic. The Pet Parents These people love pets. They consider pets to be their actual children, sans the college education bill. The entire pet industry has thrived on such consumers, especially luxury services such as pet spas, pet restaurants, and pet airlines (it’s true, it exists!). Michael Schaffer’s book “One Nation Under Dog” discusses how pets have become substitutes for children in millions of households. They could be single and only have pets to come home to, be married and cannot have children, or have children and give their pets the majority of their attention. These pet owners even refer to themselves as the Mommy or Daddy to their pets. (Note: My fiance and I use this label for ourselves in regards to our dog, though we don’t honestly view him as our child.) Some Pet Parents have an additional annoying trait: They go out of their way to share the extent of their love. If you don’t care for your pet in a manner congruent to the love their lavish on their pets, they will brand you a bad, bad Mommy or Daddy. The Pet Experts There is a third dimension to this pet sentiment spectrum. These people love pets, but essentially regard them as animal companions that require strict rules and training. You’ll know you are in the presence of a Pet Expert if you catch one quoting Cesar Milan. (Note: I know I’ve done this a few times and am deeply, deeply sorry for my arrogance. I’ll never do it again.) You’ll find that some Pet Experts may actually be very well-read on the subject of pets. They may be veterinarians, animal control officials, or animal shelter administrators. But just as easily, you’ll find novices that watch only The Dog Whisperer for their canine proficiency. Some Pet Experts have an additional annoying trait: They go out of their way to pronounce their expertise. If they see you holding the leash incorrectly, you’d better stand back so their angry spittle doesn’t get in your eye. Watch out for Pet Parent / Pet Expert hybrids. Those are the worst. How to Handle These Extremists You’ve probably noticed a common theme here. Within each of these types exists people who go out of their way to tell you their opinions. As you may surmise, that is the crux of the problem. Everyone has and is entitled to an opinion on pet ownership. The problem arises when those people express their contempt for others who don’t share their opinions. I don’t have any contempt for them as individuals. But I do have contempt for their arrogant behavior. The same patterns exist for children as well. If you are a new parent, I’m sure you’ve encountered people who hate children, people who love their children to the point of spoiling them, and people who believe they know better than others on child care. I’m sure you also have no problem with their views. It’s when they get in your face and shout their views at you that it becomes unnecessary drama. So what can you do? I know of some who are always up for a good fight and push right back. I’ve seen more than a few heated arguments at dog parks to know these are fairly common. I’ve tried that tactic. It only left me frustrated and my day ruined. The argument had no winners, only two people who walked away angry the other person didn’t share their opinions. So what can you do? I say imagine that person in their underwear. Or a clown suit. Or in a hot dog costume being chased by hungry dogs. Laugh at their ridiculousness and walk away. You’ll never be able to change an extremist’s mind. Trying to do so is like doing math with bubblegum; it’s impossible. Then go home and play with your pet. Pet therapy is the best cure for unnecessary drama. ©2010 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved.. Related posts:Where Dogs Come From Too Much Drama for Your Mama Ginger
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• Mental Shortcuts
  Mar 7, 2010 12:34 PM

  Life is more complex than you realize. This is not your fault. If you were to constantly think about the world’s full complexities, you would go mad. In order to cope with life’s complexities, the mind creates mental shortcuts. Take the simple decision of choosing which toothpaste to purchase. Do you know how many choices of toothpaste exist? Lots. Head to your local pharmacy and peruse the dental care isle. You will be greeted by all types of toothpaste with varying mixes of components in a wide range of packages manufactured by a dizzying array of companies. How do you know which is the best to purchase? Or the most cost-effective? You could research each one. Look at the components each uses, study scientific papers on toothpaste, and read studies on their effectiveness. With new studies being done all the time, you would have to keep up constantly. Or you could conduct tests of your own, buying new tubes and retesting each time a new product is released. Now multiply this with other household items. Shampoo. Soap. Laundry detergent. Milk. Bread. Salt. Pepper. Batteries. Light bulbs. Screwdrivers. Toilet paper. Towels. Bedding. I could go on and on and on. For something as relatively trivial as toothpaste or toilet paper, the amount of time and money spent on such research would outweigh the benefits of choosing the absolute best choice. Common yet inexpensive commodities such as these just don’t justify such a mental investment. Therefore, we take a mental shortcut and purchase a familiar brand. Or whatever is on sale. Or whoever’s package attracts our eye. A good enough choice is, well, good enough. Mental shortcuts aren’t used for all purchases, however. Buying a house or car would indeed justify such a mental investment. Expensive quality items can be had cost-effectively if enough research is done. Mental shortcuts also don’t just apply to commerce. Prejudice is a mental shortcut. When meeting someone new, your mind instantly creates an impression based on that person’s appearance and external factors, such as situation, context, etc. Your mind does this whether you are conscious of it or not. Factors such as age, gender, ethnicity, clothing, and body language are all considered. There is even evidence that your impression within the first minute can be fairly accurate. A study by psychology professors Nalini Ambady & Robert Rosenthal found that strangers can provide accurate evaluations of high school teachers after watching “thin slices” of their performances. These thin slices were anywhere from six to thirty seconds. If you’ve read Malcolm Gladwell’s book Blink, the term thin slicing will sound familiar. He also cites a study by John Gottman who demonstrated that he was able to watch a fifteen-minute thin slice of a married couple and predict the likelihood of divorce in fifteen years with 90% accuracy. Robert Cialdini’s book Influence even articulates how mental shortcuts can be used against consumers by salespeople. For instance, in certain circumstances, consumers who commit to buying something are more likely to honor that commitment, even when the price is raised at the last minute. Once they have made that commitment, their minds automatically work towards the conclusion of the transaction, even if some of the factors change. Another consequence of a mental shortcut is the polarization of beliefs. It is easier to take a simplified, extreme stance on a belief than to study and understand its full, detailed spectrum. The political landscape in the US has recently been reduced to Red States and Blue States. This polarization makes it easier for voters and politicians to declare their allegiances, as demonstrated in the documentary, Split: A Divided America. Red or Blue. Republican or Democrat. Conservative or liberal. But issues are never black or white. They are shades of gray. Let’s take business regulation as an example. At the extremes, history has shown that a completely hands-off approach generally leads to monopolies, while a completely hands-on approach generally leads to overregulation. The healthiest choice would seem to be somewhere in the middle. But within typical political rhetoric, if you don’t side with an extreme, you are considered a weak politician. However, such polarized viewpoints win votes. Correction: polarized viewpoints enhanced by memorable sound bites win votes. Politicians are learning to be more media savvy because their campaigns are relying more on their funding prowess. More funding equals more ads, which equals more sound bites, which equals potentially more votes. Why? Because most Americans are too busy to follow every political discussion closely nowadays. The topics are too complex. Therefore, they use the mental shortcut of gathering information whenever it happens to appear to them – such as in advertising. Another unfortunate consequence of a necessary mental shortcut. This doesn’t mean mental shortcuts are harmful. Without them, you’d spend all of your time trying to decide which toothpaste to buy. Or whether a salesperson is trying to cheat you. Or whether your political affiliations accurately effect your true beliefs. Ignorance of the details, especially in a busy world, can be bliss. However, too much reliance on mental shortcuts can make you a pawn to those who know how to exploit you. And exploit you they will. They will take advantage of the efficiency of a mental shortcut to influence your sale, vote, or decision. But this doesn’t have to be the case. Knowledge can be your defense, as well as an awareness of mental shortcuts. Like Cialdini’s book writes, and as G.I. Joe says, “And knowing is half the battle.” ©2010 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved.. Related posts:Close-Mindedness Window of Opportunity On Being Whipped
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• A Definition of Romance
  Feb 14, 2010 12:34 PM

  Hey guys, are you stressin’ about being romantic? Can’t think of how? Don’t want to follow the typical tactics espoused by Halmark and Hollywood? Or just questioning the whole concept? Here is a definition of romance that may help lend perspective: Romance is an act of intimate affection committed unexpectedly towards your love interest and without desire for personal gain. Let’s take that statement apart to decipher its meaning. Romance is… an act Actions speak louder than words. Perhaps you can talk like Cassanova, but if you only talk about your feelings and never demonstrate it through a physical act, than your feelings are just a bunch of hot air. of intimate Though this term can carry a lot of baggage, the semantic usage I prescribe here is of an understanding of your love interest. Do you know something about that person that no one else knows? Do you know something personal and meaningful to that person? Hopefully you do if you have been listening and paying attention. The heart of a romantic act is showing that you are so interested in this person that you remember details of his/her life and interests. affection Your romantic act ought to be one of adoration, fondness, even passion. It should be a display of your feelings towards your love interest and make him/her feel good. Bringing up that person’s history of weight problems, however personal and intimate, is not an act of affection, for instance. committed unexpectedly This act should to carry some measure of surprise. Certain holidays and landmarks, like Valentine’s Day, birthdays, anniversaries, etc, are loaded with expectation, of course. But romance does not need to exist only on those days. Small random acts of kindness can sometimes be more romantic than flowers and chocolate on Valentine’s Day. towards your love interest This should be the person with whom you have a genuine attractiveness and desire to know better, of course. Duh. and without desire for personal gain Some may argue that guys in particular only commit romantic acts for a physical return on investment, so to speak. True romance does not ask for anything in return, however. It is done selflessly and for the benefit of the love interest. Perhaps the only selfish gain is to see a smile on the other person’s face. There are countless definitions of romance. I’m sure you have a way to express romance that is just as effective and beautiful. This is just mine. How would you define romance? ©2010 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved.. Related posts:The Science of Love: Chemicals and Romance “Do You Believe In Love at First Sight?” True Romance
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• How to Live a Long, Happy Life
  Feb 7, 2010 12:34 PM

  I intend on living a long, happy life. It would be cool to be a great-grandparent, for instance. I’ve also got many things I want to do. Write books, learn new things, start businesses and non-profits, help my community. So many plans, so little time. Age is not the limiting factor. Health is. So how can I live a long and happy life? Dan Buettner, a National Geographic writer, believes he knows the answer. He founded the organization Quest Network, Inc. to conduct a study of “Blue Zones” – regions of the world where there are sizable populations that live active lives past one hundred years of age. There are currently five known Blue Zones in the world: Sardina, Italy Okinawa, Japan Loma Linda, CA, USA Nicoya Peninsula, Costa Rica Icaria, Greece Buettner and his organization studied these regions and discovered four key traits that all share, regardless of geography, culture, religion, or other factors. Move Naturally Right Outlook Eat Wisely Connect Move Naturally People living in Blue Zones don’t run marathons or lift heavy weights in gyms. They don’t sit in front of the TV or computers a lot either. Instead, they take a lot of walks. They climb up stairs. They hike up mountains. They even tend gardens, which require daily manual labor. The Sardinians live on hillsides. So to get around, many walk up and down these hills all the time, even those in their eighties. Many Okinawans maintain personal gardens that they cultivate with pride. It’s not uncommon to see elders plowing and raking and pulling out weeds. The trick is to do something active every day that you enjoy. That way, being active isn’t a chore; it is something you look forward to. And that’s why it works. If you love doing cardio at the gym, then more power to you. Otherwise, take a walk around the block. Walk to the local grocery store instead of driving. Use the stairs instead of the elevator. Take a parking spot further away from the entrance of the mall so you have to walk a bit. Play sports with friends. Play the Nintendo Wii. Do something active everyday. Right Outlook Blue Zone inhabitants maintain a healthy perspective on life. They take time to slow down and relax from their hectic schedules. They use healthy outlets to vent their stress. They take problems in stride. It’s not that they live boring, unexciting lives. Loma Linda is the home of a large medical university and medical community. Being a doctor is far from relaxing. The majority of these residents – those that regularly live long, active lives, at least – are also Seventh-day Adventists, a Christian denomination. Their religion aids in their ability to find peace with their frustrations. Aside from mechanisms to dispel stress, Blue Zone inhabitants also deeply believe they have a purpose in life. That purpose could be as small as the Okinawan fisherman who sees his purpose is to fish so he can feed his family, or the Okinawan grandmother who knows her purpose is to care for her great-great-grandchildren. Religion also imbues a deep sense of purpose to Seventh-day Adventists. Many don’t retire. They keep on doing what they enjoy doing, because they believe it is their purpose, their reason to get up every day. Look for healthy outlets for your stress. Some use exercise, some take walks, and some create art to find relief. For others, it’s spirituality, religion, or their family and community. A sense of purpose is also equally important. If you don’t have a reason to wake up every day and stay healthy, then find one. Spirituality and religion fill this hole for many. Family and community fill this for others. Still others find their purpose in their work or art. And sometimes your purpose isn’t bestowed upon you; it is something you go out and determine for yourself. Eat Wisely Those in Blue Zones eat healthy food in moderation. By healthy food, I mean their diets include a lot of vegetables and little processed food. Seventh-day Adventists are vegetarians. Okinawans eat lots of fresh fish. Sardinians consume homemade food. Each community has a different meal mix, though all contain a lot of vegetables and little processed food. By moderation, I mean they don’t overeat. They don’t serve huge, American-sized portions. The Okinawans even eat from small plates as a means to minimize overeating. Others take breaks between servings. Since it takes several minutes before the feeling of satiation hits your stomach, taking a break can curb the amount you eat. Include more vegetables in your diet. Decrease the amount of processed food and fast food from your daily intake as much as possible, or remove it altogether. You don’t need vitamin supplements as long as you eat a wide variety of vegetables, grains, and meats. And perhaps even more importantly, reduce your portion sizes. Eat from small bowls. Take breaks between servings. You may find yourself feeling full without the usual volume you consume. Connect The last common aspect of all Blue Zone elders is their sense of family and community. To them, family comes first. Grandparents aren’t shut away in nursing homes. Respect increases with age, so the eldest are given the most respect. They also feel a sense of belonging within their communities. Friendships endure throughout lifetimes. A person can count on a friend in time of need, and give selflessly when that friend is in need. You’ve got my back, I’ve got your back. These tight bonds are formed with people of similar values as well. Everyone in a particular community shares the same core values of enjoyable activities (walks, hikes, etc), a healthy outlook (able to vent with each other, a feeling of purpose), healthy diets (natural foods in moderation), and a sense of belonging. If you’ve been estranged from your family, consider making amends. Be the bigger person and take the first step at healing that bond. In cases where that’s totally impossible, foster the friendships you have, especially with those that share the same values. Consider being a part of a healthy tight-knit community, such as an activity group, special interest group, religious group, etc. Is This Possible? For some, this news is obvious to you. But for others, this may seem entirely impossible. How such a lifestyle can be followed in today’s society? I hear you. I know it’s not easy. I don’t think it’s impossible either. It just takes some extra effort and a lot of discipline. Moving naturally and eating wisely are the easiest ones to do first, since they involve changes in behavior. The tough part is sticking to the new behavior long enough for it to become habit. Having the right outlook and connecting to others are much tougher. The first involves changing a mental model that’s been ingrained for years. The second involves both behavioral and mental changes. Part of having the right outlook is having healthy outlets for stress. This can include exercising, talking to trusted friends, or creating art. There are numerous self-help websites and books you can turn to for more ideas as well. The other part of the right outlook is a sense of purpose. If you can’t find an easy answer, you are probably waiting for that purpose to come to you. Let me correct that misconception: that is not going to happen. Not everyone is lucky enough to be given their purpose. You need to go out and find your purpose. Create one. Look for something you believe in, whether it is a family member, a vocation, or a cause. As long as it allows you to follow these other traits and doesn’t harm others, embrace it as the reason you get up every morning. Finding a community that accepts you is probably the toughest one to achieve. If you weren’t born into a tight-knit family or community, you will have to work hard to become a part of a healthy community. However, it’s worth the effort. Once you are in a good community, a sense of purpose will almost certainly come to you. How do you find such a community? Church groups are an obvious source. Activity groups and special interest groups are another, though not all will give you an encompassing sense of community. Some people join such groups just to do the activity, then return to their own communities without further involvement in the group. Neighborhood-based communities are also a good source. There are “gated communities” (a set of houses enclosed within gates) that try to engender such a sense of belonging, not only for goodwill, but for protection too (crime is less common in such neighborhoods). For some, their work can also provide a viable community, though like activity and special interest groups, not all of the members may be willing to put in the same level of commitment as you. To them, it’s just a job, not a community. I am lucky that I follow and have a lot of these traits. Hopefully I can continue to foster them throughout my long, happy life, and vice versa. For many, I had to work hard to create them. But once they’ve become engrained in my life, following them is as easy as eating and breathing. Want to see more? You can watch Buettner’s talk at a TEDxTC conference on September 2009 about his study of Blue Zones. It’s a fascinating talk. Now go live long and prosper. And talk a walk around the block while you’re at it. ©2010 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved.. Related posts:The Lens of Life: It’s All About Perceptions How to Get Rid of Lactose Intolerance Theories on Love, Life, and Death
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• Daytime Television Sucks
  Jan 31, 2010 12:34 PM

  Being a work-from-home entrepreneur sometimes means, well, working from home. Most of the time, I prefer to go out and work in a café, bookstore, or even library. Having people around me, even if I’m not interacting with them, feeds me. It energizes me and keeps me motivated. However, I’m not always able to go out. Especially when it’s raining out or I’m trying to save cash. In those cases, I work from home, which sounds great, doesn’t it? If you’re sitting in an office after a sixty-minute commute through back-to-back traffic, I’m sure it does. There is a dark downside though. Daytime television. Just to set the record straight, I don’t regularly watch TV. When I was single, I didn’t even own a television set. Everything I watched was on-demand from DVDs, Hulu or elsewhere. And admittedly, I’ve gotten addicted to a handful of shows, like Lost and Family Guy. But I skip the majority of shows on TV. Yup, I get all of my modern culture awareness from Lost and Family Guy. Explains a lot, doesn’t it? So it is with great trepidation that I turn on the TV every day. No, I’m not turning it on for myself. I’m turning it on for my dog. That’s right, my dog. I have a fearful little pup that is prone to barking at outside noise. Or at least, the noise he can hear. When the television is on, Jerry Springer blocks out the scary neighbors outside with scary neighbors inside. The screeching of cats outside is replaced by the screeching of The View inside. The rumbling trucks in the street are covered by the rumbling shmucks in The Bold and the Beautiful. My dog doesn’t watch the TV himself. Even when there are dogs on TV, he’ll just do his own thing, like play with the Kong or lie at my feet. Without the TV, however, he’ll stand by the window on alert. With ears perked, he’ll sniff the air and bark at impending intruders. “Danger close, danger close!” he shouts. What does this mean for me? It means my eye will wander to the television from time to time. I’ll catch a glimpse of a pregnant woman DNA testing ten guys to find out who is her baby daddy. Or a stately old man discovering that his wife’s young lover is really his cousin’s twin brother who’s been lost at sea for years. Then I’ll shake my head, sigh, and long for a cafe. Daytime television really sucks. P.S. Fortunately, there is a feasible alternative. Music also shutters outside noise. Though perhaps my band choices – like Slipknot, Slayer, and Five Finger Death Punch – aren’t the best choices to calm a nervous dog. ©2010 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved.. Related posts:Watching To Much Television
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• What Will Mary Roach Write About Next?
  Jan 17, 2010 12:34 PM

  First, dead bodies. Then, the human soul. Most recently, sex. Those are the topics on which American author and columnist Mary Roach has written. Hilariously so, I should add. I wonder what she’ll write about next. She began her career as a freelance writer while working a “half-time” (as her bio states; I wonder if that means “part-time?”) public relations gig at the San Francisco Zoological Society. This included writing press releases addressing peculiar issues such as elephant wart removal surgery and cheetah-sucking fleas. Now what writer wouldn’t want that kind of experience? This paved the way for her research-driven style, though she admits, “I don’t have a science degree and must fake my way through interviews with experts I can’t understand.” Awesome. A skeptical, evidence-driven journalist at heart, she researches her topics thoroughly, to the point of tracking down and contacting the authors of the scientific studies she reads. Sometimes, if possible, she’ll attempt to be a subject in these studies herself, so she can write about the experience first-hand. Roach’s approach distills complex topics with a healthy dose of skepticism and a hearty dollop of humor. I caught myself laughing out loud a few times while reading her books. Few books do that to me. Few also make me queasy enough to lose my appetite, as her book on cadavers did. I think I lost a few pounds while reading Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers. Call me a wuss, but visualizing the liquefication of human organs from a rotting corpse into the ground, such that the resulting dirt turns to putrid mud, has a way of making my mashed potatoes and gravy less appetizing. Just to share the horrific hilarity, let me quote a few passages. Here’s one from Stiff: Bloat is most noticeable in the abdomen, [adjunct research professor of forensic anthropology at University of Tennessee] Arpad [Vass] is saying, where the largest numbers of bacteria are, but it happens in other bacterial hot spots, most notably the mouth and genitalia. “In the male, the penis and especially the testicles can become very large.” “Like how large?” (Forgive me.) “I don’t know. Large.” “Softball large? Watermelon large?” “Okay, softball.” Arpad Vass is a man with infinite reserves of patience, but we are scraping the bottom of the tank. Now here’s one from Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife. It would seem that Roach has a fascination for death. While Stiff covers what happens to the body upon death, Spook covers the mind/soul/consciousness. Theorists like [Duke University School of Medicine professor Gerry] Nahum think of the consciousness as information content. And information, to a quantum physicist anyway, has an accepted energy equivalent. And thus a (very very very light) weight. “The change in the heat that has to be liberated per bit of information lost is about three times ten to the minus-twenty-one joules,” Nahum says. I must have made some sort of face. “I’m making this as simple as I can,” Nahum says. When you’re as brainy as Gerry Nahum is, you lose sight of just how ignorant the rest of us are. Earlier on in our talk, he prefaced the line, “Quite a few people look at microtubules as what can be considered almost like an abacus for molecular calculation at a subcellular level” with the phrase “As I’m sure you’re aware.” Here’s an excerpt from her latest book, Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex, which is about the history of the scientific study of sex, as I’m sure you’re aware. The human vagina is accustomed to visitors. Even the language of anatomy imbues the organ with an innlike hospitality, the entrance to the structure being named the “vaginal vestibule.” Take off your coat and stay awhile. Gynecologist Robert Latou Dickinson, circa 1910, documented its wondrously accommodating nature, using his fingers as a measuring tool. The volume of the virgin vagina is “one finger”; the married woman rates “two full fingers.” Once babies start coming, it’s “three fingers” and up, all the way to Subject No. 163, whose vestibule (and parlor) appear in a pen-and-ink rendering in Dickinson’s Atlas of Human Sex Anatomy with the doctor’s entire hand submerged. Scientific, yet hilarious. No doubt, readers yearning for more substantial fare will be turned off by Roach’s light-hearted tone, but that’s why I love it. Her books are learning made fun. So what will she write about next? First, she wrote about death and the body. Then she followed it up with death and the mind/soul/consciousness, which seemed the perfect sequel. It was as if some of her notes from Stiff begged for further examination. When she did, Spook was born. With Bonk, she changed direction. After such macabre topics, I don’t blame her. I can imagine her husband saying, “You’ve changed, Mary. Your libido has totally gone kaput since all that research about the dead.” So to spice things up, she decided to research sex. ‘Tis only fair. Here’s what I think her next book might be about: The science of love Her fourth book could continue with the sex theme and cover what sometimes comes first: the science of love and romance. A lot of chemical reactions and hormones course through your mind when in the throes of love. Dr. Helen Fisher, an anthropologist at Rutgers University, has even made a name for herself by doing a lot of research in this field. The science of relationships Another angle could be the study of human relationships. How and why did we evolve to be social beings? How and why did the US phenomenon of the nuclear family arise, and is it good for us? The science of child-rearing I’m guessing there have been studies to determine the most effective parenting techniques. For my parents, it was with swift physical discipline. Nowadays, it is less so. Is that good, bad, or just different? The science of eating She could also cover another bodily function: consuming food. It could include research on nutrition, chemically-engineered produce, farm-raised livestock, processed foods, fast food, junk food, and all that lovely stuff. The topic has been done many times over though, so she might need a new angle. The history of food Sort of related to the previous point, but a little different. I would love to know who first looked at a cow’s udder and said, “I’m going to drink whatever comes out of that.” How did we come to eat the foods we do? Should we really be vegetarians? Why do I enjoy hot dogs so much, even when I know they are made of lips and assholes? The history of obesity I once heard that the rise of obesity in the US coincided with the introduction of artificial sweeteners and, possibly, soda and fast food. I’m not sure if that’s entirely true, but it would be interesting to hear her take on this. The science of alcohol In keeping with Roach’s theme of human-related topics, this could cover how alcohol came about. How was it discovered? How did every civilization come up with some form of alcoholic beverage? Are we just beings that innately crave being buzzed? And what’s the evolutionary reason why Asians turn red when drinking it? The science of drugs Similar to the previous one, but, you know, about drugs. Or both topics could be covered in one book. The science of human waste removal After all these topics on what we consume, how about what we void? Human waste removal has come a long way. From throwing it out your window to aqueducts to automated sewage systems to electronic heated toilets in Japan. Fascinating stuff here. The science of evolution I don’t mean starting from fish to reptiles to mammals to hairless apes. But it would be interesting to hear about the latest findings and research history on how scientists concluded that early humans came from Africa and settled throughout the rest of the world. Even the rise of racial differences could be interesting. Or the theory that humans evolved from aquatic apes. I’m sure if I sat here, I could think of many more. Roach, I’m sure, has a long list already. Or maybe she needs an idea, in which case, I’d like to humbly make these suggestions. All I ask is an autographed copy of the book. Hehe. Whatever the case, I’m eager for her next book. I will definitely buy it, as I’m sure you’re aware. ©2010 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved.. Related posts:Sex Ed
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• Ten New Year’s Resolutions You Never Thought Of
  Jan 10, 2010 12:34 PM

  Drum roll please. Here are ten New Year’s resolutions you, being a sane adult of above-average intelligence, never thought of. Which is a good thing. Adopt a new vice – Why all the bull about trying to stop a vice, like smoking or junk food? Everyone knows you’re not going to do it. Instead, go out and get a new vice. Start snorting Kool-Aid or hijacking school buses full of penguins. Eat as many weird meats as you can – You can define weird any way you like. Frogs, turtles, snakes, lizards, worms. Nah, those aren’t weird enough. Chicken embryos, fish excrement, maggots, and testicles of just about any animal. That’s more like it. Read every street sign you see out loud – Whether you’re walking down the street by yourself or on a crowded bus, read those street sounds loud and proud. Articulate each and every one. Some may thank you for the reminder, others will punch you in the face. Fart downwind – Not as easy as it sounds, especially in a building with no wind. To rectify that situation, keep a handheld fan on your person at all times. Every time you fart, fan it downwind. Fart, fan, fart, fan, fart fan, just like that. Set the World Record for Most Times Abducted by Aliens – Might be tough to carry this one out. Unless you start carving mountains out of your mashed potatoes or invent warp drive technology or [insert your favorite sci-fi/alien reference here]. Learn to play the accordion – Weird Al Yankovic played one, so why can’t you? The key is to practice, practice, practice. Especially late at night, when you can’t sleep because all the weird meats you’re eating are causing massive downwind farts. End all discussions with “To be continued…” – Leave everyone hanging. Extra points if you can end on a cliffhanger or an especially important point. Spit generously – Nothing says “manly” like lodging a good, healthy loogie from the gullet and landing with a satisfying blop. And chicks totally dig it. Start ending sentences with a preposition – You know you want to. This includes blog posts, of course. Ending with prepositions is where it’s at. Suck less on a daily average – Since the opposite of suck is blow, then to carry out this resolution, you can thusly and simply, blow more. And no, I am not resolving to do any of these. If you would like to, then, please stand upwind of me. ©2010 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved.. Related posts:Year 2000 Is Coming To Town How Would You Rate This Year?
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• How to Speed Read
  Jan 3, 2010 12:34 PM

  With an easy schedule, I can read about a book a week. I haven’t had an easy schedule in a while unfortunately, but I can still complete a book relatively quickly. This is because I speed read. Now, I’m no lightning-fast reader. I won’t be winning any speed reading competitions anytime soon. But I’m guessing a book a week is faster than the average reader. Interested in speed reading too? Speed reading is a “collection of reading methods which attempt to increase rates of reading without greatly reducing comprehension or retention,” according to Wikipedia (and if Wikipedia says it, it must be true, ha ha). There are many speed reading methods out there, such as minimizing distractions, skimming, meta guiding, subvocalization removal, and schematic processing. Let’s go over each one. Minimizing Distractions It is easier to comprehend a piece of information if there are few or no distractions around. If you’re at home, turn off the TV, laptop or radio. If you’re commuting to work on a noisy bus or train, try noise cancellation earphones with easy-going music. Skimming This involves scanning a paragraph to get the gist of its meaning. Many authors use filler words and sentences that don’t add to the message. Even words like “a,” “and,” and “the” can be skipped. In other words, don’t read and think about each & every word — glance through the text to pick up just the relevant words. If you get good at this, you can even read by common phrases instead of individual words. This is my preferred method. There is a technique similar to skimming called the Z method where you read one line, diagonally sweep across the second line backwards to the beginning of the third line, then read the third line. This doesn’t work for me though. Meta Guiding Some people find it helpful to use some kind of visual guide, like a finger or pen, to follow the passage of text. By moving the pointer under the sentence you are reading at a brisk pace, you aid your eye in skimming the sentence. I do this when there are distractions I can’t minimize, though I do it more for comprehension and not for speed — meaning I move my finger slowly under the text. Subvocalization Removal If you sound out each word in your head as you read, you are subvocalizing. Doing this can slow down your pace. There are techniques to remove this habit, such as chanting a repetitive phrase like “A-E-I-O-U” or counting “1, 2, 3, 4″ over & over again as you read. I don’t do this either, though I sometimes subvocalize key words as I’m skimming. Perhaps slows me down, though it doesn’t bother me. Schematic Processing This method involves training your mind to read familiar words and concepts more efficiently, while employing specialized study skills for unfamiliar material. I don’t know much about this method, except that it’s based on the work of Malcolm Knowles and his theory of andragogy. The drawbacks of speed reading are comprehension and lack of sentence appreciation. Comprehension is probably the main detriment for most people. Being an aspiring author, I appreciate a well-constructed sentence. Whenever I’m reading a great author, I will purposefully slow down so I can take in each sentence. However, I have to consciously do this; otherwise I will automatically speed-read my way through the book. To combat loss of comprehension, I sometimes pause after an important paragraph or chapter and think about it critically. I will visualize the author’s message and find ways to relate it to my life and experiences. Sometimes I’ll conjure up other examples to support the author’s thesis. Other times, I’ll discover conflicts and holes in the author’s argument. In either case, this act of critical thinking significantly aids my comprehension of the material. So that’s my formula for speed reading and comprehension: minimizing distractions, skimming, and thinking critically about what I am reading. Do you speed read? If so, how do you do it? ©2010 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved.. Related posts:As I First Lay an Impression on You Speed Dating Window of Opportunity
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• Go Out and Travel the World
  Dec 27, 2009 12:34 PM

  “There is just one moon and one golden sun,And a smile means friendship to everyone.Though the mountains divide,And the oceans are wide.It’s a small, small world”- R. Sherman Everyone should travel to another country at least once in their lives. More, if they’re lucky. I know that many cannot realistically do this. Financial reasons, family obligations, schedule restrictions, health considerations. For some, these limitations are insurmountable. For those where such limitations don’t exist: travel. Go visit another country. Learn enough of their language to say, “hello,” “good bye,” “thank you,” “excuse me,” “check please,” and “where is the bathroom?” Read about their customs, traditions, and beliefs. Strive to understand them, even for a little. To be fair, simply flying to another country and visiting their main tourist attractions isn’t enough. But for many, it is perhaps better than nothing. For a while, you are enveloped in another world. Even that taste can help. For a true learning experience, you have to talk to the locals. Walk off the beaten path. Eat something different. Observe the general populace. Behave as they do, within bounds. And above all, be respectful of their culture. The benefit of traveling is the opening of your mind. You learn how another whole society lives, day in and day out. It helps you to understand, if even just for a little while, how a fellow human being lives. The world shrinks, if even just for a little bit. Prejudices shrivel. Preconceptions wither. Generalizations splinter. The more you travel, the more your mind opens, and the more the world shrinks. I remember a time when taking the train out of my home town was scary. My little suburban town was all I knew. Taking the train into the city was a huge event. It meant going someplace far, foreign, even frightening. But once I did it, the city became part of my world. What I knew expanded while the world shrunk. No longer was it someplace far and foreign. It was just another place to go. I remember a time when taking the plane from the East Coast to the West Coast was disconcerting. My coast was all I knew. The other coast was practically a foreign country with a different temperament, disposition, and even attitude. Then I moved there. Both coasts became my world. Temperaments, dispositions, and attitudes were more similar than I thought. The world shrunk a little more. I remember a time when another country was totally alien. My country was all I knew. Other countries weren’t just foreign; they were so different that it was easy to generalize their populations as charactertures of their cultures. Then I visited one country. And another. And another. The diversity of the people in each was just as diverse as a New Yorker is from a Texan and an Alaskan and a Californian and a Hawaiian. There are more similarities than there are differences. The world shrunk even more. Every country has its poor and homeless, its rich and aristocracy, its kind-hearted and selfless, its fools and racists, its leaders and managers, its good parents and bad parents, and its bad drivers. Cultures and traditions may differ. Foods and languages may differ. Religions and skin color may differ. But everyone feels happy, feels sad, and gets pissed off like everyone else. While there may be cultural differences that underlie a group of people, exceptions abound. Prejudice may have an evolutionary benefit, but it can also be harmful to you and other people. It can close your mind to opportunities. Traveling the world shatters many of those misconceptions. Or at least, it makes you think twice before categorizing someone or some idea. So go out and travel the world. Watch it shrink. Experience and understand another culture. Eat different foods, speak foreign languages, and talk to someone new. Do that, and the world is yours. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved.. Related posts:San Francisco vs. New York It’s a Small World After All It’s All About the People
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• All Tucked In for the Night
  Oct 25, 2009 1:34 PM

  Ready for another ghost story? I heard this one in high school. It happened to a girl in my high school class. A friend of hers told me the story. I wasn't friends with the girl herself — a short, timid brunette — but saw her around school all the time. She has fond memories as a little girl of her parents tucking her in at night. Though she would usually look up at her parents with a smile, there were nights when she was so tuckered out that she closed her eyes and enjoyed the comfort of the tight sheets. However, there were a few times where she would open her eyes as she felt them tucking her in, and see a dark, empty bedroom. Then she would look around and see the sheets halfway tucked in, as if someone was in the process of doing it — then stopped. Those were just hazy memories though. She never thought much of them. Maybe she was just imagining being tucked in. Maybe she was having a dream. Maybe they had tucked her in earlier and she tossed & turned, pulling the sheets halfway out. Explanations abounded. Her parents' habit of tucking her in died out around her adolescent years. They figured she was old enough to tuck herself in by then. So she forgot all about the comfort of being tucked in. Until one night. She was perhaps thirteen or fourteen. Like every other night, she got into bed and began to drift into sleep. Then she felt her covers tightening around her. And there was a pat on her shoulder. She opened her eyes. There was no one there. Just her dark, empty bedroom. Downstairs, she could hear her parents talking. She shivered and pulled her sheets even tighter. Her mind wandered a bit, wondering if she had imagined all of that. Mercifully, she eventually drifted into sleep. The tuck and pat happened again though. And again. And again. Maybe about once a week with no discernable pattern. After a month of these sensations, she decided to tell her parents about them. Just to let them know, not to alarm them or anything. It was a spooky sensation, but she didn't dwell on them much. When she told her parents, her father's face froze. She and her mother stared at his expression in confusion. Then he sat them down at the kitchen table and decided to share the background story about their house. He had purchased the house cheap. They weren't in a strong financial position, so the low price was very appealing. Her mother thought the house looked lovely, but never asked why it was so cheap. Her father did ask. This is what he was told. The previous family was murdered in the house. The father had gotten up early one morning and decided to kill his wife and children as they slept. Then he buried the bodies in the backyard. The murderous father was convicted and sentenced. The bodies of the family were exhumed and given a proper burial. So this girl's father didn't think there would be much of a problem here. He wasn't the type to believe in ghosts and saw no reason to alarm his family with such a story — not when this house was such a bargain. But since they moved in, he encountered strange events as well. Errant shadows on the way. Footsteps in the hallway. A prickly feeling on the back of his neck. Children's laughter. Hearing his daughter relate a similar experience gave him all the motivation he needed. They began making preparations to move. I heard this story just as they were about to close on a new property. I followed up on the story a year later. In the new house, the girl and her family has had no a further encounters or sensations. It seems they were escaped whatever lingering ghosts lived in that old house of murderous past, even if the ghosts were caring enough to tuck a little girl in. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
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• The Lens of Life: It's All About Perceptions
  Oct 11, 2009 1:34 PM

  The glass is not half full nor half empty. The glass has water in it, filled approximately to the middle. Or: the glass has equal portions of gas and liquid content within its cylindrical interior. Or: the glass is entirely full of air and water. Or… you get the point. It's all about perception. Life isn't how it is; it's how you see it. If you see the world as a cold, harsh place, then for you — the world is indeed, cold and harsh. Sucks for you. If you see the world as a fun & challenging place, then for you, the world is fun & challenging. Rock on. Here's a metaphor I use: my life as a series of lenses. My perception of life is influenced by the lenses through which I view it. Every lens is tainted by the grime of experience. In fact, each lens was created by the summary of past experience, heated in a cauldron of emotional responses and cognitive rationalizations. It is impossible to be truly objective, unless you're a robot or Vulcan. But as a human, it's impossible because of the construction of our brains. Studies have shown that memories are forged through a furnace of emotion, for better or worse. Interestingly enough, emotional memories are retained better than those devoid of emotions. Think about your childhood. Which memories are most vivid? Those that are most painful or happy, right? How about the 303rd bath you ever took? Why don't you remember that one? Because it was mundane and relatively low on emotional content. Over time, these emotional memories, mixed with your genetic predispositions (you can thank your Mom & Dad for that) and environmental factors (education, cultural upbringing, friends & family, religion, social status, etc) shaped your unconscious view on life. Together, this mixture hardened into a lens through which you now view your life. Lenses are limiting. They limit how far you can see and what you can see. This is not a bad thing. It is a natural ability that offers you protection, your defense mechanism, if you will. Prejudices, assumptions, and beliefs all come from your lenses. Some limitations can be hurtful, some can be helpful, though the degrees of such are subjective. There isn't just one lens either. There are many, shaped through various phases of life. You may have your family lens, your work lens, your school lens, etc. The number of lenses depends on the number of wholly different experiences you've have and your awareness of, and synthesis of, those life phases. Living in a foreign country often splinters one's world view and creates a new lens, for instance. Mine include my family lens, my Chinese American lens, my New Yorker lens, my Californian lens, my traveler lens, my spiritual lens, my anthropological & sociological lens, my self-reflective lens, my self-improvement lens, my entrepreneurial lens, my technology-oriented lens, etc. There are many more I'm not aware of too, I'm sure. As you can see, your lenses don't map not just to your phases of life, but to the different ways you view your identity as well. And, of course, they all overlap quite a bit. There are no right or wrong lenses, better or worse lenses, just degrees of helpfulness in society and influence on your actions. Some lenses may enable you to be a highly-successful person in some situations, but horribly inept in others. Others lenses may make you terribly miserable in some situations and protect you from harm in others. However, you aren't stuck with a particular lens. You can change your view, as long as you cognitively try. It just takes effort. Sometimes tremendous effort. But it is impossible for everyone. How? For some, it's simply a matter of being aware of your different lenses. For others, supportive friends & family can help. And for others, professional advice and help is required. I'm sure you've met people who've changed the main lens through which they view life. They may be religious converts or political converts. They may be so excited about their new view that they won't shut up about it. Such a person has had a major epiphany (which is generally how a major change in lens view affects a person) and is naturally excited about it, though not all changes are so grand. Want to try a quick lens switch exercise? Imaging yourself as a soccer player. You're on the field. You can feel the brisk chill of the afternoon air. The smell of freshly-cut grass is all around you. A trickle of sweat is at the corner of your eye. Other players are yelling at each other. The ball is being kicked around. You're keeping an eye on the ball, your teammates, and your opponents. Your mind is flipping back and forth from anticipating where the ball will be and how other players are reacting to the ball. Your legs are also getting tired and there's a side stitch in your gut. And damn, you're thirsty. Now imagine yourself as the coach of that team. You're standing on the side of the field. Someone's brewing coffee besides you. Your players are yelling, the other team is yelling, and the fans are yelling behind you. You're keenly watching your players run up and down the field, positioning themselves around the ball. At the same time, you're also watching the opponents and analyzing their positions in relation to your team's. Your goalie looks tired and you're worried about a potential goal. Another player is being overly aggressive and you're concerned about the referee calling a penalty. Two of the opposing players are really strong and fast, so you're trying to make sure your team doesn't let them through your defense. Your voice is sore from yelling commands and encouragement to your team. In the first lens, you had the view of an individual contributor on a team. You had to be conscious of your own actions as they related to others, while balancing your fatigue and condition. In the second lens, you had the view of a supervisor of a team. You had to have a gestalt of the entire game and offer not only direction, but encouragement as their confidence rose and shrank. That is a small example of a lens switch. Both views are totally correct while being entirely different. All of us switch like that daily, maybe even hourly. Now consider this: what if you're able to combine lenses? Or switch between both in any given situation? What if you, as a soccer player, also considered the game from the coach's point of view? That's what a team captain often does. Viewing the game through both lenses would put you on a path for advancement and leadership in this situation. Combining lenses often gives offers such power and opportunity. It opens your mind to other views you may not have otherwise considered. It keeps your mind amiable to new ideas and new contexts. You know the saying, "Never judge a person until you've walked a mile in his shoes"? Same principle applies here. When you're viewing your situation through another lens, you're revising the natural limitations of what you perceive. While you're probably replacing them with the limitations of another lens, you're still expanding your previous boundaries. And that's the power of changing & combining lenses. Of course, this is all an opinion formed through my own lens. This is how I perceive my life. You may perceive it differently and prefer to keep your current world view. In which case, I can't help but think: sucks for you. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/the-lens-of-life-its-all-about-perceptions.html

• The Hotel Haunting
  Oct 4, 2009 1:34 PM

  It's time for a ghost story. And a real one, to boot. At least, as it was told to me by a friend from Brooklyn. Names are left out to protect the people involved. In my friend's mind, this story is 100% true, since it happened to her. You can read it and decide for yourself. My friend was on a business trip with several coworkers. They were staying in a mid-level hotel. Nothing too fancy or shabby. It was old, a little creaky, but provided the basic amenities. Two days into the trip, one of her coworkers knocked on her door late in the evening. The coworker looked upset. Her eyes were red and teary. She was shivering. My friend asked what happened, but the coworker just shook her had and asked if she could stay with my friend tonight. Having an extra bed in her room, my friend nodded and invited her shaken coworker in. The coworker was a pretty private & quiet girl, so after a harangue of questions without results, my friend gave up and returned to the TV. "Maybe she's having boyfriend issues," my friend reasoned. She had seen this girl with a boyfriend around the office and has had a boyfriend drive her to tears too. For the rest of the trip, the coworker stayed with my friend. They talked a little more, though only about work and other superficial issues. Figuring it was none of her business, my friend never pushed her coworker for an explanation. The rest of the trip ended without incident. They returned home and a few weeks later, were called out to that client's office again. Time for another business trip. Their travel department booked them into the same old hotel. My friend's coworker was abnormally quiet this time around, even for her, though she didn't register that fact until she related the story to me. On the last day of the trip, my friend returned to her hotel room after an especially arduous day. Tired, she took a nice, long shower. When she finished, she got out and began toweling off. She stood in front of the mirror as she wiped her hair. The bathroom door was open so she could hear the TV in the bedroom. Then she looked at the mirror and saw an old man standing behind her. Wrinkled face, wispy hairs, a blank expression. Just standing behind her. Staring right at her eyes. Her heard stopped and she swiveled around. No one was there. She was alone in the bathroom. She immediately stomped out of the bathroom and ran around the bedroom. She threw the closet door open. Looked under her bed. Peeked into the hallway. Checked the locks on her door. There was nobody was in the room and her door was locked tight. Now you'll need to realize something. My friend is a Brooklyn girl through and through. Some guy once tried to mug her and she fought back, scaring the assailant away. So it shouldn't surprise you when she grabbed a lamp and stomped around the room, shouting, "Who the fuck is there? Where the fuck are you? Get out of my fucking room you pervert!" Her first thought wasn't, "It's a ghost!" No, she thought, "It's a pervy old man!" How's that for a Brooklyn girl? After the team returned home the next day, she related the story to her coworkers. They all thought she was nuts and just laughed it off. The quiet girl pulled her aside later and asked in which room she was staying. My friend told her. "That's where I stayed last time," the quiet coworker answered. Then she told my friend about the lights going on and off in the room. Right in front of her eyes. She didn't see an old man, but the flickering lights, coupled with a grave sense of fear, sent her fleeing to my friend's room. My friend laughs when she tells the story. "I don't know if it was a fucking ghost or not, but whatever it was, if I caught it, I would have kicked its ass." Coming from her, I believe those words. I'm not sure what I should be more afraid of, a ghost or a Brooklyn girl. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/the-hotel-haunting.html

• Duck Evolution
  Sep 20, 2009 1:34 PM

  "What do you think life would be like if we evolved from ducks?" She looked up into the sky and, without missing a beat, replied, "There would be a lot more going on in the sky, that's for sure." I blinked. "Really? You didn't want to think about that first?" She gave me a look. One of those Of course peanut butter goes with jelly! looks. "Okay. So there would be a lot more going on in the sky. Like what, floating buildings?" "Oh, definitely. Since ducks can fly, there would be all kinds of floating buildings." "Definitely." "Definitely," she nodded. "And there would be sky traffic lanes and zoned spaces." "Zoned spaces?" "Sure. That piece of sky over there would be commercial. And over there, residential." "Ah." "There would be buildings on the ground too. Because ducks can also walk, you know." I slowly nodded. "Of course, of course." She looked back up into the sky and stopped talking. I scratched my chin. Shifted my weight. Then I asked, "So you disagree with the Howard the Duck scenario?" She gave me another look. One of those, Did you just fart in the car? looks. "What?" she asked. "Howard the Duck. In his world, things aren't floating. Everything is just like it is right now, except the people look like ducks." "Oh no, no no no no no. That wouldn't be it at all." "You seem so certain." Now a Great, I have to teach him the alphabet AND how to count to three look. "Well, duh. Ducks can fly. Hello." I blinked again. Twice. "You don't understand evolution at all," she continued, then returned her gaze to the sky. I looked up at the sky too. Scratched my head. "I guess I don't," I replied. We both watched a flock of ducks fly by. I think I heard her sigh too. Probably off thinking about floating buildings and zoned skies and whatnot. I decided not to ask any more questions and let her watch the ducks go by. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/duck-evolution.html

• A Vegas Tradition
  Sep 6, 2009 1:34 PM

  The elevators ding open to the beeps, bells, and chimes of the MGM casino floor. We hang a left, a right, another right, then trough through throngs of tourists. Excitement tingles in our fingertips. We could throw lightning bolts from our hands, it's so strong. This is how it always is. It's become our Vegas tradition. Our first destination is the Zuri Bar. Dark shadows criss-crossed with crisp blue lights cast an unsettling web on the walls. Deep bass boom-boom-booms into our bodies. It's a club atmosphere meant to psyche up even the most anxious player. To us, it just adds to the soundtrack of Vegas, followed by the singing of slots and cheering at craps. Smoke waifs our senses. Occasional puffs pollute our noses. It's a city of all sins, especially the self-destructive and peer-destructive ones. It's a place where one goes to die a little each day, literally, morally, perhaps even spiritually. That's okay though. As soon as you leave, those mutilations remain. What happens in Vegas, well, you know. We crash into the couches and survey the scenery. Some of the guys see them as prey, with their loose wallets, polished ATM cards, and optimistic naivety. Me, I like to people-watch. I make up stories for each one. For instance, that lady in the little black dress over there, sitting by herself? She's having a clandestine rendezvous with a high roller she met at the Mirage. Being that she was staying at the Mirage with her husband, she had to arrange this meeting at the MGM. Little does she know that her husband is also having his own secret rendezvous… with that high roller's… brother! Gasp. This is all a manifestation of my mind's meanderings, of course. Take off its leash and it will run loose in all kinds of directions. The scotch whiskey doesn't help either. Oh, I didn't tell you about the scotch whiskey? Macallan. 21-year, maybe 25-year if we're feeling especially lucky. The 50-year? Well, one day. Like mellow velvet down your throat, the water back brings out hints of toffee and cloves. It takes off the edge for those who have such a distaste, and it accentuates the flavors for those who have such a taste. Price: a Benjamin and change. We savor our Macallans slowly. It is a rare delicacy that we appreciate in all its elegance. The sounds, the smells, the sights… every sense is tempted as much as it is offended. Just the way we like it. The waitress serves as eye candy we devour hungrily. Short skirt, low top, and lots of skin. The uniform designers sure know how to rile up their audience. A comment here, a joke there, and she giggles. The fact that this act increases her tip notwithstanding, we smile and feel invincible. What better way to measure a guy's manhood than by how many times he can get a hot chick to laugh? Then the psychology begins. We torture each other with taunts and torments. We encourage each other with enthusiasm and applause. Break ourselves down and build ourselves up. Just like in the army. Our way of becoming Vegas Strong. Fuck yea. Once we've been molded appropriately, we're off to our next destination. The high-limit slots. We're not talking your Grandma's slots here. I'm sure she's a lovely lady who once made that big win of three hundred dollars. Good for her. I'm talking about a Benjamin a pull. Feed the beast a one-hundred dollar bill, then stroke its shaft. One pull each. Maybe two or three more if we're feeling incomprehensibly indestructible. Fortune favors the fools on Friday, we fathom. It's the beginning of the weekend, the perfect time to lure the lustful with luxuriousness. The first victim pulls once. Hits one-thousand right away. The second victim pulls once. Nothing. Twice. One-thousand and two hundred. I pull once. Nothing. Twice. Nothing. Aw shit, why not? Thrice. One-thousand and six hundred. Thank you beast, for regurgitating such regal riches. Price: a Benjamin. Reward: ten-fold or more. Armed with confidence, indestructibility, and optimistic naivety, we approach the tables to start our attack. The rest of the trip is dictated not by tradition, but by the tides of fate. We enter it with the full knowledge of our odds. And that, my friend, is our Vegas tradition. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/a-vegas-tradition.html

• People are Logical
  Aug 30, 2009 1:34 PM

  You know when your boyfriend does something totally insane and for the life of you, you can't understand why? Or your girlfriend says something totally inexplicable and you think she's out of her mind? What's up with that? Well, I have a theory: they are acting perfectly logically. "What?!?!" you say. "Yup," I reply. Allow me to explain. It boils down to a person's fundamental assumptions of life. These assumptions effect that person's predispositions, understandings, mental maps, and interpretations of the environment. You can look at it as a lens filter for your camera. Each filter you put on changes the picture a bit. Some distort the picture significantly; others twist it just a little bit. Every filter affects the final picture, however. Here's another analogy. Let's take the equation 2 x 5. If you assume that "x" means "multiply," then the answer is 10. But if your assumption of "x" is "plus," then the answer is 7. And if your interpretation of "x" is "minus," then the answer is -3. To give it a more humanistic light, if you see the world as a cold and harsh place, than life for you will be cold and harsh. If you see the world as a fun and challenging place, then life for you will be fun and challenging. While it is possible to change these views, we tend to validate our fundamental assumptions, thus reinforcing such experiences. It's a vicious cycle. That is how a fundamental assumption can change a person's view on life. With that said, a person who does something inexplicable to you is actually doing something logical in his/her mind. If you peered deep into the convoluted wrinkles of that person's brain, you will see a set of assumptions that validate that action. To that person, his/her actions were totally logical, even though society and common sense may deem otherwise. (Also, there's really no such thing as "common" sense, but that's a ramble for another time.) Let's look at a classic example. Joe and Jane have been friends for many years. To their friends, it is obvious that they have chemistry, yet neither has ever made an overt move for the other. After much pushing and prodding, Jane's friends manage to persuade her to host a dinner party, with Joe being one of the invited guests. After dinner, the friends make a hasty exit, leaving Joe and Jane together to finish off the dessert. Joe pours Jane a glass of wine. He teases her about her alcohol tolerance and continues pouring her more wine. They laugh and heartily and happily. The night goes on and still they talk. Jane moves over to the couch to get more comfortable. Joe slides next to her. He turns on the television and they talk about their favorite shows. Feeling buzzed, happy, and perhaps a little bit daring, Jane leans in and puts her hand on Joe's hand. Suddenly, Joe's body stiffens. He excuses himself to the bathroom. Then he tells her it's late and he has to go. Confused and hurt, Jane calls a friend and tells her the full story. "What did I do wrong?" she asks. "What's wrong with him? Couldn't he tell I like him? Couldn't he read my signals? I thought all guys would want what was coming next." (e.g. Sexual intercourse. Gasp!) Her friend agrees. What is wrong with Joe? The logical conclusion of the night, they both agree, should have been an unbridled romp in the bedroom, unleashing all the sexual tensions the two have held for all these years. What Joe did was simply illogical, they conclude. But was it? Let's peer into Joe's mind. First, what are his fundamental assumptions of life? Joe is a guy who still feels young and virile. He really cares about his friendships and loves spending time with his friends, whether it is at a ball game, helping a friend through a tough time, or going to a dinner party. Joe has two younger siblings, a sister and brother, both of whom he cares for deeply as well. He has the paternal instincts of a typical older child and tends to behave similarly with friends. Do you spot any clues in there? Yes, Joe does have some feelings for Jane. Being a man, he can't help occasionally following his hormones. But he won't follow them to Jane. Jane, in his mind, is a great friend, a friend he doesn't want to lose. A relationship with her would be significant, not only because they are such long-time friends, but because they share a tight circle of friends too. Therefore, logically, the only time he would try anything with her would be if he is totally sure she is someone with which he wants to settle down. Nothing short of that would do. At this stage in Joe's life, he isn't ready to settle down yet. He still wants to pick up girls at bars, travel the world, and do all the crazy things he feels he should before starting a family. To Joe, dating Jane — even at this young age — would mean settling down and starting a family. Therefore, as soon as anything reminds him that he is on such a path — such as Jane touching his hand — Joe will immediately halt the moment and exit as quickly as he can. In his mind, this is perfectly logical. In poor Jane's mind, this is utterly confusing. That's just one possibility. Another equally logical explanation: Joe is a guy keeps his room tidy and organized. His books are lined up alphabetically by topic. His DVDs are by genre and director. He always cuts his hair and tucks his shirts in. The youngest of three brothers, he's had both the advantage and disadvantage of receiving lavish attention from his immediate family. That doesn't mean he's spoiled though; he still does his chores and pulls his own weight, especially when he's on the football field. And he's proud, damn proud, that he's seen by his peers as a tough guy. So what happened tonight? That extra helping of wine, that's what. He's a heavy partier. Known to slam down Alabama Slammers as quickly as a case of Coronoas, Joe is no stranger to alcohol. But wine is a different story. His stomach doesn't quite react well with perhaps the sediments of wine. Or the tannins. Or something. Who knows. What Joe did know was that he couldn't stop drinking just because of a little stomach ache. Not him, a huge football player that could down a six-pack of beer like a soda pop. But when that stomach ache grew and grew, he became increasingly embarrassed to visit the porcelain pool and drop the boys off — especially during dinner where everyone would know what he was doing. He couldn't risk that hit to his reputation. His last-minute plan to run and do just that was foiled too. His plan: as soon as dinner was over, he would duck into the bathroom while everyone chilled and talked. The distraction of post-dinner conversation would be suitable for a hasty absence. Unfortunately, everyone else ran off before he could execute on said plan. Then things with Jane started getting more intense. He could tell she was getting drunk. Perfect, he thought! But the boys were relentless. By the time Jane touched his hand on the couch, the boys were knocking hard. Know the term turtlehead? Yes. Joe had a turtlehead. Joe wanted nothing more than to reach out, caress Jane's hair, pull her in, and kiss her gently. But turtleheads have a way of killing romance. So Joe raced to the bathroom, let out a quick load, lit a match, and ran back home to continue his porcelain devastation in privacy. And that, in a nutshell, describes every wacky encounter you've ever experienced on a date. It just comes across as utterly confusing because you aren't privy to the other person's fundamental assumptions and thoughts. But rest assured that your idiot of a date is acting perfectly logically — in your date's mind, at least. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/people-are-logical.html

• Despicable
  Aug 23, 2009 1:34 PM

  The little boy stood in front of his class. He cleared his throat. Second-grade eyes watched intently as he ruffled the piece of paper in his hands. Then he started. "I know you all think I am despicable. But I think you all are despicable." The second graders blinked. Despicable? They didn't know this word. Only the little boy did, being the advanced reader he was. The teacher also knew the word. She watched on, her mouth wide open, eyes unblinking. The little boy exaggerated the enunciation of the word. Des-PIC-a-ble. It was almost like Daffy Duck was standing in front of the room delivering this speech. You could almost see the spit springing from his lips. As the little boy continued, the teacher put her hands over her mouth. "Must… not…" Her thoughts struggled. "Must… not…" Tears bubbled in her eyes. "Must… not… laugh…" But it was all too much. The little boy's speech became a incredulous cacophony to the teacher's reddening ears. She buried her head into her hands just as her lips burst forth. Face-down at her desk, the teacher buckled into hysterics. The other students blinked again. They still didn't understand. What was this word? Why was their teacher crying? That's what they thought. They thought she was crying. And so, one by one, the other students started crying too. As the little boy continued his despicable speech, the entire class was washed in a wave of tears. "Wah ha ha ha ha ha!" the teacher cackled. "Waa waa waa waa!" the students cried. "Des-PIC-a-ble, all of you," the little boy continued. And so ended the funniest, saddest, most despicable little second-grade speech ever. True story. Every last despicable word of it. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/despicable.html

• The Trip to Vietnam
  Aug 9, 2009 1:34 PM

  "Oh my goodness, let me tell you this story," began the barber. His electric shaver sheared my sides as he started. "I was flying back to Vietnam. I have not been there in years. Many, many years. It has been so long that I did not remember if I needed a Visa or not." He shook his head and frowned. "A friend told me I did not because I am Vietnamese. I believed him. So I packed up all of my bags and went to the airport. And guess what?" "What?" I asked. He took a step back from my hair and examined it. Narrowed his eyes. Then he looked at me. "When I got to the gate, they rejected me. They told me I needed a Visa. Can you believe it? I listened to my friend. I believed my friend. And here I was, at the airport, with all of my luggage, and I was told I could not get on the plane." "Daaaaaamn," I murmured. "So what did you do?" "I had to go all the way back home, get online, and look up information on how to get my Visa." He snipped some hair and shook his head again. "Normally, it takes only ten dollars and a few weeks to get the Visa. But because I needed it right away, I had to pay… guess how much?" "Fifty bucks?" "No, more." "Hundred bucks?" "Yes! Hundred bucks! A little more than a hundred bucks, actually. I had to call up my cousins in Vietnam to help rush it too. It was such an ordeal. I finally got it in an email, printed it out, and called the airline to book another flight. But then…" His voice trailed off. I couldn't tell if he was lost in the shears, or in the story. I decided not to push him and let him finish my sides. "…and then," he finally continued, "they told me all the flights were booked. I had to wait next week for the next available flight! I was so angry. I only had a week of vacation and already took a few days off. I could not wait a week!" "Daaaaaamn," I murmured again. "So my brother, he travels a lot. He called up the airline and talked to them. Somehow, he got them to give me a flight in two days. I was so happy" "Uh huh," I concurred without trying to nod my head. "I flew from Los Angeles to San Francisco. Then from San Francisco to Shanghai. Then from Shanghai to Vietnam. Oh, and while at Shanghai, there's more to this story…" "There's more?" I asked incredulously. "Yes! These things always happen to me. I don't know why." He rolled his eyes. "When I got to Shanghai, they told me I had to get my luggage from luggage claim and check it in again for my flight to Vietnam. I told them No, it should be transferred automatically. But they kept saying No, I need to pick it up myself and check it back in again. Such an ordeal. So I went to luggage claim. And guess what?" "What? Your luggage was missing?" "Yes! My luggage was missing! Can you believe it? I talked to the airline and they told me it was still in San Francisco. So I had to call San Francisco airport, and they told me they did not have my luggage, that it was on the airplane." "Daaaaaamn," I murmured again. "I know! I was so angry. So I called my brother and he checked it for me. They told him my luggage was on its way to Vietnam already. So I got on the plane and flew to Vietnam. And guess what?" "You didn't find your luggage." "Yes! I didn't find my luggage!" This guy's story is either one huge exaggeration, or the poor fellah really does have horrible things happening to him all the time. Either way, the story was enticing. I listened with intense interest. "I called my brother again," he continued. "The airline told him my luggage was in Vietnam. But the airport in Vietnam said they did not have my luggage. I was on the phone all day, calling Shanghai, San Francisco, my brother… such an ordeal. Finally, someone told me to check the luggage counter. I did, and there was my luggage." He let out a long sigh and shook his head. "Daaaaaamn." "Everything in my luggage was broken. The luggage itself was okay. Nothing was missing. But all of my stuff inside the luggage was broken. I had to buy all new things." "Daaaaaamn." Well, at least you finally made it to Vietnam." "Yes. I finally did." His face hinted at a momentary smile, then it vanished. "But there's more." "More?" "More." "Haven't you had enough already?" He laughed. "Yes, I have. These things always happen to me. My sister asks me why these things always happen to me. She doesn't believe me that they always do, but they do." Another long sigh. Then he continued. "While in Vietnam, sister made me a delicious dessert with coconut. She doesn't know that I get sick with coconut, unfortunately. I ate it and started to feel sick. I didn't know why. I asked her, 'What is in this dessert?' She said, 'coconut.' I ran to the bathroom and had such stomach pains. My goodness I was in such pain." I grimaced. He noticed the expression on my face and nodded. "Yes. I had bad diarrhea. It was such pain. I even had to go to the hospital because I could not stand it. The doctor examined me and said there was nothing he could do. I just had to wait it out. But I kept telling him I was in a lot of pain, tremendous pain. He finally gave me some medicine, but it didn't help. I just sat in the bathroom for a long, long time, in such pain." "Daaaaaamn," I murmured. He snipped my hair, looked at it in the mirror, and snipped again. I waited silently to hear more, but he just kept cutting my hair. After a moment, I asked, "How did the rest of the trip go?" "Oh, it was okay. I saw my family, then flew home without any more problems. Getting there was such an ordeal. But coming home was great. I was so happy to come home." That was so not the answer I was expecting. A part of me almost hoped to hear more horrible ordeals. I dunno why. Something about watching a train wreck, that kind of thing. "My mother," he started up again. "She wants me to go back again this year. I told her No. I had such a horrible trip, I do not want to go back again so soon." "I don't blame you." "Yes. Such an ordeal. Such an ordeal." Fortunately, he cut my hair without incident. No lost scissors or explosive diarrhea marred my haircut experience. But stories like that sure have a way of capturing one's attention. Everybody loves a good, horrible ordeal, especially when it's someone else's. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/the-trip-to-vietnam.html

• Being Chinese
  Aug 2, 2009 1:34 PM

  It's the Asian American equivalent of a white person being called a Jew. My friends and I say it all the time. "Oh man, you're being so Chinese," they'll say. And they're Chinese too. This is often in reference to an act of ridiculous frugality. Being Chinese means being cheap. Buying old bread from the bakery because it's cheaper and warming it up in the microwave or toaster to make it "just as good as fresh"? That's being Chinese. Using a scissor to cut open a tube of toothpaste so you can use up every ounce? That's being Chinese. Adding water to milk to make it last longer? That's being Chinese. Okay, that last one was a rip from Russell Peters. He argues that Indians are even cheaper than Jews and Chinese. And admittedly, adding water to milk IS pretty damn cheap. And gross. Yuck. Maybe he's right. But everything else, that's being Chinese. This makes me wonder. How did this metaphor originate? Where did it come from? Why does it perpetuate? Is it because Chinese food is cheap (inexpensive), so by extension, being Chinese means being cheap & inexpensive? Is it because Chinese imports are cheap (low quality), so by extension, being Chinese means being cheap & of low quality? Or is it because a representative number of Chinese people are cheap (frugal), so by extension, being Chinese means being cheap & frugal? My guess is the last one, though I know some rather financially careless Chinese people too. But if you ask a random sampling of Asian Americans, you will generally hear them say that their Chinese friends are the cheapest and most frugal of the bunch. Hardly a scientific poll, I know. So many questions, so many possibilities. I'd sit here and think about them all, but I have to shut my laptop down now because I don't want to pay for the extra power. After all, I'm Chinese. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/being-chinese.html

• Do You Go To Church?
  Jul 26, 2009 1:34 PM

  "Do you go to church?" We stopped in our tracks. Blinked. Our dog pulled on his leash uneasily. "Do you go to church?" barked the portly woman again. Her brow furrowed. Clutched in her fist was a stack of pamphlets. Dangling from my hand was a bag of stinky, liquid dog poop. "You guys do go to church, right?" she demanded. My girlfriend and I exchanged furtive glances. We had just come from a local street fair and were in a good mood. The summer evening air was cozy and warm. Delicious homemade food sloshed in our tummies. Even the dog had a good time with a few organic gourmet doggie treats, though his stool indicated otherwise. It's funny how one person can turn an otherwise good day upside-down. "Sure," I muttered. "What? You go to church, right?" My mind struggled to process this situation. It's not every day that I'm interrogated on a nice summer evening like this. I nodded. "Which church do you go to?" My girlfriend cleared her throat. "It's… not around here…" she said with a sideways glimpse in my direction. I nodded in consent of the unspoken agreement between us. "Oh really? But you DO go to church, don't you?" This lady was relentless. "Yea, sure," I threw into her face. "We go to church, okay?" She eyed me. One eye narrower than the other. "Which church do you go to?" Relentless. My girlfriend and I exchanged glances again. The bag of liquid poop started to feel like a hot potato. I started walking forward, my girlfriend and the dog right behind me. "It's not around here," I barked. She scowled. Both eyes narrow. "Good," she stated. "God be with you." I shook my head and we pushed forwarded. Her countenance disappeared behind us. The dog farted. My girlfriend and I gave each other another look. We rolled our eyes in unison. Sighed. Then laughed as we walked home. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/do-you-go-to-church.html

• Busy Up the Wazoo
  Jul 12, 2009 1:34 PM

  You know the feeling? You're in a trash compactor with sewage water is up to your waist. The walls are closing in, fast. And your trusty protocol droid just can't seem to figure out how to save you. I've been feeling that lately. Just looking at my laptop would send shivers of stress up my spine. I'm not the only one too. There are quite a few others who are also equally tense. Maybe you're one of them. It's kind of ironic, isn't it? While some people are being laid off and finding their days empty, others are being loaded up with work out their asses. Yes, it's as painful as it sounds. Why is this happening? The answer is simple. Companies can't pay as many employees as they used to, so they lay people off. That means fewer employees. However, it doesn't mean less work. The level of work remains the same. Thus: fewer employees doing the same amount of work. If you're swamped with work right now, chances are you're picking up extra tasks from two of your former colleagues. Or maybe three. It's not necessarily a bad thing. In this economy, most people would rather be swamped with work than to have no work at all. But being overworked still sucks, doesn't it? I don't really have a point here. Being overworked sucks. It feels like the walls are closing in on you. But in this economy, I'd rather feel that way than to have no walls at all. I guess that's what I'm trying to say. It's tough to think coherently when those walls are closing in, getting closer, and closer, and closer, and — squish! ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/busy-up-the-wazoo.html

• Love Virgin
  Jun 21, 2009 1:34 PM

  Are you a love virgin? Allow me to explain. If you go by the traditional definition of the word "virgin," it means a person who has not had sexual intercourse. If you've ever bumped uglies in the night, hid the hot dog, or taken the bullet train through Yonker's tunnel, then no, you are not a virgin. What about a love virgin? The term "virgin" can also be used in non-sexual contexts to mean a lack of something. A Pina Colada Virgin, for instance, is a Pina Colada cocktail without alcohol. A love virgin, therefore, is someone who has never fallen in love. Some people go through life never experiencing love. Some do and don't know it. Still others do and won't admit it. While all three are potential dating hazards, the first kind — the true love virgin — presents an especially difficult case. Most people have experienced it at least once. While there isn't a limit to the number of times one could fall in love, it would be logistically difficult to have felt it more than, say, twenty times. Unless, maybe, you're a thousand-year-old vampire or something. For most people, love isn't an emotion or a state of being that happens easily. It's not like buying ice cream at the supermarket. It's more like buying a condo or house, relatively speaking. I'll bet some of you are shaking your heads right now. "I fall in love almost once a month," you're thinking to yourself. "It's not as rare as this doofus makes it sound." Sorry to do this, but see your bubble there? Now look at this pin in my hand. Burst! If you fall in love that often, chances are you haven't been feeling love. What you may have been feeling is infatuation. A very deep, passionate infatuation, perhaps, but infatuation nonetheless. It is easy to confuse infatuation with love. Love isn't a feeling that fades in a matter of weeks. It takes years, decades, even lifetimes. Or perhaps it never truly fades; it just evolves into a more elemental emotion. Infatuation, on the other hand, is defined as an "all-absorbing passion" (see why it's so easy to confuse it with love?) that doesn't last. It doesn't grow or evolve. It just remains at that level, then dips like the sunset. If you are still in your teens or early twenties, it isn't uncommon to be a love virgin. Some may even argue that you don't really know what love is until you're older, though I think that's bullshit. But if you are still a love virgin at this age, don't fret. You are not alone. If you are in your thirties or forties, however, then you should be concerned. That's a long time to go through life without ever falling in love. It isn't impossible, but, well, something may be wrong. Are you afraid of being hurt so much that you avoid relationships? Are you consciously or unconsciously isolating yourself from strangers? Are you ending relationships before they have a chance to mature? There is something beneath the surface that isn't quite socially healthy. Or at least, socially acceptable by the norm. On the flip side, if you are dating a love virgin, then be careful. Just as a sexual virgin isn't quite sure what to do with all the rods and cones, a love virgin isn't quite sure what to do with all the messy emotions that come with being in love. This isn't a slight against love virgins, it's just a fact. Lack of experience begets lack of understanding. For example, jealousy can play a big part in love. Most people new to love will find this curious, yet nagging emotion sitting on their shoulder from time to time. The little green devil may occasionally nip at them, throw an all-out tantrum, or crawl away and lurk just behind the ears. With experience, many learn to cope with this emotion. They realize its roots in insecurity and put it away appropriately. However, a love virgin doesn't yet have this experience. Thusly, the little green devil is out to play. There is more. Mutual love is a delicate sheet of rice paper. Push too hard and it will crumble. Pull too hard and it will tear. With experience and a few failed relationships under your belt (no pun intended), you will hopefully have learned how hard to push and how hard to pull. A love virgin at age forty, unfortunately, hasn't had the benefit of such experience. Such an individual may unknowingly come on too strong and suffocate the object of their desire. So dater beware. To be fair, there are many patient people in the world who can deal with a middle-aged love virgin, just as there are many understanding people in the world who can deal with a middle-aged virgin. ("You know what? I respect women! I love women! I respect them so much that I completely stay away from them!") So it isn't the end of the world if you are a love virgin. But to those dating a love virgin, if you don't have the patience or tolerance to deal with a new crop of emotions and lack of experience, be careful. Their only experience with love is what they've seen in movies. And as we all know, life isn't like the movies. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/love-virgin.html

• Too Much Drama for Your Mama
  Jun 7, 2009 1:34 PM

  Do you have any friends who seem to be a lot of drama? Or have a lot of drama in their lives? Or seem to attract a lot of drama? Sure you do. Everyone does. Drama is what makes the world go round. Everyone has some measure of drama in their lives - and if they don't, they'll seek it out from TV soap operas or create it with other people. But let's be careful here. The word "drama" is a loaded term. It means different things to different people. Let's take a look at some of those variations. At the basis of drama is some kind of interpersonal, social, and/or emotional conflict. Everyone has elements of conflict in their lives, either of their own doing or through outside influences. It's as unavoidable as back problems and taxes. But that's not what we commonly consider drama. Drama, as we typically use the term, is meant for those exaggerated cases far above the norm. It is conflict at high volume. When it is in a story, book or television, it can be very entertaining. When it is between you and family, friends or coworkers, it can be very stressful. Let's look at some types of drama. A few of these overlap and hybrids do exist. Emotional Drama This kind of drama is characterized by seemingly unwarranted, exaggerated emotions in reaction to some event. Everyone reacts to crises differently; some are even-keeled and calm, others rabbit through panic and distress. Emotional drama is the latter variant. An emotionally dramatic person will react with extreme vigor, no matter the degree of the event. House burned down? Aaaaaaa! Spilled some milk? Aaaaaa! Passionate Drama The cousin of emotional drama is passionate drama, which shares some of its outward appearances. People being passionately dramatic are showing excessive emotion and using intense language to convey their reactions. The difference is that emotional drama tends to originate from an underdeveloped sense of emotional intelligence, whereas passionate drama spills from an extreme emotional bond to a particular topic. Basically, these people are sooo passionate about something that they are not able to accept beliefs that are contrary to their own. Hearing such a contrarian is simply heresy. Aaaaaaa! Invented Drama A more insidious form of drama is invented drama, the kind that is fabricated because the person is vindictive, or sadistic and bored. You'll spot this variant when one person attacks another person's sensitive spots — otherwise known as "pushing one's buttons." The purpose is to incite the other person; the more frustrated the other person, the more satisfaction the originator feels. Even if it's subconscious. People who invent drama may do this in the name of passionate drama, though they are really trying to hurt you, not express outrage. Aaaaaaa! Antisocial Drama This type of drama is characterized by a pervasive disregard of other people's feelings and rights. Lying, cheating, stealing, bullying, and abusing with no remorse are all symptoms. At times, they can seem almost sociopathic and narcissistic by the way they callously ignore the feelings of others and only care about themselves. Some are able to hide behind superficial charm or sexual prowess, though if you cross them, they'll pull out their claws and antisocial drama behavior. Aaaaaaa! Identity Drama Someone who sees the world in strict black and white terms (no shades of gray) and has identity issues may be exhibiting borderline drama. These people may also have problems maintaining friendships and general relationships. A misalignment in the way they view life and themselves, in other words. Aaaaaaa! Narcissistic Drama Ever call someone a "ham" or "show-off"? That person was probably exhibiting narcissistic drama, which is typically characterized by an unhealthy load of self-love. They are the center of the world and they want everyone to know it. If you don't, you will be assaulted by non-strop drama until you do. Aaaaaaa! Insecure Drama Though it is a bit of a blanket term, those that are insecure may bring with them waves of insecure drama. Such drama can be manifested by obsessive-compulsive clinginess, profuse pessimism, a constant need for reassurances from others, and frequent verbalizations of their ineptitude. The stark opposite of narcissistic drama, they suck and they want everyone to know it. Aaaaaaa! Attracted Drama Some people unknowingly attract drama, though a handful do it consciously. They either have such plain lives that they seek out “spice” or they tend to befriend people who exhibit one or more types of drama listed here. Their own lives may not have much drama, but encircling themselves with such friends can give them an air of drama. However, since like-minded people tend to cluster together, oftentimes a drama magnet is a dramatic person too. Aaaaaaa! Stupid Drama There are no such things as stupid questions… only stupid people. Ha! But seriously, some people just do stupid things that happen to trigger drama. Maybe it's out of ignorance, maybe it's a lack of tact, maybe it's an underdeveloped sense of social intelligence or street smarts. Whatever the case, they'll likely do something that places them or other people in some kind of trouble and conflict. Qualifying for stupid drama isn't doing something goofy on occasion. A person needs to be doing really stupid things fairly often. Aaaaaaa! Yes, there are many types of drama and dramatic people in this world. Know your drama and be wary of it. In small doses, it may be entertaining. But a constant deluge can drown you. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/too-much-drama-for-your-mama.html

• Where Dogs Come From
  May 24, 2009 1:34 PM

  How much is that doggie in the window? The one with the wagglely tail. How much is that doggie in the window? I do hope that doggie's for sale." - B. Merrill Soon, a little bundle of teeth and fur will be scurrying around my feet. He's an emaciated Labrador Retriever & Terrier mix, about one year of age, with a calm, though timid disposition. We rescued him from a local animal shelter. I've had three dogs consecutively as a kid, two from pet shops and one from relatives. Being a kid, I didn't care about where the dogs came from, only that we got cute puppies. It wasn't until a few months ago that I began learning about where someone could get such a faithful companion, and how those sources differed. To cut to the chase, there are several ways one can get a dog: Pet Stores Breeders Individuals Animal Shelters Animal Rescues Pet Stores The most obvious choice might be pet shops. That's where my family got our first two dogs. I vaguely remember walking up to the window and seeing a bunch of excited little puppies pawing at the window, their wet noses leaving trails of snot. Many of these dogs come from puppy mills or puppy farms. The quality of these commercial breeding facilities were exposed by the Humane Society of the United States (and later, by Oprah Winfrey), as being extremely poor. The dogs are kept in tiny cages and receive little medical care, leading to health and social problems later in their lives. Since puppy mills are a commercial enterprise, when demand is up, they kick up supply. Meaning, every time a female dog is in heat, she is forced to breed. Unfortunately, when demand is down, the "excess" animals have nowhere to go and typically end up euthanized. In 1966, the Animal Welfare Act was passed to regulate breeding kennels such as these. There are probably a few legitimate puppy mills out there, though most of the sources I've read or people I've spoken to warn against buying dogs from pet stores because of these puppy mills. Breeders Some people intentionally breed a particular kind of dog, even going as far as to breed particular kinds of traits. Professional breeders report each birth to dog registries such as the American Kennel Club, to record a dog's lineage. The dogs can be purebreds or crossbreds, depending on which is in fashion at the time. A few of these lucky dogs go on to dog shows with lavish lifestyles (lavish for dogs and, perhaps, for humans too). They are vigorously trained, groomed, and paraded in front of cameras. (Again, much like some humans too.) The excess animals, much like in the case of puppy mills, typically end up euthanized as well. You can purchase a dog from a breeder if you want a very specific type of dog. Be prepared to pay fairly high fees, however. Although many breeders try to avoid propagating particular traits, breeding by its very nature can sometimes include inbreeding, which usually leads to genetic disorders. Individuals You ever see someone parked by the side of the road with a big sign saying, "Free puppies"? That's probably someone with a family dog who has gotten pregnant and given birth to a litter too copious to feed. A free puppy from a loving family is probably a fair and economical choice. Such opportunities are rare, however. If you're looking for a specific breed, it's even rarer. There is another class of individuals who will do that, though their sign won't have the word "free" on it. They are typically known as backyard breeders and, without any guidance or regulation, are trying to make a buck or two. Backyard breeders are sometimes compared to puppy mills and breeders, in that they are more concerned with profit than the dog's welfare. Though I didn't find any information stating this, I assume the excess animals are also euthanized. Animal Shelters Not all of the excess dogs from puppy mills, professional breeders, and backyard breeders are euthanized. Many end up at animal shelters, also known as dog pounds. These organizations accept all the unwanted or lost animals that no one else will take. Some provide basic health care and prepare them for adoption. Others have a no-kill policy where they will care for the animals for the rest of their lives, if they aren't adopted. Sadly, the number of dogs in animal shelters has been increasing as a consequence of the economic recession. Some families are unable to afford their homes anymore and move away. In many cases, they abandon their dogs, leaving them to fend for themselves. Many of these dogs die. A few are picked up by dog catchers who take them to animal shelters. It is tough to tell what kind of dog you'll find at a shelter, breed-wise and temperament-wise. You'll find a motley crew of dogs and mutts there, some abandoned, some lost from home, some from breeding organizations. Every time a dog is found, the shelter will not allow them to be adopted for a week or so, in case the dog simply got lost and the original owners come looking. The shelter at which I found our dog told me they sometimes find up to sixty dogs a week. They also have to euthanize a large number of them, because their facilities simply cannot hold that many animals. The only way these dogs get to survive is if someone adopts them. Animal Rescues Animal rescue organizations are similar to animal shelters, though they focus specifically on getting their dogs adopted. Many of these rescue groups are run by volunteers, as opposed to animal shelters which may be operated by city employees (though some animal shelters are also run by volunteers). These organizations come in many different flavors. There are rescue groups for specific dog breeds, there are networks of volunteer foster homes, and there are animal rescue shelters with kennel facilities. Many of them rehabilitate their dogs so they are more adoptable, including training, playing, socializing with humans and other dogs, solving behavioral problems, and dealing with medical issues. This rehabilitation makes dog rescue organizations a good choice if you would like a low-cost and well-trained dog. The volunteers can usually even tell you about the dog's temperament, training (housebroken or not), medical issues, and other basic care issues. Where do you want to get your dog from? So where do you want to get your dog from? Where should you get your dog from? Many animal lovers and animal activists recommend shelters and rescue organizations, since there is such an abundant supply of dogs out there, just waiting to be adopted or euthanized. But if you must go for a purebred or specific crossbred, professional breeders are also an option, albeit a more expensive option. Regardless of where you get your faithful companion from, you'll soon be enjoying a little bundle of teeth and fur around your feet, just as I will be. Woof! ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/where-dogs-come-from.html

• Attention Doggie
  May 3, 2009 1:34 PM

  She loved the attention. During block parties, when our neighbors would close off the entire street and BBQ together, she'd scamper to and fro. We wouldn't find her for hours because she was lavishing in neighborly petting praise. Then she'd wander home and collapse on the floor, exhausted, happy, and with her tongue dangling out of her panting mouth. Ginger was a tiny black Pomeranian. She looked like a soot-filled cotton ball with feet. When friends and family rang the doorbell, you'd see this black puff scurry to the door and start yapping. Although she would try to jump onto you, being only a foot & a half tall meant she came up to your shin and that was about it. Then she'd wag her tail happily until you scratched her ear. Her barks were more like yips. Sometimes she would erupt into a yapping frenzy and start spinning in circles. It was a futile attempt to catch her tail. Seriously. If you accidentally or intentionally poked her, she would get mad and literally go dizzy chasing her tail. It was the strangest sight. Walking around at night was a health hazard. She's dart between your legs, hoping for an ear scratch and potentially causing a stumble. If you stepped on her, she'd yip then chase her tail until she was dizzy. Going to the bathroom (number one or number two) was always a team affair at our household. Ginger would reliably come over to lie at your feet. Presumably to keep them warm. I don't think she minded the smell. To her, it was always: duty first — must keep my human's feet warm. If you shut the bathroom door, she'd patiently wait outside. If you opened the door and accidentally knocked into her, she'd yip then chase her tail until she was dizzy. Road trips were always fun. She never threw up and, like other dogs, loved the fresh wind on her face. We had to hold onto her tightly though, since she was small enough to blow away. Imagine: a car full of Asians passes you by, when suddenly a black puff floats out of the window and onto your windshield, yipping and chasing its tail. Yes, we always held onto her tightly during those road trips. Leaving Ginger home alone wasn't her favorite activity. She didn't tear down the house or anything; she was much too small for that. Instead, she yipped and yapped all day long. Probably chased her tail a few times too. Upon arriving home, I always sat down with her to give her a good ear scratching. She'd reward me by turning on her back so I could give her a belly scratching too. Ginger also made a good listening companion. I'm sure she didn't understand a word I said, though at the time, I liked to think that she was empathetic to my plights. In reality, she probably just loved the attention. And that was our little black Pomeranian. Our little attention doggie. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/attention-doggie.html

• Are Running Shoes Bad For You?
  Apr 26, 2009 1:34 PM

  You can blame your expensive running shoes on those foot aches, knee problems, and stress fractures. At least, that’s what a handful of articles have been reporting. This topic naturally caught my attention. After running two half-marathons, I’ve been training for a full marathon. Unfortunately, I had to drop out because of a chronic knee injury that just won’t go away, even after some basic rehabilitation. My next step will be to see an orthopedic surgeon for further advice and perhaps an MRI. Major bummer. It started innocently enough in an article about toes. Published in March this year, Seed Magazine’s ”The Running Man, Revisited” discusses the endurance running hypothesis: that humans evolved as long-distance runners. The size of our toes, according to a handful of scientists, has given us the ability to run long distances. Specifically: short toes. Long toes increase the amount of mechanical work required by twenty percent. This is from an article in the Journal of Experimental Biology, ”Walking, running and the evolution of short toes in humans”. Apparently it caused a stir when it was published in February. Then just a week ago, writer Christopher McDougall penned two articles (that I know of) about the dangers of running shoes. "The painful truth about trainers: Are running shoes a waste of money?" in Mail Online and "What Ruins Running" in the Boston Globe. In those articles, he reports on the runners in Tarahumara, Mexico, and the fact that they run barefoot. He cited a senior researcher at Nike Sports Research Lab who examined people all around the world who run barefoot. McDougall also interviewed Dr. Daniel Lieberman, a professor of biological anthropology at Harvard University, who said, “'A lot of foot and knee injuries currently plaguing us are caused by people running with shoes that actually make our feet weak, cause us to over-pronate (ankle rotation) and give us knee problems.” McDougall’s conclusion: run barefoot. My friends and I have naturally been reading these articles with great interest. We’ve all spent gobs on money on running shoes, after all. I have a great pair of Brooks Beasts (thanks again Eric!) that make me feel like I’m running in air. Did we all waste our money? One runner asked her running coach about these articles. His reply: Take some time to read [these articles] as I think the have some great points and raise valid questions, however [here] a few objective thoughts to keep in mind. Because the articles also need to be put in context before you chuck your running shoes in the garbage… Our society in general, works much, much harder than in generations past, meaning that we spend more time sitting at our computers and less time sleeping/resting and doing the necessary recovery/cross-training activities that are essential for endurance athletes. We're runners so we run. The lack of strength & cross-training can leave a lot of us more susceptible to injury. Our society also is very fashion/business conscious, meaning that the majority of us are wearing footwear that is very bad for the strength/health of our feet. (Dress shoes, heels, etc.) At an early age, most of our parents put us into stiff shoes, which may have prohibited the muscles in our feet from developing as they should have. The article discounts that the majority of people live in urban populations, and run primarily on harder surfaces (concrete/asphalt), whereas many of the runners the author focuses on were running on soft surfaces (cinder tracks, grass/dirt trails, etc). In general, runners who include a small amount of trail running into their regiment (once every few weeks is enough), tend to have fewer injuries. (However, you can't run 100% on soft surfaces if you are training for road races.) This article discounts the thousands of people who have actually benefited by improved technology in running shoes. As with everything in life, it’s always good to have a balanced perspective, listen to both sides of an argument, and maintain a healthy dose of skepticism. I’m sure there’s truth in those articles. I’m sure shorter toes really do help us run longer distances, just as I’m really sure shoes in general have made some kind of impact on our feet. But most of all, I’m sure glad I don’t have to chuck my expensive Brooks Beasts in the garbage. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/are-running-shoes-bad-for-you.html

• I've Always Pissed People Off, Even As a Kid
  Apr 12, 2009 1:34 PM

  I don't remember how old we were exactly. Perhaps I was three and my brother was one? Maybe younger? I don't even remember incident, it was so long ago. When I saw the photograph, however, I had to cringe. And laugh. The photograph is gone now. Mysteriously disappeared. "Did you throw it away?" my brother asks. I didn't. No way would I ever do that. It was a piece of history, a hilarious piece at that. I would never throw away a memento like that. "Man, I remember that picture," he adds with a chuckle. We search up and down the house for it. But nada. It was gone. My parents remember the incident. They laugh every time we talk about it. So they help us search for it too. But still nada. Long gone. What a shame to lose this piece of history. It depicts my brother and me in a very particular moment. To understand its significance, you have to understand my brother. He's a hilarious guy, though the younger siblings of my grade school classmates told me they found him intimidating. Indeed, he's never had a problem speaking his mind, nor usurping authority figures if he disagreed with them. This has led to some squabbles and infractions and, I'm sure, a few pissed off teachers and principals. So the photograph? It is a picture of my brother and me, still wee toddlers, in the bathtub together. I am sitting in the tub of water, crying. He is standing in front of me, peeing into the water with a big toothy grin. "I totally want that picture," my brother continues. "It's like the perfect example of how I've always pissed people off, even as a kid." My parents and I laugh. Indeed it is. I really hope we can find this picture again. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/ive-always-pissed-people-off-even-as-a-kid.html

• I'll Be Right Barack
  Apr 5, 2009 1:34 PM

  A Girl: "I'll be right Barack." A Boy: "Wait. What? What did you just say?" Girl: "I said I'll be right back." Boy: "No you didn't. You said you'll be right Barack." Girl: "Yea, you're right, I did." Boy: "That's so corny." Girl: "No it's not. I'm trying to factor Barack Obama's name into my everyday life now. He's a big part of our lives and I want to make sure I say his name at least once a day." Boy: "Why not just wake up every morning and say his name? Then you'll have said it once every day." Girl: "That's just not the same. He means more than just a robotic utterance. He's our President. He deserves more respect than that." Boy: "Oh, but he deserves to be used in corny lines?" Girl: "There's nothing corny about that. You're just projecting." Boy: "What? No I'm not." Girl: "Now you're in denial. It's truly dreadful. You should see someone about that." Boy: "Stop that!" Girl: "Don't cry. Are you going to run to your Obama now?" Boy: "No, I'm not going to run to my… wait, what did you just say?" Girl: "I said are you going to run to your mama now?" Boy: "No you didn't. You said… Omigosh you're driving me insane!" Girl: "See, I knew you were loopy." Boy: "I'm not loopy. You're the one that's loopy." Girl: "Why, because I'm supporting our President?" Boy: "Because you're… you're… Argh! Weren't you just leaving?" Girl: "Yea, but just for a minute. I'll be right—" Boy: "Don't say it! Don't you say it!" Girl: "Say what?" Boy: "You know what you were going to say!" Girl: "How very unpatriotic of you." Boy: "I'm not the one making fun of his name!" Girl: "Barack you are. You are making a mockery of his name." Boy: "You did it again!" Girl: "No I didn't. I said but you are. I better tell Obama about you. She's going to be worried about her son." Boy: "That's it. We can't have this conversation any more." Girl: "Yes we can. Yes we can. Yes we can." Boy: "…" Girl: "Okay, I really gotta go now. Be right Barack!" ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/ill-be-right-barack.html

• The Caste of Your Car
  Mar 29, 2009 1:34 PM

  Did you know there's a caste system with cars? You've probably seen it before on the highway. Chances are, you've probably unconsciously supported it too. Yea, YOU, you car bigot. The Car Caste System is fixed and based on the prestige of your car, as indicated by its cost, age, size, and speed. You yourself can move up and down the caste with each car you own. But your car remains in a fixed position in the Car Caste System, no matter your actual social standing. This is why people buy expensive cars — for the perceived social mobility afforded by the automobile. If you are ever in a yield situation, where it's either you or the other car, generally the car in the higher tier will jump in first, regardless of who has the right of way. This isn't an absolute rule, of course. Many kind and law-abiding souls exist in all caste levels. But in absence of rules, laws, and consideration, the car in the higher tier will take precedence. What do I mean? The next time you're driving, pay attention to the car that is merging into your lane. If it is a BMW, are you more apt to let it in? What if the car was a Honda? Or an old beat-up station wagon with a missing bumper? I'm going to bet that there's a slight subconscious preference to a car in a higher level. This yielding is a subtle show of respect. It is not entirely universal either. Some individuals carry such loathing for a particular type of automobile that they will never yield to it. The vast majority, however, may exhibit such unconscious nuances. The upper echelon of the Car Caste System is made up of ultra-expensive luxury brands like Rolls Royce, Bentley, Ferrari and Lamborghini. They are the kind of cars for which ordinary people would need a home equity loan just to make the monthly car payments. The maintenance for these cars costs more than the average person's annual salary. Only a small percentage of the population can afford these cars, therefore only a relative few exist in this social stratum. The next tier is comprised of luxury brands like BMW, Mercedes Benz, Lexus, and Cadillac. These cars are within the range of most high-income families, though some middle-income families purchase them as well, financially tying them to years of expensive car payments. Many regard these echelons with jealousy, disdain, and even a bit of awe. Mostly jealousy though. However, the upper tier carries more intensity of emotion on all counts. In some posh neighborhoods, the lower tier brands are such a common sight that they are the Hondas and Toyotas of these communities. In the average neighborhood, these two levels typically own the road — or at least, some of their drivers think they do. Within the Car Caste System, they are the landlords, the royalty, and the white-collar executives. Some will weave through traffic and expect other drivers to part for them. This rarely happens, but they unconsciously expect it anyways. Sports cars make up another band. There is some overlap with the upper echelon and lower tiers, as many manufacturers create sports cars. Typical brands here include Corvette, Audi, BMW, and Ferrari. There is also a niche of street racers using highly-tuned cars from Honda, Toyota, Mazda, and Infiniti. Cars at this caste level are characterized by their high speeds and a penchant for attracting the ire of law enforcement officials. Their drivers live at 80mph and higher — usually higher. Others view this level with jealousy and disdain, though its members hold high esteem for those that display high driving skills. In their eyes, they are analogous to the soldiers and warriors of the Car Caste System. In the eyes of other people, they are more like bratty teenage jocks. They believe own the road and slice through traffic like it was standing still. This obviously fosters their impression of being arrogant, though sports car drivers arrogantly don't mind. They judge themselves not in terms of their absolute speed, but their speed relative to others on the street. If they aren't passing other cars quickly, they aren't driving fast enough. Family passenger cars fall into a wide band. Either sedans or coupes, these cars make up the majority of street denizens. Common brands such as Honda, Toyota, Ford, and GM are readily affordable. Therefore, they are the masses, the commoners, the blue-collar workers of the Car Caste System. SUVs, pick-up trucks, vans and minivans make up another tier. The size of their vehicles overshadows others, impeding visibility and slowing down traffic. Their bulk is both an advantage and disadvantage — for cargo space and for fuel efficiency, respectively. Brands across the spectrum manufacture such vehicles, such as Lexus, Ford, Chevy, and Nissan. Their size makes them the morbidly and arrogantly obese members of the Car Caste System. They are tolerated by some but disdained by others. However, some differentiations exist within this level. SUVs are the morbidly and arrogantly obese, pick-up trucks are the blue-collar workers, vans are older blue-collar workers, and minivans are the soccer Moms. Yes, it is difficult to dissuade the image of minivans and soccer Moms. Old, beat-up automobiles are at the bottom of the Car Caste System. Almost any pre-1999 vehicle falls into this bucket, across all brands. These cars are ridden with chipped paint, rust spots, and dents. They may bleed black exhaust, utter horrible noises, and shudder while they operate. Coming in all forms, they can be passenger cars, pick-up trucks, or station wagons. Sadly, no one cares about the bottom of the bucket. Well, they care enough to turn their nose up at them, but that's about it. Regarded as a mere annoyance, they aren't even afforded a level of disdain; they simply aren't worth that emotion. All things being equal, rarely will someone yield to an old beater. Thus, the bigotry of the Car Caste System. Is it fair? No, it's not fairer than any other caste system. Sentiments of prejudice and unconscious respect run deep in many aspects of life, including cars. After you read this, pay heed to the cars around you. Watch that car merging into your lane. Were you about to let it in? If you strip out unspoken rules, laws, and consideration, what would you have done? Did the type of car matter? It did? You car bigot. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/the-caste-of-your-car.html

• From Pom Pom Balls to Small Business Owner
  Mar 22, 2009 1:34 PM

  I'm not sure when it first hit me. The desire to become an entrepreneur, I mean. All I know is, it has something to do with a pom-pom ball, some felt, and a pair of rolly eyeballs. I blame it all on my Dad. My Dad set up the foundation when I was in grade school. He came home from work one evening with a bunch of fuzzy pom-pom balls, sheets of felt, fabric glue, scissors, and a bag of plastic rolly eyeballs, top hats, baseball caps, and other assorted accessories. The goal for my brother and I was to create a community of pom-pom people. First, we cut out pairs of feet with the felt. Then we glued these feet to the pom-pom balls. Next, we glued a pair of eyes on each pom-pom. Finally, we individualized each one with accessories. Some received top hats. Some got baseball caps. A few had baseball caps on backwards because they were the bad-asses. I have no idea how my Dad came by this idea. Maybe from a television show? Maybe from a magazine article? I wonder. The next day, my Dad took these pom-pom people to work and sold them to his coworkers. He sold every single one. Inspired by the demand, our family spent the next few weeks creating more pom-pom communities. We diversified and created all kinds of original accessories. My brother gave one a shield and sword-toothpick. I gave another a painter's palette with swabs of paint (pieces of different colored fabric) and a paint brush-toothpick. One of our favorites was a black pom-pom with a toothpick we colored red and a black piece of felt around his back — a lightsaber and cape. Get it? Pom-pom Darth Vader! Ah, to be young and imaginative. Demand remained steady for a month or so. Production kept up with demand steadily. In other words, coworkers kept buying them and we kept making them. He gave us portions of the money. Some of it was allotted to bank accounts my parents opened for us. Though we were too young to use any of that money, they instilled the virtue of saving money even back then. The remaining cash was used to buy toys and comic books. Then we saturated the market. Demand fell. We had to scale production back. The unsold pom-pom people remained at my Dad's desk until he sold every last one in the trailing months. My brother and I kept a few choice favorites back home. I still have a pom-pom painter. The next time I engaged in an entrepreneurial activity was college, where I used my meager training in graphic and web design to do some freelance work. I did a few small jobs here and there, getting paid what I thought was a mountain of money, though I realize now it was pennies compared to what professional freelancers made. Having a taste of freelance work was but a sip of being self-employed, a common baby step towards entrepreneurship. The desire to be a business owner always stuck in my peripheral though — not just to be self-employed, but to be a business owner. Not as a freelancer, but as a leader who manages a company of employees doing something fun, profitable, and worthwhile. Fast forward to 2007, way after the collapse of the Wild West Web. I finally decided to take a gulp, turn my head, and stare straight at entrepreneurship. I flirted with a few ideas, started a few projects, and did a few cool things with some friends, all of which further whet my appetite. A year ago, I finally founded a formal business with two other entrepreneurs. It's still a young company, but it is already profitable, which is saying a lot in the current economic recession. Years of learning, preparing, and planning are beginning to pay off. I just moved to a new apartment too. While unpacking, I found my old pom pom painter. A grand grin grew on my face. Life was coming full circle. That pom pom guy is sitting on my laptop right now as I write this. Once I finish, I'm going back to work (there is no such thing as a weekend for an entrepreneur). What a journey it has been, from a pom pom ball to a small business owner. Thanks Dad! I can't wait to buy my kids a bag of (metaphorical) pom pom balls too. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/from-pom-pom-balls-to-small-business-owner.html

• Text Messaging Etiquette
  Mar 15, 2009 1:34 PM

  Have you committed a text faux pas recently? Texting, the short-hand for "text messaging via a mobile device," is such a common communication method now that a whole new set of manners and etiquette has arisen. How many of these do you break regularly? Keep your phone on vibrate or silent mode. No one wants to hear your phone beep every time you receive a new text. Keep your text messages concise. Brevity is key. For long messages, use email or — how novel — a phone call. Do not write a text message to someone while talking to someone else face-to-face. Give the person in front of you your immediate attention. The text message can wait. Do not get upset if you don't get an immediate reply. The recipient might be busy (see above) or unaware of the new text message. Be aware that misinterpretations can and will happen. It is difficult to discern emotional nuances from short text messages. Be judicious with your shorthand. Some people may not be aware of the shorthand you are using. Be aware of basic grammar rules. Just because text messages encourage shorthand notation is no reason to show your recipient that you have the grammar skills of a two year-old. DO NOT WRITE A TEXT MESSAGE IN ALL CAPS. A pox on you and your firstborn if you do. If you know your friend is on a wireless plan that charges per text message, don't bombard the friend with messages. Do not write a text message while driving. Not only is this illegal in some states, but doing so renders your awareness to the level of a drunk driver. If you are writing a text message while walking, watch where you are going. Make sure you don't walk into someone, a tree, or traffic. Text messages can be used to politely remind or notify someone who you know is unable to answer the phone. "Can you call me when you're out of your meeting?" is perfectly acceptable. Be aware of who you are writing the text message to, as informal messages full of slang are more appropriate for your friends than your superiors at work. Be aware of your recipient's schedule. Just as you wouldn't call someone at 2AM, don't text message that person either. Do not write a text message while on a date. That signals to the date that you are bored and uninterested — unless you want to convey that, of course. Guys: if a girl gives you her phone number, do not respond with only text messages. Dial her number, open your mouth, and talk to her. You will impress her much more this way. Do not send a text message while intoxicated. Drunk texting is as bad as drunk calling. Bad bad bad. Do not harass someone with text messages. They can be traced, so it isn't just rude, it's also stupid. Do not use a text message for something formal and serious, like a wedding invitation or ending a relationship. It's just tacky and lame. Double-check the recipient before sending your text message. Make sure you are not sending a love note to your boss. Unless your boss is your sweetie-pie. Do not write a text message while in an interview, unless you don't want that job. Do not send a spam-like chain text message, unless you are a total jerk. People who pay per text message will especially abhor you for this. Do not text while watching a movie in a movie theater. The light from your mobile device can be distracting to other viewers. A hundred years of bad acne on you if you do. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/text-messaging-etiquette.html

• We Were Almost Hit by an Asteroid This Week
  Mar 8, 2009 1:34 PM

  Did you know that the Earth was almost struck by an asteroid this week? Unless you follow science news closely, you may have missed it. The asteroid, designated 2009 DD45, is less than a third of a football field in diameter (approximately 20-30 yards). After watching movies like Armageddon and Deep Impact, that seems pretty small, doesn't it? It's no Texas-sized Global Killer like in Armageddon. The impact of 2009 DD45 would still have been disastrous. "The force of multi-megaton nuclear blast," wrote one reporter. Striking a city would have leveled it and killed millions. Striking the ocean would have caused a horrible tsunami that devastated coastlines. Yikes! To be fair, our planet is struck by asteroids all the time. Most burn up in the atmosphere. Few make it to the ground in the size of basketballs, baseballs, or smaller. However, in 1908 a large asteroid struck Siberia, near the Tunguska River, with a force 1,000 times more powerful than the nuclear bomb dropped in Hiroshima, Japan. It is believed that this asteroid may have been a few tens of meters in diameter. Scary stuff. While it doesn't do any good to sit here worrying about asteroid impacts, the idea of one certainly puts life into perspective. What if the world were to end tomorrow? It is a question commonly asked by thinkers and philosophers, usually as a way to guide our actions throughout our current life. The question is invariably followed by the assertion that every day should be lived like it is one's last. However, doing that is unrealistic. If the world really were to end tomorrow, most people would be out there, having raging orgies, eating fatty foods, or generally doing all sorts of selfish, indulgent activities they normally wouldn't do. Perhaps people really shouldn't live each day like it is their last. Another answer is to live life without regrets. Unfortunately, that is not a satisfactory answer for many. Living without regrets means there will be a tomorrow with which to feel regret. If the world ended tomorrow, that would be moot. I believe the answer is somewhere in between each of these. The contentment of living each day like it is your last should be in sync with having no regrets because you've done so with honor and integrity. Every time you go to sleep, you should do so with a smile and a clear conscience, no matter your religious and spiritual beliefs. Why should you live life that way? How about spiritual satisfaction? Honorable livelihood? Or that well-worn cliché: A life of virtue is its own reward. It may not sound easy to live life this way, but once you do, you will find it easy to. You will not only be ready for the end of the world, but you will be ready for potential judgment in the afterlife too, if such a thing exists. The end of the world may not be that far off either. Asteroid 99942 Apophis is due to pass by our planet in 2029, most probably missing us. Then it will circle around and come near us again in 2036. The second visit may not be a miss. 99942 Apophis is somewhere between 210 to 330 meters wide - much bigger than 2009 DD45, but fortunately much smaller than Texas. An impact with this asteroid would cause untold destruction around its unlucky impact point. Fortunately, it wouldn't cause an end to the world. Pardon my earlier exaggeration. It would most certainly cause an end for some people though. Scientists have already been working on solutions though, a la Deep Impact. From solar sails to adding mass (to alter its trajectory), solutions are being modeled and perfected. With roughly twenty-seven years to plan and build, hopefully they will come up with a viable answer in time. Let's go back to the end-of-the-world question again. An assumption it makes is that we wouldn't have much time to prepare for the world's end. It would just be upon us suddenly, as a real-life Global Killer probably would do. Does it surprise you that you didn't hear about 2009 DD45 until just recently? Such an event ought to make a fair bit of news, right? Sure, the media could have been sitting quietly on this story for months, resisting the urge to break it for the sake of the public. I'll wait while you ROFL. No, clearly the media would do no such thing, whether or not it would be in the public's best interest. The simple truth is that scientists didn't know about 2009 DD45 until two days before its apparent impact. Prolific asteroid hunter Robert McNaught of Siding Spring Observatory in Australia spotted it when it was only 1.5 million miles away. Then Timothy Spahr of the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics determined that it wouldn't be a threat within an hour of its discovery. In other words, they spotted it then quickly realized it wasn't going to cause untold destruction. The media probably picked up the story and figured it wasn't important enough to turn into a major headline. Perhaps that is a good thing. Who knows how the public would have reacted if they misinterpreted the news as the actual end of the world? Maybe with raging orgies, eating fatty foods, or all sorts of selfish, indulgent activities. Or maybe they would be at peace, having already lived each day like it was their last, with honor, integrity, and contentment. Which would you rather do? (I know, I know… orgy vs honorable contentment. I really haven't made a convincing argument, have I?) ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/we-were-almost-hit-by-an-asteroid-this-week.html

• Ode to Commode
  Feb 22, 2009 12:34 PM

  Here I sit, broken-hearted. Came to shit, only farted. Shouldn't have had that Taco Bell. Now my butt is burning hell. Pushing with a mighty clench. Yet nothing drops down the trench. Sweat upon my furrowed brow. This room smells like nasty cow. Been a while; my butt's gone numb. Would it help to stick my thumb? Teeth I grit, my hands I wrench. Emitting noise, and quite a stench! Time ticking, I'm running late. She'll be pissed, my waiting date. Been feelin' fine, when it hit me - pow! Oh all days, why now, why now? Here it comes, just a dribble. Not enough, still too little. Frustrated, and full of gas. Push push push, still, no mass. What to do, But sit and wait? Oh Taco Bell, you I hate! ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/ode-to-commode.html

• Eavesdropping in a Cafe
  Feb 8, 2009 12:34 PM

  I was minding my own business when seven words caught my attention: "And then she went down on him?" How fortunate. I'm on my laptop right now, trying to come up with something to write. Thank you sweet fate for offering this titillating story to me via eavesdropping. "No, he did not." I inch my chair closer while keeping my eyes on my screen. Mustn't be too obvious. "Wait, how old is she again?" My fingers tip-tap on the keyboard. I scramble to capture it all. "Okay, but like, how old was she then?" A quick glance around the cafe netted a few other eavesdroppers. How could you not eavesdrop on a conversation like this? She wasn't being particularly quiet on her cell phone either. "Ohmigod isn't she worried about him getting shot or anything?" Someone coughs and looks away. Our collective minds are bubbling with explanations. Maybe he was a drug dealer. Maybe he was in a street gang. Maybe… "Wow, I didn't know he made sergeant. Like, which precinct?" Oh, okay, so he's a police officer. "Ohmigod she did not say that! Get out of here, she did not say that!" What did she say? What did she say? "Before she turned thirty? Seriously? So that's why her wedding seemed so last minute. It was so rushed. Ohmigod did you see the centerpieces? They were so messy." Did this girl give this police officer's baton a shining just to get married before she turned thirty? That's determination. This girl sounds like once she's focused on something, she won't let go. Maybe literally. "I know, like, there were pedals everywhere. They were dropping off everywhere." I like how this conversation just took a major detour. From sex to work to marriage to wedding. Just like the progression of a natural relationship, I suppose. "Ohmigod he was so cute. Did you see him? He looked so adorable!" Could be the best man. Or the little kid who walks down the aisle before the wedding party, whatever they call him. "So is she, like, happy now that she's married and everything?" Ah yes, the most important question of the day. I lean closer. "Oh. Ohmigod. Oh. Ohmigod." What? What?! Tell us! Prying minds want to know! "Ohmigod. That poor thing." Dammit, tell us! You've carried us along this far, you can't stop now. What happened to your friend?? "You know, I totally knew this would happen. Like, I know a friend whose sister dated a cop, and he would like, totally come home and beat on her. No, yea. Like, it's a power trip thing or something. Yea. Totally." Oh. That's pretty awful. I know not all police officers are like this, but it's awful her friend is going through whatever she's going through. Some of the other cafe patrons return to their lattes, having heard enough. "Ohmigod! Get out! Oh, she is such a slut!" Oh? The other patrons peek over again. "That guy from her office? I think I met him. Ohmigod I totally met him! She did him? No way!" Ooo, methinks this story is getting better again. This whole conversation is like a car wreck; you just can't turn away, bloody bodies and all. "Oh really? No, really?" Suddenly, she gets up. Everyone shifts in their seats and pretends to be reading whatever is on their table. A laptop, a magazine, the logo on their cups. She seems oblivious as she shuffles out the door. "And then she went down on him?" That's the last we hear of her titillating tale. And thus it comes full circle, back to the beginning seven words. Just like love and life. Thanks for the story! Hope things work out for your friend! ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/eavesdropping-in-a-cafe.html

• The Nighttime Phone Call
  Feb 1, 2009 12:34 PM

  Ever get a phone call from a ghost? A friend of a friend did. True story. Here's what happened. She was driving alone in the evening. The sun was down and blackness surrounded her. Occasional headlights littered her view. Otherwise, the highway in front of her was as black as the sky. It was around 10:00 PM. Her cell phone was with her. Unfortunately, she didn't have a chance to use it before it happened. Another car hopped the divider and charged towards her. The bright lights flooded her with its brilliant glare. She couldn't see what was going on. She barely had any time to react. The other car struck her head-on. Even though she had her seat belt on, the force of the collision killed her instantly. That's what the coroner reported later. At least she didn't have to suffer. The other driver was drunk. A senseless and avoidable tragedy. Her family was alerted as soon as it happened. Their grief was horrible. Agonizing. It's unbearable to feel the loss of a daughter. Her friends heard about it soon thereafter. One friend couldn't believe it. She even doubted it. How can you accept that a good friend, someone you were just talking to, is suddenly gone, forever? Then she got the phone call. It was her. Plain as day, her name appeared on the caller ID. See, she couldn't be dead. She's calling right now. The friend answered the phone. Silence. "Hello? Hello?" She called her friend's name out several times. Still, no sound. Then the dial tone. The friend dropped her phone. Icicles sliced through her spine. She shivered, even though it was a warm summer night. The friend checked with the police later. Did someone use her phone? Maybe make the call by accident? No, the phone was turned off and in police custody at the time of the call. It was later returned to the family. But no living person was using the phone at that time. Was she trying to reach out to her friend one last time? What was she trying to say? Why that friend and not her family? And if that wasn't her, who—or what—made that call? It's one of those mysteries we may never be able to answer in this lifetime. But perhaps, in the next life, we'll learn the answer. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/the-nighttime-phone-call.html

• Mr. Cornne in Brazil
  Jan 25, 2009 12:34 PM

  Background: A series of vignettes of Mr. Cornne, a young American high school teacher working in a small town in Brazil. Based on a true story. All dialogue is in Portuguese. Scene One: The Street Setting: A street in a small town somewhere in Brazil. Several female high school students walk past the camera. The camera pans to reveal Mr. Cornne walking towards them. He smiles and recognizes them as students from his> Students: Mr. Cornne! Mr. Cornne! Mr. Cornne: Good afternoon, my friends. Students: We love you Mr. Cornne! Mr. Cornne: Blushes and smiles in response. Students: Each one leans over on the tips of her toes and kisses him on the cheek. Mr. Cornne: Thank you, thank you. Silvia (one of the students): Mr. Cornne, you are so handsome today. Mr. Cornne: Still blushing. Um, thank you. Students: Walking away from Mr. Cornne. Bye Mr. Cornne! We love you! See you in> Mr. Cornne: Looks at camera and smiles. This is why I love teaching in this country so much. The people are so friendly and familial. All students treat their teachers like this, not just me. With such passion. It is their custom. But still, I love it. Though… it seems one may have formed a crush on me. Blushes. Scene Two: The Classroom Setting: Mr. Cornne's It is the start of Students are arriving and taking their seats. Mr. Cornne: Everyone, please take your seats. Waits a moment until all are seated quietly. Thank you. Now take out your English textbooks and turn to page 125. Please read that story. When you are done, we will discuss it. Students: They flip open their textbooks and begin reading. Silvia: Gets up from desk and pulls chair over to Mr. Cornne's desk. Positions herself right next to him. Her textbook is in her hands. He looks over curiously as she leans against him and starts reading quietly. Mr. Cornne: Looks at camera and shrugs. Silently mouths the words, "She does this all the time. Sometimes other students do it too." Scene Three: Chocolate Setting: Mr. Cornne's The is over and students are walking out. Silvia lingers after everyone has left and approaches Mr. Cornne. Don't worry, this isn't a porn, this is a PG story. Silvia: I love you, Mr. Cornne. Mr. Cornne: Oh, um, thank you. Silvia: Why don't you love me? Mr. Cornne: Uh, well, it's complicated, you see. First, there's the age difference. I am much older than you and you are still very young. Then, I'm also your teacher, so… Silvia: So what do you love? Mr. Cornne: Um. Chocolate. I love chocolate. Silvia: I am chocolate. Love me. Mr. Cornne: Blushes. Um, that is very sweet of you. Class is over now. You need to get to your next before you're late. Silvia: Pouts. Bye, Mr. Cornne. I love you! Runs out of the> Mr. Cornne: Looks at camera. What did I say about the people here being very, uh, passionate? You should hear some of the things they say to me off camera. My gosh! Blushes and shakes head. Scene Four: Back in America Setting: Back in America. Mr. Cornne is walking down a street in his hometown. He passes by some of his former students. All dialogue here is in English. Mr. Cornne: Smiling. Good afternoon! Former Students: Cast him a scowl and scurry past him without saying a word. As they walk away, they turn their heads and giggle. Ohmigod, do you know who that is? Mr. Cornne! Didn't he leave the county and like, get deported or something? What's he doing back here? Mr. Cornne: Looking at camera. Shakes his head with a sigh. I miss Brazil. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/mr-cornne-in-brazil.html

• The Pick-Up at the Drive-Thru
  Jan 18, 2009 12:34 PM

  Setting: I'm on the phone with my girlfriend. She is in her car at a fast food drive-thru. There is a car ahead of her in the line. Girlfriend: …and then I have to complete ten more reports before getting into work tomorrow and… um… hmm, that was weird. The person in front of me is waving at me. I wonder if I know that guy. Me: Really? Is he from work? GF: I don't think so. I don't recognize him. Oh well. So if I work tonight, maybe I can get most of it done. Then I can wake up early and… Guy from Car in Front: Hey! What, you're too busy to say Hi? GF: Yelling to guy in car. Oh, um, Hi. Do I… GFCIF: Hi beautiful! You are so beautiful! GF: Oh, heh, thanks… GFCIF: Do you have a boyfriend? GF: Yea, I'm on the phone with him right now. GFCIF: Oh, okay. He's a very lucky guy to have a beautiful girl like you. Tell him he's a lucky guy. GF: Heh, okay. Talking to me again. Did you hear that honey? You're a lucky guy. Hehe. Me: I know! I'm so lucky to have a beautiful girl like you! GF: Giggles. Oh my gosh, that was so weird. Me: Hehe. I'm not surprised. Beautiful girl like you, this must happen all the time. GF: No way. And I look like a total mess today too! I just got out of work! Why do these guys always try to pick me up when I'm at my worst? Me: Babe, you're always beautiful. There's never a time you're not beautiful. See, that guy thinks so too! GFCIF: Mumbles something. GF: I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. GFCIF: Can I give you a call something? GF: No, no thank you. Me: Wow, that dude is persistent. GF: Yea, my gosh. GFCIF: Have a great night, beautiful! GF: Okay, thanks, you too. Me: That was> GF: Laughs. I know, right? Welcome to my neighborhood. Where a girl can get picked up at a fast-food drive-thru at night. ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/the-pick-up-at-the-drive-thru.html

• Why Asian Girls Like White Guys
  Jan 11, 2009 12:34 PM

  Now here's a controversial topic. It incites flames, trolls, and every other little ugly side of human psychology you can squint at. It is the topic of interracial dating between Asian girls and white guys. Now let's begin. I don't have any hard numbers to quantifiably verify if Asian girl/white guy relationships are more common than white girl/Asian guy relationships, though many people are happy to offer anecdotal evidence in support of the former. The bigger question is why. The world is rife with theories. Here are some of the more common ones. Asian Female Social Elevation Theory This theory posits that Asian girls date white guys because they feel it will elevate their social status in some way. They perceive Asians to be lower on the social ladder than whites, whether through social conditioning, media conditioning, insecurity, or something else. Therefore, a relationship, and/or marriage and kids with a white guy will improve their social standing. Some may feel this way explicitly; others may unconsciously believe it but aren't able to articulate it. Passive Asian Male, Aggressive White Male Theory This theory states that Asian guys are generally less aggressive when it comes to asking a girl out because of cultural influences that teach them discretion over outright showiness. They'd rather be friends with the girl first, then wait a long while before asking her out. Conversely, white guys are generally more aggressive and display more overt romantic gestures. In the realm of dating, an overt romantic gesture usually wins over a passive, discrete one (especially in Western societies). Therefore, Asian girls who may not really have a preference for white guys over Asian guys, end up with white guys because they've been openly & aggressively courted by one. Exotic Asian Female Theory This theory can also be called the Asian Fetish or Yellow Fever Theory because white guys see Asian girls as exotic, different, and submissive. These white guys want a trophy girlfriend and/or wife. It is less important for the Asian girl to share similar cultural values or language, than it is to be passive and doting. The Asian Female Social Elevation Theory also plays a part, in that the Asian girls who willingly go out with white guys with an Asian fetish look past these preferences in favor of social elevation benefits. Independent Asian Female Theory This theory hypothesizes that because more and more Asian girls are earning advanced degrees, strong careers, and financial independence, Asian guys are finding them less desirable. Asian guys with traditional patriarchal cultural values seek wives who will stay at home and take care of the children. Since these educated, independent Asian girls don't fit that model, they turn to white guys who accept that independence. Desired Asian Female Theory This theory puts forth the assertion that Asian guys aren't necessarily more passive or white guys necessarily more aggressive. Instead, Asian girls are desired by all ethnicities equally. Asian guys like them because, well, they're Asian too. White guys like them because they're exotic, different, submissive, or some other kind of perceived notion. Therefore, the laws of probability assert that there should be a fair mix of Asian girl/white guy and Asian girl/Asian guy couples out there. Since Asian girl/Asian guy couples are the expected norm, an Asian girl/white guy couple stands out as an exception and causes people to assume the exception is the norm. Undesired Asian Male Theory This theory is the flip side to the Desired Asian Female theory, in that it asserts that Asian guys are perceived similarly to Asian girls: exotic, different, and submissive. Sometimes the added perceptions of being feminine, wimpy, and geeky are also prescribed. These traits are viewed negatively in Western societies, causing both white and Asian girls to have a preference away from Asian guys. Undesirable White Female Theory This theory turns the Undesired Asian Male Theory around and posits that white girls do actually want Asian guys, but many Asian guys don't want white girls because of perceptions of cultural incompatibility and marriage instability (the belief that whites are more apt to divorce than Asians are). So while there should be a fair number of interracial couples on both sides, it's the preference of Asian guys for Asian girls that limits white girl/Asian guy couples. Sexist Asian Male Theory This theory claims that Asian guys are sexist, chauvinistic, and even misogynistic, because of traditional patriarchal cultural values. Asian guys range from not knowing how to treat an Asian girl with respect to wanting them to be housewives and nothing else, similar to the Independent Asian Female Theory. Except this theory pushes the assumption further to say that Asian guys may even verbally or physically abuse their wives. Therefore, Asian girls choose white girls who have been socialized in a Western society where feminist thought and equality is more prevalent. Asian Male Wife-Like-Mom Theory This theory says that Asian guys want a girlfriend and ultimately, a wife, who resembles their mothers (in personality, not looks, necessarily) because of cultural influences. White guys, on the other hand, don't have as much of a preference. Therefore, while there could be more white girl/Asian guy couples out there, Asian guys are going for Asian girls instead. And without such a preference, white guys are going for both white girls and Asian girls. Dominant White Male Society Theory This theory offers the concept of Western societies being white-male-dominated as the determinant of Asian girl/white guy couples. Combining several theories here, this theory states that white guys who have a preference for Asian girls can form a relationship with them through overt romantic gestures, unconscious social elevation benefits, and an air of self-confidence (which is considered an extremely attractive trait in Western societies). This air of self-confidence comes from being the dominant race/gender pair, thereby giving them an advantage in dating a girl of any other ethnic group. Inevitable Cross-Pollination Theory This theory suggests that as the various ethnicities and nations of the world intermingle, there will be an inevitable cross-pollination of interracial relationships. Therefore, there is an equal number of Asian girl/white guy and white girl/Asian guy couples out there. People just notice the Asian girl/white guy pairings more often because of the controversial assumption that the white guy is just dating her to appease his "yellow fever." Natural Love Theory This theory put forwards the notion that it's not about ethnicity, it's about natural compatibility. It is just two people who love each other, regardless of ethnicity, culture, background, education, or anything else. Simple as that. What's your theory on Asian girl/white guy relationships? ©2009 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/why-asian-girls-like-white-guys.html

• Close-Mindedness
  Dec 28, 2008 12:34 PM

  "Why do you think people are close-minded?" I regarded the question like a fresh forehead pimple on a first date. "Because people are that's why." "What a close-minded answer," my friend answered. I laughed. "Damn, you're right." I put down my mocha and shook my head. He smirked. "No really, what do you think?" "You're seriously wondering this?" I watched him nod once. "Well, I think it's easy to be close-minded. It takes less effort. And many people prefer to take the path of least resistance." He scratched his chin and took a sip of espresso. "You've got a point there. Effort is a real turn-off." "Right. Thinking about every concept, every behavior, every statement, in a critical way requires active thinking. It requires questioning the underlying assumptions behind it. I don't think many people want to or have the capacity to do that, and not always for reasons of their own." "What do you mean?" "I think some people willingly opt for ignorance, though they don't see it that way. Others may just be too tired to question everything and follow mental shortcuts, which sometimes mean accepting the assumptions in front of them. Ever read the book Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion?" He shook his head. "It's a book about the techniques salespeople use against unsuspecting prey. Many of its techniques are based on catching people at their most vulnerable, when they're least likely to put up defenses. One of those moments is when they're in a rush and busy thinking about other stuff. Their mental defenses are down. They don't want to bother with anything except what they have to do. If you ask them for something seemingly innocuous and bother them enough, they'll acquiesce. One example is Hari Krishnas at airports. Remember how they used to give you a flower in exchange for a donation?" He scratched his head and sniffed his espresso. "Yea, I do." "Most people gave the Hari Krishnas a dollar just so they wouldn't be hassled any further. It was the path of least resistance, a mental shortcut to get by an annoyance." "That certainly makes sense," he replied between sips. "So you're saying close-mindedness is related to this phenomenon somehow?" "I suspect so. I would guess that close-mindedness, for some people, is just a mental shortcut. They are otherwise intelligent professionals going about their days. But when hit with something that's not critical enough for their current cognitive load, they defer to blindly trusting the assumptions and opt for the mental shortcut. I don't mean to equate close-mindedness with giving a donation to a Hari Krishna, but the mental workload is similar. And I'm sure I've been guilty of it—" I caught my friend rolling his eyes with a grin. I smirked in reply and continued. "—as have many people out there. It's an unintended close-mindedness, if you will. Furthermore, the degree to which someone can maintain this cognitive effort and an open mind varies day by day, subject by subject. You might find yourself extremely open-minded about religion, but unconsciously close-minded about your annoying relatives who come over drunk every Thanksgiving." "Nice analogy there. So you're saying close-mindedness is a form of mental laziness?" I swirled my mocha and watched the chocolate syrup whirl. "In a way, yes, I guess I am. For some people. I think others actively choose to stick by the assumptions they've been taught, perhaps for traditional reasons, social reasons, whatever. But for some, yes, it's a form of unconscious mental laziness." We sipped our drinks in silence. Across from me was a man reading the headlines off a stack of newspapers. He scoffed at something and shook his head, then relayed his thoughts to the barista with animated arms. The barista just shrugged. "It's the people who stick by their assumptions that bother me," my friend suddenly added. "That kind of stubbornness is… inexcusable. It's… it's…" I stared down at my cup and nodded. "I know, it's tough to swallow. But they're entitled to their opinion, right? They hold strong to their beliefs because they see strength in standing by a conviction. Resolve. Faith. Stubbornness. Call it what you will, but at the end of the day, aren't you being close-minded about not accepting their views, just because you disagree with them?" He shook his head. I drank my mocha, put it down, and took a second sip, and he was still shaking his head. "Close-mindedness, to me, means someone is unwilling to look at alternatives and question the underlying assumptions of some belief," he finally stated. "If they've thought it through and have formed a conclusion, that's great. I'm happy for them. They have a conviction now. But if they reject every and any statement that may legitimately poke a hole in their argument, that's close-mindedness. That's going overboard. Someone can be convicted, yet still open to alternative views if a logical one presents itself." "I wholeheartedly agree." I toasted him with my cup. "Couldn't have said it better myself." "But that doesn't change the fact that it's inexcusable. It's downright ignorant is what it is." I laughed. "There you go, being close-minded about them again." "I guess," he added, "I'm just close-minded about close-minded people." ©2008 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/close-mindedness.html

• How Would You Rate This Year?
  Dec 21, 2008 12:34 PM

  "How would you rate this year for you?" my friend asked. "From a scale of one to five: one being the worst, five being the best." I scratched my chin and cleared my throat. Then I gave my answer. "Five," I replied. He sat back in his seat. "Five? The best? Really?" He clutched his espresso and regarded me through the hot rising vapors. I nodded. "I would give 2008 a five because this was a year of new starts and new challenges. Despite the poor economy and layoffs, there's been a lot of new hope too. And I don't just mean a new presidency. For me, personally, there've been a lot of positives." I picked up my mocha and took a sip. He echoed with a sip of espresso. For a brief moment, we savored our drinks and pondered the question. Then he put his cup down and waited for me to continue. I cleared my throat again. "First of all, I started a new relationship. It wasn't always easy, but it's been going really well. I'm totally happy and excited about it. Heck, I kind of feel like the luckiest guy in the world to have met her. And it happened all because of chance. Or perhaps fate. That in itself could give 2008 a high score." He nodded. "True, you've been very lucky in the romance department." "Career-wise, starting a new business has been exciting as hell too. Frustrating as hell sometimes, but mostly exciting. I've made some mistakes, but they're great lessons learned. I actually look forward to, and expect to make many mistakes. Each one is going to make us that much stronger, especially in this economy. While other people are scared off by such risks, we're facing them head-on and still making a profit." "That's fantastic! Not many people can do what you're doing." "And don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm not struggling or scared at all. There are days when I wake up wondering if this is going to be sustainable in the long run. But that's what I wanted to worry about when I quit my full-time job. I wanted the fear of having no steady paycheck to propel me forward. Having no cushion is a tremendous motivator for making immediate profits, let me tell you." He shook his head. "I'll bet." "Investment-wise, not all of them have panned out. My portfolio has taken a dive, like most other people. But I still have a few hopeful investments out there. The market will swing back up again too. While there's been lots of stress around my investments, overall, I'm pleased with my positions." "That's very optimistic of you. A lot of people feel quite differently about that." I shrugged. "Yea, I know. Perhaps my rating for this year isn't just due to the excitement of these new starts and challenges. It's also due to my general outlook on life. I tend to be optimistic about a lot of things. For me, mistakes don't get me down as much as others, because I see them as ways to strengthen myself. And where others see problems, I see opportunities. Ultimately, I think life is all about what you make of it. You can choose to be pessimistic about it, or optimistic about it. You can choose to be pushed around and react to the world, or push back and shape the world." I stared at my mocha. "I'm beginning to sound full of myself, aren't I?" He smiled. "I think your view is refreshing. It's a very hopeful view. In these dark days, it's nice to see something with some light in their eyes." I quietly took a slow sip, savoring the sweet mocha on my tongue. "I'm not saying it's easy to always stay positive. But once I push my mind into that direction, it's really easy to continue with that attitude. It's like a muscle; the more I think this way, the easier it is to see all the possibilities out there. The more I work it, the stronger it becomes. Hmmm, I'm not sure if that analogy totally works." He took another sip, then held his cup and paused for a moment. "You know what you should do? You should write about this." I smirked. "How do you know I wasn't already going to?" He chuckled. "You saw an opportunity for a story and you went for it. Very opportunistic of you." We laughed and savored the last few drops of our drinks. Then we put our cups down for a reflective moment. I cleared my throat. "So how would you rate this year?" ©2008 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/how-would-you-rate-this-year.html

• A Rapidly Depreciating Capital Asset
  Dec 7, 2008 12:34 PM

  You know what is a rapidly depreciating capital asset? A new car. You're not thinking of buying one, are you? Are you?? Good, I didn't think so. Especially not in this economy. What? Car prices have dropped, you say? For some cars, maybe. And sure, with the tough economy and unemployment woes, less customers means less demand and lower prices. The underlying economics of automobile value and depreciation hasn't changed though. What do I mean? First, a new car loses about 20% of its value as soon as it is driven off the dealer's lot. Yup. 20%, give or take a few percentage points. That's a darn hefty sum. The next few years of the car's life also earn a depreciation. But not as much as its fourth or fifth year. Right around there, its value drops like seagull poop onto a fresh haircut. Why this sudden drop? Around this time, most cars begin needing a series of major repairs and maintenance work, like replacing the timing belt, brake pads, radiator hoses, and maybe even all of the tires. Even if the car has been babied, it will still need some work. Everyone knows cars drop in value over time. So if it experiences a second drop after driving off the dealer's lot, so what? If it's inevitable, there's no sense in crying, right? Nah. But there is a way to minimize your pain and save a ton of money. If you time it right, you could conceivably drive a semi-new car every three years almost for free! No, that's no sales pitch. I'm not a used car salesman trying to pull a sham. I'll leave that to the Viagra spammers (enlarge Mr. Johnson in just five days!). Here's the deal. Some cars retain their value fairly well in between their first year and fifth year of life. So if you buy a slightly used car (roughly a year old), then sell it in about three years, the difference to you won't be a lot. You'll be able to retain much of your capital. Who needs a wasteful car lease when you can hop from car ownership to car ownership? That's right; car leases are almost always bad. Well, that's not universally true. But the amount of research effort it takes to find a good deal is generally beyond the typical American attention span. So don't buy a brand new car. Buy one that's around a year old. Then enjoy the comfort and freedom of your own car for three years. When you sell it, it will still have most of its value intact. With the money from the sale, go out and buy another year-old car. Not a bad deal, huh? The cars that retain their value the best are the usual culprits: Hondas and Toyotas. Also currently on that list, perhaps surprisingly, are Porsche 911s, BMW 3 series & M3s, Mini Coopers, Mercedes-Benz SL & SLKs, Infiniti G35s, Subaru Impreza WRXs, and cars from Honda & Toyota's luxury nameplates: Acura and Lexus respectively. Cars that have great engineering, great fuel economy, and high demand year-over-year (such as Porsche 911s) retain the best value. That's just a rule of thumb, however. Automobile depreciation rates change over time and are ultimately at the mercy of market conditions, manufacturer supply, and consumer demand. Because when clean energy vehicles become the norm, none of these gas guzzlers will hold much residual value. Hope hope hope! If you want to be a geek, check out Kelly Blue Book for their annual reports on vehicle depreciation. Every year, they release a list of automobile depreciation forecasts. It's good stuff. So are you still considering a rapidly depreciating capital asset? If so, at least consider one that isn't going to drop tremendously in value. And if you play it right, you can even minimize your losses. Don't buy a brand new car; buy one that's around a year old. Then sell it in three years for another slightly used car. Happy car shopping! ©2008 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/a-rapidly-depreciating-capital-asset.html

• Ten Fun Things to Do on Thanksgiving
  Nov 23, 2008 12:34 PM

  Oh boy, Thanksgiving is coming soon! That means family and food and fun! What kind of fun? How about this kind of fun: Cook the turkey and "dress it up" using other foods. Shape the mashed potatoes in a face with carrots for the eyes. Put this at the top of the turkey. Shape the stuffing into boots and put them on the legs of the turkey. You can get even more creative with celery sticks, corn, and other side dishes. Choose a magic word for the day. Every time someone says that word, you and whoever else knows the word has to take a swig of alcohol. If you're not around any alcohol, you have to get to some as soon as you can - and you can't talk until you do. Just nod and smile if others are trying to speak to you. Buy a bag of fortune cookies and take the fortunes out. After you remove your guests' coats, slip a fortune into their pockets, one per coat. This only works if the weather is cool enough to warrant coats, of course. If you have a Roomba robotic vacuum cleaner (or some other kind of mobile home robot), attach a cardboard box on top of it. Have the robot cruise around your house with a tray of hors d'oeuvres on the box. Hopefully the box is tall enough and the robot steady enough. You may need to serve relatively stable hors d'oeuvres that won't roll around or fall over easily, such as crackers with cheese. If you have a dog, feed it food to make it gassy. This could include beans, cauliflower, and broccoli. A dog that eats too fast can also get gassy. Try to time it so it doesn't coincide with dinner. Perhaps when your guests first arrive. Or perhaps after dinner, while everyone is sitting around and talking. Unless you want it to happen during dinner. It's your call. Every time somebody says something, add the words, "in bed" after it. Chuckle to yourself if the phrase is especially good. Don't tell anyone why you're laughing though; keep this little secret to yourself. Create a table-top turkey centerpiece. Rig it so if someone touches it, something pops up like a Jack-in-the-Box or a Snakes-in-a-Can. Don't do this if you have elderly relatives with weak hearts, however. Make sure it doesn't explode or get too messy either, especially all over the food. Use lots of subtle sexual innuendo. Be nonchalant, but stare at the person after you say it, to see if they get it. Use phrases like: "That's a huge breast", "Tying the legs together keeps the inside moist," "If I don't undo my pants, I'll burst," "That's one terrific spread," "I'm in the mood for some dark meat," "It's a little dry, do you still want to eat it," "Don't play with your meat," "Just spread the legs open and I'll stuff it in," "I didn't expect everyone to come all at once," "You still have a little bit on your chin," "You'll know it's ready when it pops up," and "That's the biggest one I've ever seen!" If you really want your guests to leave early, set all the clocks one hour ahead. This only works if no one watches TV, however. Many will have watches and mobile phones with the correct time, but they may not double-check and just trust the clock on the wall. If they do look at their watches, just shrug and tell them their watch must have died. Every time a relative squeezes your cheeks, squeeze their cheeks back. Happy Thanksgiving everyone! ©2008 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/ten-fun-things-to-do-on-thanksgiving.html

• How to Get Rid of Lactose Intolerance
  Nov 16, 2008 12:34 PM

  I, like many Asian Americans I know, turned lactose intolerant a few years ago. Right around the age of 30. And it totally sucked ass. No more Cold Stones and Ben & Jerrys. Goodbye Pizookies. Hello estrogen-laden soy milk. (Reduced sex drive what??) To be fair, this isn't a case just for Asian Americans. A lot of people are lactose intolerant. It affects all ethnicities and cultures. The commonly cited number is 70-75% of the world's population. That's a heck of a lot of people! In fact, it's perfectly natural to be lactose intolerant. Lactase, the enzyme that breaks down lactose in our small intense, is gradually reduced as we get older. This reduction begins right after weaning and is practically all gone by adulthood. Bummer. So if this is natural, why would I want to be able to drink milk? I'll give you three reasons: Cold Stones, Ben & Jerrys, and Pizookies. I have a thing for sweets, what can I say? My path to lactose intolerance reduction began innocently. One day, a friend casually mentioned to me that yogurt contains live bacteria that aids in lactose digestion. Hmm, I thought. So I did some research and found that: Yogurt contains probiotics - microbial organisms that are naturally present in our digestive tracts. They are known as "friendly" bacteria. And more specifically, yogurt contains a particular kind of probiotics called acidophilus. If you want to get even more specific, it's Lactobacillus acidophilus. When yogurt is consumed, bile acids disrupt the cell wall of the bacteria in yogurt. This releases the enzyme beta-galactosidase (related to lactase) into the intestines, where it can enhance lactose digestion. Not any yogurt will do, however. It must contain live active bacteria. Fortunately, yogurt labels clearly list whether or not they have live active bacteria - which sounds gross, I know, but it's really a good thing. Remember, they are "friendly" bacteria! With that in mind, I decided to try a very unscientific experiment: Eat yogurt every day for 2-3 weeks Drink a glass of milk at the end of each week The results? Week 1 Lactose intolerance still there. And how. I admit, I didn't drink a full glass of milk. But the effects were the same. I shall spare you the details. Week 2 Lactose intolerance is going away. Still a bit of its consequences, but a full glass of milk doesn't have the, uh, intense adverse effects it once did. Experiment is working! Week 3 Lactose intolerance… gone! Holy crap! (Or lack thereof.) Hello ice cream, goodbye soy milk! This is a glorious milestone, simply glorious. I've been drinking milk semi-regularly since then, with no problems at all. Well, perhaps I've been a might bit gassy, but hopefully that will go away in a few more weeks. My friends all sure hope so. Fut. I can hardly say this experiment is reliable or conclusive. What worked for me may not work for you - just like acidophilus works for some, but not others. If you want to try this, consult your doctor or nutritionist first. After all, maybe humans are lactose intolerant for a reason. (And if you are allergic to milk, that's a very different condition.) Now pardon me while I enjoy this cup o' Cold Stone ice cream. Mmmm! ©2008 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/how-to-get-rid-of-lactose-intolerance.html

• Types of Kisses
  Nov 9, 2008 12:34 PM

  Oh, how can I kiss thee? Let me count the ways… The Sloppy Kiss I can slap your lips and cheeks with my tongue, draping it everywhere until your face is a dripping mess of saliva. Extra points for long strands dangling from your chin. The Over-Enthusiastic Kiss I can hungrily chop at your mouth like you're a delicious meal and I haven't eaten in months. Though you may not expect it, I won't care because, hey, I'm hungry. The Timid Kiss I can peck you on the corner of your lips. You may not feel anything, but if you do, it may remind you of a baby deer sniffing your face before dashing off into the woods. The Dead Fish Kiss I can stand there with my mouth open, attracting flies and hopefully your lips too. Even if you come in for a deep kiss, my tongue will just lie there, limp and lifeless like a dead fish. The Sealed Tomb Kiss I can squeeze my lips together tighter than a juvenile virgin's ass in prison. You won't be able to penetrate, no matter how hard you try. The All Tongue Kiss I can protrude my tongue and wrestle your tongue with my tongue. We can stand back at a safe distance with our lips far apart and watch our two moist wrestlers battle it out. The Snake Tongue Kiss I can rapidly dart my tongue in and out of your mouth, as if I'm smelling your breath with my tongue. It may feel funny, sort of like a wet, indecisive intruder. The Lip Kiss I can kiss and nibble just one of your lips. Maybe your upper lip, maybe your lower lip, you won't know which until I actually do it. I like to mix it up to keep you on your toes. The Deep Throat Kiss I can launch my tongue deep into the crevices of your mouth, practically gagging you with my Gene Simmons tongue. I can even tell whether or not you still have your tonsils. The Vacuum Cleaner Kiss I can form a suction around your lips and suck in deeply, drawing the breath from your lungs. This way, I can literally take your breath away. The Bite Kiss I can bite down on your lips. It won't be just a friendly nibble either; it'll be a toothy chomp, as if I'm a vampire here to suck your blood. I could also bite your neck too, for full effect. The Dentist Kiss I can drill down on your teeth with my tongue. Though you won't feel much because enamel doesn't have nerves, you'll leave with fewer cavities and cleaner teeth. The Tooth Smash Kiss I can smash my teeth into your teeth. The crunching impact will be shocking, maybe even painful, but if you make sure your lips aren't in the way, we can minimize the pain. The Poor Aim Kiss I can miss your lips and catch just the corner of your mouth. Or your cheeks. Or the wall behind you. Just like my aim at the toilet bowl at night, I can miss horribly. The Open-Eyed Kiss I can kiss you with my eyes spookily open. If you peek at me, you'll see me staring wide-eyed in wonder. Perhaps I'll study the way your eyebrows almost form a uni-brow. The Distracted Kiss I can kiss you, then look at my watch or read a book behind your back. If there is a game on TV, that's even better, because then I can cheer when my team scores and scream into your mouth. The Giggly Kiss I can giggle and chuckle as we kiss. The more passionate you are, the harder I'll laugh. I might even spill some saliva on your shirt because I'm laughing so much. The Bad Breath Kiss I can eat lots of onions and garlic and other nasty-smelling food before I kiss you. If my breath is bad enough, it'll seem like you're making out with a septic tank. The Out-of-Breath Kiss I can pant like a dog while kissing you. Every few seconds I'll gasp for fresh air. I'll pop open my mouth to suck in oxygen as if I'm drowning underwater. The Noisy Kiss I can make lots of moaning and smacking noises. My moans can intensify as our kiss does, shaking the walls with our lip lock. Extra points if the neighbors complain of the noise. The Spiderman Kiss I can hang upside-down and kiss you, so our noses don't mash together. This requires some dexterity and skill though. Plus, our tongues won't be totally coordinated. The Just Barely Reaching Kiss I can stand away from you, stretch my neck out, and juuust barely reach your lips. Maybe they'll just brush each other. Maybe the tips of our tongues will kinda sorta meet. But that will be it. The Jailhouse Kiss I can stand behind some bars and kiss you. In between our bodies will be cold, hard bars of steel that we can reach around in desperate agony, right before the guards come and drag us apart. The Ice-Tongue Kiss I can stick my tongue in some ice, then kiss you. You'll get a mouth full of frosty tongue meat. Yea. You know you like it. The Perfect Kiss I can kiss you because I love you. ©2008 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/types-of-kisses.html

• Turtle Snack Attack
  Oct 26, 2008 1:34 PM

  "Awww, what a cute little turtle!" he marveled. The baby turtle, about the size of his thumb's fingernail, wiggled on his finger. Its tiny legs struggled to climb and move somewhere. "It's so cute it looks almost good to eat! Hmm… maybe…" CRUNCH. munch munch munch… "Mmm… kinda tastes like peanut buttery chicken, with a soft warm nugget inside." munch munch munch… He licked his fingers. Suddenly, the sky darkened. He stopped mid-bite and looked outside. Some kind of swarm was flying towards him. But a swarm of what? He watched nervously as he continued to chew. munch munch munch… When they got nearer, his heart dropped into his bowels. "Wha…" he muttered."Those are… those are… flying turtles?!" A squadron of flying turtles crashed through his window and into the room. Splinters of glass sliced the air. He tumbled to the ground and rolled into a ball. Bits of glass and plaster decorated his hair like a Christmas tree. The outside wind tickled his ears. He looked up and saw the swarm circling the ceiling. His feet sprang and pushed him towards the door. The turtles rounded a corner and flanked him as he tried to escape. Another squadron smashed into his knees and brought him down. "Noooo!!!" he screamed as the flying turtles repeatedly rammed his skull. They beat down like a relentless bongo drum player with turtle shells for hands. His vision started to go black. With his last fluttering thoughts, he could have sworn he heard them chant, "Don't eat our babies. Don't eat our babies. Don't eat our babies." ©2008 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/turtle-snack-attack.html

• The Little Lemur
  Oct 19, 2008 1:34 PM

  It was a fine sunny day when I took a stroll through the zoo with my stuffed puppy. Because, c'mon, who wouldn't want to stroll through the zoo with their stuffed puppy? I passed by the lemur cage and heard a rattle. A lemur was staring up at me with wide, round eyes. I regarded him with a smile. "Hi little lemur!" I waved. He sniffed the air and looked at my stuffed puppy. I held the puppy's paw and waved it. "Puppy is saying 'Hi little lemur!' too." The lemur stared unblinkingly. Not one blink. For a moment, I wondered if those were really eyeballs or just two glorious marbles on his forehead. Suddenly, the lemur leapt forward. With one unblinking eye focused on me, he held my gaze. Then he squeezed his body through the bars like silly putty through a set of rollers. It was the strangest thing. And all that while, that eye, that unblinking eye, kept staring at me. Before I knew it, my stuffed puppy was gone. And the little lemur was cradling it lovingly. "No! My stuffed puppy!" The little lemur stared back at me, unblinkingly. I called the zoo security. They rushed over. I stammered on about how the little lemur stole my stuffed puppy. Bits of spit showered them. They called me a crackpot and threatened to throw me out. "I swear! That little lemur somehow squeezed through those bars and took my stuffed puppy!" "Why in the world were you carrying a stuffed puppy??" My mouth gaped open. A random fly zoomed in. "Because I was strolling through the zoo!" It was an answer as plain as day. Why didn't they understand? They grabbed my arms and dragged me away. I turned to yell at the little lemur, fists blazing. He sat there with my stuffed puppy in his arms. And stared at me with those damned unblinking marble eyes. ©2008 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/the-little-lemur.html

• Refreshing
  Oct 12, 2008 1:34 PM

  "It's so hot out here," muttered Poppy the pigeon. The fountain in the park invited him for a spell. He soared down, perched on the edge, and jabbed his tiny pigeon head into the stream. "Ahhh, refreshing." It was. The fountain's water was really refreshing. Nearby, something squealed. Poppy popped up. Two boys were skateboarding down the park. They were weaving in and out of terrified pedestrians. And both weren't wearing helmets. Poppy leapt from the fountain. High into the sky he soared, high as a pigeon. And down towards the boys he aimed. The boys were moving fast. Poppy had to flap frantically to catch up. "Slow down, you miscreants!" he chirped. But the boys didn't heed him; they didn't speak pigeon. A young couple screamed. An elderly man teetered off his walker. A little baby started to cry. The boys skated on, laughing and jeering. Poppy looked down at them. On their heads were target symbols. Like the ones at archery ranges. These head targets are not visible to humans. Only birds see them. So naturally, as any good archer would do, Poppy took aim. And fired. SPLAT. "What the?" One of the boys crashed. "Oh damn, is that bird poop in my hair?" "Ha ha ha! You got shat on!" hollered his friend. "You got"—SPLAT—"oh no!" He jumped off his board. "Haa! What? You got shat on too? Serves you right!" He looked up. SPLAT. "Dude, that bird shat on me again!" SPLAT. "Ugh! My eye!" SPLAT SPLAT. "This bird is a fricken poop machine!" SPLAT SPLAT. "Dude, let's get the hell out of here!" The boys jumped on their boards and raced out of the park. The pedestrians stared unnervingly at the pigeon, not sure if they should thank him or run for cover. Poppy hovered for a moment. "90% on target this time." He grinned a pigeon grin. "Not bad." Trickles of tiny pigeon sweat gleamed between his feathers. "It's so hot out here," he muttered. The fountain in the park, once again, invited him for a spell. Back into the stream he jabbed his head. "Ahhh, refreshing." ©2008 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/refreshing.html

• The San Jose Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon
  Oct 5, 2008 1:34 PM

  "Pushing through tiredness and discomfort in a race to a new personal record is not only rewarding in itself, but gives you an of what you can do in other areas of your life." - J. Galloway My eardrums pulsated. The music was loud. Energizing. I rubbed my hands together and jogged in place. The air was spiked with a spirited chill. "I can't believe I'm about to put my body through this punishment again," I thought to myself. I shook off the doubt and looked around me. Packed elbow-to-elbow was an assortment of runners of all shapes, sizes, colors, and ages. Like a box full of random toys. "Runners, get ready!" shouted the loudspeaker. Everyone turned to face forward. "Get set!" My heart shuddered. "Gooo!" We took off. The thunder of a thousand horses fought the booms of the bass drums. It made me forget I was doing another half marathon. For a moment, it was more like a chilly outdoor concert. Though I already had breakfast, I popped in some power gel. Mushy and hyper-sweet, I mashed it around my mouth like peanut butter. I was aiming to beat my previous time of 2:08:45 and wanted every advantage I could get. As the music faded, the race became more real. There was huffing and puffing all around me. Scores of runners zoomed by. I took note of some of them and wondered if I would see them on the side of the road later. One guy soared by me. Then spat a big, juicy, wet loogie on the ground. Friggin' guy. I had to leap to avoid it. One girl looked like a ghost. She was as white as this background color. I almost thought she was wearing white stockings, until I realized that she was just, well, really really white. Another guy, probably in his late forties with graying hair, zipped through the crowd pushing a baby in a stroller. Bystanders waved and cooed at the baby, who I presume waved back. Another lady, maybe in her fifties, also surged by me. What the hell. I began to increase my pace. It's one thing to be passed by a guy with a stroller. It's another to be passed by grandma. Honestly though, I totally give her props. She was extremely fit. I hope I can stay that fit throughout my life. Seeing her run by was both frustrating and inspirational. After a few blocks of nothing but the thunderous pitter-patter of countless feet, we hit another live band. Their guitar chords vibrated my adrenal glands, filling my veins with liquid energy goodness. I increased my stride. Fewer leg rotations, longer steps. The savings were immediate. I didn't expend as much effort, yet was going faster. I felt more like I was gliding than running. People who previously passed me were falling behind now. Then I saw Loogie Guy. He violently veered off the course and onto the side. His body arched forward and he started to dry heave. Yuck. I moved toward the center of the street, anticipating a wet sloppy sound to slap the street. Fortunately, it never came. Loogie Guy sure looked tired though. Maybe he was dehydrated from spitting so much. Stroller Guy was also back in my sights. And just beyond him was the 2:00 pacer. My brain did a somersault. If I could maintain this speed, I could beat my record and even break two hours. I glided on. While the longer stride did conserve energy, I still got exhausted. Fortunately, a drink station appeared every time I was on my few last breaths. Thank the gods of water! I sloshed liquid relief onto my face in the hopes that some of it would splash into my mouth. Luckily, enough of it did. Each mile was clearly marked. I did the first half fairly well. Another power gel, lots of water and Cytomax, a long stride, and vigorous live music kept me on pace. My mind didn't think I was in a chilly outdoor concert anymore though. By this time, it knew I was in a race. The pavement punished my feet. Fortunately, I stuck an extra cushion pad in my shoes last night. Otherwise, I would have blisters the size of Texas on the balls of my feet right now. Yeeha. My knees mentally thanked me for training on a partly dirt path. They were screaming at me right now, but were still thankful that training wasn't always like this. And like my feet, they thanked me for that added cushion as well. By the ninth mile, they weren't thanking me anymore though. My feet felt like bloody stumps of flesh. I imagined my toes bursting like grapes in my socks. Nice image, huh? Just thought I'd share that with you. But I didn't stop. I didn't take a break. I kept my mind focused on the 2:00 pacer in front of me. He was gaining distance, but I wouldn't let him out of my sight. I started to doubt I'd finish before two hours, but as long as I beat my previous time, I'd be happy. Another drinking station. Another gulp of Cytomax. Another splash of water. Another live band. Another toe burst, just like glapes (insert Mr. Miyagi's voice here). Then a station with power gel appeared. They were under a ray of light and glowing halo. No, not really, but I did feel like they were angels from Heaven as they handed me that delicious, scrumptious, life-saving goo. My speed was dropping. The 2:00 pacer was fading away. I tried to get back into my stride but couldn't. Then the power gel snapped into place. I didn't race past anyone, but regained that stride, despite protests from my feet and knees. "Sorry," I told my feet, "but I'm going to finish this race, even if I pass the finish line with bloody stumps." Really, I told my feet that. The eleventh mile was tough. I passed a high school cheerleading squad that shouted and cheered and did high kicks, but even that didn't help. There was no way I was going to beat two miles. So I aimed to just beat 2:08:45. A police officer on a bike was riding parallel with us. "Can I get a ride?" shouted a woman in front of me. I wondered the same thing. The cop just smiled. Familiar heads began to surround me. I say "heads" because I couldn't see any faces, just the backs of people's heads. These were the people at the beginning of the race. They were the ones that sped ahead. I had caught up to them. Perhaps it was that realization, coupled with my competitiveness—or perhaps it was the power gel and water, I don't really know which. But something flipped a switch around mile twelve. I still knew I was going to finish with bloody stumps, but I stopped caring. I stopped thinking about my toe jam (literally) and just wanted to continue gliding. My pace started to increase. I started to pass more familiar heads. Some were walking now. Others were jogging slowly. I straightened up my form, kept my steps long, and tried to ride a current of air forward. Mile twelve. The finish line was getting close. I knew it. I pushed forward, pain be damned. But dammit, every corner I turned wasn't the finish line. Where the hell was it? I was running out of power gel and Cytomax. Just pure adrenalin powering me now. That, and two stubborn bloody stumps. Ah! Mile thirteen! I turned one more corner and finally saw the finish line. A wall of people outlined the final stretch. It was time to use my fast-twitch muscles. I sprinted the last 0.1 miles and crossed the finish line as fast as I could. Woo, I finished! I looked at the clock. Did I beat my previous time? Yup. And I beat two hours too! 1:56:36 baby! I ain't about to do the Olympics anytime soon, but at least I gave myself a new personal record. I chugged some water and rubbed my knees. Each breath of air was like fire in my seared lungs. I walked on and grabbed some much-needed food to refuel my spent body. My second half marathon. Nice. Next up, a full 26.2 mile marathon sometime next year. Bring it on! ©2008 Mike Lee.org. All Rights Reserved..
  http://www.mikelee.org/the-san-jose-rock-n-roll-half-marathon.html