Crank it. Loud, and maybe you’ll understand how I feel.

I’ve been in such a slump the last week. Maybe I’m over-worked, over-tired, and over-stressed. Things haven’t been going my way.

It’s filled me with such frustration, sadness, and anger.

Now I’m left to face the ugly world alone, and all I can think is to never put your trust in someone. Never be dependent, never expect anything from anyone because you’ll only get hurt.

I try to rationalize everything and follow the Tao, but I can’t. Everything is so overwhelming.

As much as I’ve learned, as much wisdom as I’ve gained, as far as I’ve come, I’m still human.

Every day I promise myself I’m going to bed early to catch up on sleep, and every night I break that promise.

On a whim, I went to Zone after work. I’ve been in a decorating mood lately. I spent about an hour in there, just gathering design ideas with what they had.

I picked up a pincushion plate and some potpourri for my coffee table, replacing the glass bowl I had before, and lined it up with the edge of the chaise lounge.

Decorating my house has always been important to me, but I’ve never rushed into it. Part of the reason why it’s so empty right now is because I want to put up my own pictures, and I never had enough with which I was satisfied to fill the walls. I don’t want photos of memories — what I have at work — I want pictures that set a certain mood. Another thing that makes it hard is that I’ve never liked non-functioning decorations; candles you’d never burn, baubles that don’t do anything, knick-knacks that clutter shelves don’t make sense to me.

Part of me wants to go out and buy everything at once and be settled, but another part of me never wants to finish.

Otherwise, I’d lose the thrill of the hunt, and the pleasure of adding another thing that’s just right to the right place.

Among the shots and the rounds, the friends and the fun, I found a graduation photo framed on his shelf, a candid shot of the Class of ‘05.

Every one of my “clique” was among the faces. There were others as well, people I knew from class, even though I never talked to them. How different they all looked — all prim and proper in academic regalia — yet familiar.

I was the only one not in co-op, and graduated a year before everyone else. My convocation was insignificant. I only went because my parents wanted to see me make that walk that stage, a return on their investment. I don’t know who the dean of my faculty was, or who handed me my diploma. I was just another number in a profiteering institution. It meant nothing.

But seeing that photo struck a chord in me.

It made me realize how I’ve never really fit in. How I never belonged to a group. For some reason, I still long for that, or, perhaps, to have had that at one point in my life. Last time it was elementary and high-school. This time it was university. I don’t know why. I have my own group of friends now. Not a clique, because they don’t hang out with each other, but a motley crew I’ve built through the years.

The logical side of me understands that it isn’t significant. That it doesn’t, and shouldn’t matter. That nothing is more boring and pedestrian than fitting in.

But another part of me feels like I missed out on something.

And I don’t know if I’ll ever let that go.

Coming up with the right thing to say when it’s too late. The French have a term for it: l’espirit de l’escalier. Staircase wit. When you’re leaving a party, going down the stairs, perhaps playing over an incident in your head, and you think of that perfect riposte.

Staircase wit isn’t limited to insults and witty retorts though. It can be any moment when you can’t think of anything to say, only to reach an epiphany soon after.

I always end up saying what I want in my dreams, but it’s never as satisfying. This is how I know that life isn’t a dream.

Otherwise, I’d be more witty.

Part of The Tao Tattoo Series

1. The Meaning
2. The Experience
3. The Background
4. Tattwo

Asian character tattoos have become somewhat of a cliché, but not doing something because it’s trendy is as bad as doing it because it’s trendy. I chose to get a tattoo for myself, which is why I it’s on the inside of my wrist, facing me when I see it. Unfortunately, foreign language tattoos are often wrong and hilariously bad as well, as if a child had drawn them.

So I did my research, and found as many drawings of the Tao character as possible. At one point I went as far as tracking down people who had purchased a certain painting with Tao in the title, and calling them to ask if they would take a picture and send it to me¹. I’m a perfectionist in my everyday life, so I was going to be sure about something that would last for the rest of my life.

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1. I felt terrible when one guy said that the painting was with his ex-girlfriend [↑]

The juice of an apple, much like the apple itself, eventually turns brown, and what was an innocuous spot of moisture on the pants surreptitiously becomes a vulgarity.

The pants, though perfectly ironed and clean, must be washed again.

Curse you, apple.

Curse you, and your phenolic liquids.

Part of The Tao Tattoo Series

1. The Meaning
2. The Experience
3. The Background
4. Tattwo

I decided to get my Tao tattoo about a month before I actually had it done. Choosing an artist wasn’t hard. Tiana, who’s awesome broken argyle tattoo reminds me of insouciant kites against a sky, had hers done by Jay at New Moon. After seeing some more of his work, which features finely detailed lines similar to what I had in mind, I decided to go with him as well.

The appointment was short. A quick check to make sure the positioning close to the wrist joint was acceptable, and to leave a deposit.

The receptionist asked me, “What does the kanji mean?”.

“Kanji?”. I questioned her assumption, and she quickly corrected herself. “Sorry, is it Chinese or Japanese or Korean…?”. I explained the character, and how it’s written the same way in Chinese and Japanese, the calligraphy being in a Chinese style.

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i felt disconnected all day. distant. disjointed. another bee in the hive. i don’t know why.

when i stepped outside getting off work, it was grey, breezy, devoid of sunshine.

the bass in my ears moved me. driving the beat of my heart. walking my feet.

the sun slowly came out, mixed bittersweet with the clouds.

and then you showed up. black and white across the street.

i kept my head down as you walked by, careful not to ruin that perfect image in my head. it was enough to keep me going. to make me smile when the most i could feel all day was neutral.

i love you but i don’t know you.

Part of The Tao Tattoo Series

1. The Meaning
2. The Experience
3. The Background
4. Tattwo

To remind me to keep my chin up.

To remind me not to sweat the small stuff.

To remind me to live in accordance with the nature of things.

To remind me to stay balanced.

To remind me to decrease my wants.

To remind me to indulge myself every now and then.

To remind me that everything is as it should be.

To remind me to stop comparing myself to others.

To remind me not to use force against the world, and embrace the way of the universe.

To remind me to follow my own nature, and not the trappings of life.

To remind me that nothing really matters.

To remind me to have no claims to life.

To remind me to be spontaneous, deliberate, watchful, reverent, humble, pure, and accepting.

To remind me that heaven is found on earth.

Okay, okay, I admit it, I bought more camera gear. This time it was a flash, an umbrella, and a combination stand to hold the two. The flash is a Canon 580EX II, the most important features being:

• Can act as master flash to trigger my 420EX in slave mode
• Can turn off the flash to use better autofocus assist beams
• Easy-to-use control dial and set button
• Maximum guide number of 58
• Sweeeeet lock shoe stand

I was able to test it out the rig on Andrew and Alex, who happened to be in town that weekend. Out of all my friends and acquaintances, I’ve known Andrew and Alex the longest, since elementary school. We got to hang out for a night and catch up before they had to take off. I can still tell them apart from face and voice, although it got quite a bit harder.

It was a good practice in doing portraits of two people, and figuring out how varied the same scene can look with the main light source at different positions. Overall, I’m very pleased with how they turned out.

He doesn’t listen to me. He’ll ask me a question, then cut me off. He trivializes my symptoms.

Next thing I know, I’m rushed out of office.

He’s a nice guy, but nice doesn’t get you healthy.

I just had a day without contact in the office. So I called every single person I regularly talk to on the phone, and not one of them picked up. These aren’t just single people, they’re families and couples, which means that everyone in the house was out. I even called my cell phone to make sure my land line was working.

It’s like I’m the only surviving member of an apocalypse. I’d half expect to see a mushroom cloud in the distance, houses on fire, bodies in the streets if I looked out the window.

I’ve never felt so alone.

Both my Tai Chi teachers eschew the title of “Master”, and prefer to be called by their first names. As I’ve had it explained to me, even the true masters feel like they need a couple extra lifetimes to completely master Tai Chi. This is what my teachers compare themselves to, so I suspect they feel it erroneous to use the same title, even though they’ve been teaching for decades.

I find it very awkward. In Chinese, the word “Master” or “Sifu” implies a teacher, not necessarily a level of skill.

When I was young, I called my cousin by his Chinese name, because I thought it was insulting to address him by his relational title of biu dai for “maternal younger male cousin” (or “mother’s siblings’ son who is younger than me”). I thought the “dai” part referred to someone as “under”, the way “junior” could be used pejoratively in English. The thing I didn’t understand was that it was appropriate, perhaps even more appropriate than addressing him by name. I’ve since become privy to the complex rules of Chinese names and titles, especially relational family ones.

People continue this tradition though, and even as parents, they’ll address their elders the same way. It’s a way of recognizing and respecting the roles in the family. Even though my Tai Chi teacher is Occidental, I feel compelled to address my teacher as “Master”, instead of “Mike”.

And it’s hard habit for me to break.

I always thought I’d meet you at a concert. One of those moody, bass-heavy shows as if Robert Smith was fronting Portishead telling us to dance, dance, dance through the fire. The music’s good but too loud, and the lights are warm orange and reds.

But you’re too Suicide and I’m too xXx.