I tried the link that Wanwanha provided to see which American city best fits me. I would have never imagined the result. Here it is:

American Cities That Best Fit You:

70% Austin

65% Atlanta

65% Honolulu

60% San Diego

55% Denver

Which American Cities Best Fit You?

The top city that best fits me is one I have never been to, Austin. I have no idea what that city is like. Maybe I should pay Austin a visit to see if I truly will like it as this test reveals. I do agree with one of the cities, however, and that's San Diego.

I had just gone to San Diego for the first time last weekend. I really enjoyed the atmosphere in San Diego. It is warm and relaxed. With its beautiful beaches, pleasant weather, charming neighborhoods, polite people, cultural diversity, and abundance of activities, San Diego should be a comfortable place to live in. Although I like San Francisco a lot, I really wouldn't mind living in San Diego for a change.

Sorry I never got around to finishing up my tattoo story. Will try to get back to it if I can. But I think I'm just gonna move on to other topics for now.

I Got My Tattoo - Ep I

I finally did it. I finally got my tattoo. After three years of talk, I finally put some solid action to my words. Those who know the story know that the original inspiration which prompted me to want a tattoo happened one night about 3 years ago when I saw a bright, clear, beautiful crescent moon caressing a lone star in the sky. That spectacular sight inspired me to tattoo the scene onto my body. But due to various reasons, there had only been talk of the subject and no real action. Granted I did research the facts relating to tattoos (the procedure, the care, the possible dangers, etc) and I did look around for specific designs, nothing substantial happened for 3 years.

Finally this year, as time drew closer and closer to my 30th birthday, I finally told myself that this state of NATO (no action, talk only) cannot drag on any longer. Either I do it this year or never talk about it ever again. I basically told myself to do it or shut up about it. And so I did it. The ultimatum I gave myself worked.

As I credit my ultimatum for giving me the final push, I also want to credit my friend for agreeing to get a tattoo along with me. I never knew she too had been thinking about this. So that we can urge each other on, we decided we’ll get it together. A “pact” was formed.

With the “pact” in place, I renewed my research into the subject. Once again I looked online for designs. This time I actually found a few that struck my fancy. Whereas in the past everything I saw were good but not good enough. I guess with my determination, everything just came together better.

I also asked around for recommendations on good and, more importantly, clean tattoo shops. I was recommended a place on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley. Two weeks ago, my friend and I walked right into that shop ready to do it right there and then. However, that place was really busy. So we made appointments to come back the next week.

While we were in Berkeley, we moseyed into other tattoo shops along Telegraph to see what kind of designs the other shops have to offer. That was when I found THE design that I wanted. I took a picture of it with my handy-dandy little digital camera so that I can show the tattoo artist at my appointment next week. Then as we walked pass a corner flower shop, I saw some orchids that were dyed a beautiful indigo and blue palette. I’d never seen orchids in that color scheme before. It was just striking. From that, I decided I wanted my tattoo to be in that color scheme – blue/indigo.

At that point, I had everything in line - the design, the color, the appointment. I was all ready to get my tattoo! My friend was ready also. She too found the design and color she wanted. And since we made the same appointment to get it done on the same day, we were both ready for our tattoos! We both went home that day excited about the appointment next week.

To be continued…(aka I better get back to work.)

My grandmother passed away over the weekend. She was 96 years old. This was the grandmother who raised me when I was little as my parents were always busy working. She made breakfast for me and my brothers every morning before school. She made us snacks when we came home after school. She took me to the park. She favored me and sided with me every time I argued with my brothers. She slept in the same room with me all through my childhood and because of that, she was the one I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom with me as I was scared of the long dark hallway. Needless to say, I am saddened by her departure. But as sad as my family and I are about losing her, we also feel it is a relief for her. She had led a pretty harsh life. It just might be a good thing for her to move on to a better place.

My grandmother led a hardworking life from childhood up through her middle age. Her family was poor. She started working in the plantations at a very early age. Things didn’t improve much after she married my grandfather because he too was poor. They worked really hard to sustain life for the large family they made. My grandfather had two wives and together they had eight children. That was a lot of mouths to feed. One might think that my grandmother’s burden would have been eased from the help she should have gotten from my grandfather’s other wife. That wasn’t the case. My other grandmother was weak in a lot of ways – health, strength, personality. My grandmother had to care for her as if she was another dependent. To this day I’m still not clear whether my grandmother held any grudges towards her husband’s other wife. Back then in the villages, it was common for a man to have multiple wives. But still, it must not have been a happy affair for a woman to have to share her husband. For sure I know my elder uncles did not, and to this day still do not, like their stepmother nor their half-siblings. They shunned her for being a mistress and discriminated against their half-siblings as being “wild kids”, as illegitimate. Unlike her older brothers, my mother has a bigger heart. She respected her stepmother as she did her birth mother and treated her half-siblings as if they were from the same mother. I commend my mother for that.

Back to my grandmother who had led a hardworking life up until her middle age. As my grandfather’s health started to decline, my grandmother bore most of the burden of keeping the family together. The family’s economic condition started improving after my mother got married. My parents started to own businesses and money was starting to be less of a problem. Thus my grandmother was finally able to relax her responsibilities. Life was finally getting better, or at least easier, for her. From there she was able to live a calmer life of babysitting her grandchildren while her children worked to support the family.

Here I’m missing some pieces of the puzzle. I don’t know what my mother’s older brothers did in terms of helping the family. It seems to me they didn’t do anything besides holding grudges against their stepmother and half-siblings. My mother pretty much took over the burden from my grandmother when it came to supporting the family. My mother also had an older sister, but she married off to another village really early so she was no help.

Eventually my grandfather died and my grandmother went on to live with our family instead of with my uncles’ or aunts’. She looked after me and my brothers as my parents ran their businesses. When my family immigrated to America, my grandmother came with us. My brothers and I were very young then, ages 4 to 12. Being new immigrants, my parents had to work very hard to put food on the table. My grandmother was great help to them as far as taking care of us kids while they worked all day. As such, my grandmother played a big role in our family as we were growing up. And we loved and respected her very much for that.

About 10 years ago, my mother’s second brother immigrated to America as well. At that time my grandmother’s health was starting to decline. She especially started to lose her mobility. She could no longer walk and needed to be transported everywhere with a wheelchair. Even the simple act of going to the bathroom was a problem. As such, she needed a lot of care and attention on a daily basis. Since my parents had to run the family restaurant and my brothers and I either had to work or go to school, we couldn’t give her the kind of attention she needed. Therefore it was fortunate that my uncle came to America because he then took over the task of taking care of my grandmother. At first my uncle lived with us at our home and cared for my grandmother there. Then a couple of years later he and my grandmother moved into an apartment closer to downtown where it was more convenient for him to take care of her. From then on, my grandmother was under my uncle’s care at his apartment. Once in awhile we visited them and once in awhile my uncle would take my grandmother, in her wheelchair, to “walks” as far as to our restaurant as a small little field trip.

Then a few years ago, my grandmother had a stroke which rendered her bedridden ever since. She could not even sit in a wheelchair. Therefore in the last few years she was always in her bed. With her poor vision, poor hearing, and poor memory, she pretty much didn’t know what was going on around her. She couldn’t recognize us when we visited. She probably couldn’t even feel her own existence. But she hung on. My grandmother was a strong woman. From her early years of working hard to take care of her family to her latter years of fighting to keep her life, my grandmother was a strong and amazing lady. Her strength, her will, her capabilities, none of these can be slighted.

Then last Tuesday, May 3, 2005, my grandmother suddenly coughed like mad. We sent her to the hospital. The doctors told us she had some internal bleeding in her lungs. She was in critical care for two days and then she was transferred back to a regular room after her condition stabilized. I visited her as often as I could while she was there. Then on Saturday, May 7, 2005, her kidneys failed. Shortly after that, she stopped breathing and passed away peacefully in her sleep. My brother and my uncle were there with her when she passed. My mother had just stepped away from the hospital to drive a visiting relative home when it happened. Therefore she wasn’t able to be at my grandmother’s side at the moment of her passing. I myself also wasn’t there at that moment. To be honest, none of us expected her to leave so suddenly. We all thought she could overcome this episode. When I visited her on Friday evening, I had asked the nurse on duty for her assessment of my grandmother’s situation. The nurse told me that she looked pretty stable and that after a few more days of monitoring, she may be able to go home. And that’s exactly what we all thought – that she might be able to overcome this one and go home in a few days. She had always been able to “go home in a few days”. Why shouldn’t she this time? Banking on that, I had planned to visit my grandmother later in the evening on Saturday so that I could do some stuff in the earlier part of the day. Unfortunately, I missed the chance to see her one more time before she left. It was more unfortunate for my mother though. She was there all morning and had just stepped out for about an hour and still she missed her mother’s last moment.

I’m sure my grandmother fought very hard this time around just like she always did in the past. It may just probably be the time for her to let go and free herself. She should be at a better place now, a place where she can have peace and comfort to rest her tired, overworked soul.

She will be missed.

I had a very eventful week last week. Went to many places. Did many things. It was fun while it lasted. But like always, all fun eventually comes to a stop. Reality always finds its way back in to ruin things. This time was no exception. The fun ended and reality is kicking in.

It’s so ironic that sometimes the more fun you have, the more consequences you have to suffer later. Does this take away from the initial enjoyment? I don’t know. Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn’t. If only fun and enjoyment can come with absolutely no strings attached. But we all know that’s not possible.

An interesting question was posed to me while I was in London. First allow me to list the facts involved.

(1) The normal liquor license in London (or maybe in England as a whole) allows pubs to sell alcohol until 11pm. With a 15-minute allowance to wrap up all drinking, pubs usually kick customers out by 11:15pm.

(2) Certain clubs and/or restaurants have extended liquor licenses allowing them to serve alcohol later into the night, till as late as 2am.

(3) Because of items 1 and 2, there has been a long standing problem in London where people kicked out of pubs at 11:15pm migrate over to clubs with extended licenses in attempt to continue drinking. But seeing that most of these people are already half drunk or have had enough to drink for the night, bouncers at the clubs deny them entrance. With both sides persisting on their stands, fights often break out between the two groups.

The question posed to me during a casual conversation at a pub was, “If London extends drinking hours to 2am for all pubs to match up with the clubs, do you think that would alleviate the problem with fights between club bouncers and pub-to-club hoppers?”

I was asked this question because the person knew I was from San Francisco where drinking hours end at 2am uniformly for all establishments. He wanted to know if doing what we do here in SF would help them with the problem of fights they have there. My answer was no, it wouldn’t help their problem. It would only create other problems instead. Everywhere there is drinking, there are problems. For us, the problem is at 2am when the streets are filled with drunks who are at least loud and raucous if not fighting or driving. The threats of these problems are as troublesome, if not worse, than the problem London currently faces. Also, with their culture of hitting pubs earlier in the evening than we do, extending the drinking hours will only increase the amount of alcohol they will consume in one evening. That just creates drunker people on their streets by the time the pubs close. I think I have some valid points here. Feel free to comment.

After quitting my last job and before starting at my new job, I went to London for a week. This was the first time I stepped foot into Europe. I’ve been to Canada, Mexico, and all around China, but never Europe. Wish I had the time and money to go to more European destinations, like Paris and Italy, but at least I got to go to London. It was a long overdue trip. I have a friend there and he’s been bugging me to visit him for two years. And finally I did.

Overall the trip was good. It wasn’t the best trip I’ve ever taken, but it was definitely worth my while. The history, the architecture, the culture were all new and/or different to me somehow. London is one of the oldest modern cities I’ve been to. At the same time that it is a modern metropolis with a bustling economy, it is also a city full of history. Everywhere you go you see old buildings still standing from eons ago. For me this was good because I enjoy looking at old architecture. London definitely has lots of that to offer. Westminster Abbey, for example, is one of the most beautiful churches I’ve ever seen. And with all the royal coronations done on location and with so many important figures buried or memorialized there, I would also call it powerful. Other than Westminster Abbey, I was also impressed by Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, and the London courthouse. London Bridge, on the other hand, was a disappointment. Having heard about the bridge so much and with the old nursery rhyme that pays tribute to it, I expected a beautifully designed bridge. To the contrary, it is the most boring of all bridges with no design aesthetics whatsoever.

The most beautiful area we visited was the city of Bath, which is two and a half hours west of London. On the last day of our trip, we joined a tour for a day-trip to Windsor Castle, Stonehenge, and Bath. The city of Bath was built around the hot springs that the Romans discovered in the area in 90AD. The Roman Baths occupied a huge area of the city. To the present day only a small portion of it has been dug up. The bulk of the area still lies underground yet to be unearthed. Anyhow, with a beautiful river running across town, a charming little bridge lined with shops, and the entire city built with one single façade of yellow brick houses, Bath looks absolutely gorgeous. It is as picturesque as any scene you find on jigsaw puzzles. I can imagine myself visiting Bath often for weekend trips if I were to live in London.

The one biggest problem I had on this trip was the weather. London is too darn cold!!! I don’t deal with cold weather too well. This has always been the case throughout my life. I don’t know why. Maybe my body just can’t generate enough heat to warm me up when the surrounding is cold. For me to be in London in early March was not the smartest idea. But when that’s the only time I can go, what can I do? Nothing really. So I roughed the cold. It wasn’t fun, but I survived. The way I consoled myself at the time was to constantly remind myself that at least it wasn’t snowing or raining like it did the week before my visit. That was a blessing I counted.

Another thing that posed as a little of a problem was the poor exchange rate we got for the dollar. The 2:1 (dollar to pound) ratio we got really deteriorated our buying power. All the numeric values posted in pounds in London looked the same as those in the US in dollars. BUT…we had to multiply all the pounds by two to get the equivalence in dollars. As a result, everything was essentially double the price as in the US. That really hurt. Given that, we didn’t spend much on this trip. Maybe I should rephrase that. We didn’t “buy” too much but we still spent a lot of money. How’s that for Econ 101?

A lot have changed since I last blogged. I no longer work at the TV station where I slaved for over six years. I am now working at a radio station as an operations assistant. This is the sister station to the station I’ve worked at part-time since college. Throughout my nine years as part-time board operator for the station, I built up a strong rapport with the company and its employees. They like my work ethics and I like the company’s stability. So when we mutually decided we needed each other’s help – they needed a new assistant and I needed a new job – both sides came together naturally.

I’ve now been here two weeks. The work is easy. Not to be bragging, but I’m a fast learner. They didn’t expect me to catch on so quickly. There’s still some stuff they haven’t transferred to me yet. Those seem to be the more complicated stuff. Can’t wait to take on those responsibilities too because there’s just not enough for me to do now. (Hence, the free time to blog again.) I rather have things to do instead of sitting around all day waiting for stuff to come my way. Another reason why I want more work is that I’m afraid upper management might think this newly created position is not so needed after all. They created this position with me in mind, thinking I will be of great help to the Director of Operations who has too much on his plate. Which he does. I’m amazed by how much he handles in a day and how he managed to get by without an assistant in the past. This year he was finally able to convince corporate headquarters that he needs a full-time assistant. Hence I’m on board. I just hope he can continue to convince them there’s enough work to justify keeping me full-time. But like I said, there’s still stuff waiting to be transferred to me. Hopefully once those get going all will be fine. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy my stress-less work days. Such a thing was nonexistent at my previous job.