Ego's Got Talent

It's late at night, and I'm watching videos on YouTube to put on Elisa's Facebook page. On a related link sidebar, it showed the clip from Korea's Got Talent, with the homeless boy having an opera style voice.

(I think that show America's Got Talent originated in Britain, like almost every other reality show in America.) Anyway, we can credit them for the 3 person judge format.

I'm tired of the 3 person judge format. It breeds ego.

Look at these screencaps:



Don't act like that it's unfair to judge people by body language. Body language is one of the most accurate ways to understand what a person is thinking. Look at the people in Korea's Got Talent. Their body language says: "I am hired to be a judge of talent. I have power over you. I have the right to look down on you with negativity. It's up to YOU to change my mind. Until then, I AM THE LAW".

Trust me, that's what the body language says. The sleepy eyes. The hands covering the mouth. The hands in the air. That body language shows 1) do not touch me, I am above you, and 2) you are not worth my time, you have to change my mind.

Really, the 3 judge format breeds this kind of ego. As a producer of a talent show, you ask people to be the ultimate power-wielders, with the ability to crush people's hopes and dreams. And when that realization hits you, you come with that kind of body language that exudes "I was asked to be here because people think I am worthy enough of being your judge. Naturally, it means I am better than you".

That's messed up.

The 3 judge format needs to be done away with, seriously. It breeds all kinds of fucking egos.

Perjury and Preguntas

So I had Jury Duty this morning. Jury Duty is a 5 day commitment, and they ask that you have nothing planned during your workdays so you can serve. This obviously is kind of a killjoy: you have to clear out the next week (except nights and weekends), and promise to show up at the court each day. Heck, some trials go three weeks!

Who the heck wants to do that? What if you have a doctor's appointment? What if you have Comic Con? What if there's a daytime movie you want to watch? For myself, I'm leaving on a road trip this weekend, so I obviously am not going to give the city of San Diego five or more days of my time.

Here is how it works though: if you show up on Day 1, and they don't call your number, then you are dismissed and your Jury Duty experience is over after 5 hours. Sweet deal, right?

I came up with this plan: I would just show up today, Monday, and pretend I was ready to commit 5 days. I would gamble my number wouldn't get called, and then I would be done after a few hours and then go home, knowing I was done with Jury Duty.

The plan was going to work, until they started collecting the summons forms which you sign and date. Part of that form says that you will be ready to stay 5 or more days and serve. There is a penalty for perjury.

The conscience got the best of me. Well, not conscience, more like fear of lying to the government. I sheepishly left the room and went to request a postponement. I'm due back in court in 2 weeks.

-----

On the trolley ride back, I sat across a Mexican man, probably early 40s. I was about to pull out my Nintendo DS and start playing, but he said something to me in Spanish; i.e. asking if I was Mexican. I said no. He said "oh you speak Spanish?", and I replied "solamente en mi escuela". "Escuela?" he asks? "Si, cuatro anos". He gives me a fist bump.

He then asks if I'm Filipino, and I say yes. We then get into a discussion comparing the Philippines and Mexico. We got into the weather, and saying how they are both tropical places. We talk about food. Both countries love fishing for seafood. Especially in Mexico, you have the Japanese families along the Gulf coast who make their living as fisherman. In fact, you have French and Italians and even Indians who live on that same gulf coast; something you normally wouldn't expect. We then talk about the economy, and how there is such a disparity between the U.S. and the PI/Mexico. He noted the fact that as long as you have a little money in the U.S., you have a chance to get back on your feet. But if you have just a little money in Mexico, you're done. There's really no way to get yourself settled again and get back to a "normal" life. It's scary to think of that. I'm glad my parents set our family up for success in San Diego, and got my sister and I quality educations that we can use to pay back to everyone.

It was an interesting 20 minute discussion I had with a complete stranger who I knew nothing about. Kind of like the white friends I made in the Comic Con line on Sunday morning; but more on that later, that will be a bit longer entry.

I hate you Tuesday

I'm outside in my gazebo with the tiki torches lit. It's a cool 70 degrees here in Mira Mesa. The wireless router lets me use my netbook outside to blog. I couldn't ask for a much more peaceful environment.

Lan, who is like the younger sister who seems to know more about life than I do, stresses to me that positive thinking brings positive energy, and you can thus help decide if you're going to have a good day or a bad day.

This morning a motorcycle came out from between-lanes and out of my blind spot to almost crash into me as I made a slow lane change. He got upset, looked back at me, and mad dogged me for half a minute. I was scared so I looked forward and didn't say anything, not wanting to start a conflict. He began mouthing words to me that I couldn't understand, but I'm sure they were cuss words.

In my head I thought that if I said anything back, he'd come back and either bust my side mirror, or break a window. Those are things I did not have time to deal with, and seeing as I had "more to lose" than he did, I just sat idly.

I thought the idea was that you were to not waste your energy on useless people, and to let things go, because you'll be the better man. Those people are just angry people who have nothing better to do but to blow up little things.

I told myself that and continued on to work. The problem is that it didn't get any better; in fact all it did was make me feel worse. Why do I let people trample on my niceness? Lang put on her status update that she was tired of being nice. I get what that means: being nice means other people get to enjoy life while you sit here holding your god damn tongue because it's what's "right". Hey, who decided what's right and wrong anyway? Maybe I'm a dipwad who never puts up a fight and concedes everything out of fear.

I got to work, and I still didn't feel any better. I told this to Scott and Micha, and they both agreed that maybe I should have yelled back to at least vent some anger out.

I then pulled out my phone and it was Lan who said that she couldn't come over to game anymore. I was like, seriously Tuesday is starting to blow.

Work came and went. Well there was a meeting at work about our web editing project. My co-workers decided that I was clearly the best HTML writer they had; and that I would be the leader on the project. I was the hired young gun out of college who was slick enough to whip code into shape while listening to rap music and drinking Rockstar energy drinks. But today, some higher-ups thought that it wasn't in our best interests to be working on the HTML because we're not familiar enough with what the project requires. Hey, screw you.

I get off work and Lan says we can at least have sushi (she leaves in 2 days). During that time, I tell her that one of my guy friends has been asking for her number, and I jokingly said "sure I'll ask her", thinking she wouldn't say yes. Anyway she did end up saying yes, and I'm like, oh hell no it is NOT supposed to be that easy. Fuck that, it's supposed to take effort and shit and craploads of hoop jumping.

Lan has pretty much been one of my best friends the past few months and I really was upset that I was going to lose someone I trust confiding in. But to her that's being overly dramatic, and there's nothing to worry about.

I hate that. When someone calls someone overly dramatic, it means that the dramatic person is dumb and has invalid feelings. Like, god you're so dramatic. Stop being that way.

Anyway I felt pretty dumb at that point. After helping her run errands, I decided that today was a really shit day. The only thing to save it would be to go to Best Buy and buy myself something. Something nice. Something I have control of, and that won't judge you.

I started at the Samsung 46" LCD 1080P 120HZ tv for half an hour. I read up every spec on it, understood what each little knob and port did. I didn't buy it, but the associates let me know that I have a 30 day price protection guarantee against price matching if I need to do so. I'll go to Fry's tomorrow and see what we have.

I bought some milk and orange juice at Ralphs. That's pretty much the only thing that went right on Tuesday.

It's 12:39am out here in the gazebo. I should go back inside. Goodnight.

Guess who's back!

And has just set up their tower!

There are two parties this weekend, so I'm going to have to prepare for them. But on Monday, it's back to blogging. Get ready, people.

Blue collar envy

While in the Philippines when I was in 6th grade, we stayed at my Dad's sister's house in Cavite. They run a shop outside the front, selling random things from batteries to sodas (kind of like a mini 7-11 if you will). While having dinner, their worker girl whatever (indentured servant is not the correct term because indentured servants is what rich people have; this girl works at the store to earn money for her family) came and handed us sodas from their refrigerator in the shop. My mom said to pay for them, but the girl said no it's on the house. My mom was upset for all of us accepting the free sodas, saying it's a "shame".

It's her sense of modesty and humility which I have inherited from her.

Ben moved out of the condo last Saturday. He got a big U-Haul, recruited his parents and two brothers, and in half a day they hauled away almost everything. In the past few days, he has been picking up random things he's left behind. It's nothing huge, just a bag of clothes, some board games, whatever. He's in total cruise control at this point.

I started my moveout last Friday, and have been pecking away at it for the past 8 days. For 4 of those days, I've been borrowing my dad's truck and shipping stuff to either Dre's living room, or to my parent's garage. I've been putting stuff in boxes, putting those boxes in the truck, driving them over, then driving back. I do a little a time after work each day.

Sure we have the same amount of "stuff", but Ben went all in on one day and did it with help. I decided to do everything myself and take multiple days.

I'm not comfortable asking for help. I wouldn't call it a "shame". I just don't like the idea of owing people things. Sure, people offer help all the time. But then I feel bad for being a burden.

You're reading this and you're probably thinking "who says it's a burden? we're your friends, we want to help". Or you could be thinking "do you consider us a burden when we ask you for help?"

A conversation with Lan revealed that I value selflessness in myself, but not in others. Selfish selflessness. As in, I always welcome when people ask me to help them, but I rarely ask others for help. There's no real good way to justify why I'm like that; I just am. So no, I don't see others being a burden when they ask for help. And yes, I do always try to do things myself as to not inconvenience others.

However, I am proud of the work I've been getting done this past week. Friday night, instead of going out and partying with my friends -_- I was hauling things around my parent's garage. I had no choice but to put most of my back into it because of the cramped spaces I was putting things into. I was completely sore when I got back to the condo, so I just showered and played around all night. It felt good though, like I had a serious workout, and I had put in a hard days work.

Saturday, it was very quiet and slow. I calmly packed things into the truck, drove them to my parent's house, hung out with my cousin Sharon as she told me about her housing search, and I drove back to the condo.

The thing is, now it's very quiet, everyone is out for Saturday night, and I'm bored out of my mind. I decided to spackle the holes in the walls, and to re-caulk the loose shower knobs in my bathroom. I know that our landlord Nancy won't ever know the amount of detail I am putting into improving the condo, knowing full well that it's rare for tenants to actually give a damn, and everyone else usually leaves it half assed. Not me. I love blue collar housework.

When I move into my house, I am going to do most of the repairs myself, because that's what a real man does.

And when I fall off the ladder, then I'll think about asking someone for help driving me to Kaiser.

Sexy beats and sexier lyrics

So I'm not drunk per-se, I'm just really high. Not on PCP or any narcotics, I've just been taking in a lot of sugar because my body is completely sore from walking downtown this afternoon + moving furniture all night. I thought of going out to either the Padre game to drink with my co-workers, or to Convoy to drink with my future neighbors, but after cutting escrow checks for the past week, it makes you realize how expensive buying a house is.

Music is fortunately one of our more frugal endeavors, and to an audiophile such as I, I love the hip hop and rap landscape. People who know me know that I love music. Particularly, I love hip hop and rap, for similar reasons.

1. Beats

I love a good beat. (that's what he said!)

E.T. with Kanye West and Katy Perry has my favorite beat on the radio today. You hear the drums come in with a thunderous BOOM BOOM CLAP. I think it's an 808 drum, and it has a techno beat laid underneath it. And then when the hook drops, it becomes EPIC. All I Do Is Win is meant to get you up out of your chair as the beat raises every time Khaled yells WIN! It fluctuates up and down with each word, so you're constantly moving your hands up and down, which is the point. It's a great blood plumping song. Black and Yellow is all about that beat, where it drops as soon as he says UH HUH! YEAH!

2. Lyrics

Rap music is poetry. There's no argument about it; rappers have legitimate claims to being masters of metaphors. Eminem proved this during Not Afraid. Everybody come take my hand, we'll walk this road together, whatever weather, go to war. You can tell he wrote this song knowing full well that he's moving from "everyone bow down to me" to "everyone come with me". A guy who is completely appreciative of life and everyone around him. He laces the song with metaphors too: lift the whole liquor counter up because I'm raising the bar? Nice one! Treat this roof like my daughters and raise it? Lol. Rihanna pushes the envelope with S&M when she let's out I may be bad but I'm perfectly good at it. The clever irony of that sentence makes you appreciate songwriting. My personal favorite is Ne-Yo in Knock You Down, being commander in chief of my pimp ship flying high, until this pretty little missle shot me out the sky.


3. Flow

So you got the beat, and you got the lyrics. But you have to flow, i.e. the ability to deliver those words HOT. Let's take No Hands, with the hook done by Wale. How smooth is that when he says girrrrllllll, drop it to the floorrrrrr, i love the way your booty gooooooo? Usually you have your best flower come in for the hooks. You know how Dev is popular? Listen to her deliver any hook. You can hear how sexy it is when she asks to be your backseat driver in Back Seat. Ask anyone what their favorite part of Rocketeer is, and they tell you it's when Ryan Tedder says it's with youuuu right heeere i'm a rockkettteeeeer. Nicki Minaj flows it so hard at the beginning of Moment 4 Life, but then the hook comes out like silk where you're in your car repeating "for life.... for life.... for life...".


This isn't limited to just hip hop and rap. Some of my favorite classic rock songs from Queen have the "karaokeability" factor, to where you can combine your friends + alcohol + korean karaoke machines for some unforgettable nights.

Either way, keep those radios turned up, because I have a feeling the music industry is hearing us, and is putting out hit after hit after hit.

Even you, Rebecca Black :D

Softerball

Softball season started last week at work.

I love sports. I don't think you understand how testosterone-driven I am when it comes to sports. Seeing as baseball is one of my favorite sports to watch, I can't help but get excited for this season, especially since I had a fun time last year.

The problem I had with softball last year is the same problem I had with girls in high school. I would step up to the plate and strike out.

Our first game was last week, and we.... tied. 16-16.

My first at bat, I was nervous. Like, really. I had practiced with Jeff the night before at the batting cages, and I was remembering everything I did, such as getting a much lower stance, and swinging slower and more controlled. My head would process this, and by the time I decided if I wanted to swing or not, the ball would pass me by.

The ball would pass me by for a ball.

In fact, that ball would pass me again as a ball. And another. And another! The guy walked me!

My teammates behind me knocked me in and I scored my first run of the season.

Second at bat: same thing! The guy was struggling with his control, and walked me. I didn't get to score due to some good catches by their defense, but whatever. I had gotten on base twice without swinging the bat once.

Third at bat: I got greedy. I really wanted to swing my bat. I bought this bat for $30 at Sport Chalet, so I'm going to use it. The first pitch that came in, I swung for those fences.

It popped softly back to the catcher, who turned around to try to catch it. Everyone looked and held their breath; the ball luckily landed behind her.

That was enough excitement for me, I'll just wait for this guy to walk me again.

I stood there, watching the ball leave his hand, float through the air, and cross the plate for a strike. The umpire rings me up, and the inning is over.

-_-

I had a decision to make after: do I go home and pack, or do I join the team for a celebratory happy hour?

The pros of going home:
- Save cash
- Be productive

The pros of going to happy hour:
- Getting to meet and learn more about new people

If there's one thing in life that I would urge young people to do, it's that when you have the chance, learn how to socialize with others. Practice makes perfect, and perfect will net you cool friends down the road.

P.S. Brigantine has a pretty good house brew called Brigantine Beer.