Princeton

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Originally uploaded by JenFu

Went to Princeton today to help them establish a program similar to Peak Potential. Beautiful spring day, sunny and cold. The wall was in one of the structural "pillars" around the stadium: a tight square that went higher than any gym I had been to. It reminded of Pinky's story about a grain silo in Wisconsin that they converted into a climbing gym.

About eight kids came. The two hours flew by as we assisted kids, taught students, supervised them as they took over belaying volunteers then kids, and finally them climbing with kids. The volunteers were amazing. They were doing things that took me months to get comfortable with. There are still things to iron out, administrative things I actually enjoy figuring out.

I could barely keep my eyes open on the way home, so tired. Thankfully Paul drove. It's a gift that I am able to be part of this. That in some small way, I am doing good.

Spring

Ongoing Saga of the bathroom

Sink
Originally uploaded by Mike Dec

So after Frank dropped off his miter saw in January but never managed to find the time to start the project, Rob stepped in to help me out. I used to work with Rob many jobs ago and lost touch with him. He reappeared in my life when he started volunteering for Peak Potential and we managed to start again where we left off. He has a wife, two daughters, and a house full of projects but he still volunteered to help me out. Maybe all my questions about wainscoting and miter saws finally made him give in. Whatever my luck with everything else in my life, my luck with friends has always been incredible. Their hearts always inspire me to be a better friend.

Chris and Blake

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Originally uploaded by wolff71

After watching last season for the first tome last year, I vowed NEVER to get sucked in again. But I had to post thos photo of two fianlists from last year.

Patrick Wilson

I saw this a while back but recently revisited. If you guys saw Little Children, you already know he can act. That he is hot AND can sing is just amazing.

Ice Storm

Spokes
Originally uploaded by Mike Dec

This is what happens when you leave your bike at the train station during an ice storm. After a long day at work, I came to my bike froczen to the train station railing at 9:30 PM. I had to rub the lock for about a minute before it actually came undone. After carrying the bike for about 5 minutes, I was smart enough to knock the ice off the tires so that I could at least ROLL the bike. This is what it looked like the day after (still frozen). It was cold walk to work that day.

Anticlimactic

Anticlimactic
Originally uploaded by Mike Dec

Certifies that I finished my MBA. After all those weekends in the library and nights of studying, this letter is all I have to show for it. No graduation, no fanfare, not even any classmates to share the moment with (just a student loan to add to my list of monthly bills to pay). Maybe someday I'll be glad I did it but man, this feels like a total waste of my time and money today.

Daemons

I'm in the middle of reading "The Golden Compass", a fantasy book where humans have their souls (called daemon) on the outside in the form of an animal depending on their personality. Pretty cool, if you think about it, like having your pet with you at all times.
Here's link to the site where you can answer 20 questions and see what your daemon (pronounced "demon") would be like. Reminds me a little like zodiac signs crossed with the Chinese horoscope.



Ooops, actually this is a link for you to see if my daemon fits me. Go ahead and approve of my daemon or just skip to the part where you determine your own.

To the studs

To the studs
Originally uploaded by Mike Dec

Matt ripped out my bathroom walls. I've lived with these ugly stucco'ed walls for 7 years. But as the walls came down, part of me asked myself if this was worth it: the dirt, dust, and debris. Matt was nice enough to leave me with a functioning bathroom.

In the Midst of Battle

What does a depressive attack feel like? When Kipp asked me to describe it, I came to the realization that for some people, it truly is a foreign feeling, like how I would ask someone what it would feel like to be weightless or to give birth. I've lived with my depression for as long as I can remember, so to put it into words was difficult. How can you put into words something that is always somewhat present, yet can suddenly grow into something that possesses your entire being? My therapist once told me that he descibes it as like being somewhat under the weather all the time. The ensuing image of tiredness and body aches does ring somewhat true, but I think it falls short.

My attacks feels very close to having your heart broken. I'm sure each person remembers a time, usually during adolescence, when things don't work out for a romance that you've been pining for. If you can recall that feeling, that's what my attacks feel like: a mixture of disappointment, embarassment, shame, and foolishness. The barrage of self talk is paralyzing: How stupid of me to think that I could have a good life. If people really knew me, they would laugh out loud and say that I deserve none of the things that I aspire for. "You just cry in the corner but don't expect any sympathy from us."

I've slowly forced myself to reach out to other people. I always wait till the worst is over, the day after when I can share with less shame and be more articulate and more intelligent about the whole thing. Even then, it always feels very foolish. Remember that adolescent heartbreak I asked you to remember? Inevitably, as the weeks passeed, I'm sure when you recounted to all your friends every detail of that heartache till you're almost afraid to bring it up because you yourself are so tired of it. That's the feeling I get when I talk about my depression to others, a feeling I've live with for at least 30 years. I'm so sick of me. They always tell you that depression is not a sign of weakness. But in the midst of it, I not only feel weak but I feel like a burden to society and to myself.

Meanwhile, life goes on. And as I trudge through a day with this monkey on my back, I forget that what I'm feeling may come from an internal imbalance of chemicals. I start to look outward to the source of my grief: the new job that's exhausting, the single life, where I live, all the demands of living. The thing that my therapist told me that convinced me to try medication was that depressed people make poor decisions. It takes every ounce of my logical mind to convince me not to quit my job, move to another state, or do something to hurt myself. I can totally understand why seemingly intelligent people abuse alcohol or do drugs. In the midst of it, I feel like I'm fighting a losing battle.

Nothing Short of Amazing

My sister Maricris moved into my Mom's room recently. She talked about the renovations she did: retiling, painting, and more importantly, editing. To say my mom was a packrat is an understatement. My dad used to complain that he had to perform acrobatics just to reach the windows because she had boxes two deep against the perimeter of the wall. Maricris had to wade through termite-infested floorboards, mattresses that were at least 20 years old, and 9 kids worth of mementos (or as Little Edie would say in Grey Gardens "memorabeeya"). Here's the tour she posted on youtube, with a bonus of meeting Bailey, the new dog in residence.

Tita Ermi

Tita Ermi is my mom's childhood friend who moved to NYC in 1967. Thought it would be nice to record a message from her to my mom and they can watch it back home in the Philippines:

Mugsy at a party

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Originally uploaded by Tengaport

Went to Alan's house for a Father's Day Celebration. Gues this could be my father's day portrait.

More TV Nostalgia

I was hanging out with Alan this afternoon watching "I Love the 70's". This got me thinking about two shows that I used to LOVE in the 70's/early 80's. Found some clips of one of them. Still looking for the other one.

Make sure you watch this till the relay race. That's where you see the most stars.....






And of course, the TUG-O-WAR

First Row In

First Row In
Originally uploaded by Mike Dec.

Matt finally had a free weekend to tile the floor. I only did a fifth of the work as his assistant which consisted of drilling backerboard down, chipping away at dry thin set, helping sponge out grout, and a million trips up and down stairs to the yard where the wet saw was. Matt of course was 5x more tired from having to cut tiles the size of placemats. But it was also my first week at my new job so I was already exhausted from the week. Then I had hauling out the crap to the curb for bulk day. But the bathroom floor looks exactly how I wanted it, the cast iron sink is in (albeit nonfunctional) and still loads of work to do. Ahhh the things I get myself into.....

Beef tapa from Pandan

Beef tapa from Pandan
Originally uploaded by Mike Dec.

I've been going to Pandan in Bloomfield NJ for over a year now, dragging some of my friends to it as well. I had a Thanksgiving dinner one time with crispy pata from them instead of turkey (crispy pata=deep fried pork leg). So it was great to read the New York Times gave them favorable reviews.(Their advice: order anything with "grilled" or "pork" in the description.) And it is the FIRST Filipino restaurant to be reviewed by the Times, beating the culinary Cendrillon in So Ho. Not bad for a corner restaurant/former deli that can seat probably 20 at most.

Doing Creative Work

Everyone who reads this blog knows I love This American Life. Well, on one of the many times I'm surfing around YouTube, I come across this interview of Ira Glass (the host)where he talks of how there's often a lag between one's taste level and the actual moment when one's creation meets it. What's most frustrating about this process to creative types is that one is fully aware of how much one's efforts suck. And this is when most people quit out of frustration. But he advises them to keep at it, to do as much work as they can, because it ultimately gets better. here's the actual interview (he has a funny voice but just keep with it):



Nowadays, the closest thing I do creatively is work on my condo. But though I no longer draw, or paint, or create pieces, I feel like my medium is my life. I work hard to do meaningful work, to volunteer, to find meaningful relationships, and to stay fit. I'm constantly creating, forming my life to standards that I've set according to my "taste level". Sometimes though, I look at my life and say "It sucks!It's not what I set out to do." But all I can do is to keep at it, to keep doing work, and (hopefully) to not quit.

Celebrity Siting!

In a crowded cab ride from Gym bar to Mr. Black, I spotted a tall skinny brunette standing on a crowded street corner in the West Village. It was Cameron Diaz! What the hell was she doing shopping on Saturday night in one of the most touristy areas in NYC? I thought she looked lonely. I also thought that I really need to stop reading the US Weekly's at work......

TV Nostalgia

I spent a ton of time looking for these (ok, it was about 20 minutes)

Rushing

The Washington Post recently conducted an experiment by having Joshua Bell, arguably one of the best violin players, stand in a DC subway station and play on a Stradivarius for about 45 minutes. They did it to see if beauty could transcend the rush hour. In short, the answer was no. He received $32 and change from 27 people out of the 1070 people who rushed by and only 7 people stopped to listen for a minute. When the story was published, some people wrote back to say that they actually wept when they read it. The findings resonated with so many people, including myself. For a short video of the experiment and the article itself, click ......I tried to put a link but couldn't do it. Go wo washingtonpost.com and look for "Pearls before Breakfast" for a great article and amazing videos of the performance/experiment.