sure it's only my opinion

It’s so dark, I think to myself. Back in the darkness sitting on that couch, my hand moves over to the pillow that she had thrown at me that time when I had knee surgery. It has gotten more tattered over the years, and not quite as plush. I take it and put it under my bare ass. Fuck you, I think to myself.

I stare up at the curtain. There is nothing but stale air and darkness seeping through it.

I’m alone.

Fully sunken into the couch, I put my head back and look upwards at the ceiling. Even in the dark, I can make out a slight little crack in the ceiling with the worst drywall patch job anyone can do. ****

That same drywall patch takes me back to a moment in time when I was much younger. I was in high school and laying in bed. I am back in my parent’s old house. There was a similar crack in the ceiling. It was there when we moved in, and I always wondered how it got there. When I think of that house that I grew up in, I have the strongest memories of the smells of that house. My room was on the 2nd floor, but just above and adjacent to the kitchen. Sunday mornings when my Mom would cook Taiwanese breakfasts of egg pancakes and congee, the smells would wake me up with a happiness that I will always associate that childhood home with. On the other side of the room was my window, which directly faced into our neighbor’s home office. They were an old retired couple and I remember getting glimpses into their office, papers strewn everywhere, in an organized mess. I could imagine walking in there and getting this sense of a muddled odor that reminds you of old people. Having never been in there, my only exposure to them were my parent’s typical Asian insecurities of the white neighbors next door who were too loud, always had their grandkids over playing in their pool and causing a mess everywhere.

“White people!” they would say… “they don’t ever respect peace and quiet. They just want to play all the time. Where is their work ethic?”

But my experiences didn’t seem to align with my parents’ views. One time, I was playing basketball in the front yard and my ball fell under their boat on their part of the house. I crawled down to get it, and I was stuck. I couldn’t get out from under the boat. Even worse, I had scratched the side of my ribs along the trailer. My neighbor saw me and came out. He guided me out from under the boat, got my ball for me, and even applied medicine and put on a bandage for me. He told me next time, just ring his doorbell for help… that I was always welcome.

Always welcome. That was strange concept to me. He was supposed to be a stranger. Yet he welcomed me with open arms simply because I was his neighbor. My parents never even showed that kind of affection towards me…

Back to my bed, staring up at the crack, I had just gotten my round of college acceptances in the mail. As a kid growing up in California, my parents put a requirement on me that I had to go to a University of California school.

“Taxes! We paid all those taxes! You will take advantage of the in-state lower tuition!”

And of course, I was not going to go to the State school system because they were not “prestigious” enough. I had a huge dilemma. My high school girlfriend at the time, who was a year older, had already did 1 year at a nearby university. I remember visiting her as a high school junior, amazed at how different her life was to when we were in high school. I was exposed to drinking, college parties, ditching classes, and meeting people of all sorts of backgrounds. Honestly, it scared the shit out of me. Not only did I get a sense of discomfort being exposed to so many new things, I also felt a loss of innocence. Little did I know at that time, this concept of losing innocent would become a source of angst for the rest of my life.

I viewed my girlfriend as a sweet innocent girl. We lost our virginities to one another and I thought that bond would be forever. We were only 15 at the time and I remember our first sexual encounter as being very awkward. We didn’t know how it worked. I remember not being able to put it in, not knowing where it would go, and thus being less excited. And that only made the situation even more awkward.

“Why is this so difficult?” I remember her exclamation.

However after that first encounter, sex became a regular part of our life. We would sneak out and have encounters in her car. I remember my parents had a mini van and I would take it out because there were tons of room in the back to spread out. One time, her little sister even walked in on us – an experience I will never forget. Her sister did not even act surprised. She just simply said “I’m telling mom!” I remember I did not see her for several months at school after that incident.

Seeing her in a new light, meeting new people, drinking – I found myself becoming less attracted to her. Of course, those experiences, I would later learn, was a part of being in college. She as doing what all new college freshman should be doing. But I was in a different phase of my life. I felt like she should have experienced those things with me. Not with “strangers” she just met at school. I mean, we were each other’s first, were we not? How could she do this to me? Why was it so easy for her to experience these things on her own?

I had gotten into a rather prestigious school down in southern California - which is generally known to be a “better” school than where she was attending. What also attracted me to it, was its location. It met my parents’ requirement of being a UC, and it was also the furthest UC from home. I wanted to get the hell out of my hometown. My girlfriend’s school was just simply too close. It didn’t make me feel like a completely new place that I could have new experiences in. So, I chose to go to a different school than my high school girlfriend. When I made that decision, our relationship was effectively over.

I told her of my decision to go to another school. We had a very long conversation about our feelings. Although we did not say it, we had both realized this was not going to work. I got out of bed that morning, looking at the crack in the ceiling, and thinking to myself this is going to be the last few months of waking up to the crack in the roof. I remember feeling excited by that. *****

Back to the present, my head is hunched over the sink. I started thinking: It’s a prisoners dilemma. I want to call her but I know if I do, it would just simply push her away more. Yet as every day passes and I don’t hear from her, I don’t know what she’s doing, I go crazy. On her end, she knows all she would need to do is to just give in. I mean, it’s a pretty sweet deal to be with me. I’ve got money, a house, a good job… relatively attractive and I take care of her. All the things a guy should do for a girl, right? All you gotta deal with is my occasional bouts of insecurities.

Yet at the same time, she won’t call… because she also knows if she does she’ll get me going and she’s not sure what she wants from me. So, the simple thing that both parties want to do, they don’t. And so the game goes on.

I’m walking around my house, gun in my hand. Still not sure what I’m supposed to do with my life. When I think about what matters most to me, I realize that I am the type of person who needs love in my life. I need to feel like someone loves me and that I can love that person back. I also realized that most of my life, I’ve always been with someone.

Sunlight starts to gleam through the cracks in the window. Morning is coming….

The sun trickles through the curtains and a light breeze flows throughout the house.  I’m back in the living room, but everything is bright and cheery.  I’m lying down on this same couch, toes propped up on some pillows.  I feel happy. 

I just woke up from a nap as she walks through the hallway towards me.  I keep my eyes closed but open one just enough to watch her.  She kneels down on the floor and stares at me with a smile.  I keep my eyes closed pretending to still be sleeping but knowing she’s staring at me, I break out into a smile.  She leans over and gives me a kiss.  I grab her and pull her on top of me – she stares intently into my eyes.    We enjoy a moment lying down on that couch.  It was the centerpiece of the house, a place where we would gather – we ate there, watched movies there, made love there – if we only had that one couch as the only piece of furniture, we would have been just fine.

“Couch time is the best, right?” she whispers to me. I just nod in silence. “Ouch!”  I can feel a sharp pain sourced from my left knee, up towards my hip.  

She stands back up and goes to the kitchen to get me an ice pack.  My senses return to me.

24 hours earlier, I was on a hospital bed, just recovering from knee surgery.  I had a torn meniscus and after not treating it for a long time, a piece had fallen off and calcified inside.  The nutrients of the knee helped it grow to a 1 inch in diameter pebble, causing pain every time I walked.  Needless to say, it had to be removed.  Her parents were visiting, the same week my surgery was scheduled.    

She was always very close to her parents.  

The morning of the surgery came bright and early at 6 am.  Her and her family drove me to the hospital and waited for hours as I was being worked on.  As I had come to from surgery, I remember hearing her speak to me.  

“You should start to feel awake now…”

I open my eyes and there she was, smiling at me.  

“I can feel my toes” I say

“Yes, of course you can.  You survived!” she sarcastically says to me.  I had some strange feeling that for such a simple procedure I was going to be that one rare case where something goes wrong and I had to lose a leg.

She grabs my hand just to let me know this really is all real.  

Her parents come in to check up on me.  They tell me my parents wanted to stop by, but they had not.  Why did they feel the need to tell me that my parents didn’t come, I thought to myself.  Still woozy from the anesthesia, I don’t remember much about how I got from the surgery table back home.  

Back on my couch, with an ice pack, she tells me that my parents are about to stop by and say hello to my parents, but they are late.  I check my phone, and see that my father texted me, saying that they could not make it, but are so happy that she has been there to take care of me.  

“I don’t think they are coming” I tell her.  Her smile changes.

“Why are they not coming?  They told me and my parents they were going to stop by.”

“I have no idea… I’ve just been laying here resting.  I just got knee surgery, remember?  I barely remember what happened in the last 24 hours.”  I say.

Her parents come into the room, dressed up.  They must have dressed up because they thought my parents were coming over.  

“Why do your parents always do this?  They didn’t even care to visit you in the hospital.  Do they not care that my parents are here?  How come they don’t want to see them?”

She always had this idea that our parents would one day magically become great friends.  My parents barely even talk to me, let alone her parents.  

Her voice starts to get a little bit louder

“Your parents always do this!  They just leave you to me all the time, and never help out!  Do they not care that their son was in the hospital?  And all I really wanted was just to have them come over and say hello to my parents!  That’s just simple etiquette!”

I don’t say anything.

“Say something!” she yells.  

I hear her mom on the phone in the background talking on the cell phone.  It sounds like she’s talking to my parents.  It sounded like she was telling them how much they wanted to see them.  Why are they calling my parents, I think to myself

“Look, I just had surgery, I’m laying here, half asleep, what do you want me to do?” My voice also gets louder.  

“Do something!” as she stomps her feet on the ground.  She takes a pillow and throws it at me, before she stomps out of the house.  Her parents chase after her.  I close my eyes, hoping I can just nap this incident away

My eyes are closed, but I am wide-awake.  My heart is thumping and blood, amongst other things, coursing through my veins.  “1, 2, 3, 4, … breathe … 5, 6, 7, 8, … breathe… Cmon, you need to sleep,” I tell myself.  

I open my eyes and a starry static greets my senses.   My mind wanders, trying to remember the last time I was able to get some sleep.  It feels cold.  Am I naked?  Where did the blanket go?  Who turned on the ceiling fan? As my eyes grow accustomed to the blinding darkness, I carefully slip off the arm that is resting on my chest and stumble out of bed.  It’s so early in the morning that not even my dog, who is a notorious light sleeper, is snoring and doesn’t even move as I step over her.

I pull the creaky bedroom door open and step over more limbs and bodies in the hallway.  Funny how they couldn’t even make it just a few more feet to an actual bed, and that they just had to shut down right there on the floor.  Off in the darkness, I see the outline of my couch.  The couch that has been with me since I can remember, handed down to me by my parents.  It’s been dropped, stained, ripped, and probably has countless amounts of my dog’s drool.  It was the first couch my parents bought when we moved to America.  When I moved out and needed a couch, they finally decided to upgrade but I wanted to keep the stupid thing.  So many memories to just throw it out.  I’ve always been a packrat.  And I always seem to find comfort on that couch.  

Desperate for sleep, I sit down on that couch, slouch over, forearms on my knees, head hanging down.  As I stare downwards, I whisper to myself, “Damn, I’m getting fat.” I take a deep breath and think about what has happened.  How did I end up here?  I just spent the last 10 plus years creating a path for myself that I thought would lead to a certain sense of glory.  I always thought if you worked hard and make a good plan, that you could achieve anything.  That’s what they told you in grade school.  All that was bullshit.  

There doesn’t seem to be a point to live on anymore.  I’ve done so much in my life already.  Tonight was a big bang.  I sort of said my good byes.  Might as well go out out on top.  I reach for the gun under the couch and check that its loaded.  I cock it back, turn it towards me, and shove it down my mouth, fingers on the trigger.  

With the gun down my mouth, I sink deeper down into my seat, and start to make peace with what I am about to do.  As I start to get comfortable on this couch, the feeling of its fabric brings me to a memory of something that had happened awhile back…

I’ve decided to really put in time into my novel that I have always wanted to write.  What may have re-sparked this desire?

Well with most things in life, we are sparked by events that have had profound meaning on one’s life.  Over the last couple of years, I have gone through a flood of emotions and experiences that have forever changed me.  What started as a sort of therapy by writing down my emotions and what I was going through, has morphed into a semi auto-biographical yet romanticized story that mimics my life.  A story that I hope is entertaining yet thoughtful, and can serve as a relatable story that others can take meaning and draw their own conclusions from.  

My plan is to paste a page (or so) a day onto this blog.  I’ll be posting as I write.  It’ll be a bit messy, and maybe convoluted.  But at one point, I’ll get to the end of this story and hopefully put it together into an actual novel.  Till then, I hope you enjoy.  Be brutal.  Tell me how much it sucks, or rules.  Drop me a line anytime

My new co-workers have decided to make a list of Jimmy-isms.  

I love this.  For those of you who have known me for a long time, I have advocated this as a thing we should all do.  I think we’d all agree, I’m full of great one liners (semi-sarcastic right now).  

Apparently one thing that people picked up on at work, was that I would say a lot “Waddup with (fill in the blank).”  The blank was someone, or something, that just didn’t make sense to me.  As an example, “Waddup with the stock?”  “Waddup with people not cleaning up their mess in the kitchen?”  “Waddup with our user manuals?”  Soon enough, everyone was simply saying “Waddup with (fill in their own blank)” as well.  

We have these cube glass / divider things that double as whiteboards between my cube and other cubes... one day I showed up, and someone drew a picture of what I think was a camera on it.  Another day, someone drew a Pumpkin (because Halloween was coming up).  Most recently, there is now a turkey drawn from the outline of someone’s hand.  My cube glass / divider has become a graffiti wall.  

I love this.  Draw all over it!  Really (no sarcasm here).  Other people have started to do it now, and someone started a list of “Jimmy-isms”.  So now everyone who walks over to our area, can read what the stereotype of Jimmy is.

Now is this a sign of endearment, or a sign of... something else worse?

What is even more surprising for me personally, is why do I care?  Why do I even think about the negative side of things and not just chalk this up to camaraderie amongst co-workers? 

So apparently on our team, we have a guy who is the stone faced lanky one, the one who is the high strung one, the one who makes random comments, the one who talks all the time, the one who is the athletic one, the one who looks like a grunge rocker, the one who is the artistic one, and one other who is the new one (yup, newer than me).  And I am ... the “Waddup” guy.  

When you think Halloween, you think of people getting dressed up, threatening to trick people unless they get a treat, being something other than who/what they really are.  People actually look forward to this holiday because it is an excuse for them to be something/someone else.

why not just be who you want ANY day of the year?

For those who love Halloween, and Hallow Ween itself, I call you all Hypocrites. You’re probably the same people who say to treat others with respect, to not be rude, to not yell, to not be a trickster - yet one day of the year, you violate all those values in the name of... name of... what?

Don’t get me wrong, I used to love Halloween.  I would typically dress up like a Ninja Turtle, or a vampire, run around the neighborhood with my buddies and my pillow case, competing to see who would get the most candy.  I was that fat kid rolling around in candies dumped all over the living room floor the morning after, relishing in my conquest. 

But as I have grown up, I suppose I started to hate Halloween because I hate hypocrisy.  If you say you believe in X, yet expect when in a different situation you are allowed to violate X, then that tells me you don’t really care about X, and your beliefs don’t mean a darn thing.  Or when you see someone else acting in a way that you’ve stated yourself that you de-value, but rush to back that person up because of some perception that certain people are “allowed” to act that way... because they must have been pushed over the edge to do so. What is yet even worse is when you force others (most importantly myself) to behave in a certain way, yet you yourself do not behave that same way. That is hypocrisy in the purest sense of the word.  

I suppose in the end, I don’t really, and should not really, care about what other people do. I should only care about how I hold myself up to my own values.  But what is hard to accept is when hypocrites start trying to define my way of life and in a result, make my life very very hard to live. 

I tend to be a person in which I make methodical steps forward with an end goal in mind.  I take calculated risks backed by analysis and data to justify my decision.  Occasionally I will sprinkle in the intuition and gut check.  Earlier on in my life, I used to think that I had to plan that way for any important decision and have a very long term plan.  Do your HW... get good grades ... go to college... get a good job... find a good wife.... get married... have children... raise them ... get grandchildren... die. 

While this may still be the over-arching goal of any one person’s life, I’ve come to terms that life simply cannot be planned.  There are just too many variables for the human brain to comprehend.  Rather than try to make the perfect plan, I’ve come to grips with settling for making some high level goals, set some realistic timeframes, and be ok to fail often - as long as you recover quickly and learn from the experience.  

An example of this is the idea of preparing to be the perfect parent.  I’ve realized that there is no way to plan to be a perfect parent, because the definition of perfect is dependent on the child.  The child determines if you are a good parent or not.  And thus, given that the child is not here, how could you possible plan for every idea, thought, desire, that child will have?  What if the child becomes a deadbeat - what if he/she becomes a great leader - what if he/she becomes gay....  Depending on how the child is shaped, they will want different things from you as a parent, and thus the definition of being the perfect parent is impossible to define before the child is here. Hence - have a high level goal (when I have children, my priorities shift completely to them), set realistic timeframes (for the rest of my life), but be ok to fail often but recover quickly (oh crap, I just dropped the kid on its head, to the hospital, now!  Never have that happen again!)

I’ve been at peace with myself using this new mindset.  It is like a huge burden off my shoulders to try not to be perfect anymore.  To be OK to fail.  This mindset represents a good balance between my need for logic, data, and analysis, with the side of me where I make a call based on my gut feeling and intuition.  

However recently I have been faced with a situation that has once again shattered my understanding of how to process information and determine what to do next.  

There are certain situations in life, where the other person simply is making ALL decisions based on emotions.  To compound the situation, the reason these decisions are being based on emotions is not even because that person WANTS to act that way, but physiologically is COMPELLED to behave that way.  So in this situation, no matter how logical an explanation is, the other party simply cannot accept it.  Yet at the same time, because decisions based on emotions are by definition fuzzy illogical, there is no way to comprehend if that decision is correct or not.  So how do you negotiate with an emotional based decision?  Because logic won’t play, and an emotional response is once again another illogical response that just perpetuates the cycle with no clear answer nor direction of what to do next.  

This scares the shit out of me.

This means that in these types of discussions, there is perpetually never an end to the discussion, never is there a right or a wrong, never is there a timeframe ... So how do you continue down the path with this type of person?  In a world where unfortunately there are deadlines, there are needs to make decisions, you do not have infinite amount of time to make the decisions... that means making all decisions based on emotions has GOT TO BE THE WRONG WAY TO DO IT... 

What’s the meaning of life?  Why are we put on this Earth and walk around, go to school, go to work, meet other people, socialize,... at its most bare core, I personally believe that it is our human natural right and meaning to procreate and continue the evolution of the human species.  All of these other things we do is because the definition of evolution changes as the age of human existence increases.  

but before i get deeper into this psychological masturbation, i dare say... who cares?  so what if someone figures out the meaning of life.  so what if my thoughts about life are correct or not. in the end, does it matter?  

i just want to know the meaning of MY life... and how it affects the subsequent lives of those that I touch

there has always been a goal that i have sought out to achieve.  when you’re young, its easy to just focus on school - get good grades, and graduate.  thats what you fixate on.  or perhaps your goal is to find that perfect girl/guy... or get your drivers permit, or something.  when you’re young, the world is full of wonder and experience.  the very bare nature of just learning, is a great goal to have.  

at this point in my life, i feel i have lost sight of what my goals are.  by no means am i saying that i have reached some nirvana state of mind and that i no longer have anything else to learn.  but i’ve lost sight of what i am living for.  is it more money?  maybe... because that will get me a bigger house... which has more room for kids, in a safer neighborhood in a good school district... but then what... and once i get kids, the goal is all about the kids.  and its all about THEIR life.  so does that mean my life is effectively over?  or do i get to now live through my kids?  what if i can’t have children?  have i lost sight of my goals because i have simply given up? 

inherent in this discussion is a seemingly self centered discussion about my self.  many may think i am being ego-centric, that i don’t have the capacity to think of others... but in my mind, if i can’t figure out myself, how can i figure out others? and actually help others?

Have you ever walked around at night, and took a look at stores that were clearly closed for business... lights off, doors locked, no one walking around ... yet their open sign was still up or lit?

I had the sudden realization that I have a special connection with these stores.  Let me explain

People like people persons.  The type where they are outgoing, easy to have a conversation with, attractive, like-able.  I often times find myself wanting to be this type of person.  Society teaches us to get ahead, its all about who we know and our network - and the best way to grow that network is to be the people person.  No more evident is this than in my MBA program, where throngs of students who probably are just there because they could pay, "network" to get "ahead."  This is also so evident in my workplace, where the ones who are promoted directors and sr. directors with seemingly no reason to be where they are at... I suppose they got there because they are "people persons"

However these same people are just like these stores.  Their open signs are brightly lit up, inviting you to come and check them out.  They tempt you through the looking glass at all of their seemingly good goodies.  You shove your face up close to the window, nose smashed, staring at the products glistening under bright lights.  Or even when the lights are off, this only invites even more wonder.  You don't know what this store is selling... but you are damn interested.  And like in real life, these stores are just like the people who get promoted, or get ahead, based on the bullshit you think they have inside.  Yet when the doors open, or in other words they get promoted/hired/noticed, you find out all they are selling are little pieces of shit.  But you already walked in.  Its too late

Me?  I take pride in being the other way around.  Look at me.  There is no doubt, the doors are fucking closed.  I don't look friendly.  I don't smile.  I don't invite you in.  But if you look closely, I have a little open sign... not lit, not pretty, just plain and simple open.  And if you just take a little bit of time to come up to me, I'd welcome you with open arms.  Who knows, you might have just struck gold and found a store full of goodies that you don't have to share with anyone else... because everyone else just walks on by thinking I'm closed.  

its been 2 years since my last post and I am now past age 30... i need to change my tumblr title.

alright Google... I am officially pissed. During my interview with you about 8 months ago, I gave you the following things I think Google should do... I did not get the job and you proceeded to announce/release everyone one of the things I told you ME: Google as a software company should marry its great software with great hardware. Google: Releases Nexus 7 tab ME: Google should get more hands on with designing for touch, as touch is the main way to interact with smart devices. No matter how great the UI and software is, it means nothing with a poor touchscreen

the largest parts of my job are the following:

-  lead -  evangelize -  innovate

hidden in the high level feel good words include having the ability to

-  bullshit -  be the personality everyone wants to see -  sell/convince -  step over others -  set proper (low) expectations

most of the above is actually not inherent in my personal nature.  however as time has gone by, I have viewed the above, normally deemed "negative" features, as real world must have qualities.  let's take just one of the above and let me sell you on it: setting proper expectations.

it's easy to set low expectations knowing you will blow it out of it water. however often times what this causes is the person you're trying to convince into thinking that they no longer want to (fill in action here) buy, believe, do, etc, what you want them to.  so it is crucial to pull someone in just enough that you've got them waiting on your next word, but at the same time you only give them what they want when you are ready to give it.

ok, you're convinced that this is something one needs to do... but...

viewing the world and most interactions this way has led me to never fully enjoy a lot of things in life.

i find myself at the end of some event that i was excited about, disappointed about the result.  there are plenty of activities to do, plenty of things that seem and sound like great fun - but most of the time after the activity, i don't really feel blown away.  this is irrespective of if the event's expectations were set low, high, or just right... for some reason, what i'm hoping to feel, whatever that is, i just don't feel it.

linking to a previous post about my personality type, i make a lot of decisions based on my gut feel - and my gut just tells me that whatever it is that i just did, did not satisfy me.

there's a lot of clutter in life.  bills - work - kids (dog) - housework - chores - what's for dinner? - what're we doing this weekend? - did you see that slam dunk the other night? - i have a headache - let's move to new york.  it's impossible to get anything done.

i've been trying to pull myself out of the weeds and work at another level.  it's a lot easier to manage a mid-life crisis when i'm not worrying about little details that in the long run really make no difference one way or another. @ work:  i just told you how i want it built - i could give a shit how

@ MBA school:  i get it, balance the financial accounting equation - i could give a shit how to make a journal entry 

@ the entire service industry:  i'm paying you to do "x" - i could give a shit what you did over the weekend

@ long emails/voicemails:  i get the point - i could give a shit about the other 90% of your wasted words

some may misinterpret my style as lazy or uncaring.  my response to you: have fun being a low level grunt for the rest of your life. it's easy to solve tactical issues and get lost in the low level tasks.  but if you cannot understand the high level goals and how to get there, all that low level shit you just did means nothing. 

to borrow a concept from S. Covey's "7 Habits of Highly Effective People,"   there are typically 4 different quadrants of stuff to do, categorized as important+urgent (Q1), important+not urgent (Q2), not important+urgent (Q3), not important+not urgent (Q4).  It's easy to see that Q4 should not take up your time.  But far too often people are stuck in Q3.  What's even worse, are those clueless enough to be in Q3, thinking they are in Q1 (i.e., they are doing a task they think is important, but really is not - after all, we all want to think that what we are doing is important, right?).

Where I want to be is in Q2 - the types of tasks that are long term, strategic, high level, innovative, different, and visionary.  and once we get to implementation and actually executing it, i'll leave it up to the masses to operate in the other quadrants for me. 

part of this mindset stems from my inherent personality type, which admittedly is a bit too extreme.  my Myers-Briggs type is INTJ, meaning I am introverted, intuitive, thinking, and judging (versus my polar opposite being extroverted, sensing, feeling, and perceiving).  INTJs are the rarest of all personality types, approximately only 1-4% of the population.  However a profile of most CEOs in this world, a huge percentage of them ARE INTJs.  We desire autonomy, are independent thinkers, strive for efficiency, low tolerance for rampant emotionalism, and value our gut feel.  We are extremely self aware of both our strengths and weaknesses. in a nutshell, when i'm right, i KNOW i'm right, and when i'm wrong, i'll change and strive for perfection.... but still make you feel like i was right the whole time.  when i open my mouth, i've already spent enough time thinking about it and i'm just simply telling you what you need to do.  when i'm starting to do something, it's because i've already started the process and i'm just waiting for you to catch up.  

however as you can see, this can conflict with others, especially when one (i.e., ME) is not in a formal position to tell other people what to do.  hence why my favorite new term has been "figure it out."

YOU:  "What should we do tonight?" ME:  "Figure it out."  <-- translated:  "I already know what I want to do, hopefully you come to the same conclusion, or else I'm going to be disinterested"

YOU:  "I have problem X and I thought about doing Y, but then Z came up, and so I thought maybe I should do A, B or C.  What do you think" ME: "Figure it out." <-- translated:  "So is the problem X or Z?  If you don't know that, then there's no point in having this conversation."

YOU:  "You are given XYZ Inc.'s balance sheet and income statement.  Derive what their statement of cash flows should be." ME:  "Figure it out." <-- translated: "Why the hell would I ever do this?  Put all the information into a computer program and let it generate that statement for me"

YOU:  "Why are you so (expletive)." ME:  "Figure it out." <-- translated: "That's right, bitch!"

So... when can I be a manager and have formal authority to tell people to "figure it out?"  after all, a truly good manager should also be a leader (the two are NOT the same).  a manager should be challenging their subordinates to figure it out, to get shit done, so the manager can develop their people and focus time on high level strategic shit. 

I digress.  But the point is, pull yourself up and get out of the weeds ... and now... and run ... far away from it.  When everything is pulling you everywhere, stop and figure it out <-- translated:  why are you doing what you're doing and does it fit into your overall goal?  work ON the business, not IN the business.  BE life, don't just LIVE life.  don't give people what they ask for, but give them something they didn't even know they wanted. 

i think, that somehow, my wife is having her midlife crisis NOW.  i'm chronicling my steps to get there, but she's having it NOW.  let me paint this picture...

i met my wife in college and since the first moment i met her, i have always been blown away by her zest for life, living in the moment, and enjoying all the ups and downs to the fullest.  she was a wild spirit.  she always wanted to study abroad, while i never understood the point.  she took foreign language classes just to socialize and learn other aspects of culture, while i thought it was just a waste of time.  she minored in japanese just because she was interested in the culture, while i could barely keep up with my one major in electrical engineering.  as the college days became images in the rearview mirror, we slowly flip flopped.  she went to more schooling to become a doctor while i tried to figure out what i was going to do for the rest of my life.  

my first few years of work was interesting... i quickly figured out what i liked, what positions garnered the most power, and that i needed a position that allowed me autonomy and to be a decision maker.  i wanted to be in product marketing and i thoroughly enjoy it.  as a result of my work, i was now the one traveling everywhere, flying first class to random areas in asia, going to europe for trade shows, racking up the miles and perfecting my chinese.  my wife's now an optometrist and she's the one doing the 9-5, seeing patients taking care of the dog, and such.  

as a result, he free spirit is once again begging to come out ... and go to.. new york? huh?

i get it... its full of awe inspiring wonder, there's always something to do, and the movies/tv shows set in that city all are pretty cool.  but is nyc any different than any other city?

from the endless blogs/articles written on this subject, all have said that NYC is a difficult and expensive place to live.  but people get fulfillment out of it, because they feel if they can make it in nyc, they can make it anywhere.  most people move there as a challenge to oneself, to conquer something, almost like why someone would ever want to climb mount everest.  but all understand that taking a vacation there is nowhere near the same as living there.

As this blogger states, new york is "dirty and you will get sick," and "prepared to be more materialistic."  "You will be surrounded by people better than you," but as a result, you become more motivated.

In this blogger's 50 reasons to be pretty damn euphoric you live in new york city, the very reasons that one may hate on the city is something to be proud of, and in some instances, something you can make fun of even if you call nyc your home ("there's no shortage of stupid rich people to make fun of")

so, i preceded to ask not so much why nyc, but why not good ol san francisco, the city by the bay?  the only response i could ever get was "its no new york," or "its just the sam old."  

what does that mean?

as one blogger states why they hate SF, "bike snobs and foodies."  wait... last i checked, some of those same things are on other's lists for what makes nyc great.

i think my point is, a big city is a big city and all these thoughts and feelings we get about a city, when not based on personal experience, all just stereotypes.  i may be partial to the west coast and the bay area, but that's because i grew up here and i have seen and experienced what makes this area great.  but to me, any place is what you make it.  a great place supports a person's need for things to do, culture, and a sense of self.  any city can do this for you with the right mindset and the right circle of friends.