up until 3 hours ago, i thought my life was boring. somehow now, it's turned into a really bad soap opera: all the drama without all the slapping, back-stabbing and evil twins. i guess then that makes it a good soap opera... or not even a soap opera... just a drama.

i'm happy with a drama. i might prefer a romantic comedy or even an action-adventure. but my life as a drama sure beats a horror flick or any Ernest movie.

picture adam sandler standing right up against phillip seymour hoffman. they're an inch apart and ready to pound each other's faces in. and then come the most threatening words i've ever heard in my life: I have a love in my life, and it gives me more strength than you could ever understand.

i got out of work a little early to watch punch-drunk love. such a beautiful film. my words won't do it justice. just go watch it.



i spent the day completely unsupervised at work. they trust me enough to get things done on my own, but totally underestimate my abilities sometimes. i completed my list of tasks in 2 hours. i spent the rest of the day (unsuccessfully) trying to hack into a computer, so i could check my email and maybe play some iSketch. i took half of a lunch to walk around and eat a caramel sundae. what does one do to kill time without internet access and solitaire? i tried to write. this is the best i could do at work:

a reflection of you peeking through the gap between a crisp, corporate suit and the half-asleep homeless man he's inching away from,

a reflection of you resting on the surface of a scratched-up subway window that darkens as the sun ducks behind the city's skyline,

a reflection of you betraying its owner as it exposes the weight of your eyelids, the weakness of your jaw, the wandering of your spirit,

a reflection of you growing stronger and more true as the glass struggles to keep separated the outside darkness from the light flickering within.

i'm in one of those pensive moods. some people may think i'm depressed, others may see it as being tired. but i'm just leaning back in my chair and letting my mind and heart play tag.

i just didn't feel like tap dancing today... i didn't feel like being the talkative one... i didn't feel like jumping through hoops and rolling over for a chalky biscuit, while pretending it's a juicy t-bone.

no. not today. maybe not tomorrow either.

i saw a girl crying today. i was standing on the platform, waiting for the N-train to take me into manhattan. i slowly worked my way over to the front of the train, as i knew i'd eventually have to exit on the south side of my final stop. as i neared the area where the first car stops, i saw a girl wearing a baseball cap low, covering half of her face. she stood there with her cell phone up against her ear. i couldn't tell if she was having a conversation with someone or just listening to a message because i never saw her move her lips to talk. i could see light reflecting off of the tear-trail that ran across her nose. another trail spreading over her cheek. i tried not to stare, but she wouldn't have noticed anyways. she was too busy listening to a voice on her phone... too busy wiping her face with the sides of her free hand.

naturally, i wondered what words were being uttered through her phone, so as to induce such pain in this girl. perhaps a voicemail message revealed news of a friend's unexpected passing. maybe she had just broken up with her boyfriend and was too heart-broken to hang up the phone... she just held it to her ear. the train came and i walked in and sat down.

i looked at my reflection in the subway window. i couldn't recall the last time i cried. i wondered if i could make myself cry. what agony would i have to imagine to draw tears from my eyes? where would i have to take my mind to make my heart, soul and body respond in this way?

i thought about love... about a person giving his/her insecurities, vulnerabilities, passions and open hands to another... only to be met with a heart that beats for someone else. something in the back of my neck started to move upwards towards the front of my face. i could feel a heaviness along the edge of my eyelids. i had to divert my attention to reverse the momentum of these emotions, so i could return to my "normal" robotic state.

my days are spent sprinting,
my head tilted and low, my weary legs kicking.
the blind clock ticking.

the pace is set by 4 suits i just met:
two greys, a navy and a pin-stripe quartet,
whose rhythm i can't quite get.
with my overtime pay, can i buy an hour?

just sixty minutes to close my dry eyes,
to fold my hands over my stomach and hear my own deep sighs,
to stop and think, perhaps sneak in a feeling
of peace. of love. of hurting. of healing.
white-knuckled fists and palms raised to the ceiling.

one hour with an elbow on my desk,
allowing the side of my face, upon a flat hand, to rest.
a hand rubbing a temple, instead of beating a chest.

one hour to see you.
one hour to see you seeing me.
one hour to just be.
one hour to just be loved by thee.

don't forget to set your clocks back an hour.

i like the light tapping of rain on my head-- raindrops typing out words and phrases on my brain as i stroll home. kicking through puddles on the sidewalk. looking up to feel the faint massage of droplets on my face... if i wasn't so concerned about ruining my cashmere/wool jacket and leather/suede shoes, i'd walk around in the rain all night.

this is what kurt cobain likes:

I like punk rock. I like girls with weird eyes. I like drugs. (But my Body and mind won�t allow me to take them). I like passion. I like playing my cards wrong. I like vinyl. I like to feel guilty for being a white, American male. I love to sleep. I like to taunt small, barking dogs in parked cars. I like to make people feel happy and superior in their reaction towards my appearance. I like to have strong opinions with nothing to back them up with besides my primal sincerity. I like sincerity. I lack sincerity ... I like to complain and do nothing to make things better. I like to blame my parents generation for coming so close to social change then giving up after a few successful efforts by the media & Government to deface the movement by using Mansons and other Hippie representatives as propaganda examples on how they were nothing but unpatriotic, communist, satanic, inhuman diseases. and in turn the baby boomers become the ultimate, conforming, Yuppie hypocrites a generation has ever produced.

we ain't go--in no--where, we ain't goin' nowhere, we can't be stopped now, 'cuz it's bad boy for life...

in no sense of the word am i a "bad boy". which is unfortunate, because i know plenty of girls that fall for these rough-around-the-edges types of guys... and none who've expressed their fancy for goody-goodys like me. don't get me wrong, i'm not trying to self-depricate here (nor am i trying to self-glorify)... it's just that i think i've led a very sheltered life.

i had dinner with a couple of brothers today. when three hungry, young guys get together for some jja jjang myun, it's not just the noodles that get saucy. i'm sure people were noticing the ruckus we were making: bursts of laughter and literal knee-slapping moments. the conversation made a few interesting turns and-- a few times-- went down a path i didn't expect to tread. haha... too bad i can't elaborate... some things are better left untouched. =0) anyways, the question of how many "girlfriends" (serious or not) we've had came up and i had to throw up the universal "okay" sign to indicate my big, fat ZERO. seriously, though... what was i doing in high school? what was i doing in college? i'm now at an age where it's kind of embarassing to say/realize that i have the relationship history of a 3rd grader. it sucks that i don't think girls have cooties anymore... at least that was a good excuse. i don't know where i'm going with this... so i'm just gonna stop because i'm exhausted.

a quick job update: i tempted at the music company again and actually had a chance to be interviewed for the position there. i'd be working under two VPs, so i have another interview round when the other VP starts in a week and a half. i'm really excited about the position. the work environment is awesome... each person gets their own stereo and a nearly unlimited supply of CDs, snapples and chex mix. Lord, hook me up.

portfolio update: i managed to get everything uploaded... now it's just a matter of making sure it looks good on any computer, on any browser... and tweaking the design and content. here's the url: http://www.freewebs.com/roboto/portfolio/. please post comments and suggestions here... every little bit helps. thanks.

this music industry job's been on my mind alot. i had touble focusing today on my boring legal duties-- photocopying, indexing, refiling, solving mysterious puzzles that previous helpers left behind when they jumped ship... same old, same old.

i've pretty much finished my portfolio. i found some "free" webspace that allows ALOT of storage and contains no pop-ups or banners. but as i was trying to upload my files, i realized that they restrict my uploads to one document at a time. if i want to upload batches of files (through FTP or through a separate multiple-file-upload page), i have to PAY! arrrrgh! i decided to buy one month's access to the ftp service, so i can upload all 500 files in one fell swoop... i paid the 5 bucks, but then they tell me that instructions will arrive via email within 48 hours. arrrrgh (again)! i guess i can't get my site up tonight.

i'm still debating whether or not to publicize my portfolio (when it gets uploaded). first off, it's linked to my resume. i can't figure out why, but displaying my resume to the world makes me uncomfortable. and secondly, i'm a bit self-conscious about my design work. am i being too weird about this? or can you guys relate? what should i do?

job update:

so on monday, i had a one-day temp assignment. despite the low(er) pay and the fact that i had to answer phones all day, i took the job because it was at a major record label. i was hoping the assignment would be extended, so i'd have more than 8 hours to convince these music executives that they absolutely need me... that the company wouldn't be able to operate without me... that i'd single-handedly revolutionize the music industry. but, alas, today i had to report back at the legal job (blehhh).

as i was miserably flipping through the dusty files of some pack-rat attorney, i received a call today from said record label saying that they loved me and are considering me for a full-time position (!!!). i would be working under a dude who'd head up the online marketing division, doing some online design work (right up my alley!). excitedly, i had to sneak onto a computer and send them my resume. i sure hope i get this!

to help boost my impression, i'm making an online portfolio of a bunch of design work i've done since college. i should be spending alot more time on it, but i also need to get some sleep for tomorrow. hopefully, i'll have time to finish my page tomorrow night.

i thought it would be a stretch for me to charm the executives in FIVE days... i never even imagined i could do it in ONE. this is what you call a miracle. i hope this door opens up for me.

people, help me knock!

what is love? (baby, don't hurt me... don't hurt me... no more)

i've been talking about relationships alot lately... and this "love language" topic seems to come up every once in a while. apparently, there's some guy that wrote a book about five different ways people express their love:

- sharing time (face time)
- giving gifts (flowers, diamonds, ring pops)
- showing (physical) affection (hugs and kisses)
- expressing their feelings verbally ("ooh, baby, you fly!")
- doing things (taking out the trash, holding the door for her, letting her pluck your eyebrows)

apparently, people tend to express their love in the same way they prefer to receive it. and these five forms are ranked differently for each person. i must be love-deprived because when i see this list they all seem equally important to me. and when i think about the way i express my affection to people-- and the way i like to receive it-- i'm moved to (and by) all of them. maybe when i get into a relationship, i'll be able to see myself more clearly. right now though, i'm happy with any of the above methods...

someone, show me some looooove!

i'm so shallow.

i've been thinking about what to write about today. i thought maybe i should write about how some girl said i have a good personality (this sounds like a good thing, but not when the question is, "don't you think i'm hot?"). or maybe i should write about the disgustingly huge burger i ate today. but then, after having talked with some people, i realized that i'm a very shallow person. while i sit here thinking about the pathetic things that run through my little brain, people have real things going on in their hearts... in their souls.

i have to take my eyes off of myself and see the people around me. and not just see them... but feel them... and struggle with them... and care for them... and cry with them... and pray with them... and pray with them more... and when i'm not with them, pray for them.

things are easier said than done. i need God's help. pray for me and i'll pray for you.

i discovered today that there are basically two ways to dance... sexy or goofy. guess which one i'm good at and which one i'm sucky at.

an old college friend invited me to a party she was throwing for one of her law schoolmates. even though i didn't know the birthday girl, i still wanted to go out to see some old friends. myldwin and dan decided to join me after chillin' with dlim and co. filter 14 was packed with asian people... i was shocked to see so many faces i recognized. seeing dartmouth faces made the party seem like a frat party. but i was more surprised to run into some girls i recognized from church. i don't want to bore you with details, but the following are more of my observations about my night:

- some girls when inebriated are very ditzy
- i don't know how to dance sexy. i have trouble making eye contact and don't know what to do with my hands.
- dancing's no fun when you don't go with a bunch of friends, many of whom should be chicas
- i'm not good at saying hi to people i haven't seen in a while or people i don't know really well
- buying drinks for girls gets expensive, especially when after you offer, they invite other people to the bar and then you feel obligated to pay for them too.
- living in queens sucks late at night... it takes forever to get home.

i have to do laundry tomorrow morning... must commence snoring soon.

Now the world don't move,
To the beat of just one drum,
What might be right for you,
May not be right for some.

A man is born,
He's a man of means,
Then along come two,
They got nothin but their jeans.

And they've got Diff'rent Strokes,
It takes Diff'rent Strokes,
it takes Diff'rent strokes to move the world.

Everybody's got a special kind of story,
Everybody finds a way to shine,
It don't matter what cha got,
Not a lot...So what?
You've got your, they have theirs, and I have mine,
And together we'll be fine, Cause,
It takes Diff'rent Strokes,
It takes Diff'rent Strokes,
It takes Diff'rent Strokes to move the World!

copyright unknown (i tried to find it)

i downloaded a few new ringers for my phone today. including the one above. the others include the themes to ESPN Sportscenter, Knight Rider and Batman.

not much else is going on... i'm just chillin' in the village, staying the night at "the farm" and heading to a meeting in the morning.
right now, i just gotta sleeeeeeeep.

pastor bruce asked me to sing a song this week at church... for the "special presentation" part of the 5pm service. i've been thinking about what song to sing for a couple weeks now, but i wasn't excited about any of the ideas that my head was trying to pump out. but as i was listening to the mixed cd i made for the 5pm praise team, i heard a british voice squeezing the echoes of my heart out of his throat:

When My Heart Runs Dry

When my heart runs dry, and there's no song to sing
No holy melody, no words of love within
I recall the height from which this fragile heart has slipped

And I'll remember You
I will turn back and do the things I used to do
For the love of You
Lord I'll remember You
I will turn back and do the things I used to do
For the love of You

You are my soul's desire, You are the hope within
You bring my heart to life, You make my spirit sing
I recall the height from which this fragile heart has slipped

And I'll remember You
I will turn back and do the things I used to do
For the love of You
Lord I'll remember You
I will turn back and do the things I used to do
For the love of You

Matt Redman � 2001 Kingsway's Thankyou Music

when i see these words, my heart sinks. when i hear them, my body trembles. when i sing them... when my soul sings them, i feel like i'm dying and living at the same time.

Lord, help me.

i've been having a hard time praying lately. i bow my head, fold my hands, close my eyes and try to focus on God... but i can't. the only words that come to my mind are: Lord, help me. it frustrates me that i can't interpret the tuggings of my heart, i can't parse the thoughts of my mind, i can't transpose the singing of my soul. especially now, as i feel like i'm the most open/vulnerable i've ever allowed myself to be.

on the 7-train, as my head leans back against the car wall: Lord, help me... walking down through manhattan with my chin tucked into the opening of my coat, i breathe: Lord, help me... sitting alone in a plush leather chair in a conference room and surrounded by legal documents, post-its and rubber bands: Lord, help me.

Lord, help me. Lord, help me. Lord, help me.

i got a call today from my temp agency. last week's employer wants me back for the rest of this week. ugh. i was looking forward to just chilling this week. but this is probably best for me. it's supposed to rain anyways. i was gonna blog today about how chicken i am... i have a couple good stories about that... but instead i'm just gonna call it an early night and keep you guys in suspense (or in indifference which is probably the case). the (somewhat) exciting stories will have to wait.

actually, i don't know why i'm hyping it. they're actually pretty dumb.

just in case you didn't know, i'm a superhero in my spare time. here's my (not-so-secret-anymore) secret identity:


i think it's pretty accurate (except for the part about being russian and the lethal virus). i even maintain my robotic-ness.

what do you guys think?

car! game off!

i'm taking an official time out. i need to rest, restrategize and even question the game. i had a short discussion with a friend today about "the game". i think you all know what i'm talking about: those psychological mind games guys and girls play in (or to be in) relationships. i'm gonna try to step back and take an objective stance on the matter. analyze it a bit and hopefully come to a conclusion as to how i should deal with this sport.

let's start with the m-w.com definition of the word game:

a physical or mental competition conducted according to rules with the participants in direct opposition to each other

to me the game seems more "mental" than "physical" but i concede that there are physical aspects to the game i'm talking about. the hug, the kiss, the hand-hold, the subtle touch on the shoulder or small of her back... all offensive moves that can be used in "competition". to have a competition we need participants... and some sort of conflicting goal. in most games, the ultimate goal is to win, to obtain some sort of prize, glory or satisfaction at the expense of another's defeat. i find this part a bit troubling. what happens when a romance is started? who loses in that case? i guess if i think of it as trying to actively win, as opposed to trying to make the opponent lose, it helps me see an instance where both parties can mutually win.

next. "conducted according to rules". we've all had countless talks about relationships and the rules... and eveyone seems to play according to their own unique set of guidelines. here's a sampling of some of the most recent "rules" i've heard. don't tell too many people that you're interested in someone. the reasoning: word travels fast and it'd suck if that person was the LAST person to find out about your interest. also, it kind of makes the person look cowardly. the best way to see if someone is interested in you is to hang out with his/her friends... if the person you're "observing" still gives you alot of attention, you have a reciprocated interest. makes sense to me. to know if you should pursue a person or not: pray until God loudly and clearly speaks to you. theoretically a good rule, but difficult in practice.

the last part is the toughest for me to swallow: "with the participants in direct opposition to each other". i think this is where my problem lies. my natural assumption is to believe that the opponent is the girl... the one in whom i'm interested. so i assemble my team, assign my guy friends to be my wingmen (a la topgun), enlist some coaches and trainers, devise a strategy and plant my cleats in the grass, ready to get down and dirty. what i'm starting to realize, though, is that it's not always the girl that's setting up the formidible defense... it's myself. my insecurity, my fear of rejection and my chickenness are the ones that are trying to pummel me to the ground. they're the ones that are blocking my passes and killing my running game. i'm my own opponent. the girl is just the steroids they're taking.

the game becomes alot harder for me now, but at least i've established who exactly i'm playing here. it a tough match-up. i'm gonna have to watch rudy for some inspiration.

game on!

rain rain go away come again another day...

despite the constant downpour and the depression this type of weather usually brings, i managed to have a pleasant day. i was up late last night working on a "slideshow" for mike and wenny's wedding today. the only thing i'd done up to that point was scan the photos (which took a couple hours), so i had to edit the photos, choose the music, digitize the interviews, edit them and put it all together by today. what a task! to make a long story short, i threw something together and people seemed to enjoy it, so i'm happy. i have to remember to start much earlier next time, though. pulling all-nighters is bad for my mood and my neighbors' comfort. i was so cranky last night and for the first half of the day... having to deal with all kinds of wedding preparations. important lesson: time is valuable. i can't work crazy hours, create short movies and run errands for a wedding without having a nervous breakdown-- and losing alot of sleep. the wedding was nice. i got to eat steak, shake my boo-tay (to horrible horrible music, however) and celebrate with friends. life should be so simple!

i'm heading to the lost-and-found. they might be able to hook me up with my lost sleep. while i'm at it, i should also check for my patience and my mind.

call me chubbs (actually don't. i'll cry). working has developed unhealthy trends in my daily routine. first of all, i'm busy from the moment i enter the building, so i don't have time to eat breakfast (bad, because it doesn't start my metabolism). i actually don't end up eating until 3 most of the time. by this point the cafeteria in my building is closed, so i gotta grab either mcdonald's (can you say "grease" mac?), street vendor food (not exactly sanitary stuff, but mmm mmm good) or those deli salad bar things (i hear horror stories about these places all the time). again, because of time, i inhale my food and end up getting sleepy at work. so i start chuggin diet pepsi. lots and lots of diet pepsi. for some reason this gives me a sweet tooth, so i munch on cookies and stuff throughout the rest of the day.

in addition to the poor diet i maintain, the extent of my excerise involves flipping papers and pushing the "start copy" button on the machine. i don't get a chance to eat dinner at the office, so i come home late, starving. last night i stole a slice of cold pizza from my roommate before hitting the sack. tonight i sleep with a stomach full of cha-dol-beggi. yum.

good thing i'm exercising now. i'm working hard trying to keep my eyes open long enough to finish up blogging. eyelid squats. who knew my eyelashes could be so heavy. some one help... i need a spot!

i refuse to talk about work. i don't want to bore you with the details of my day. in fact, there's no point in having small talk on my blog. in fact, there's no point in having small talk ever! from now on i'm going to just ask and speak deep thoughts.

...

this is harder than i thought.... work sucked. i stayed at the office 'til 10:30pm. didn't even have time to grab dinner. my (half) lunch was spent interviewing wenny for their wedding reception slideshow this saturday. i want to include little sound clips, so we can see AND hear them. i had to interview mike after i got off work.

i didn't realize i'd be working so much this week... otherwise, i'd be working hard on this slideshow (or at least procrastinating by watching TV!).

i decided to conquer my job today. i had the ambitious hope of strolling in with my head held high and with a huge smile on my face... instead i jogged in with puffy eyes and greasy hair.

my supervisor asked me to come into work by 8:30 this morning. this is a very difficult task when your mind bum-rushes into consciousness in the morning-- opening your eyes and flabberghasted when your alarm clock is screaming "8:49am... 8:49am... 8:49am..." didn't have time to take a shower, just washed my face, brushed my teeth and flew out the door in a tie and some comfortable shoes.

she didn't give me a hard time, but commenced working me like a dog from the minute i got there. a few hours of photocopying and a whole lotta redacting (that's when you have documents with priviliged information that needs to be "whited-out", so the opposing counsel (and the judge/jury) can't see it: i use a bunch of white tape to cover up the eviden--i mean, err... "sensitive" material-- and plaster the sheet with stickers that read, "redacted"). sounds like fun, huh? try doing it for 6 hours straight.

i couldn't even take a lunch break. and i had to work overtime... if i didn't have praise practice, i'd probably still be at the office with white stickers all over my body, trying to papercut my wrists.

i was trying to write a poem in my head on the subway ride home. i need to put it on paper, but i'm too tired. i'm finally inspired, but don't have the strength to follow-through. what a sad irony my life is becoming!

paralegal temping sucks. what a boring, lifeless existence-- to stare at papers all day. we're not even talking about fun, colorful, pretty paper; it's stained with time and smells like the corners of my garage (not this webpage (i know some of you are sniffing your monitors) you know that little room where people store their garbage-- wait, is that just my family?). and they're all financial reports: AFIs, ADVs, BDs and RFPs... i was waiting for someone to come ask me for TPS sheets (an allusion to the documentary Office Space).

i must learn to take joy in the little things like staring blankly out the window, praying for that bird to come crashing through the window, producing a mighty, gushing draft that'd send all these legal documents drifting over rockefeller center. bah... who am i kidding?

paralegal temping sucks!

it's funny the way that God works. actually, i don't mean "funny", i mean "excrutiatingly painful".

i've always thought my fatal flaw was my pride. not the hey-look-at-how-smart- cool-and-good-looking-i-am kind of arrogance that makes for bad teeny-bopper antagonists. but one layered with subtlety, undergirded with a laid-back attitude and saturated with false-humility. as i tried to grow as a christian, though, i realized i had to deal with this garbage: either take it out or let it infest the apartment with its horrendous stench. i pleaded God for a serving of humility.

i asked for a slice, but it feels like i got a pie in the face. now i feel so ridiculously insecure, i can't stand it. i walked home from the train station with my chin glued to my chest. (i do my best thinking when i'm walking, i keep my eyes on the ground to avoid distractions and dog poop.) as i was thinking about my job situation, my music, my interests, my role at remnant, i couldn't help but feel so inadequate--in some cases, even paranoid. don't comment to try to encourage me by saying "don't feel insecure, you're good at blah blah blah". i think this is just God's way of pulling down from my home-made pedestal and letting me see what it's like in the mud. i'm sure i'll be on my feet on solid ground in no time.

the problem is: right now, the mud feels alot like quicksand.

se�or roboto est� en la casa!

i just got home from a (sort of) wild night of singing and hanging out with jee's friends. jee will soon be leaving neuva york for a 6 month hiatus in kansas city (which--i recently found out-- is NOT in the state of kansas). we all wish her well and wanted to show her how much she'll be missed, so we hung out at tammy's apartment, dilly-dallied over to sing sing karaoke, realized the wait was too long, so took some cabs over to k-town and sung our throats dry. (all going-away parties should be so action-packed). ho ho...

pat also took his lsat today, so we celebrated for him too. his celebration consisted of lupe's east l.a. kitchen, walking all over soho and washington square park, listening/watching various street performers, checking out skateboards (for our new wannabe hobby) and walking some more.

i'm exhausted and need to stuff my body into my mattress. hasta la ma�ana...

it's official. starting monday, roboto is once again a corporate slave. you don't want to hear about this and i don't want to type about it, so...

i went to an old co-worker's birthday party today. i was expecting to meet her cute korean argentinian friend and her music-industry-employed roommate, but neither showed up. it was good to see a bunch of my office buddies though. they're all so kissy... when they see you, they do that whole kiss-on-the-cheek thing. it's something i'm not used to, but i like it. roboto needs kisses. (hahah, that sounds weird). half of them still work for that ridiculous company. the other half have moved on to bigger and better things: freelance writing, social work grad school, law school, etc. they're all older, so i don't feel entirely jealous that they've figured out what they want to do in life. after some tapas, yelling over the music, cheek-kissing and about 8 glasses of sangria, i decided to head out and go for a walk.

i was surprised to see that urban outfitters was still open. i strolled in and bought a couple of t-shirts, breaking my shopping fast. i continued down 14th street into union square park and watched a bunch of breakers hanging out. they weren't dancing for money, they were dancing to fit in.

i eventually made my way into the subway station, but stopped to listen to some busking. two college-aged girls: one playing the bass, the other playing an electric and singing into one of those headgear mics. it was one part norah jones, one part bebel gilberto, one part avril lavigne. altogether mellow, soulful tunes with an mtv twist. i threw my spare change into her gig bag and scribbled my email address on their mailing list.

number of free days remaining: 2

for the first time in a long while, i stayed at home all day today-- what a waste of an unlimited metrocard! i cleaned my apartment, i made myself lunch (bokkeumbap made with hotdogs), ate the leftovers for dinner, watched tv, cleaned my email inbox... i did leave the building to go grocery shopping. jiffy corn bread mix was on sale for 33 cents. so i made some corn bread... yummmm.

just as i was opening the door to my apartment, i got a call from my parents. weirdness commences. i answer and (#1) it's my dad. my dad never calls me. he and i don't have the most buddy-buddy relationship, so it's usually my mom's voice i expect to hear and my dad just blurting out things in the background. i was also surprised to hear (#2) no nagging... just a bunch of pleasantries: jahl it nya? (translation: how's it going?), byul leed ub go? (translation: everything's okay?), etc. he gives the phone to my mom and she says they (#3) may come visit me sometime this month or next. i've lived away from home for over 7 years now and my parents have visited me twice-- for a total of 8 hours. the first time was for my college graduation: they came for the commencement, stayed for lunch and, right after, drove back down with my aunts. the second time was sometime last year. they were in town on business and had time to buy me lunch (when my parents are paying, i almost always choose kalbi). my mom continues to repeat the same pleasantries my dad already asked-- something i expect to hear from my mom. she still urges me to go to law school-- no conversation with my parents is complete without it-- but (#4) only says it once. (#5) she ends the conversation with the phrase i've never heard come from the mouth of my mom: "i love you", followed by a giggle. as you may have already guessed, my family's not affectionate. no hugs, no kisses, no birthday parties or pats on the back. you may think it's sad (or maybe not, i don't know), but this is the way i've grown up. it's what i'm used to.

it's interesting that she said it in english. my mom doesn't really speak english. her english is limited to "big mac" and "bye". in fact, her spanish is waay better than her english, having lived in L.A. for so long (she doesn't conjugate very well, but she still communicates her point). i wonder if she thought i wouldn't understand if she said it in korean. or maybe she just thought it was weirder to say in her native language. and that giggle. she shares it with her two youngest sisters (my aunts). i've heard it many times before, but i don't think i've ever heard it as an attachment to one of her own statements. she doesn't really make jokes. sometimes it's spontaneous or it follows a cheezy remark someone makes. but something about hearing her own voice uttering the words "i love you" made her giddy.

today must be bizarro day.

the remainder of this week may be my last few days as a free man. i may be joining the corporate workforce starting monday. i should be finding out about my temp job sometime this morning. realizing that my days are numbered, i want one last hurrah, but i can't seem to come up with a good plan. the only thing i can think to do is shop, eat and shop some more. there must be some fun activity for a young, strapping, single guy like me. hahaha.

i lost the battle to try to stay awake during star trek: enterprise today. waking up when my alarm clock has a green dot next to "AM" is tough. functioning throughout the day with that amount of sleep is even tougher. i may have to start sleeping at 10pm. what an old fogey i am!

the interview at the temp agency went well. they already have a job in mind for me. despite the fact that i said i wanted a job in a creative industry, they're sending me out on an interview at a major investment bank to temp in their legal department. i hear horror stories about being a temp... alot of them from here. we'll see how it goes for me. the thing i'm most dreading: business casual (and the occasional "professional attire" days). gone are my days of sneakers and t-shirts. i have to tuck in my shirt, comb my knappy hair and start saying things like, "good morning" and "how do you do?".

hahaha... i guess it's not so soo bad. sigh.
little roboto's all grown up now.

busking is alot harder than i thought. today, danielle and i decided to meet up and try to make some money with our singing. we strapped on our guitars and plopped down on the platform of the brooklyn-bound N, R, Q, W train at union square. i realized that you have to really work the crowd to earn their spare change. you can't just entertain them, you have to move them. i thought i could get away singing "california girls" and my unsoulful version of "ain't no sunshine". danielle demonstrated that you have to really sing your guts out if you want them to crack open their wallets. the songs that earned the most money were also the songs that appeared to touch them the most: "amazing grace" and "i still haven't found what i'm looking for". after almost an hour of singing, we had just enough to buy ourselves lunch at mickey-d's (off of the dollar menu).

i have an interview at a temp agency tomorrow. if things go well, i'll "get to" file paperwork and answer the phone for a living. whooopppeee