Live to eat

In my bedroom, actually.

I finally got it today, after spending endless nights trying to sleep on the air mattress (queen size, mind you), which Bryan was kindly enough to provide. It definitely was a unique experience, dreaming about flying when physically, I was actually "on air."

I am, however, still furniture-less. Because MicroStrategy was going to pay for relocation, I took the liberty to find a relatively cheap moving company to move all my furnitures from Pittsburgh to noVa. I do regret that I used this "cheap" moving company because my stuff are stuck somewhere in Illinois and Olympics Moving is taking their sweet time delivering the items that I swear to, worship upon, and live on - my computer monitor and TV. I'm actually using Amanda's computer monitor, her keyboard and mice. She gave me life, and brought color to this empty apartment. She's a real angel.

This funiture problem actually messed up my plan to visit Philly, NJ, and NYC before I start living a person-who-work-in-a-software-company's life. I had a taste of that kind of life when I was interning at Mentor Graphics last summer, and let me tell you now, it sucks. And that was when I took long lunch breaks to play a couple games of basketball, and getting to work late and getting off early. Now that I'm actually a fulltime employee and they're spending money to get me a legal status, I'm certain MicroStrategy will haul my ass.

Talking about being in legal status, I went to DMV here couple days ago and they refused to issue me a license because my I-20 had expired and I was, by definition, staying in US illegally. While not trying to get deported, I stood in line for 6 hours at the immigration office, cursing to no avail, and finally got my EAD (Employment Authorization Document), which I should have received 2 months ago. Why do I have to suffer for US Government's incompetency? So I went back to DMV and flashed my new card at them and got a Virginia license. On the way out, I waved to the police at the back of DMV - I was just happy to be "legal" again.

Anyway, enough rambling. I'm going out to watch Spideyman 2: The Return of Spiderman, or something. Anybody reading this and currently in the DC Metro area, please let me know so we can go out and grab some food or drink. I can share with you my misery of living in an empty apartment with 300 channels of cable but no TV, cable internet but no monitor.

I feel like I have to make a statement after tonite's game. 1) It was not fair that the refs are favoring Pistons. Lakers could easily win the game if there weren't some obvious bad (or lack of) calls. 2) Pistons IS a better team. Lakers just has good players. 3) Even though I'm in LA and it is only natural that I'm rooting for Lakers, deep inside I'm cheering for Pistons. East coast rocks!

Okay, so that was a few statements. But whatever happens to the finals, I still wish for world peace and happiness.

----------

So I've been in the City of Angels for three weeks now. Thoughts? Despite the delicious food, eternal sunshine, myriads of awesome beaches, not to mention the fine looking people here, I still prefer the east coast. Why? Because I hate being in a snobby asian community who are spoiled brats and couldn't care more about one's physical appearance and popularity. Note that I'm not accusing anybody but merely describing the environment. This is also one big reason why I like SF more than here. But whatever, LA is still mad cool place to hang out and I wouldn't mind if I end up working here in the future.

I've been chilling here in LA for a couple weeks now. Well, actually I spent 4 days in the beautiful SF visiting friends and places, all of which came out pretty promising except for Norm and Bert, who left for Miami during the weekend. Also dropped by Santa Cruz while I was at it. The boardwalk was crowded with tourists and the beach polluted with various trash and objects, but it was very nice nonetheless, to be out at looking at the ocean and catching up with an old friend. SF is officially the #1 city for me to move to in US, pushing LA and NYC to #2 and #3 (after I spend a couple years in DC of course).

Anyway, I finally got the pictures that were being mailed overseas from Taipei, Taiwan! Here's an excerpt of my graduation album. BEWARE modem users!

It was an ugly day. Not because the gloomy sky was covered with dark, frightening clouds, nor was it because of the freezing wind that stung you as you walked across the open fields that stretched through infinity. It was an ugly day because it was the judgement day, D-Day, invasion day - whatever they called it - when years of meticulous military planning and training are finally put to use for good. Intelligence had confirmed the invasion, and the government had prepared precisely for this attack. Then there we were, gathered together from all over the country in lines of trenches with our sixty pound equipments. While we sat quietly waiting for command, I looked around and saw anxiety on people's faces, the faces that showed hopelessness and despair. I found myself in front of the door to hell.

I moved away from the terrified soldiers into a secluded corner to take a dump. I figured this would just be one of a few ways to take my mind off the tension on the battlefield. As I took care of my business, I was shocked at what I was wearing: t-shirt and shorts. Before I could worry about not wearing a uniform, I heard the deafening siren started to scream and people rushing to their stations. In the middle of the turmoil, I finished up as quickly as I started and bolted to my battle station, only to find that my commander was helplessly yelling at the soldiers running for their lives. It was a scene that reminded me of the movie Godzilla, where people where had run aimlessly in every direction, away from the gigantic, unidentified dinosaur -- it was sad to see that those were the people defending our country.

Trying not to panic, I quietly asked him, "So what do you think we should do now?"

"We'll have to fight them till death!!!" The commander replied with intensity and waved his sword around like a drunken samurai.

Great. I'm left with an old man who lost his mind. I peeked out of the trench and saw a sea of angry, enemy soldiers charging towards us. As they cut across the battlefield yelling stuff in Japanese that I did not understand, my first reaction was RUN! I climbed out of the trench and joined with the rest of my ally, leaving the poor commander talking to himself. My heart was beating so loud that I swear my enemies could hear it. I closed my eyes and heard them approaching. I was officially screwed.

Running wasn't exactly the worst part of running for your life. It was tripping and falling that just completely made my day. As I struggled to get to my feet, I looked back and saw a person running straight at me and grabbed me by the arm. Half crippling, I looked at my enemy and he, (wait, she!), dragged me to the direction of their base command. I didn't remember what I said to her but suddenly she turned and looked at me so hard that she almost burned a hole thru me. Last time I checked, I didn't know a word of Japanese.

The weird thing was I had no idea what she looked like, yet she was radiating this "I am a hot chick" energy that was incredibly attractive. After what seemed like forever, she finally moved on and guided me thru the complexity of her camp, this time a lot more gently. I was still aware of my t-shirt and shorts, which stood out from the crowd of uniform that everyone was wearing. After myriads of stares and glances from strangers, we reached a door that was looked after by an Asian looking guard, probably just another Japanese soldier. Above the door hung a mundane "Exit" neon sign like every other emergency exit. The "hot chick" whispered something -- if I didn't mistaken she told me to speak something in French to the guard.

Is it a joke to get me killed? Or is she serious? Since when did French and Japanese become allies?

"Bonjour. Ca va?" The guard asked, glancing at my ridiculous outfit. I was surprised that I could understand what came out of the guard's mouth.

"Ca va bien, merci," the "hot chick" said with confidence and perfect French accent. She then let go my arm and held my hand. I could feel the icy coldness of her hand in mine.

I did not say a word. I was completely speechless and flabbergasted by all the war drama and espcially, the "hot Japanese chick who spoke French." What the hell is with all the randomness? Why am I here? What year is it? Who am I fighting for? Who is this girl? Before I could finish asking myself all these unanswered questions, the "hot chick" kissed me. Hard. And I STILL did not see what she looked like.

BRRRINNNNNNGGGGGG! I jumped up to my brother's alarm. Damn, what a fucked up dream. It had evolved from a war epic to a love story, not to mention of my california outfit and randomness in between. Maybe I would next become a bitter CMU grad and bomb the school. I wonder what would have happened.

I rarely remember my dreams. But this time, I not only had a surreal dream, almost like I was watching myself in a movie, but I could also still vividly remember what happened even after I woke up. Freaky.