Wednesday, November 18, 2009

New seat & new phone. I can't wait to come home!

So I have a new phone now. THANK GOD!!! I finally have the ability stay on top of everything I'm supposed to do... and that little bit more that I always get myself into ;-)
I also have a brand new custom seat on my motorcycle. I'll be uploading either some video or a pic or two. Now I did the design myself, so all you artists or people with opions: its time weigh in (which means I expect something from everyone in my family). :-) Love you all
Now its time for me to jump on that glorious seat (I have been riding a rolled up towel for the last few days=not fun :-( ) and riding off into the sunset to tango into the night.
-Look for the new seat on my post tomorrow

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Waves

Why is it that things seem to go in waves? Why is momentum so hugely important in everything? And then there's just the randomness of related events that seem to happen at the same time while also seeming to have nothing to do with each other. What's up with that? For instance, since I arrived in LA (almost a year ago now) I have had little interest in pursuing the fairer sex, and the fairer sex in turn has not coordinated a campaign to pursue me. There have been isolated inquiries and probes but nothing serious enough to reach stage one of the relational networking scale (exchanging phone numbers). This last week however I have been phone numbers by four different girls and I have a casual date for tomorrow (a classical stage two in relational networking). The women have found out that I am in LA.

My personal opinion is that momentum is born where opportunity and posturing meet. Lately I have been trying to posturing myself as a fun and attractive small town boy full of potential. I have been focusing on developing this identity/posturing so that I can easily take advantage of professional opportunities when they arise. I guess this last week I've just been running into more personal opportunities than professional ones.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Why is my picture discolored?

... any ideas about what to type next? Anyone?

Ok, well then in that case, I'll simply have to make like a snow plow and charge through the empty white space of this currently empty post and leave a bread crumb trail of thoughts behind me. God willing, they will help me find my way home, and if not me, possibly you, my reader.

The stereotype of starving artist: Let us talk about this subject rationally. I present you to you the formula for being a well compensated artist. (Notice I did not say "successful artist" as "success" is defined on an individual basis.) Novelty X Audience size X Emotional response of Audience divided by the time it takes to reproduce the performance = $. I will define Novelty as the product of Effort X Rehearsal X Talent. The final formula for a well compensated artist is then: (N^2 x Aud x Rspn) /time to reproduce performance = $ where N = E x R x Tal. Effort is to be expressed on a scale of 0 to 10; Rehearsal is expressed in days; and Talent is to be expressed on a scale of 0 to 100. Audience must be expressed in whole numbers, and Response must be expressed on a scale of -100 to 100; and reproduction time must be expressed in days.

Thoughts?

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Having trouble not slouching in my chair right now.

Ok, so I know that I've failed to write anything of interest recently... or anything at all for that matter. But, all that is changing at this moment. Ta DA! I'm back on blogger. Last night I spent the whole day from 11 am to 1:30 am at the dance studio. It was a marathon that I don't suggest to anyone unconditioned for it. It was actually a bit much for even me. Since I spent the end of the day all on the balls of my feet for an Argentine Tango milonga (and the soles of dance shoes are little more than suede), when I woke up this morning I found that my feet were still baring a grudge from last night's abuse.

But despite my late night activities, I forced myself to get up and go to a breakfast/bible study that I had been invited to on Sunday mornings at a place called Conrad's in Downtown Pasadena... at 8:00 am! I muscle myself out of bed and once again on to my protesting feet. I get dressed, wash my face, maneuver my motorcycle out of the garage and the cars that have been parked specifically to impede my exit, and ride downtown to meet my friends... who turn out not to be there. Arg... Yeah, so I decide to go to church early--which was nice. I got to sit in the huge (but nearly empty auditorium) and listen to the choir and orchestra run through some of it's music for the service. It was a wonderful moment of relaxation for me. I was listening to high quality live music performed by people who are truly connected to the reason they perform, not just the specifics of the performance itself. I sat there in the middle of the room and let the music and the emotions slip over and through me like slippery spaghetti through chopsticks.

Come to think of it--I must have looked a bit out of place in my heavy leather jacket as the blue-haired crowed all came in and found their mutually agreed upon seats throughout the auditorium. Before long, a nervous-eyed usher shuffled his way over to me and gave me the most awkwardly short church greetings I've had. He simply walked up to where I was sitting, said "hi," shook my hand and then quickly shuffled away never to look my direction again. So that was awkward.

But not as awkward as the look I got from one of the girls that I was dancing with last night! So, I was at the milonga dancing my poor feet into rebellion and I asked this classy looking 25 to play younger to dance. She accepted and we danced one song, after which I thanked her, and was about to walk away when an incredibly offended/confused look overtook over her face. When I asked her if she was alright, she was gracious enough to ask me if I knew that I had just issued her an insult by only dancing one song with her and not an entire tanda. I didn't even know what a tanda was! I apologized and explained that I was just learning Argentine and that I was used to ballroom where it is expected that I change partners every dance. I told her that I would love to continue dancing, but even with her honor restored, her sensibilities remained offended so she refuse my offer. So for all of you out there who wish to avoid a similar situation on the Tango floor, allow me to explain the tanda rule. A tanda is a set of four songs in a row. These may or may not be separated by a cortina. A cortina piece of non-dance music played between the tanda which a time where either dance partner may (without insult) thank their partner and go their separate ways. Though it is permissible for a lead (the man) to thank his partner and move on, but it is interpreted as an insult to the lady's dancing. So, guys: if you ever want to dance with her again, then dance with her till you hear Cold Play or Jack Johnson start playing.

Back to breaking news, so I went to The Bridge today, and I am really glad I did. The was a guest there who spoke about her journey as an artist (she's a published novelist). And from listening to her talk about her process, I realized why writing has been so difficult for me recently. Its because I haven't been keeping up my blog! So for those of you who still follow my blog, expect more posts. Because I am ready to start writing. I need to be writing. So you're going to have more to read. :D Cheers!

Sunday, May 17, 2009

I did not go to church Sunday morning. Instead I got tipped heavily and even kissed at the wedding of the daughter of a 70's porn-star.

Long, awkward title,  I know, but it is true! So, Saturday I finally went back to work. My hours at the country club have been way less then I need. It is so bad, in fact that I will need another job to cover my essential expenses. Needless to say I was happy to get to work. The wedding on Saturday was an young shy asian couple's wedding and was very enjoyable. I have noticed that it helps a lot when the bride and groom are nice and attractive people. It makes it easier to be happy for them. Anywho, the wedding was outside and there were some serious hotties there. Immediately after the ceremony I took out the hors d'oeuvres and became accounted with many of the guests. As a result, later on when people got tipsy, I was suddenly their favorite waiter (because I was the only one they could remember). One particular party girl requested that I personally join her and some of her friends in taking a celebratory shot of tequila and another invited me to join her and some of her friends at a club later on this month. In all I made $31 in tips that night.

The downside of this wedding was, however, that tear down took a long time. It was 2 am before I made it out of there. BUT!... not before I met the owner of the company who brought in and designed the lighting and sound equipment. I asked him if he was possibly looking for new people for his crew. He got interested and said, "Oh yeah. We are always looking for good people. To be honest though, right now we are mainly looking for people who can do light design." AHHH! Those were good words to hear, let me tell you! So I gave him a brief synopsis of my qualifications and he gave me his business line. I'll be calling him in a little bit, as a mater of fact.

I finally left the country club and made it home in a hurry, because, lucky me, I had been asked to work an hour earlier than I was originally scheduled. 8 o'clock was now my new call time and I barely made it on time. This was going to be an interesting wedding. The mother of the bride was apparently a porn star in the 70's and the wedding had been scheduled for Sunday morning. Who has a wedding on Sunday morning, folks? The Sunday golf crowd was especially upset and kept shushing people at the wedding ceremony which was just a few feet away. Finally though, the wedding was over and everyone came inside for the reception. Once again, I had passed hors d'oeuvres and coffee around so the wedding attendees all knew who I was and tipped me heavily. I do have to say that this wedding was a little odd too, because the couple must have only invited attractive people. Everyone, ok all the women were either hot or over 60. One of the best things about these people though, was that they tipped really well! I made $18 just dropping off some coffee. I also learned that if the customers think that you are really doing them a huge favor that is an inconvenience to you, they will tip you better. All in all I made $22 that wedding in tips alone. The funny thing was that I did get any tips from my own tables. I tried to give them all the attention I could, but the girls that were sitting in that area all took it as flirting. Not that I'm complaining. Shortly before the event was over I was taking a request for champaign at one of my tables. As I was making conversation, finding out what I could get for them, blah blah blah, one particularly attractive girl gently tugged my head her way and gave me a kiss on my neck. WOOOOHOOO! I played it off cool while I was there, but as soon as I got back to the kitchen I blushed so red I had to get a drink of water. Then two of my coworks burst in the door and told everyone what just happened to me. Apparently they had seen the whole thing from the back of the room. Now "the pimp" has been added to my list of nicknames at work. Oh well, what's a guy to do? What is funny is that one of the guy who saw it happen has been doubting me every time I tell a story around him. He didn't believe me that a girl gave me a shot the previous night, that I got invited to a club, or that I got tipped $18 that morning by people at his tables... until then when he saw me get kissed by a girl he'd be checking out during the whole reception. 

For those of you who are worried: I did got to an evening church service when I got back to Pasadena. But since nothing as unusual happened there, I don't have any stories to tell from church. Sorry. Sometime it will be different. Who knows? Maybe I'll get kissed at church and be bored at work. 

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Surprise Five

Today I was riding home from work, and as per usual I was cutting a little traffic here and there on the 405. I wasn't going to much faster than the traffic because there is no need when I'm on my way home from work. It is not like I am going to be late or something. Anyway,  as I was coming around the section leading up to the 101 connection, which has a lazy left hand curve to it, not more than fifteen feet in front of me I saw a small hand reach out the passenger-side window of the car I was about to pass.. and the palm was facing backward. I could not see the face, but when I saw the hand I could not resist. As I passed by, I stuck out my hand and gave them five.

It is not often you have contact with someone else on the road. You are often in a large mass of humanity, each in your own personalized containers. Interactions between people are scarce, and even more scarce are the day to day interactions that we would otherwise share. This split second interaction opened my eyes a little bit to what we may be missing. Not that I expect people will be passing mustard between cars during rush hour. But I do wonder what it would be like if we all became a little more social during our commutes.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Through a Window, Pain., Quinn, Quinn, Quinn, Other Things

Through a Window, Pain.

So I put my foot through the side window in my living room. Not on purpose, of course. I meant to push off the wall. See, I was lying down on my stomach in the window seat working on my computer, but I got uncomfortable being in the same position after a while. So, I put my foot up behind me to push off to wall and the next thing I knew I was lying on the floor with a bloody foot. Lucky for me I had a friend nearby who was able to run to the store for me and get the bandages I needed to patch myself up. It's been about a week since that happened, but I just thought people might like to know why I have a scar the shape of the Nike symbol on my foot. No it is not because they have asked me to be a spokes person for their new line of frizbee apparel... not yet anyway. ;)

Quinn, Quinn, Quinn,

The problem with telling stories is that the longer you wait to write them down, the less interesting they seam to you. This story was one that, at the time, was very entertaining for me. Hopefully it is for you readers, because then you can comment on it an remind me why. :D 

So I serving at a wedding last week and having a pretty good time doing it too. The bride and groom were both attractive people and so were their friends. Maybe I'm shallow but when you work two weddings a week little things like an attractive and happy wedding party are a big plus. One of the best things about this wedding was that right off the father of the bride got completely smashed. It was great because he's a happy drunk. So was it came to his turn to talk into the microphone and express his blessing (note this immediately after the pastor prayed a tender moving prayer over the young couple) he took it upon himself to introduce everyone in the extended family like he was playing duck, duck, goose. He was hurriedly fumbling around the dinning room, "...and, and this is grandmother (insert asian name) she is weally, weally, old but this was impotant so she made it.... and this this is (insert bride's name)'s cousin Quinn. Lovely Quinn..." The entire wait staff and I had such a hard time not laughing that we all went back in the kitchen cause we couldn't take it anymore. Well later on that night after dinner was served I was helping with the coffee service. Who should I run into but Quinn. Lovely Quinn. Quinn actually works at a Starbucks around here somewhere and wanted to know what kind of coffee we used because she liked it so much. Well, as she was telling her the particular brand we use and (of course) setting her up with a refill... she looked into my eyes I saw it happen. She got hooked. Now I'm not going to say this about all girls, but there is generally a specific moment when girls go from simple conversation to something else, and at that moment ten thousand jiggawatts of pheromones come shooting out their eyes in a ruthless attempt to paralyze their targets. The female will then calmly attempt to bind their prey with invisible threads all the while distracting their prey with their attractive physical attributes, intelligence, talent, and sometimes wealth (aka "womanly whiles") . Some attacks of this nature can be more lethal than others based on the female's execution and the male's escape reflexes. Luckily for me I was at work, and avoided her attack simply because I wasn't paying attention. :D I was however momentarily stunned which gave her time to talk a little bit more (I don't remember what she said), write me a note, and tell me to meet her at the bar. After she got up to leave and I got over the surprise of what just happened, I realized I had no idea how old she was. Being asian, she, as well as several of the girls at the reception, had that ambiguous young look to them which makes it impossible to guess their age. It kinda creeped me out a little because since I got my hair cut nearly every guest at the country club thinks I'm sixteen or seventeen. I really didn't want to end up going on a date with some girl that is still in high school but just looks older. Talk about awkward! Anyway, by the time I finished serving the last couple tables and headed up to the bar, she had apparently gotten her drink, gotten bored, and wandered off somewhere else. Oh well. No loss to me. Later on though she was able to find me again. This time she was a bit more insistent. She gave me her phone number and insisted I send her a text. So I did. The DJ was playing some good music, so I texted "do you dance?" No answer. She ran into me later but was helping nearly dead grandmother out to her car. She once again insisted that I call her and go out some time. Well, it was a good two days before I did finally call Quinn. Unfortunately for her and her hunting instincts she should have given me her number before she went to the bar because she gave me the wrong number. :D I escaped without ever having to find out her age. 

Other Stories

For those of you who don't know: I love good bread. I'm snacking on some that I bought off the day old rack at Food 4 Less. It's not really important, but I couldn't help but mention it. Maybe I shouldn't say this either, but I have taken to pseudo-racing on my way home from work on the 134. It's nothing dangerous cause the freeway is pretty much empty and I'm not going much faster than I do when I am going to work. That said, it is pretty interesting and to do. I'll be riding along the freeway at a nice calm 80, then I'll see some guy burning up the road towards me. About the time they get to me I roll on the throttle and just try to stay level with 'em. It really isn't hard because I get to use the carpool lane so I never even have to go between cars. I don't really even ride to beat them or anything. I just try to stay even, cause otherwise it wouldn't be interesting. I'd win because they'd get stuck behind some cars and then I'd be bored. That's what ends up happening most the time anyway, though.

This last friday was a bit stressful. We had an outdoor wedding that go rained out. In the middle of the reception, right after we served the salad and right before we served the entre we had to pull the entire reception inside. The wind was blowing so hard, in fact, that some of the big hanging paper lanterns started falling on the guests and for some reason sparks were shooting out of one of the extension cords that was up there too! It was a really good thing that the bride was a really good sport. In fact, when she decided to take the wedding inside, and everyone was worried about getting hit with either electric sparks, rain, or falling paper lantern of death, she was all happy and encouraged everyone to hit the drinks because there was an open bar.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Lilly House

I have just finished what I can only refer to as a marathon of background work. In the last two days I have worked as an extra on two shows for a total of 25 hours without reprieve. The total amount of break time I had during the entire ordeal was a whopping 4 hours. So in total I worked 25 out of 29 hours. The first thing I worked on was a pilot for the show, Lilly. Apparently, this new show is a prequel for the show, Gossip Girl.... or something like that. After I got off set at a shiny 7:00 am, I hopped on my motorcycle and flew down the freeway from Chatsworth at 100 mph to my house in Pasadena, shaved, washed my face, collected a new wardrobe, and then hopped back on my bike and flew down the 110 to get to my 9:30 am call time for House all the way down in Carson. House fans, don't get excited. Hugh, was not there. And speaking of people who are not there... I am not really here anymore. I could talk more, but I can't. I am just too darn tired. Being awake and working will do that to you.

I will say before I go, though, that I made some wonderful friends, some of which I'm sure will be involved the Hollywood Prayer Network if nothing else. I also made what should be a fair amount of money, although, if things had gone better I would have made a ton more... but I can't get too annoyed about that. What I can do is get some sleep--so that is what I am giong to do right now.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Where am I now?

Much has happened since my last post. I have quit my job at Sports Marketing and I am now unemployed...ish. I moved out of my house in El Monte, and now I am living in Pasadena. My room is large (it was once a living room) and chilly. Yesterday I was on my first official show. I was an extra for My Boys. I don't really know the show at all, but that wasn't apparently a surprise to anyone I talked to who worked there.  For those who are wanting to know what episode to look for me on, I'm sorry but they didn't tell me what one the footage was for. So, unfortunately I won't be able to give you a heads up. Next week I may have a new job bussing tables at the Mountain Gate Country Club. All I have to do is fill out a small mountain of paperwork, get a drug test, and wait for a week. After that, it sounds like I have the job. The problem is that I find myself frustrated. I am frustrated with myself. I am fighting against the lethargy and apathy that comes from not knowing exactly what to do next. I came down with a plan, but ever since I broke up with Becca, I have been trying to create a new plan--a battle plan without an ally. Everything is now up to me. What do I want now? Where should I work? Where is God leading me? Where I am in the first place? Maybe I'll go and work at the country club. It would pay just enough. Maybe I should keep doing background work. It is very flexible and has potential for making more money. There is also the risk that I would not work that much as well. Maybe I should apply to work as a temp. The pay would be better when there is work for me to do, and the work would be good for me to do. I am tired of feeling like the work I do is bullshit. That is one reason that I have a hard time getting psyched out about working at Mountain Gate. Unfortunately, that's still not enough reason for me to turn it down. I need the money.