Portmanteau of Life

I love this photo mostly because of the baby corgi. Eee! Via...

Fri, 17 May 2013 09:38:56 -0700

I love this photo mostly because of the baby corgi. Eee!

Via Jezebel

Cure for the Mondays. Chihuahua hates baths.

Mon, 13 May 2013 16:59:37 -0700

Cure for the Mondays. Chihuahua hates baths.:

Title says it all.

A little bit of cute for the day. Thanks Laurao!

A commitment to creating (even if it's crap)

Fri, 10 May 2013 17:06:00 -0700

I’ve been thinking lately about some of the pet projects I’ve hoped to start but never got off the ground. A novel. A short story. A personal portfolio site. A youtube channel. A video mini-series.

Anything like that, really. They seem so simple…and yet, not quite.

I realized that part of it is the fear that what I’m creating is absolute crap…and I’ll get called out for it. The other fear is that whatever I do, someone will inevitably point out that it has been done (and done better).

In the days of yore (aka dial-up and Geocities) when I was but a youth, I thought about starting a website or a blog. My plan was to proliferate it with cartoons and my musings. And BAM. I’d somehow find recognition and fame. And money. And then quit my day job and spend my time rolling in money or doing things normal people don’t do like go to a coffee shop at 2pm on a Tuesday. For no good reason at all.

That obviously hasn’t happened.

But what has happened is that since those early, clumsy, waddling days of the internet being born and taking its first steps, there are a lot of people that have done what I hoped of doing with stick figures, MS paint drawings. Even my most recent idea of doodling and writing on post-it notes has been done already. Oh, and business cards.

I don’t know if they are going to coffee shops on a random Tuesday afternoon, but I’m sure they could (and would) if they wanted to.

But I realized something - I’ve been going about it all wrong.

I’ve been fueled and motivated by the wrong things: recognition and fame. Yes, I’ve finally come to grips with the reality that there is a part of me that is a supreme attention whoring narcissist. I want to create and draw things and get that pat on the back. I want to make people laugh, or think, or go, “hm, interesting.”

Really, it’s just a desire to feel like I matter. What I do matters, and it’s lasting and has an impact on others…in a good way.

When I step back and think about it, the internet amazes me. It lets all sorts of people find their voice and share their stories. People can suddenly broadcast their passion for makeup. Their love of cats. Or their crazy anecdotes about their childhood that are uplifting and hilarious.

Simple, ordinary people are able to make an impact, even if it’s to 10 people or 10 million people.

More than anything, it’s their outlet.

Back in college, when I had the time and the energy, I used to write about random things all the time. Random musings. Random happenings. Things that didn’t really matter. Sure, going back on it now, it’s quite cringe-worthy, but I have faith that each of those blog posts and pointless articles has helped me:

1) Be somewhat disciplined when it comes to writing regularly

2) Identify what content resonates and what doesn’t (sometimes the most random posts would get two comments…which is like, 200% more engagement then my average posts!)

3) Connect with people. I remember quite a few times (okay, three times) where I was surprised to learn that someone had read my blog or enjoyed following it.

And that’s not too shabby.

So now, I will start sharing those random doodles and drawings. I don’t want to focus on the fame or recognition anymore. Instead, I’ll be happy that maybe somehow, some day, whether through this blog or ideally through a published work (or fifteen…or twenty) of mine I will have shared a story that really touches someone. That out there, I’m able to make people laugh, or feel good, or reflect.

And I hope that through this site, maybe I’ll be able to find others who have similar dreams and help give them the motivation to realize that they can do it as well.

Happy Friday!

I’m now back to working hard and dreaming lots.

At least I have this face next to me. He believes in me (for a few treats at least).

Warren Buffett Shares His Most Essential Advice For Generation Y | Elite Daily

Thu, 09 May 2013 15:23:19 -0700

Warren Buffett Shares His Most Essential Advice For Generation Y | Elite Daily:

Warren Buffett assumed the role of mentor to the youth yesterday when he gave networking and career advice in an “Office Hours” session with Levo League, a site aimed to assist youngsters in making their dreams come true.

I’m always a big fan of reading and trying to follow the advice of very smart, successful people. The more stories I read about Warren Buffett, the more I admire him. Hope I can have a mentor like him one day - or heck, just be more like him.

Sending a Message in a Blog Post

Wed, 08 May 2013 09:44:31 -0700

Does anybody out there remember Xanga? Good ‘ol Xanga. I don’t know what possessed me to start one back when I first entered college as a wide-eyed freshman, but I’m glad I did. Recently, I had been perusing through some of my old entries just for fun. And yes, there were several angst-ridden entries rife with grammatical errors and rhetorical questions sent out to the empty void of the Internet. I guess not much has changed.

One pleasant surprise was stumbling across an entry that I wrote on March 25, 2008 (I kept the Xanga alive and kicking for a good solid five years). At the tender age of 24, I had just moved out to San Francisco. I was in a brand new city at a brand new job. My pre-frontal cortex was still going awry. And I had a small, quaint studio where I whittled away my time.

Even back then, I had high hopes that I would be a writer. Five years later, that still hasn’t happened yet. But hopefully the next five years (and the next beyond that) something will happen. In any case, I now have a little piece of the 24-year-old me that had such high hopes.

Here it goes:

I went to Anthropologie on Sunday to help a friend pick out a dress. As we perused the store, I found a book that was about women who wrote a letter to their younger selves. The women were all very notable women - actresses, CEOs, authors, Olympians - you name it. I picked it up and flipped through it, reading a letter from an actress to her former self and then from a writer to her former self.

It’s always interesting to me to read things from one mindset when you’re in another mindset. Journal entries seem like lost letters to an unforeseen future, and the letters in that book are like wistful thoughts to an earlier time when naivety reigned. One Calvin and Hobbes that made me really laugh was when he wrote a letter to future Calvin, and it basically said “you will have seen things that I never have” and he sniffled and said “poor guy.”

So, true to any sort of xanga entry that I have, I decided to write a letter to my future self and, of course, where else can I share it but in this small little sliver of the public domain?

Hey Shay,

You’re going to laugh at that opening line, mostly because you’ll remember how ridiculous it sounded in your head when you first typed it out. I don’t know where you are right now, or what you are up to - but I hope you can recall vividly how it felt to be in my shoes.

Sometimes you wake up in the morning and all you can feel is the warmth of your bed, and you squint your eyes at the alarm clock and bargain with yourself for three extra minutes of stillness under the covers. “It’s a gift to myself,” you would rationalize. Inevitably, when you would pull the comforter off your slothful self you would feel the chill of the morning air and wonder how many more begrudging mornings are in your future.

Do you remember those anxious nights where you paced around your studio on the phone with a friend, toiling about your future children’s book?

You would stare out into the vast nothingness, and let your heart pour out in the phone. You would share your dreams and aspirations, all the while fixated on the ever impending fear that you aren’t capable enough. You feel conflicted because you don’t know if you are following the right path for yourself, and quite frankly, you once again feel lost and completely flummoxed at the crossroads of life.

And you duly note that you haven’t truly hit your quarter life…just yet. But it certainly feels that way.

Your friend would offer comfort and give you three simple things to focus on -

1. Save your money, and prepare for the option of returning to school
2. Do your best at your job - learn, network, and most of all, make friends
3. Write. Write in your free time, take classes. Write.

I do hope that, you finally figured out that you are capable. I hope you take the initiative to do the things that your friend suggested. I hope that, more than anything, you don’t give up your writing. Even when you pace around the room glaring at the computer and the blinking cursor on the Word document, I hope you run to your sketchbook and scribble out the simple sentences in your head.

When those thoughts and dreams are scattered and you feel your fingertips reaching out and barely grasping them, I want you to still grasp at them. If you have tried over and over and failed, I need you to pick yourself up and fail again - more spectacularly than ever before!

I want you to finally breathe easy when you spend money (but not too much money, don’t go crazy here!) and I want you to continue to find things each day that drive you. I hope that, one day, you’ll think back on me. You’ll remember the little rug and burgundy pillow that accompanied you when you hammered out your thoughts and dreamed of hitting it big with your words.

No matter what, I hope that, success or not, you learn that you are capable - and you believe it.

By the way - if you haven’t already, take risks. Take an improv class, take an acting class. Go out and do something awkward like crashing a random social event. Dress up, take pictures. Scribble and post them on the web. Stop thinking, and start doing.

Seriously, if you haven’t done this already by the time you read this - when will you?

Ever so hopefully,

Me.

A Verbal Tribute to Teachers

Tue, 07 May 2013 13:09:00 -0700

It’s Teacher appreciation day! Hooray! Thank you, Hallmark and all the other card conglomerates. Although I usually find faux holidays quite distasteful (Boss’s day, really? I mean, the only way I could understand why we would celebrate a day like that is if it comes with an automatic pay bump each year) I do think that teachers are often unappreciated and deserve a hug or some virtual props every so often. These are the men and women who have given up a good portion of their youth, their lives, and their precious time only to deal with helicopter parents and snotty kids with little pay in return.

So really, why not have a day where we all give a little thanks? Thanks to several wonderful teachers, I still utilize the mnemonic devices that they have instilled into the little brain of mine that guides my every day understanding of the world. I still excuse my dear Aunt Sally, and I also believe that King Henry did indeed die from drinking chocolate milk.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, then I’m very sorry for the holes in your education.

In any case, one of my favorite teachers back in my elementary school days taught us about the wonderful world of Shakespeare. In addition to directing a classroom of bumbling, awkward sixth graders in a rendition of Romeo and Juliet, she also guided us through the painstaking and brain-melting task of composing sonnets.

To pay homage to her and many of the other awesome teachers that I’ve had in my life (and the friends who are teachers that fight the good fight each day) here is my poorly composed sonnet that I dedicate to you. No need to say thanks, because I know that you aren’t going to…because this sonnet is quite horrible. But much like the begrudging parents that put their kid’s finger painting creation on the fridge, I hope deep down you find it at least somewhat amusing.

Ode to O Teacher

First let us ponder about the school day

Long hours, bored students, and time flying

Counting down until the end of May

Working hard, tireless, and quite trying

Yet when there is a glimmer of promise

A diamond in the dark and hidden deep

Wise words, kind thoughts only guide the novice

Where there is the potential and talent to reap

But with time so short, passing by ever quick

As a pebble to the pond leaves a fleeting ring

The student body moves forward always cyclic

The young birds begin to take to their wing

As long as students grow and flourish,

The teacher’s hard work will never tarnish

A little “pick me up” for the day sent by the...

Thu, 25 Apr 2013 13:23:22 -0700

A little “pick me up” for the day sent by the fiance. Love this. So amazing how the mundane things can be a lot more magical.

More about the Japanese Latte art from NPR

The Boston Marathon: The Human Race

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 18:43:00 -0700

The reason that I like cliches is because they are often rooted in truth. I think that’s why they become cliches in the first place. And the cliche “ignorance is bliss” has been in my mind lately, especially with the recent horrific incident at the Boston Marathon.

I think back to my mentality during other horrible incidents. 9/11, for example. I remember very clearly that I was sitting in the computer lab, writing an English essay. The teacher turned on the TV when another teacher popped her head in and said that something happened to the world trade center.

“A plane crashed into the building,” she said, as she poked her head inside. All of us looked around at each other, befuddled: how could such an aviation mistake been made?

So we watched, and then a collective gasp resonated across the United States when the second plane flew into the buildings.

That was no accident.

I was horrified and sad, and admittedly numb to the incident. At the time, I didn’t have friends that worked in skyscrapers. All of my family members and close loved ones live in Texas. Although the world was changing, I didn’t feel the vibrations of the aftermath as strongly from my suburban bubble.

Ignorance. My narrow point of view of the world.

Fast forward a few years and suddenly, as I become older, things are having a more profound affect on my heart. The Aurora movie theater. Sandy Hook Elementary.

And yesterday, the incident at the Boston Marathon.

Perhaps it’s just human nature to be selfish. Or, maybe it’s just a natural part of growing up. Suddenly you have so much more that you can relate to, and that punches you in the emotional throat.

My friends and I were training for the San Francisco marathon this year. I’m more than aware of what it takes now to train for something like this: hours of running. Tired limbs. Sore knees. Missed social outings. All for the sheer joy of running and to be a part of something bigger. That’s why on race day, they often say that you’re carried quite a way through adrenaline. You’re there with fellow runners, and, as one piece pointed out: the spectators. The excited cheerleaders, the strangers that suddenly become your friends and advocates. They believe in you and you believe in yourself.

Most of all, I’m always pushed a little further when I see my fiance waving a sign at me and cheering his head off. He dragged himself out of bed to be there for me, and knowing he’s at the end of the finish line to give me a hug makes it even more worthwhile to force my tired legs to continue.

Every time I think about those spectators, those runners and athletes, my heart clenches. And yes, it is because selfishly, I can identify with them. I wouldn’t know what I would do should I have been put in that situation. I can only empathize, and my heart is saddened that a celebration has been marred by ignorance.

If the people who planted those bombs could feel - truly feel - what it would be like for any one of those affected, they wouldn’t have given it a second thought.

But we live in a world where people do things without regard or without any thoughts. They’re ignorant of the pain that they inflict, or they just choose to ignore it.

So what do we do now?

We do not remain ignorant. We recognize that this horrific event ties us closer to other people in faraway countries that must go through these terrifying moments more often than we do.

We recognize the helpers, the average people that became heroes that day. We listen to the stories of the survivors and remember the lives of the people that were lost. We think about our humanity and we do not become ignorant of what it means to be a part of a larger, greater race: the human race.

I, for one, will still keep training. And every step I take today and hopefully in the future, will be with those other athletes and their loved ones in mind. And I hope that every day, in some way, we can all learn to be a little less ignorant of others in this world.

I read this story on Facebook, and thought I would share.

One day an elephant saw a hummingbird lying on its back with its tiny feet up in the air.

“What are you doing?” asked the elephant.

The hummingbird replied, “I heard that the sky might fall today, and so I am ready to help hold it up, should it fall.”

The elephant laughed cruelly. “Do you really think,” he said, “that those tiny feet could help hold up the sky?”

The hummingbird kept his feet up in the air, intent on his purpose, as he replied, “Not alone. But each must do what he can. And this is what I can do.”
– A Chinese Folktale

#postit note #doodle … my creative juices flow during...

Wed, 10 Apr 2013 11:47:12 -0700

#postit note #doodle … my creative juices flow during conference calls

An American Girl in London

Sun, 07 Apr 2013 23:15:00 -0700

Part of the fun I have with writing lists is checking things off (it makes me feel extremely productive). While in the process of training for a marathon to knock #9 off my list of 30 things to do before 30, I was pretty excited that I had the opportunity to take a trip by myself (albeit for work) to somewhere new…and not just anywhere, but London, England.

I know. I’m pretty darn lucky.

My manager, upon hearing that it was my first trip ever to the historic island, said that I should take the first day off to enjoy the city. So, without much urging, upon my arrival (jet lagged and bleary-eyed) I immediately hopped in a cab, checked into my hotel….

….and passed out for two hours.

Look at these beds. Can you blame me? What’s crazy is that they are actually twin beds. Good thing I don’t need much snuggle room when it’s just me, myself, and I.

After forcing myself up at noon, I decided to take my own self guided walking tour. Since the hotel was pretty close to the British Museum, I meandered over there for my first stop.

On a random note, these signs amused me. Clearly it was needed for weary worn travelers and ignorant Americans such as myself.

Admittedly, I didn’t really absorb too much of what I was seeing (since I was running on a total of six hours of sleep over two days) but it was a beautiful museum.

If I had a few extra days, one of them would have been spent just staring at this architecture.

This was one of my favorite rooms. From one end to the other the sides were lined with books filled with all sorts of knowledge that a person couldn’t possibly absorb in a lifetime. It’s amazing how much we don’t know as individuals, but how much we collect as humankind about all sorts of things. It was also absolutely adorable because several British school children were running around being British and school children.

After wandering aimlessly around for a bit, I decided to make my way to some other famous landmarks that I’ve only read about in books (or heard in passing from British TV shows). I made my way south and found myself in Piccadilly Circus.

Hooray, lights!

I wasn’t sure what else there was, so I just snapped the photo and continued on my way. It also started to rain, and being the inept traveler that I am, I stupidly wore my fabric thin (and worn out) TOMs shoes that were soon soaked through.

But I pushed forward. I’m checking things off my list, damnit!

So I kept walking…and made it to Trafalgar Square, where the National Gallery resides.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time to peruse inside, but I did my obligatory stop-and-stare-and-snap-a-few-more-photos routine. And, just a few blocks away, I was excited to see a familiar face: Big Ben.

At this point I felt like my feet were about to freeze off, so I decided to find sanctuary in a little church known as Westminster Abbey.

Well, hullo.

I was disappointed to find that I couldn’t take a few photos to commemorate this part of my self-guided tour, it was pretty breathtaking to be walking through the cloisters and the different enclaves with tombs of well-known kings and queens I’ve read about in the history books.

And…it was tea time!

Yes, this was tea for one. And it was awesome. I wish they had this in the US….

Feeling refreshed (and quite a bit warmer) I was deciding whether or not to continue my journey. But since I had made it this far, I decided to end my pretty full afternoon of wandering at the London Eye, and soak in the sights of the city from above.

To save some time, I decided to try taking the Underground.

After much fumbling and a few grumblings from locals at the clueless tourist holding up the system, I made it to the iconic wheel.

I purchased a ticket and joined the random families and cuddling couples, inside one of the glass capsules.

My reward was a pretty amazing view of a city sprinkled with lights and rain, housing centuries of history tucked in the winding roads.

After the capsule finally made its way back down to the ground, so ended my first day of London.

Although it was short, it was a pretty memorable day. More than anything, it made me realize that there is something liberating about going to a brand new city by yourself where nobody knows your name. In a sea of people, you can be alone with your thoughts and just soak in the vibe of the activity around you.

Definitely a great way to cross off an item off the list.

Just 28 more items to go!

Two Things About Roger Ebert

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 14:55:00 -0700

As a child, I’ve always known Ebert in a very superficial way. “Siskel and Ebert” was something we’d note as children as an example of a perfect pair. We’d use that as an example among other ones like “Peanut Buttery and Jelly” and “Jane and Tarzan.” Although I was not a voracious reader of Ebert’s column, for decades he’s just been a name that I know. Like Kleenex.

More recently, I’ve come to understand Ebert a little more as a person and not just a name as a part of a pair. From his battle with cancer to the dramatic change in his appearance, stories of how he’s just a kind, hardworking man would surface here and there. And, today, with his passing, even more are flooding in.

I don’t have a personal story to share, but I would like to share two things that I found particularly poignant for this day.

One, the article from Will Leitch and his personal Roger Ebert story. It’s heartwarming, heartbreaking, and an incredibly beautiful depiction of one guy’s experience with Ebert. It makes me wish and hope that the world will have more writers and mentors like Roger.

My favorite? This snippet from the failed 90s cartoon, The Critic. A little dose of childhood. Farewell, and thank you, Roger Ebert.

Some inspiration and motivation sent my way that gave me happy...

Thu, 28 Mar 2013 10:14:09 -0700

Some inspiration and motivation sent my way that gave me happy warm fuzzies. So wanted to pass it along to other aspiring creatives and makers.

The pup got a doppelgänger for his birthday!

Wed, 27 Mar 2013 10:30:16 -0700

The pup got a doppelgänger for his birthday!

London Eye spy. The rainy scene outside.

Mon, 18 Mar 2013 11:03:23 -0700

London Eye spy. The rainy scene outside.

Celebrity Encounters of the SXSW kind

Sun, 17 Mar 2013 11:09:00 -0700

I’ve always found it fascinating that we, as a society, tend to idolize 0.01% of the population. We bestow such focus on musicians, actors, artists, and even entrepreneurs. People always tend to remember the time or the crazy random happenstance that occurred where they saw so-and-so walk across the street, eat in a cafe with a friend, or just hang out in a random dive bar in another country where they are least expected to be.

I always imagine what it must be like for them. It must be surreal to have your life be scrutinized by strangers, to have your presence gawked at, and to never really truly be anonymous anywhere with the exception of your own home(s)…especially when you’re REALLY rich and famous.

These past two days were the first time that I attended SXSW Music, where I was fortunate enough to meet several up-and-coming artists. Willy Moon was all too kind when I introduced myself, and when he briefly stopped by the Skype Mobile Lounge (unfortunately, it wasn’t to hang out. It was because he was lost. Oh well…). As he exited, several fanatical screams came from the other room. Pentatonix were such a friendly group as well. Kevin Olusola and I chatted briefly about his experience so far at SXSW, and Scott Hoying thanked me for a sandwich and gave me a hug as he left. I also had the chance to talk to Eric Espiritu from Atomic Tom…hopefully he’ll find my ramen recommendations in San Jose useful one day.

Pentatonix rock the stage

It was really awesome to meet them and chat with them. Most of all, it was fantastic that all of them were open and friendly. Perhaps it’s because they are still well-grounded in reality, where it wasn’t so long ago that they could walk around anywhere and be just another unfamiliar face.

Admittedly, being a bit music illiterate probably did help me a bit too. Talking to them didn’t result in any starstruck symptoms like sweaty palms, heart palpitations, or stuttering that makes me look really creepy and fan-girly.

All this aside, I have one crazy random happenstance occurrence. As I was walking, I turned my head in the hallway to see a familiar face. A few minutes later, it clicked in my head.

It was Justin Long.

Okay.

I know him. You know him. Most of us know him. He was the Apple guy in the those Mac commercials. He was in several films like Dodgeball, Live Free and Die Hard. And he was there. The feeling of elation and surprise I felt must have been, as I imagine, akin to David Attenborough when he sights a rare creature in its natural habitat.

As most of my friends can attest, I’m not the most confident person. In fact, confidence is one thing that many have urged me to add to my repertoire in life. And…I’m awkward. But I decided that it was now or never. So, pushing those creepy fan-girl heart palpitations and starstruck symptoms aside…I walked up, stuck out my hand, smiled, and introduced myself.

And for the next few minutes, I talked to him and his friends like he was just any normal person. We talked about SXSW, Austin, and I gave him a hard time for blocking the line to the bathroom. And, yes, I made him laugh. (WHAT UP). Later, as I was chatting with other people, he walked by and teased, “don’t talk shit about me!”

Will he remember this encounter, and me? If there were any way to measure the probability of this, chances are likely 99.9% … no. But for me? Of course…I can now store this anecdote in my back pocket for future awkward cocktail party conversations. And, much like most people, think back and enjoy that random encounter with someone who has done something that countless people have heard of and enjoy.

But really…the most important thing to me is that I had the confidence to actually go up and talk to him. Instead of being intimidated, per my usual MO, I did something different. And that makes me feel like I took a one way trip up to cloud nine. And it’s pretty comfy up here.

Third eye blind. Yes.

Sat, 16 Mar 2013 23:02:42 -0700

Third eye blind. Yes.

Awesome! @PTXofficial at @Skype’s Mobile Lounge....

Fri, 15 Mar 2013 15:31:44 -0700

Awesome! @PTXofficial at @Skype’s Mobile Lounge. #skypeshare #sxsw

Gearing up @Skype’s Mobile Lounge by @LiveNation...

Fri, 15 Mar 2013 13:05:13 -0700

Gearing up @Skype’s Mobile Lounge by @LiveNation #skypeshare #sxsw

A Library for the Subway

Fri, 08 Mar 2013 14:23:23 -0800

A Library for the Subway:

counterpunches:

A trio of students from the Miami Ad School—Max Pilwat, Keri Tan and Ferdi Rodriguez—have came up with an innovative concept that allows people to read the first ten pages of popular books while riding the subway.

Using near field communications (NFC) technology, commuters select the desired book from a list of popular titles and read its first ten pages—upon finishing, the reader will be informed of the closest library location from which they can pick up and read the rest of the book.

This is a simple but ingenious idea that can be adopted and adapted to encourage reading in the 21st century, when new technology is changing the way we consume books.

Progressing with @oakleywomen at Squaw Valley Ski Resort – View...

Sat, 02 Mar 2013 14:05:37 -0800

Progressing with @oakleywomen at Squaw Valley Ski Resort – View on Path.