Blog

Short blog posts, journal entries, and random thoughts. Topics include a mix of personal and the world at large.

I'm just saying

It’s day three of President Trump’s second term, and egg prices have not gone down at all! In fact, there aren’t any to buy at my local Whole Foods. Because no matter who the President is, the annual avian flu rolls around like clockwork. Farmers have to kill the infected chickens, and therefore, decreased egg supply. I guess I’ll substitute that particular supply of protein with beef jerky for the time being.

Word on the street is President Trump signed an executive order to basically end telework for Federal employees. Sucks to the be the guy who works remotely for the Federal government, and voted for Trump. Though maybe he sees this a self-sacrifice for the betterment of the country. People on both sides of the spectrum can agree the government budget can do some trimming. Like Bernie Sanders, I suggest to start with the Department of Defense…

There are staff members at the university I work at that are still on a hybrid work schedule. COVID’s been over for at least two years now! And this isn’t the bitter me talking (I’ve been full-time onsite since middle of 2020). The nature of my work means I cannot be remote, so it is what it is. There’s no use comparing.

However, I think the university has to consider the downside of hybrid work. There’s less people on campus on any given day. (Fridays are practically ghost-town levels of personnel scarcity.) A vibrant student experiences starts with a vibrant campus. We are not getting the maximum when people can work from home. Anything student-facing should be 100 percent full-time on campus.

Vendors on campus are making less money, too.

People are saying the return-to-office order will cause a brain drain of Federal workers. Folks would rather quit than go back to a commute. Well, our university is facing a budget crisis…

A waste of money

Some would think it perverse the second inauguration of President Trump is the same day as the annual Martin Luther King Jr. Day holiday. I would think it’s a shame because people now have to follow the inauguration ceremonies while not at work. If you’re going to hate watch (or love watch) something, you might as well get paid for it, right? It sure was a wild time at work four years ago watching the January 6th riots.

But since it’s a holiday, I’ve no desire to watch the Presidential inauguration - no matter who it is. Unlike a monarchial coronation, the swearing in of new American President happens every four years (until Trump ends that practice, certain folks on the hard Left would say). It’s difficult for me to pay attention when the occurrence is not uncommon. I certainly cannot imagine myself spending thousands of dollars to fly to Washington D.C. - to attend an inauguration (in typically freezing January weather). I sure as hell hope I never develop that degree of parasocial relationship with anybody.

(I’m a fan of Taylor Swift’s music, but never fanatical to point of dropping thousands on overpriced concert tickets.)

Parasocial relationships can indeed be quite lucrative. Taylor Swift actively cultivates a special connection with her fans. Twitch streamers rely on directly interacting with people on chat. Legions of young and attractive women earn a living on OnlyFans by dangling a tantalizing false promise to lonely men. When your favorite Youtuber gets (verbally) attacked, their fans are at the ready with the pitchforks; their messiah can do no wrong.

The position you want to be on that equation is the creator side, the person offering the value. The consumer side is only going to be separating with their money. Like the people who flew to D.C. for President Trump’s inauguration, only to find that it’s changed to indoors due to weather (therefore, not open to the public). There’s no refunds on plane tickets and hotel bookings!

Two more months of dry

It is official: I have two more months of Accutane treatment remaining. A blinding light at the end a very dry tunnel. I cannot wait to stop applying lip balm every two hours, and regain the ability to comfortably go outside when it’s sunny. Trading seven long months of monk life for acne-free skin for (hopefully) the rest of life is a fantastic deal.

It was two months ago - month three of Accutane when I largely stopped getting new acne. After that momentous occasion, it’s just a matter of getting enough overall dosage. They use my body weight to calculate, and that’s how we determined there’s 60 more days of medication to go. My understanding is insufficient dosage can lead to relapsing.

I actually don’t mind the lengthy medication period. I am essentially getting pure cocaine-grade retinol, which is fantastic for skin rejuvenation. Those over-the-counter retinol creams might as well be snake oil when compared to isotretinoin. If the side-effects weren’t so severe (and they really warn you against getting/causing pregnant), and the fact you need a prescription, I’d probably take low dose Accutane for the rest of life.

But, normal life must go on. Soon as I am off the drug, I shall add running back to my exercise regiment (I run outside, obviously). My cardio endurance has definitely deteriorated during this Accutane period. I’d run out of breath doing heavy squats before my leg muscles give out. That’s not ideal: you always want the muscle being worked on to be the limiting factor.

Here’s to a swift next two months.

Pay for poop

Word on the street is Starbucks will cease its open-door restroom policy. To use the restroom in that blessed realm of coffee, you’re (once again) going to need to fork over some money. Of course, Starbucks the private enterprise can do what whatever it likes. The burden of providing (free) restrooms to the public should not fall upon the coffee retailer, no matter how many billions the lefties are going to point out that Starbucks makes annually.

Honestly, kudos to Starbucks for providing this service for the past few years. I can remember seeing a Starbucks in a touristy part of San Francisco completely filled with people awaiting to use the facilities. Better it be a Starbucks restroom than a narrow alleyway.

This once again glaringly highlights the complete lack of public restrooms here in America. A common refrain from my friends in Asia when they travel in the States is difficulty finding a restroom. When I visit major cities in Asia, a public restroom is no more than a few blocks away; clean, stocked, and attended. Here in America, unless you happen to be near a public park, it’s de facto pay for restroom use. Typically, it's the restaurant you’re eating at.

On roadtrips you would buy an energy drink at a gas station in exchange for restroom privileges.

It’s been said the reason we don’t have public restrooms in this country is because the homeless and drug-addicts would constantly takeover and ruin them. I can see this, because we can’t seem to prevent the homeless from defecating on our downtown subway escalators. Heck, even BART station restrooms are constantly out of order (or locked up) due to addicts. Unless this gets solved - and a political will to spend money on a public good - public restrooms are a nice thing that we can’t have.

It’s just not in a our culture, I guess.

I officially feel old

Perhaps I’ve come to this realization too late in the game. Along with many of my fellow Americans, I was watching American football over the weekend. It was during one of the games that it struck me: I am older than every single player out there on the field. It’s one of those “you know you are old when” moments, one that came shockingly because we’ve all grown up looking up towards professional athletes. For the longest time, these were people who are older, stronger, better, and richer. And now I’m just an old fart watching kids play a game.

This is it: being older than entire sport teams is my demarcation line. I now firmly feel like an adult, one hundred percent. Any remnants of childhood innocence have ceased to exist. No one mistakes me for a student at my university job. I probably won’t get carded at bars, if I were the drinking type. There isn’t enough cocaine-grade retinol to erase the age lines on my face.

At least my hair is as full and black as it ever was.

This is not to say I was immature before. As the child of first-generation immigrants, I had to be an adult way earlier than I should have been allowed to. But it’s not like crossing the magic 18 or 21 somehow bestow upon us some magical new feeling. Maybe the difference between 20 and 21 is truly just the number on the birthday cake. The changes are so gradual year-over-year that it all feels the same. There’s nothing extravagant about it: make money, then try not to spend all of it. (That’s not very American, is it?)

I think for my friends who have birthed children, there truly is a “switch” of sorts. Soon as the baby comes out of the mother, the clarity of where you stand and the job to be done must be absolutely crystal clear. The success of this thing will be entirely dependent upon you for the next two decades. Surely that will make you feel like a full-on adult very quickly!

A master debater

The first workout after time off for sickness is the best. I finally feel like my normal, productive self. Though surely I will be worse for it tomorrow, as delayed onset muscle soreness is especially acute when you exercise after some time off.

A coworker was regaling me with his horrible experience on the bus to work. There was a guy openly masturbating on the bus, yet no one was saying a word about it (I guess there weren’t obvious school-aged children on the bus). Everybody on the bus was content to pretend the problem away, until my coworker finally said something. Not because of any civic-minded heroism, but rather the masturbater was in his way of alighting.

And that, kids, is why you study hard, go to college, and get a high-paying job: to avoid having to take the bus. As a seven-year veteran of bus taking during my latter schooling years, I too have seen my share of blood and craziness on public transportation. And soon as I was able to drive for a commute, I never looked back.

It’s a sad referendum on our civic decline when bystanders simply by-stand. Nobody says anything, so long as the crazy doesn’t directly affect them. I don’t blame them one bit. In this country of second amendment freedom, you don’t want to risk personal injury by speaking out. We live and let live not because we condone, but in self preservation.

Because it should be the job of sworn-in police - paid for by our tax dollars - to handle a masturbater on the bus, or a delusional homeless person on a drug-fueled tirade. Even that social contract has deteriorated. The people on the bus with my coworker didn’t call 911; they know that nothing is going to be done about it. It seems we live in a time where civic nuisances are tolerated, so long as no blood is involved.

Apathy towards our civic duty is very dangerous. Things will collapse when a critical mass of people give up on doing what is right. When law-abiding citizens stop paying for bus fare because they see fare evaders go unpunished, that will be it.

Sadly, another one

It’s sad to see the utter devastation of Pacific Palisades burning to the ground. I was last there back in 2023, meeting up with some car people at the local Gelson’s. We then took a spirited cruise on Malibu canyon roads. All of that beauty is gone, in a flash of monstrous 100 mile-an-hour winds.

At least folks in California aren’t stupid enough to blame President Biden for controlling the weather.

Indeed, can municipalities even prepare for sustained dry winds in the triple digits? I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s really no one to blame here but the act of god. A god who isn’t completely benevolent when he is wont to inflict such ruin on a community (shoutout to The Brothers Karamazov). Losing a home is a horrific ordeal, no matter your income circumstances. It’s disgusting to see the worst of social media relishing the destruction, because Malibu and the Hollywoods hills happen to be high net worth zip codes.

Envy is a disease.

Climate change seems to be throwing at us weather emergencies the size and frequency of which we can’t prepare for. Florida got hit by two seismic hurricanes within the span of a week just last year. There’s nothing one can do other than not be there when the disaster happens. Emergency rations aren’t going to do shit against fires capable of leveling towns. (Well, you absolutely should make sure to have insurance for the most valuable things. If you even can get insurance for it.)

A hearty best of luck and a speedy recovery to those suffering from the fires in Southern California.