New Yokel (part II)

The exodus from Austin is over. I’m in New York. I learned that U-Haul is the devil and that every employee is disgruntled and incompetent. I also learned that New York is so overpopulated that its inhabitants decided to make it as hard as possible to get in. (See the Holland Tunnel. See also the Lincoln Tunnel.) I will say that I owned that U-Haul truck. All of a sudden, SUVs aren’t so menacing anymore. "What? You want to inch into my lane? Do I look afraid to scratch this U-Haul P.O.S.? Yeah that’s what I thought."

Even with a weekend of adjustment, it still feels like a vacation. I’m still gawking at the tall buildings and grinning at the characters on the street. Lest anyone think I’m a total tourist, I should note that I have yet to bust out any of my multiple cameras AND I was asked TWICE on the trains for directions. My reaction was a blank stare and a shrug, but that still counts.

The food so far has been awesome. Thanks to Lauren for being my guide and my gracious host. I’m sure this debt will be called in someday when she decides to move. And thanks to my buddy Chad for helping me get out of Austin. Ah friends, not just for drinking with!

Tomorrow starts a new chapter. I have a feeling that reality will set in. I have very little money and I need to find a job. Come on New York, gimme some of that lovin’.

U-Holla

Here I am blogging from Texarkana! The last goodbyes to coworkers, friends and family have been done. The frantic loading up of the U-Haul is completed (Many thanks Chad!). My biggest fears of having too much stuff to put into it were laid to rest (but just barely). And we’re one fourth of the way there.

A lot of pressure and stress has been lifted after the weekend but New York is still so far away that it still seems surreal to think that by the end of the week, I’ll be walking around in the city.

Everyone knows that U-Haul is the oldest and crappiest, but come on, not even a tape deck in the dash?? I was banking on being able to pop in a tape converter for my iPod to drown out the creaks and squeaks of the truck, but no luck.

Oh, and for anyone of you out on the road: If I’m in a 10ft U-Haul loaded to the brim with boxes and I can still pass your ass, you need to have your license revoked.

Miracle on Ice

After 301 days of no NHL hockey, the players association and the owners have finally settled their dispute over who gets to make more money.

Although the league is worried over whether or not it can win back the fans, and even though the season won’t start up again until October, I just have to say "Thank you, Jesus!"

I’m not a sports fanatic, but I like watching Sportscenter in bars, keeping up with Big 12 football, and watching hockey. Needless to say, this current drought has gone on long enough. It was enough to almost make me watch baseball... almost.

Good thing I had my football fix in the form of a 6 hour NCAA Xbox stint last night.

A Festivus for the Rest of Us

The schedule for this year’s Austin City Limits is finally online, so now I can have a whole two months to plan accordingly. At first glance, there appears to be no dire dilemmas suchs as the Gomez/Franz Ferdinand of yesteryear. The only one I see so far is Fiery Furnaces/Walkmen but that’s an easy choice for me. Blueberry Boats!

Although all of this seems pretty infinitesimal in relation to the attack in London yesterday. As with 9-11, it makes me wonder if, as a society and as an individual, what I devote my life and career to is really making the world a better place. Working for a non-profit education association may not be as creatively or intellectually stimulating as I’d aspire for, but it helps salve the soul somewhat. Fighting for education, or just making teachers feel better, is a just cause that makes me feel as if I’m doing something for the world.

I was always struck by a passage in Chuck Palahniuk’s Choke: "Someday I’d like to live a life based on doing good stuff instead of just not doing bad stuff." Okay, so that was amidst deplorable sexual acts and heinous scamming, but that just makes it more beautiful in contrast, right?

After wondering about how we can all still devote ourselves to celebrity magazines, video games and every other self-indulgent product out there, I realized that in some cheezy way, living our lives is a sort of resistance to the attacks of terrorism.

People obsessing over the latest performance on American Idol may not be the most virtuous form of fighting back, I’ll admit that. But yesterday’s London Underground bombing hasn’t deterred me from still planning to ditch my car and hop on a subway in New York. I think that counts for something. (Or maybe I’m just suicidally dense.)

I’m not sure how this War on Terror will play out, but while we still have the luxury of attending music festivals, planning obscenely elaborate weddings, or whatever we want to do, we just might pull through this.

...

I have no idea how this post dissolved into such a rant. Another case for my crippling, non-linear mental issues which were already touched upon in an earlier post.

Back on subject, although my wallet will be painfully light as it is, I hope the Fiery Furnaces find the time to play a full evening show at a venue around town. One hour shows are nice when bundled with a buffet of others, but I need something of a three-course meal here.

Austism

The countdown to New York is well underway so now the question is what to do with the time that remains in good ole’ Austin? Holiday on a boat on the lake with some beer? Check. Lazy afternoon on a tube on the Comal with some beer? Check. Uh... now what?

Showdown and Spiderhouse are definitely on the list of things that I will need to have one last go-around to. But other than that I can’t think of any pressing thing I need to do or visit before I’m gone. I’ve seen the Capital, been to 6th and 4th Street, seen the bats at dusk. Plus the lack of urgency to fill up on culture is negated by the fact that I’m going to freaking New York. Sure I’ll miss Din Ho, but I’ll have all of Chinatown. Shopping on South Congress? Uh... Soho, anyone? Once I find my Spiderhouse replacement, I’ll be good.

Hey, if I had nostalgia for Lubbock, I’m pretty sure I will miss my Austin days. But for now, I’m all about looking ahead to what lays in store for me in the City. And that’s a good thing.

Plus, I’ll be back for Austin City Limits festival. But for now, here’s my tentative Get Austin Outta My System list (and no comment on the frequency of beer-related ones):
1. Spiderhouse
2. Showdown
3. Alamo Drafthouse
4. Dog and Duck
5. Gingerman
6. Draught House
7. Uncommon Objects
8. Din Ho
9. Brown Bar
10. Tubing the Comal (once more couldn’t hurt)
11. Run Town Lake
12. Walk through Hyde Park
13. Dolce Vita
14. Crown and Anchor
15. Steak at Eddie V’s
16. Waterloo Records
17. Book People
18. Barton Springs
19. Hula Hut
20. Salt Lick
21. Chuy’s
22. El Chile
23. Drinks at Hotel San Jose

New Yokel

Four more weeks and I’ll be in the Big City. There’s much to fret over until then, but there’s also a lot to be excited about. I’ve been wanting to run off from my family’s safe bubble in Dallas ever since I graduated from high school. Lubbock, while a great experience, was not exactly the cosmopolitan mecca I was looking for. And Austin is a cool place but it seems a little too familiar. It was nice since I had friends, the atmosphere was laid-back and I had a decent job but it was too easy to get complacent and comfortable.

As I head off into this new adventure, I can’t help but wonder how I’ll adjust to New York. It’ll be a shift from the relaxed Austin atmosphere, and definitely a pendulum swing from the remote Lubbock. I know the first few weeks will be an amazing immersion into a new setting bursting with culture. Let’s just hope I’ll be kind of cool about it. Will I catch myself gawking at tall buildings? Will I have to pull out my subway map and subject myself to the annoyed stares of the passing crowds?

How will New Yorkers react to a Chinese Texan? If my cousins in California are any indication, there will be much explaining of how I never had a horse and I don’t wear a cowboy hat. And if anyone tries to imagine my life like the Jackie Chan "Shang-high Noon" movie, I may have to kill someone. But I’ll have faith that the citizens of New York are too highly cultured for those gross stereotypes. Besides, I survived the quizzical looks of everyone in Lubbock, I can survive this.

So four more weeks. No job, no place to live, no money. No worries, right?

iPudge

It’s finally happened. My once capacious 20 gB iPod has been reduced to a measly 36 mB. "20 gigabytes. How would I ever find a way to use up this much space?" I once wondered. I then set out on the task of transferring my entire CD catalog onto my new sonic vault. It faithfully absorbed everything I threw at it. My mangled mess of live Radiohead recordings, the Tricky album I listened to once, the entire Beatles collection- Anthologies and all. Gone were the days of my car passanger seat littered full of CDs. Now I have a small, svelte iPod to accompany me on road trips.

Why would anyone need 3700 songs (or 10.3 days) of music at his fingertips at any given time? Who knows what life or death situation might come up wherein I’ll need to produce my copy of Matthew Sweet’s Scooby-Doo cover? Maybe someday P.Diddy will call me up asking me to supply some kick-ass party music.

I think it’s more of a novelty thing. No one needs that amount of excess, but everyone is guilty of wanting it in some form. Some guys want every bit of horsepower they can stuff into their car, others horde tools they’ll never need. I have 20 gigs of music in my pocket. Not the most masculine form of indulgence, but hey, it takes up the least amount of space.

But a dilemma has come forth. How do I find more room in my bulging iPod? My pack-rat mentality is surfacing. I find myself having trouble letting go of songs I’ve listened to once. I need serious help. My poor little iPod. My once gaunt little guy is now obese because I can’t let go. Even now I’m trying to figure out how to stuff some new mp3s into it’s virtual beer-belly.

Apples to Oranges

The unthinkable has occured. Steve Jobs has announced that Apple will begin using Intel chips in its computers.

Many will wonder what this means. What’s the big deal? Well, first of all, the new hardware will be completely different in structure from all current Macs. That means all new software will have to be written for the new Intel-based Macs which means that the new software won’t run on any Mac that’s been put out so far. This leads to the conclusion that all current Macs will be obsolete by 2007. And since I bought a G4 powerbook only a year ago, I’m less than happy.

This migration should ultimately be good for Apple, but it sure screws consumers for the near future. IBM, Apple’s current chip provider, has been unable to come up with a chip cool enough to run in a laptop and has yet to break the 3 gHz mark (which was promised about 2 years ago). This has caused Apple to lag behind the competition, waiting for IBM to solve its issues. If not for the iPod, Apple probably wouldn’t be sitting too pretty right now. Good thing I didn’t wait around too long for a G5 powerbook to show up. But I’m wondering what people in the market for a new Mac soon, like Gina, are going to do until late 2006. What’s the incentive to buy a Mac that won’t even be able to run Apple software in a year or two?

Apple has just pushed everyone through a tough transition to a completely new OS and the final outcome has been great, but I’m not looking forward to another period like that any time soon. I was hoping to hold on to my computer for at least 5 years. It could be worse, my Mac could be a Dell... oh wait, it just might be in a few years.

Nuclear skies

NPR kicks off a series of examinations on nuclear proliferation with a story about the current status of the U.S. and what do to about its arsenal. The notion was brought up that there hasn’t been a lot of progress since the end of the Cold War. The U.S. still holds a sizeable stockpile that carries a lot of weight when dealing with other nations. As in poker, sometimes the size of your stack counts more than what cards you’re holding. (Sorry just watched Rounders the other night.)

The story casts some interesting perspectives on how and if the U.S. should disarm completely. The fact that the U.S. keeps a cache of nuclear weapons paradoxically keeps other countries from having to develop nuclear capabilities. Allies such as Japan have not needed to resort to investing in their own nuclear weapons because it relies on the protection of a nuclear United States. So what happens if we disarm as what most people think is best? Is it going to help with the gradual deduction of warheads in the world or just open the door for other countries to establish their own nuclear programs?

The U.S. is in a tough spot. It makes me wonder how effective our politicians and their diplomacy really are. Are we just viewed as bullies who others listen to just because they don’t want to get beat up? I’ve always felt that you get more by gaining people’s respect, not their fear. It’s seems that the U.S. keeps sliding out of the respect side and resorting to the fear side. So how do we reverse that trend?

Gomezmerized, part 2

There’s no hiding that I think Gomez are a great live band. As much as I love "Here Comes the Breeze" and "Revolutionary Kind" on their albums, the live versions are ten times better. I’ve been lucky enough to find several collections of live concerts and have built up a Phishead-like collection. So when Gomez were finally able to release an offical live album that would only be sold at their concerts I was glad the rest of society would be able to hear evidence of their awesomeness. Since I had a pretty robust collection that included the concert recorded for their official release, I was not spilling over with excitement. Of course I still bought it. You know, supporting the band, having the official album art, all that.

It’s funny, in this age of p2p, iTunes, mp3, whatnot, I buy CDs as much or more than I ever did.

I listened to the live album; it was good, not great, I’ve heard better. I was disappointed to discover that half of the disc skipped and it wasn’t my player. I ripped the songs onto mp3 and had no trouble with the digital versions. "Oh well, that sucks but I can live with it."

Then I discovered that this was a problem that several other people were experiencing. Someone on a Gomez message board offered to try and trade in the defective discs when she goes to the next concert. I thought I’d give it a shot, contacted the person and mailed it to her.

Two weeks later, I receive a large, flat package at work. I open it and out falls a new copy of the live CD, a note saying that the band hopes this one works okay, and vinyl version of their latest studio album signed by each member of the band!

I was floored by this act of random generosity! It helped ease the blow of finding out that my car needed another $200 in repairs. That nightmare continues. But it was a surreal experience in karma. Everything works out.

I could only convey my gratitude with an email of repetitive thank yous and an offer to donate my liver should she need one. But she brushed it off as no big deal.

There are good people in the world. And chances are, they’re also Gomez fans.

Picture time

Here are some photos off of my Holga camera from my birthday (the day that won’t ever quit apparently):


James and Courtney


Ingrid, Davy, Beth and Brian


Hero shot

I didn’t take these, but here are a few from Design Ranch:


The Dining Lodge


Wow


Screen printing with Decoder Ring


Uh... yeah

It’s official

I bought my ticket to an opening day showing of the last Star Wars movie, Revenge of the Sith, which felt akin to renewing my Certificate of Geekiness. What’s worse is that I’ve seen every one of the movies on opening day (if you count the re-release of the original trilogy). A few friends and I even skipped high school to go see the re-release of the Empire Strikes Back, so I guess that makes us some kind of thug-nerd hybrid.

What is it about these movies that makes all guys like them? I’ve never met a guy who didn’t enjoy Star Wars on some level. Of course there are varying degrees of fanaticism. Okay so my girlfriend found out that I downloaded the Clone Wars cartoons to get more back story which leads up to the last movie. Much ridiculing ensued.

But like anything in life, whenever you think you’ve taken something to the ultimate level, you can always find some other soul who one-ups you. Take for example, opening night of the re-release of the first Star Wars movie. People were dressed up as characters (from Luke to very obscure characters) and acting out parts of the movie while the audience sat and waited with toy lightsabers in hand. But the most frightening sight was that someone had actually come as the Death Star. Yeah, not a character in the movie but the big planet. This guy wore a black body suit with a giant grey sphere enveloping his head. He had also glued hundreds of little x-wings and tie fighters on his person, all flying towards his globular headpiece. My friends and I, instantly dropping down on the scale of nerdiness, could only react with a slack-jawed stare. I could insert about fifty Star Wars nerd stereotype jokes here but I think that this says it all.

It’s a humbling experience, which keeps it all in perspective for me whenever I think I’ve gone too far with my obsessions, be it Gomez, Apple Computers or whatever else. I can always feel better about myself by picture the Death Star guy.

And no, I am not dressing up for the premiere next Thursday.

I said God Damn!

Austin City Limits Festival 2005

Coldplay
Oasis
Allman Brothers
Wilco
Robert Randolph
Thievery Corporation
The Arcade Fire
Franz Ferdinand
The Walkmen
The Fiery Furnaces
Mates of freakin’ State

Even if you’re not a fan of the mainstream bands, that’s a pretty impressive lineup. I’m most excited about the last two. Although I think we’re getting spoiled in Austin. Last night:
Gina: You know what would make it perfect? If Beck were playing.
Steven: What? No Gomez?

Favorite band name on the list: The Massacoustics

丢失在转换

Being Chinese doesn’t wiegh too heavily on my mind most days. But the wide-eyed stares from people whenever I say something to my parents always manages to bring me back down to reality. I guess I can understand the spectacle of hearing someone you know reveal his ability to speak virtual gibberish to your ears with a few random hints dropped along the way such as "car insurance" or "tax refund".

This is when you discover how paranoid people really are. "Were you talking about me? You were weren’t you? You were telling your parents what an ass you think I am right?"

Another thing that reminds me of my Asianicity is whenever I spend extended amounts of time with my family, my inner monologue reverts from English back to Chinese. It’s a weird phenomenon that puzzles even me. Granted, I don’t have the most refined thought process. It’s never a clear-cut train of thought such as "Hey pick up that Coke on the table and drink it." Actually, I wonder sometimes if I have ADD. If anyone else out there hears a jumble of voices that speak in sentence fragments then let me know and we can compare notes. On good days I’ll think that it’s a sign of genius. On bad days I’ll think it’s a sign of mental illness. Does the inconsistent language usage support one theory or the other?

Part of me is ecstatic when I catch myself thinking in Chinese, as if it’s validation that I’m truly Chinese. It was somewhat encouraging to hear my dad admit that he’s started to dream in English. Of course it could also mean that mental illness is genetic.

I thought of an alternate title for those with no Simplified Chinese vieweing capabilities: Do Asians dream of Chinese sheep?

Congrats/Condolences/Best Wishes on your Birthday/Graduation/New Baby/Death

Spending my lunch hour at Target staring down the aisles upon aisles of greeting cards reminds me of how much I loathe buying cards. I always dread the oncoming summers due to the one reason that Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and both of my parents’ birthdays are on the horizon.

Today alone I bought two graduation, one birthday and one Mother’s Day card. Damn you, Hallmark. For some reason my parents cannot get enough of greeting cards. They read them, reread them, place them on the mantle, hang them on the wall, all to my bewilderment.

So of course I have to send out congrats to my various cousins graduating from their respective schools. My choices were paradoxically endless (from every occasion from every relation like the Best Wishes from your Elder Cousin in Texas who you see every two years) to very very narrow (as in my only options, the pink flowery card or the cartoon poodle with diploma in paw).

Seriously, have you seen what the general public has to choose from? You can either pick: a.) the inspirational definition/message only given out by 40 year old English teachers; b.) weird pseudo-sexual allusions only given out by that creepy guy in the office; c.) flowery photo-illustrations with the gushy poem that your mom loves but leaves you feeling less than manly; or d.) the (not so) humorous message, indicating that you are so unoriginal and not funny that you had to rely on a complete stranger to write your card.

Of course there’s always the blank card, which while I appreciate the card company’s confidence to let me write my own message, I can almost hear that same company laughing off in the distance while they take my money in exchange for virtually nothing.

Eh, why is there so much effort into trying to show someone that I care? It’s not that I don’t care, but the sheer weight of trying to prove it makes me want to care so much less. And the act of not buying a card is the most extreme slap in the face you can give. "Well mom, I’m really happy that it’s your 50th birthday but I just didn’t feel like getting you a card." Who wants to bring upon themself that atomic bomb?

On a completely unrelated note, my birthday is coming up next week and I expect cards and presents from every one of my friends!

Rancho Relaxo

Unless I somehow skyrocket to design superstardom and get adulation for my genius, this past weekend will be the only time in the near future I get to hobnob with bigwigs from all over the counry.

This year’s Design Ranch was held at Camp Waldemar, which is a camp for rich girls. Very rich girls. Imagine if you will:

Rich girl: Mother, can I go to Camp Waldemar?
Mother: Well, honey, that sounds nice, but it costs $15,000 a summer to attend.
Rich girl: But moTHER! Monique’s mother said that SHE could go.
Mother: Honey, there’s a 15 year waiting list to be able to go.
Rich girl: I HATE YOU!!!!

That was my first reaction to what it might be like at the camp. But then it’s hard to harbor any ill-feelings towards such a magnificant place. It was impossible to maintain any level of stress while laying in a hammock next to the Guadalupe River. Throw in a few art workshops, food prepared by a four-star chef (he’s on staff), a few kayaks, live music everynight and a few kegs and you have yourself a good ole time.

It was also nice to such uber-successful designers shed any god-like stature and ask if the seat at your breakfast table is open. No ego, no competition, no showboating, well except for one guy. I got to screenprint with the guys who do all the concert posters for Modest Mouse, Interpol and whoever else is trendy. I was sketching out my idea for a Doozie (a koozie that holds two beers) with the principles of well-respected studios. It was satisfying to see people that were successful in design and did it by dictating what they wanted to do.

As nice as it was to relax and get pampered (well not the bunk beds intended for 14 year old girls, that sucked ass), this event helped me realize that I have some work to do in order to get to where I want to be in life.

Gomezmerized

Yeah the concert was over a week ago but I was holding off in the hope that my Holga would pull off some photo magic. No such luck so here are some by another fan with a more sophistimacated camera.

Another great concert by Gomez. I love these guys live. Here’s a taste, from another gig, but I had to share an amazing Beatles cover: Don't Let Me Down

Ben
Courtesy of RabidDog.

Ian and Tom
Courtesy of RabidDog.

Ian and Ben
Courtesy of RabidDog.

Gymnauseum

My latest workout resulted in a few enlightening observations:

Observation 1
Never ever ever take the vacant treadmill behind the woman with fat rolling out of her tank-top arm openings.

Observation 2
I picked the one gym in the entire free world that is devoid of good looking people.

Observation 3
Most men are homophobic unless they’re in a gym locker room where they can stand next to a perfect stranger and strip with no noticeable look of anxiety or awkwardness on their face.

HOLY SHIT!!!

[Gina and Steven on their respective laptops at Spiderhouse working quietly on freelance, enjoying a bright and clear Monday afternoon.]

Gina: Hey can you help me with this bitmap image?
Steven: HOLY SHIT!!!!!!
Gina: What is it?
Steven: Joy is pregnant!
Gina: WHAT?!
Steven: Look at this email...
Gina: Wow.
Steven: Man, they don’t mess around... well, actually they do. Heh heh.
Gina: Well, can you help me with this bitmap and then I’ll let you get back to your freaking out?
Steven: Holy shit.

Idle hands are the devil’s workshop

...unless the devil decided to sit this one out and let you lay on your lazy ass all day when you could be engaged in something more appropriate for this rare beautiful Austin saturday. Here were a few of my options:

Option 1
Forego recuperating from two full days of running around at my company’s convention and volunteer to go help out my fellow coworkers who are suffering through a third day. A valiant display of initiative, but it reeks of a lack of social life.

Option 2
Work on my freelance job, update my portfolio, do the laundry, clean up the apartment, finish setting up my letterpress, make a well-balanced dinner. The most responsible option, but sometimes the thought of doing a lot of things leaves you with the desire to do none of those things.

Option 3
Watch cartoons and sleep all day with the reasoning of "But I’m tiiiiiiired!"

So how can one salvage what’s left of his dignity and his day? I’m guessing by seeing a movie with a buddy and tossing back a few brewskies while telling myself "Tomorrow, tomorrow..."