is finally over.
Yes, there was a lot of drinking.
Yes, we hit the buffet.
Yes, we were up till four in the morning.
No, I didn't hit the jackpot.
No, I didn't meet any ladies.
But I still consider myself lucky.
We stayed at the Palazzo, my first time there. I met some new people, and mostly hung out with a group of friends from Oregon. It's always a good thing when chance brings new people into your life. Had my first taste playing craps. Spent a tiny bit of time by the pool. Ate and drank and ate and drank and smoked like a chimney. The heat wasn't very overbearing. And overall, we had a good time.
The sweet light of a Nevada afternoon, like a fragrant, cut mango
focused on the rims of glasses and melting ice cubes,
sparkling chrome finishes and countless sheets of glass
on the facades of one resort to the next. The faint chip of the moon
hangs over the desert sky, the bustling freight trucks crossing
dusty interstate 15, the hustling call girls, designer gowns and spiked heels
sinking into the floral swirl of carpet pulled into the horizon.
I saw a lot of couples, some dressed up, as if in costume, playing the part of some dramatic snapshot in a Chanel spread. And the fool in me was a little envious, thinking how nice it'd be to burn through a chunk of savings on things we don't need, during the only time in our lives where we'd appreciate such things. A fine glass of wine. Diamonds. A handful of cash tossed onto a velvet tabletop, and the ridiculous hopes that it would multiply.
I also thought of my family. The several trips we've taken. Walking the same marble-lined corridors dressed like tourists at Disneyland, eating at the same over-priced restaurants as we did years before, appreciating that time in a way I didn't appreciate back then.
And the zombie afternoon. Dragging our feet down the strip, after a late checkout that's never late enough, nursing our hangovers with our fatigue, hauling our bags back to the taxistand, and waiting for time to expire at the airport food court, still full, just people watching and waiting for the somnambulant flight home.
I guess that was the weekend in a nutshell.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Thursday, September 09, 2010
Busy day.
Bunch of things to do today after work. Here's my list:
Laundry.
Dishes
Pack for Vegas.
Print passport forms.
Take out trash.
Call Allstate to have them send proof of insurance.
Prepare invoices.
Pay bills.
Pay back deposit check.
Still many things to do...
The 4th floor bathroom.
If potty humor isn't your thing, don't bother reading this post.
So my company resides on the 5th floor of a 5-story building. When I first started working here, it felt really spacious. There were still a lot of empty cubes, and our cubes were pretty generously sized.
Fast forward 8 months, and now I sit in the refugee pit.
I call it the refugee camp, cause really, these cubes are pretty depressing. It's a six-cube structure, similar to what you'd find in a college library, that was built where there used to be lounge chairs. Each desk is only about 2.5"x4", with partitions. Behind my seat, there's a lot of foot traffic, people on the way to conference rooms and execs, who's offices are now only 10-20 feet away from me. Oh what fun.
And that's reflective of the entire office. The cube section where I used to sit has been transformed into rows of desk space for our sales team. What used to seat nine people now seats 20. Even all the executive offices are full. In one, they had to break down the tables so they could cram two high-level managers in one office.
After a while, project managers start ignoring conference room reservations. The higher up the food chain you are, the higher priority you get. So instead, we've had to make due with holding conference calls in our refugee camp.
Then there are the bathrooms.
There are two bathrooms on our floor, one for men, one for women. In the men's room there are two urinals and two stalls. Not bad when I first got here, but now there have been a few times you walk into the bathroom and both stalls are taken. Not cool.
One day I thought to myself, what's on the fourth floor?
There are several empty commercial spaces down there, with open access to the bathroom. The bathroom there has a similar layout to ours, but somebody installed a privacy liner along the hinges of the stalls, so there's no awkward eye contact. Plus one of the toilet seats is flat, so when you put on the toilet liner, it doesn't automatically fall into the toilet.
So for a good two months or so, I could find a safe haven in the fourth floor bathroom. No interruptions. No intrusions. And all the time in the world to hide out and check out the latest apps on my iPhone.
Then something strange started happening. I'd run into a stray member of the sales team in the stairwell talking on the phone. I'd walk by a customer service rep on my way into the bathroom, who was on his way out of the bathroom. We both let out a laugh. Next it was a director. Today, there was another guy from our office brushing his teeth in there. And somebody in the stall next to me while we were both doing our business.
Sadly, the fourth floor bathroom is no longer a secret.
And as our company continues to expand, it just doesn't look like it's going to get any better. First it was our cubes. Now it's our toilets. Who knows what our office is going to be losing next?
So my company resides on the 5th floor of a 5-story building. When I first started working here, it felt really spacious. There were still a lot of empty cubes, and our cubes were pretty generously sized.
Fast forward 8 months, and now I sit in the refugee pit.
I call it the refugee camp, cause really, these cubes are pretty depressing. It's a six-cube structure, similar to what you'd find in a college library, that was built where there used to be lounge chairs. Each desk is only about 2.5"x4", with partitions. Behind my seat, there's a lot of foot traffic, people on the way to conference rooms and execs, who's offices are now only 10-20 feet away from me. Oh what fun.
And that's reflective of the entire office. The cube section where I used to sit has been transformed into rows of desk space for our sales team. What used to seat nine people now seats 20. Even all the executive offices are full. In one, they had to break down the tables so they could cram two high-level managers in one office.
After a while, project managers start ignoring conference room reservations. The higher up the food chain you are, the higher priority you get. So instead, we've had to make due with holding conference calls in our refugee camp.
Then there are the bathrooms.
There are two bathrooms on our floor, one for men, one for women. In the men's room there are two urinals and two stalls. Not bad when I first got here, but now there have been a few times you walk into the bathroom and both stalls are taken. Not cool.
One day I thought to myself, what's on the fourth floor?
There are several empty commercial spaces down there, with open access to the bathroom. The bathroom there has a similar layout to ours, but somebody installed a privacy liner along the hinges of the stalls, so there's no awkward eye contact. Plus one of the toilet seats is flat, so when you put on the toilet liner, it doesn't automatically fall into the toilet.
So for a good two months or so, I could find a safe haven in the fourth floor bathroom. No interruptions. No intrusions. And all the time in the world to hide out and check out the latest apps on my iPhone.
Then something strange started happening. I'd run into a stray member of the sales team in the stairwell talking on the phone. I'd walk by a customer service rep on my way into the bathroom, who was on his way out of the bathroom. We both let out a laugh. Next it was a director. Today, there was another guy from our office brushing his teeth in there. And somebody in the stall next to me while we were both doing our business.
Sadly, the fourth floor bathroom is no longer a secret.
And as our company continues to expand, it just doesn't look like it's going to get any better. First it was our cubes. Now it's our toilets. Who knows what our office is going to be losing next?
Sunday, September 05, 2010
Life is just so crazy.
I think the next year is going to be very big for me. For a number of reasons. My one-year at RingCentral is coming up, all the units are rented out, and then there's being single. Who knows how long that's gonna last?
The past few months has been especially tumultuous, but I think things are starting to plateau. Break-ups are tough. Breaking up out of cohabiting relationships are even tougher. But in the end, it was for the best. And I do wish her the best.
Anyway, I'm not sure what's the point of this blog anymore. I mean, it's nice to keep the one or two people that regularly read my blog updated about my life. But over the past few weeks especially, I've found it difficult to write about the stuff that's really interesting in my life cause of how personal it is.
Is there a point to it?
Right after my break up, things were pretty crazy. It was like jumping out of a rattled cage out of a plane flying over the Himalayas. Like somebody took the TV set of my brain and flipped through all the channels at once. It was exciting. It was terrifying. And now things have finally started to slow down.
One random thought I had for today. I was at dim sum with my family today. And strange, I saw three people from high school in the same restaurant. Didn't feel like I was in the mood to say hi, though. Just acquaintances. Two of them had kids. One of them was a little dwarf of a freshman when I was a senior. Now he's a big dwarf.
Driving back home, past our old high school, kids were throwing a carwash fundraiser. Man, high schoolers are tiny people. And to think, we used to be those kids 15 years ago. Holding up FREE CARWASH signs. Hanging out on the corners. One kid smoking a cigarette. The other flirting with a girl. Just teenagers on a hot day hanging out.
It all changes so fast.
The past few months has been especially tumultuous, but I think things are starting to plateau. Break-ups are tough. Breaking up out of cohabiting relationships are even tougher. But in the end, it was for the best. And I do wish her the best.
Anyway, I'm not sure what's the point of this blog anymore. I mean, it's nice to keep the one or two people that regularly read my blog updated about my life. But over the past few weeks especially, I've found it difficult to write about the stuff that's really interesting in my life cause of how personal it is.
Is there a point to it?
Right after my break up, things were pretty crazy. It was like jumping out of a rattled cage out of a plane flying over the Himalayas. Like somebody took the TV set of my brain and flipped through all the channels at once. It was exciting. It was terrifying. And now things have finally started to slow down.
One random thought I had for today. I was at dim sum with my family today. And strange, I saw three people from high school in the same restaurant. Didn't feel like I was in the mood to say hi, though. Just acquaintances. Two of them had kids. One of them was a little dwarf of a freshman when I was a senior. Now he's a big dwarf.
Driving back home, past our old high school, kids were throwing a carwash fundraiser. Man, high schoolers are tiny people. And to think, we used to be those kids 15 years ago. Holding up FREE CARWASH signs. Hanging out on the corners. One kid smoking a cigarette. The other flirting with a girl. Just teenagers on a hot day hanging out.
It all changes so fast.
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Feelings.
I've been thinking about them a lot lately. In fact, some people would call me a sensitive guy. And they're right. I've always been one to reflect on how I feel about things, and why I feel the way I do. I also throw caution to the wind when diving head first into relationships. Things don't always turn out the way I'd want them to, but whatever, it's the way I do things. And looking back, I always end up having fun.
You wouldn't know that when I'm down and out though. I can be pretty bitter at times. Share the storm clouds over my head with everyone around me. To the point where it gets awkward. And I kinda regret putting that on my friends.
Anyway, these past few months in particular have had a lot of crazy ups and downs. Like super highs and super lows. Lots of confusion. Recalibrating how I think about feelings and relationships. And more head first dives into empty pools of craziness.
I was talking to a friend the other day that said she didn't know how to handle me when I get too deep. "You're like a girl," she says. "Guys aren't supposed to be in touch with their feelings."
"You're right!" I tell her with a laugh. "I guess you're just gonna have to learn how to deal with me."
Which isn't to say that I'm all sappy shit these days. I downloaded BT's newest album the other day, These Hopeful Machines. It's a big improvement over his last album, This Binary Universe, which was a self-indulgent experimental electronica orgy. Machines, however, gets a big sentimental at times, where he writes a lot about love, about filling you up, and even has his kid singing the chorus for the song Forget Me. This album doesn't have the same emotional scope as his 2003 masterpiece, Emotional Technology, which still ranks as one of my favorite albums of all time (and is still worth a download if you've never listened to BT). But as a double-length album, I appreciate Machine's ambition, and I'm down for two hours of new music to cruise to.
I guess the thing I've been looking for especially in music these days, is a bit of a harder edge, of more earned emotional substance. None of this mopey girly shit. Music with some teeth. I think about the new self-titled album from Interpol. It's not their best work, but there's something I love about the almost percussive guitar rhythms. It's got drive, it's got momentum, it oozes confidence. I really dig that.
So how do these two things tie together, my fluffy feelings vs. my appreciation for harder music?
Sometimes you have to risk sentimentality in order to achieve sentiment.
A common theme that I've been getting from a lot of friends is to have fun. Live for myself for a change. And I dig that too. Stop caring so much about what other people think while still living responsibly. All the boundaries will figure themselves out. Live without apologizing for my feelings. Live without fear.
You wouldn't know that when I'm down and out though. I can be pretty bitter at times. Share the storm clouds over my head with everyone around me. To the point where it gets awkward. And I kinda regret putting that on my friends.
Anyway, these past few months in particular have had a lot of crazy ups and downs. Like super highs and super lows. Lots of confusion. Recalibrating how I think about feelings and relationships. And more head first dives into empty pools of craziness.
I was talking to a friend the other day that said she didn't know how to handle me when I get too deep. "You're like a girl," she says. "Guys aren't supposed to be in touch with their feelings."
"You're right!" I tell her with a laugh. "I guess you're just gonna have to learn how to deal with me."
Which isn't to say that I'm all sappy shit these days. I downloaded BT's newest album the other day, These Hopeful Machines. It's a big improvement over his last album, This Binary Universe, which was a self-indulgent experimental electronica orgy. Machines, however, gets a big sentimental at times, where he writes a lot about love, about filling you up, and even has his kid singing the chorus for the song Forget Me. This album doesn't have the same emotional scope as his 2003 masterpiece, Emotional Technology, which still ranks as one of my favorite albums of all time (and is still worth a download if you've never listened to BT). But as a double-length album, I appreciate Machine's ambition, and I'm down for two hours of new music to cruise to.
I guess the thing I've been looking for especially in music these days, is a bit of a harder edge, of more earned emotional substance. None of this mopey girly shit. Music with some teeth. I think about the new self-titled album from Interpol. It's not their best work, but there's something I love about the almost percussive guitar rhythms. It's got drive, it's got momentum, it oozes confidence. I really dig that.
So how do these two things tie together, my fluffy feelings vs. my appreciation for harder music?
Sometimes you have to risk sentimentality in order to achieve sentiment.
A common theme that I've been getting from a lot of friends is to have fun. Live for myself for a change. And I dig that too. Stop caring so much about what other people think while still living responsibly. All the boundaries will figure themselves out. Live without apologizing for my feelings. Live without fear.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)