"Haven't seen you for a while"... um...

By now, if you're like me, you've all run into a high school classmate or two that you haven't seen for almost ten years (maybe more if you aren't me) and you had the opportunity to play that awkward "How have you been?" conversation game. You know the one: he or she will tell you at least one interesting thing they've been up to since graduation (at least you hope its interesting), you tell him or her something you hope sounds just as interesting (though it never sounds as interesting as you hope), neither of you really care but ask at least one follow-up question to pretend you do, and then you're both on your separate ways. Not so painful when you're in a place like the supermarket or that adult video store you frequent (though honestly, who goes out to browse for porn these days, stop it!), but what if you're someplace you can't escape so quickly from? A couple weeks ago, I was on the bus and there's really no where to run to when you're on the bus unless you're willing to get off and wait for the next bus but then the next one isn't coming for another half hour, you hope since with this traffic it could be an hour and you don't want to be standing in the sun for that long and you can't sit in the shade because that's where the homeless guy stores all his stuff. Trust me, I thought it through.
     "But why would you even need to think of an escape plan?" you may naively ask. Surely, almost ten years would give the two of you plenty to talk awkwardly about for an hour? And you would be wrong. First of all, we were both pretty antisocial kids back in the day and honestly that hasn't changed much. Second, I hate talking on the bus, especially when I'm standing and trying to constantly adjust my voice to be heard over the sound of the bus but not enough to bother anyone else. Mostly, though, it's what I think is called the Conversation Paradox: The longer you haven't seen someone, the less you actually have to talk about. *I have no idea if this is actually a real thing, and, if not, you can stop reading before you get to me bullshitting something that clearly isn't real. (side note: when did "bullshitting" become a word? Spell-check doesn't seem to see anything wrong with using it as a word, i.e. no red, squiggly error line is popping up)
      To be fair, we did make it a good fifteen minutes of talking. Work ended up as the first topic as were both on the bus going home from our respective jobs. Sadly, I think the second was what we've heard was going on with some of our other classmates, which we didn't really know too much about. Then the awkward silence started to set in. And luckily by then, a couple seats opened up and I was immediately asleep. I felt kind of bad about that and probably should have made more of an attempt at keeping the conversation going but we both just got off work... and ... sleep.
     Besides, TEN YEARS! Okay, almost ten years but let's round up to make this a little easier. I can barely remember what kind of person I was ten years ago. That's a lie, but honestly, I can barely remember what kind of person my other classmates were back in the day. And that's probably why these conversations go south so quickly, because we haven't kept in touch and I don't remember too much about the past. Or it could be that I'm still trying to base these conversations in the past instead of trying to update them to the present... you know, like you're supposed to be doing in these "How have you been?" conversations you find so awkward. Ahh, okay, I'm starting to see what I've been doing wrong.
     I guess I could've brought up recent interests to fill the time, maybe even found a common one. You know, the thing that keeps you and your friends talking for hours even though you just saw each other a week or two ago. What was I interested in a couple weeks ago? I think Bleach was starting to get good again. Probably a couple TV shows. The "Mr. Chu" music video just came out, I think. But not stories. Don't go telling people that, they don't have the time. "I pet a koala" is fine, but don't go telling them about the whole trip (though that was like 8 months ago so don't go bringing that up anyway). And no achievements like the whole "quit smoking" thing; no one likes a show-off.
     Now that I've written all this out, maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm just shitty at basic conversation etiquette and sharing. Or maybe I'm just a boring person. It's probably both. Well, that was a waste of time though if I re-read this enough maybe I'll find the lesson I think I'm supposed to learn from this whole thing. Thanks for wasting time with me, though, I guess, though maybe you just had nothing better to do. (to be fair, I did give you a chance to run)

I won the nicest rejection letter ever

Dear Alan,

Thank you for letting us read “The Tomb of Ashcroft Manor”. After careful consideration, we’ve decided we won’t be able to use it in The First Line. 

...

-------

Fun story, Alan, and the writing was tight. We just had a lot of uncovered keys in the submissions. Try us again.

Like I said, definitely the nicest rejection letter I ever expected to get and it's probably for that reason that it took me so long to post the story (since they ask everyone to wait until the magazine is printed before using your submitted stories). If you're curious about the winners or even feel like entering yourself, check out The First Line. But, as promised, here is my rejected work and hopefully I'll get started on something else, eventually.

The Tomb of Ashcroft Manor

Carlos discovered a key under a pile of shoes in the back of his grandmother’s closet. It didn’t look impressive or special but Carlos knew it was. After all, in certain magic clans keys were just as significant as wands or pointy hats. And, he thought, if this was The Key, it may be the second most valuable item in all of Ashcroft Manor.

“Did you find anything else?” Behind him, Sarah meticulously ransacked their late grandmother’s belongings with all the grace and tact of a rampaging bull, tossing shelves and overturning dressers with simple flicks of her wand. Their grandmother managed to amass quite a collection in the nearly two centuries before she passed.

Quickly, Carlos pocketed the key. “Just another spell-cutter,” he said as he instead flashed his own enchanted knife, hoping she wouldn’t recognize it. Grandmother, or Lady Ashcroft as she was formally known to the rest of the families under the House of Ash name, was known to always carry a spell-cutter similar to the one he held. He hoped it would pass as just another trinket.

Without warning, Sarah swung her wand like a fisherman casting a line as the air between the siblings heated up. A green ball of light appeared and raced across the room toward Carlos. Reacting, he forced some of his own magic into the spell-cutter and swept it through the air. The blade collided with the green orb and, with a flash, it vanished and returned the room to its original, crisp wintery climate.

Sarah already turned her back to Carlos by the time he cut through her spell. “Add it to the collection,” she said, motioning to the bed where they put the rest of their mutually acquired magic tools, “but remember we’re here for the Grimrose.”

Instead, Carlos tucked the knife back into his belt and headed toward the rear of the closet. Ever since they were small, Sarah liked to be the one in charge even if he was the older one. He figured it was because grandmother gave her a wand and laughed at the idea of giving one to him, someone who shared their name but not their blood. She liked to say he was only an Ashcroft in name and would never be a true Ashcroft. This was probably the reason he didn’t have a problem raiding her things before the family even put her body in the ground. After all, Lady Ashcroft’s will, in just two words, specified exactly how she wanted all her magic tools divided – Finder’s Keepers.

The closet, like the house itself, was much bigger than it seemed from the outside. A simple spell made the closet the size of a small room much as it turned grandmother’s ranch-style home into a three-story mansion. Ducking behind several old dressers in the back of the dusty closet, Carlos pulled the key from his pocket. Holding it carefully in his palm, he began to channel magic into the key.

Everyone knew that Lady Ashcroft never locked her doors, claiming that anyone who broke into her house did so of their own free will and she would punish that poor soul accordingly. However, only a handful knew the truth – that she never locked her doors because she lost the key within a week of moving into Ashcroft Manor.

Carlos unleashed the energy he poured into the key, hoping it would guide him to the lock it opened. Instead, the magic rebounded from every direction and tossed him into the wall. He smiled. It rebounded from everywhere. The key literally told him that it went with every lock in the house. Carlos practically skipped out of the closet as an elated voice called to him. “You’re a true Ashcroft now. You’re just like us,” it said, the voice old and familiar. But it didn’t matter to him. He now controlled Ashcroft Manor!

Sarah gave Carlos just enough time to close the closet door before she slammed him into it. With ropes of pure magic, she lifted him to his feet. Extending a hand, she said just four words. “Give me the key.”

Before he could even sneer in Sarah’s direction, the ropes shoved him into the door again. And again. And again. Magic filled the air. It was literally crackling with it as Carlos’ hair rose and tugged at their roots. It buzzed and hummed at such deafening decibels that he could barely form a thought. It burned his lungs just to breathe. It was more energy than Sarah ever released before. In his confusion, Carlos caught a glimpse of Sarah’s wand … still tucked in the belt around her waist. In her hand she held another wand. The Grimrose wand.

Eleven and seven-sixteenths inches from end to pointed tip with an ever-so-slight bend where the leather-wrapped grip finished. Thirteen thorns scattered themselves along the Grimrose, each barely visible to the naked eye yet sharp enough to poke out said eye if it ever got too close. Lady Ashcroft forced a prophet to carve the final fourteen days of humanity into the shaft with only the finest of diamond-tipped needles before allowing him to fall into the madness from what he saw. He couldn’t mistake it for anything other than The Grimrose wand. In his dreams, he’d hold it, make it his own. But Sarah found it first.

“One more time.” Sarah’s voice jolted him back to reality. “Give me the key, Carlos.” The energy in the room crackled as she pronounced each syllable. The ropes tightened just enough to let him know that at anytime they could sever a limb or three.

The key in his pocket took on a subconscious weight, a pressure to remind Carlos that he just needed to give it to Sarah to make it all stop. Still, he tried to struggle free, his body straining against the ropes, his spirit against her newfound magic. He just got the key. Just got power and he wasn’t ready to give it up yet. Their eyes met and Carlos hoped the anger on his face gave Sarah her answer. And, just to make it clear, he launched a spit wad at her face, only to watch his saliva salvo splat harmlessly on Sarah’s magical barrier, six inches from its target.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t recoil from his tiny act of rebellion. She didn’t even make one of her famous mocking retorts. Any of these would’ve given Carlos the split second he needed to brace himself. Instead, she responded only with a flick of the wand. Simultaneously, the ropes lifted Carlos high into the vaulted ceiling. Then slammed him hard to the stone floor. Then back to the ceiling. Then the floor. Ceiling. Floor. Ceiling. Floor. Something broke, Carlos knew. Probably a rib. He would’ve heard it snap had it not been for the buzzing noise still emitting from all the magic Sarah was releasing.

The ropes disappeared and Carlos felt the pressure in the air build as Sarah stooped over him, picking the key from his pocket. “I am the new head of the House of Ash,” she said, taking a seat on the bed as Carlos struggled to his knees. She held both the wand and the key in her hands like trophies, admiring them as she spoke. “You know, they never saw me as a threat for the throne. Always just as the youngest of the grandchildren.” She went on about her newly acquired power and respect but Carlos wasn’t listening.

She’d taken from him. He could stand; he just needed the right moment. Physically, he was still stronger. Plus, he still possessed a lot of his own magic. Sarah, however, had been expelling hers like a leaky faucet, magical energy dripping from her even while she sat idle. He could take it all back, and more.

Sarah stood and moved to the door. “Now to give the family a glimpse of their new leader.”

Carlos lunged forward. Sarah froze, startled. Carlos surprised even himself at how quickly he moved. He pushed Sarah onto the bed and pulled the spell-cutter from his belt. Sarah raised Grimrose. This was his only chance. The air between them sizzled as Sarah started to summon a barrier between them. Carlos fueled the spell-cutter with as much magic as he could quickly find and forced the blade through the barrier and into Sarah’s chest, burying it to the hilt.

Leaving the knife, he gathered his original prize – the key to Ashcroft Manor. Just by touching it he saw and felt every square inch of the house: the location of every magic tool, the breeze as it circulated from room to room, which floorboards creaked. He was everywhere. Most important, he could hear doors open and close as his relatives poured into the house, searching for the power that was already his. Power they’d never take.

A whisper caught his ear and as he focused, it grew louder. Like a warm embrace, it welcomed him into the house, into the family. Repeating, over and over, “You’re a true Ashcroft now. You’re just like us.” Carlos smiled. “You’re a true Ashcroft now.” The head of the House of Ash, he thought, correcting the voice. “You’re just like us,” it whispered back.

That’s when he remembered the wand. It lay right where he left it, in Sarah’s now cold, stiff hand. He knew her body lay still yet he couldn’t help but imagine a stirring on the bed. Moving closer, he saw he was wrong – the body was moving. Half the knife blade now stood visible as if Sarah’s body collapsed in on itself. Even the blood flowed in unnatural streams along the bed, making its way toward the wand.

The wand! Grimrose fed to grow stronger and it would take all it wanted from Sarah until only a husk remained. Carlos looked at Sarah’s sunken face and her expression was clear – she wanted power, but she’d never murder her own brother for it. “You’re a true Ashcroft now,” the voice repeated, stronger than before. It was whimsical, laughing, familiar. It was Grandmother Ashcroft’s voice.

And now he saw what his grandmother had seen in him. Saw what he would do for power. He was just like them.

Before the blood touched the wand, Carlos picked it out of Sarah’s withered grip. The thorns dug into his skin with just the slightest touch. He felt a coldness from the wand as he raised it into the air, hatred as if the wand knew exactly what he was about to do. A roar filled the room as Carlos pushed his physically-exerted muscles to their limits to snap the piece of wood in half.

He heard his grandmother’s voice one last time as he tossed the two pieces to opposite ends of the room. Faintly, it whispered, “You’re just like us.” Us. The word echoed through Carlos’ mind. Us. He’d forgotten about his relatives, now swarming Ashcroft Manor like ants, all looking to claim power in any way and form they could find it.

“Perhaps this is the true Ashcroft legacy,” Carlos said to himself as he channeled all his remaining magical energies into the key. As it glowed brighter than anything he’d ever laid eyes on before, Carlos turned the key. Grandmother Ashcroft’s bedroom door slammed shut, as did the other fifty-two doors in Ashcroft Manor, with deadbolts and magical wards locking them tight. Then he took a seat on the bed next to Sarah. He was a true Ashcroft now, trapped in this living tomb like the rest of them.

100 Days Later

It's been 100 days since my last cigarette and I gotta say, it's the worst decision I've ever made. But its been 100 days and since I don't have a lot (or any) real accomplishments to brag about, I'm gonna take this opportunity to do so. But first, I should probably say this - I didn't quit for your typical health or financial reasons. Mostly, it was on a stupid challenge to myself that just got way out of hand. It originally started off as just one of my annual, I'm-gonna-quit-this-time-but-not-really campaigns. Typically I'll make it a few days or even a week before I just say "fuck it" and start smoking again like I knew I was going to all along. This time though, I got to the 3 week mark (the longest I've ever quit) and then it turned into New Years so I decided why the hell not just keep it up. And that's how I've gotten to this point now.

My first pack

Maybe it's because I was never a big smoker that it was actually possible to quit cold turkey. I never made it to a pack a day (even when they were 300 yen a pack in Japan). Maybe half a pack at the most. Usually, just to get through school, work, and boredom. I think it dropped to 3 or 4 cigarettes a day before I quit. Actually, I think the greatest temptation so far isn't stress or peer pressure like the commercials say it is. So far, the greatest temptation is boredom. Just plain, old boredom. Waiting at the bus stop, waiting in line, waiting for anything. I think I just need to upgrade to a smartphone and the cravings will probably disappear altogether.


Even though I didn't smoke a lot, there were definitely withdrawal symptoms. It sucked not getting my fixes throughout the work day, especially on the shitty days. Luckily, I managed to bury myself in all that shitty work so that helped distract me during the day. I somehow managed to not gain weight like everyone says happens when you quit. Probably because I dropped $20 in the company's weight-loss challenge around that time as well as that queasy feeling I was getting during the day from withholding said nicotine. Oh, it sucks but I assume I'm healthier now (at least that's what all the anti-tobacco propaganda wants me to believe). I guess I would know for sure if I actually got back into physical activity rather than just watching TV after sitting behind a desk for eight hours. Seriously, though, I'm sure the main reason I haven't just gone out and bought another pack is that I'm certain I'm gonna puke after my first drag. Not looking forward to that shining moment.

Even after all this time, though, I do miss some of smoking's more useful aspects:

1. covering up unwanted smells like not showering the night before or the fact that I've been wearing the same pair of pants all week
2. socializing with other smokers (trust me, there's no greater bond than ten of you trying to huddle under the same narrow ledge in the rain)
3. getting out of awkward conversations/situations
4. relieving boredom
5. littering. because I'm helping the birds. and fuck mother nature
6. flicking at your enemies. I've never actually done this as I don't have enemies and everyone likes me (though I probably just made quite a few with that statement)

I think I'll end this here. My fiction writing professor once commented on my story that as much as he liked smoking, "there's too much smoking in this story" and I think this is heading in the same direction. Don't worry, you've never read that story. It wasn't anywhere close to being my best work though one chapter of it did inspire the "Mr. Thompson" story. So that's 100 days. Maybe I'll make it to 200.

The Valentine's Day Post

One of the few good comic strips in the school paper back at UH

     Well, it's February, which means you can't actually go the month without talking about Valentine's Day. And since that's what it seems like I'm gonna use for this month's theme (because it's easy), there are really only three things that I could write about: Love, Roses, and Chocolates. As you hopefully figured out from that comic strip I clipped out from years back, obviously I'm still single and, with my recent divorce from nicotine, lonelier than ever. I'm still working at the orchid farm on the weekends so there's no way I'm spending even more time talking about flowers. So, that makes the choice of theme pretty simple: Candy

Don't be fooled by that depressed look. She makes that face whenever she's tied up (unless food is involved... or a belly scratch). Though, recently, she has been sadder looking more often, probably because of the scratches on her face. I keep telling her that the cuts on her cheek just make her look more badass but she still frowns a lot. She found a cat in the yard a couple weeks ago and, like she does with all smaller, living things, she decided it existed solely for her to chase and possibly put in her mouth (which is also why I try to keep her away from other people walking their dogs... and those chickens tied up in the yard up the street).

From the first day we got her, Candy has been much smarter than we thought she would be. Turns out she tricked my sister into adopting her from the Humane Society by pretending to be a lazy and quiet puppy (thus easy to care for) while her cellmate chewed on concrete. However, that night, in a new house, in the dark, she managed to climb her way out of a make-shift pen, cross the patio, climb the steps and sleep by the door instead. She also knew instinctively to do her business on the newspaper without any training so that was pretty cool. She managed to get off her chain several times without explanation. Not a link broken or a clip bent. More times than I'd like to admit, I've chased the dog up the street when she's gotten loose... or just slipped my grasp. Honestly, it's just weird that she doesn't lick. And that she's started burying her pee, making me look like the asshole who isn't picking up after his dog.

As you may have been wondering, I consider Candy only partially my dog (mostly to avoid full responsibility for her well-being). She's actually my sister's dog (hence the name Candy), but since she started getting involved in after-school stuff I'm the one who usually takes care of her. Luckily, Candy doesn't ask for much: water, food, treats, clean-up her shit, and letting her off the chain for a bit.

But, its important to take her for a lap or two. Somehow it calms what may be a natural predator instinct she displays in our yard. Or at the least, the walking/jogging tires her out enough that she can't catch the random stray cat hiding in the bushes or the stupid birds stuck in the batting cage. Don't laugh, I've seen her hunting skills first hand. Once, there was a whole flock of birds in our batting cage. And, honestly, it used to be fun to watch Candy chase the birds back and forth, as long as they never landed. This time, a couple of them did land

I tried to draw it to scale but I it was hard enough to just draw

So, which bird does she choose to go after? Does she pounce quickly on the closer, yet larger bird? Nope. Instead, I watched her size up the two targets. Then she sprints clear across the batting cage to the farther, yet smaller bird and scoops it right into her mouth. The whole, fucking bird! Just right into her mouth. And now I'm freaking out because the only part of the bird I can see is its head sticking out, but slowly it is also sinking into Candy's mouth as if trapped in quicksand, you know, except with more crunching sounds.

Recent evidence

Unfortunately, walking Candy comes with one big consequence: my neighbors now think I am more sociable. I'll give you a moment to stop laughing because I'm not joking. Apparently, since I have a dog, it is now okay to start chatting me up in the middle of the street. To be fair, I didn't really play outside a lot as a kid so they might think that I just moved in. And I mean it's everyone: other people walking their dogs, kids wanting to pet her (I promise, I'm not a pedophile), and the one lady who only speaks Japanese. It's gotten so out of hand that I've actually come up with nicknames for some of them (I was gonna draw a map, but it was really hard):
1. Beagle Lady
2. Old lady with tiny dog
3. Smoking lady
4. 2 dogs man
5. Ghost dog (I swear I can hear barking at that house, but I've never seen a dog)

With all the time it looks like I'm going to be spending with her, I'll eventually answer all the questions I have about her (like "what breed of dog is she?" and "why she gets bored with her toys after just one day?" and "why does she only stare at other dogs when peeing outside their fence?"). Besides, she doesn't care as long as I keep mixing treats into her dinner (she almost refuses to eat it without treats mixed in).

enlarged to show texture

Well, that's it. Happy Valentine's Day. And if you've been wondering, yes, I have been writing. I'm working on a new serial plot and, if that story I submitted gets rejected, I'll post it here.

Resolutions and other things I'm supposed to know how to do

It's that time of the year again - the time to make promises we never intend to keep. I know the month is already half over but I started with some sort of stomach flu thing right from the start plus I've been tweaking on Black Flag for a couple hours every night, so give me a break. Anyways, let's just get this list over with:

Quite literally how I've been wasting my nights

1. I'm gonna just lump all those "Health" ones into one easily broken resolution and move on from there. Eat healthier. Exercise. Actually go to the doctor when I get sick. Oh, and quit smoking. On a positive note, it has been just over a month - 41 horrible days, actually - since my last cigarette (I cheated and started in December) so maybe it'll actually happen this year. I miss you, sweet, sweet nicotine
2. Write more. I know, I say this every year but I really should be putting those 5 years and my English degree to use in someway besides proofreading my co-workers emails and laughing at the grammatical mistakes of disabled people (no, becoming a better person is not on this year's list)
3. Save more. Especially since I just got the chance to sign up for some 401k plan (I still have no idea how it works). While I plan to die before I get the chance to retire anyway, I figure it's an investment in the extravagant funeral I've always wanted (it's gonna be great!)

Buying a book I could read free online - #3 already broken

Luckily, I've already broken all of those so there's nothing to worry about anymore. Besides, the typical resolutions, I've also seemed to hit a quarter-life epiphany that there are certain things I'm probably supposed to be able to do by now. Things like:

1. Whistling. Yep, still can't do it.

2. Converting months to number form and vice versa. I assume you know what I'm talking about. If the date says 07/04/2001, for example, it's right to my fingers to find out that it means... one, two, three, four, five, six, July. July 4th, 2001.

3. Cutting the nails on my right hand is also pretty difficult. Because, honestly, being right-handed means I don't have to learn how to do things any other way. Thus, in 25 years, while my right hand learned to snap, write, throw, ten-key, and operate a tech-deck, my left hand has barely mastered the art of "grab". Unfortunately, as I've stated, I still need its help for some precision work every once in a while. So, while my other 15 digits are cut to perfection, when it comes to the last 5 nails on my right, the cuts start to get a little shaky. Some too close, some too far, I've even cut myself with the nail clipper more times than I'd like to admit. I would blame it on a lack of training but I seriously think it's just my left's revenge for the neglect.

4. Describing how to cut my hair. Whenever it starts to get long enough to poke me in the eyes, I make my way to a hair-cutting place, plop myself into the chair, tell them "2 inches off the top," and pray they don't ask anymore questions until I've run my hand through the results (because that's how I test if it's short enough). Seriously, beyond that, I have no idea what else I'm supposed to do in that chair except sit still (that was learned the hard way in my younger days). I've heard people go into tremendous detail when talking to the scissors-lady, but maybe that's enough. Nothing terribly bad has happened so far but I'm starting to learn that I can't just skate by with luck anymore.


I figure I should also start practicing my Japanese again and/or start learning Korean because it's gotta be rude to some degree to just stare at those pretty faces and not understand a word they're saying ... or maybe not

Yep, it's looking like another awesome great interesting ... meh, it's another year

The (Late) Thanksgiving Post

In the theme of Thanksgiving (I know it's late, but come on it was only last week), I've tried to remember some of the memorable potlucks that I've been to. For the maybe three of you who don't know, a potluck is a party where instead of the host providing all the food and drinks, everyone is required to bring something instead. It's a pretty good way to spread out the costs as well as find out what kind of strange foods your friends eat. Luckily enough (for me and for you too) I haven't attended a lot of parties where I've been required to bring food so this should be a short post and then you can all go back to enjoying your leftovers (ours are already gone). Also, if you were wondering (which you probably aren't so you can skip my excuses), I did manage to finish both Splinter Cell as well as newest Call of Duty game. I wish I could say I was reading more... but I haven't. Oh, and I've been catching up on all those TV shows.

So, in no particular order but as they come to me:

Nes's House Gatherings
Sure I'm pushing this one, but here we go. Whenever we gather at Nes's house, typically everyone just chips in for pizza (one of them guaranteed to have sardines) while we sit around and drink. Usually, everyone brings beer or alcohol in some form or another. I remember for a while there we were always stocked with Coronas and some form of whiskey (at least that's what I remember drinking). I know that shouldn't really count as a potluck, but we've done it so many times that it was the first thing I thought of. Now that I think about it, I do bring chips every once in a while. Oh, and that time when my brother and I brought chicken katsu. Yeah, I think that happened. Anyways, we've definitely done the pizza thing a lot. And the drinking. But those are stories for another time, when I've properly chronicled all of those.


The Elementary School Reunion
A while back, someone set up a group on Facebook for our elementary school class and with that we were able to hold a reunion. Unfortunately, we got together on a Friday when most people either had class or work. Luckily, I was unemployed and poor so I had some free time. Besides, meeting people I hadn't seen for a decade or so sounded like a great idea. At the very least they wouldn't know how much of an asshole I'd become. Or at least hopefully would've forgotten how much of an asshole I was. Just kidding, I don't remember what I was like back then. Anyways, I grabbed Angelo and Bryce and drove off to Ala Moana Beach Park (at least that's where I think it was at). And for this one I brought Fried Noodles from Leeward Drive Inn. Stupidly, I had forgotten to bring plates and forks but someone else did, I don't remember who.

photo credits to... someone

By the way, you know the anticipation you feel before you're high school reunions? Actually, I don't either but I've watched Grosse Pointe Blank about a hundred times so I assume I know what it's like. (John Cusack. Contract Killer. High school reunion. Watch it!). You start wondering how much everyone has changed and how much they've stayed the same. You wonder if they'll still remember that math class you had together? It's the same for elementary school reunions... you know but slightly different. Obviously most of them are going to get taller. But will they be taller than you? (they weren't). Will they remember that time we got caught eating all that glue? (that's a lie, I never shared my glue). And I gotta say, I was kinda disappointed. Everyone seemed exactly the same as how I remembered them. Maybe we don't really change in just ten years? or maybe I just couldn't see the changes? Whatever it was, it was fun to see all those people again.


Marie's Get-Together
Have you also been noticing the lack of dates attached to any of these events? Yeah I've noticed them too. I'm pretty bad at remember dates. But moving on... I remember bringing Cold Ginger Chicken from One Plus One Drive Inn that night. The funny part is I'm pretty sure I had just started eating cold ginger chicken just recently so it was still a pretty new food for me to enjoy as well. I wasn't even sure if anyone else ate it. And here I was bringing it anyways. I'm not sure of the reason we all gathered on the roof of Marie's apartment building. I do remember that one of the rules of the common rooftop area was that no alcohol was allowed. Not a big deal for present day Alan ... Okay, that's a lie, but it's less of a big deal for present day Alan than the Alan of just a couple years ago (I'm sure you remember him). I remember it feeling awkward being at a party without some form of alcohol in my system. The strangest part, as sober as I know I was, I can't quite seem to remember a whole lot about the party.


The International Pot-Luck Dinner
Strange that I remembered this one last, even though it was the only one that I actually cooked the dish I brought. Back when I was studying abroad, the dorm decided to have an International Potluck dinner. Thus we were all tasked with bringing something from our home country. Sure I could've just run down to the store to buy some Coke or a bag of chips, but I had gotten slightly less worse at cooking recently (at least I wasn't getting food poisoning from my meals). Fortunately, one of the other Hawaii people made spam musubis so I didn't have to spend all that time cooking and shaping rice into rectangles and messing with the nori. Instead, I just made the simple Spam Fried Rice complete with spam, shoyu, eggs, onions, and that instant rice I'd been buying from the One Hundred Yen store. The funniest part, I can still see a couple of you picking out the spam as you scooped it from the bowl.

Australia Trip +1: Aftermath

One of my favorite parts of traveling is crossing time zones, mostly for the whole "lose a day, gain a day" thing. This time, I was gaining a day. I know it sounds stupid, but I like to think that I'm traveling back in time.

Anyways, my brother reluctantly picked me up from the airport that morning once I landed. In return I bought him and the rest of my siblings breakfast with the extra American cash I didn't exchange as well as distributed their souvenirs before taking a nap. Note to self, it's a bad idea to scarf down an entire breakfast plate as quickly as you can when you haven't eaten for almost 20 hours.

The next day, I got to work expecting the typical practical joke, as is tradition. I didn't expect this

I'm sure you've all already seen the video, but if you didn't watch it, here's a pictures to give you a visual

As you can see, my desk and file cabinet were wrapped in saran wrap, chair covered in post-it notes, and Bieber pictures hung from the ceiling. I did like the "G'day Mate" written on the white board just to keep an Australian theme. And luckily, it only took the next hour to rip off all the saran wrap as well as flip the file cabinet back around.

But, as I said, it was a good trip. It's too bad it'll be a while before I take another one. 2 reasons specifically. First, gotta save up that money. Secondly, with all the work my co-workers did to cover while I was gone, it's only fair that they get a chance to go on vacation before I take another one. Luckily, a couple of them already have taken or else have a vacation lined up soon that I could probably do something as early as next year. You know, as long as the first requirement is met.

Also, to answer Aurora's question, "what's one word to describe Australia?", I'm gonna go with the one word I learned over the trip, "Exposure". Because with all the stuff Australia was throwing in our faces from the moment we landed - all the food, activities, people - it was blinding. And I learned that if you don't limit what your seeing, (filter, if you will), you'll forget that the point is to have fun and enjoy and you'll miss out on that one, perfect picture.

And yes, it did take me two months to come up with that. But I do have an English degree and I'll be damned and my pride shattered if I'm beat by a word.