A Son’s Proud Achievement

This is a true story. You may not believe it. I didn’t when I first heard it. Too absurd to be a true story, I thought. But sometimes the most absurd stories are the true ones.

Some details have been obfuscated for the privacy of those involved.

It starts with a mother and her young, developmentally-delayed grade-school son. The son is entirely enamored of all things mystical and medieval. Dungeons and dragons, wizards and warriors, swords and spells. He spends endless hours at his computer, conquering quests, earning treasures, and leveling up.

Every time he reaches some kind of monumental achievement, he enthusiastically shares the victory with his mother.

“Mom, mom, I just freed the city of Mithrendain!”

“Mom, mom, I just found the Dragonbone Staff!”

“Mom, mom, I just defeated Ser Cauthrien and his guards!”

To these exclamations, Mom always replies with a positive, “That’s great, that’s great. I’m so proud of you, honey.”

“Mom, mom, I just reached level 43!”

“That’s great, that’s great. I’m so proud of you, honey.”

Sometimes he’ll even call Mom during work, so strong is his excitement. She accepts them as any Mom would, with a calm cheer. It’s during one of these calls that our story begins.

“Mom, mom,” his little voice hollers. “I just captured a dwarf!”

Mom nods at the receiver. “That’s great, that’s great. I’m so proud of you, honey.” Then she hangs up and continues her work. It is a busy day and she wants to get through her tasks quickly.

Thirty minutes pass. Another call. “Mom, mom, I just captured a dwarf!”

She mumbles her quick reply, “That’s great, that’s great. I’m so proud of you, honey.” Then she hangs up, a little flustered at the break, but happy to be a constant part of her son’s life.

Thirty minutes pass. Another call. “Mom, mom, I just captured a dwarf!”

“That’s great, that’s great. I’m so proud of you, honey.” When she hangs up, she shrugs at a coworker. “He must really be excited about his game. This is the third time he’s called me today.”

“Third time?” asks the coworker. “That’s an awful lot for him. Maybe you should go home and check on him, just in case.”

She ponders the suggestion. “I don’t know, I have so much work to do here…”

“I can cover for you here. Go on, get out of here. You’ll be back in no time.”

Mom smiles and gives the thoughtful coworker a hug. “Oh, thank you so much.” Then she scoots down the hallway and over to her car.

When she arrives home and opens the front door, her son greets her energetically. “Mom, mom, I captured a dwarf! I captured a dwarf!”

“Okay honey, I’m so proud of you,” she answers and pats his head.

“Do you want to see him?”

“Sure honey, show me the…” She looks up. Her jaw drops.

Various pieces of furniture are stacked against the door to the hallway closet. Tables, chairs, even some shoes. Some are wedged into place, others are piled on top of each other.

“Wha…?”

“Mom, mom, come take a look! I captured a dwarf!” He takes her hand and pulls her to the closet. There is a sound coming from the closet. Something scratching or banging or moving around.

Mom grabs the furniture and digs her way to the closet door. Tables, chairs, shoes are all tossed aside. Her son is standing besides her with a great big beaming smile. Proud.

All of the furniture is pushed aside. Mom swings open the door.

And out runs a very short man. A midget. He is dressed in a suit. He darts across the hallway, out the front door, and down the block with nary a word.

The son is jumping up and down, clapping his hands and shouting, “The dwarf! The dwarf!”

Mom stands there, motionless, speechless. Clueless. She isn’t sure if she should ask her son what happened, or tell him she’s so proud of him for capturing a… well, you know.

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The Best Places to Find a Public Restroom

How many times have you been away from home and hit with the need to, uh, create brown seed? To drop the kids off at the pool? To excrete fecal matter from your rectum? (What, too vivid?)

I’ve been there. I might be walking around in a city or driving around in suburbia when suddenly, I break out in a sweat. Last night’s dinner is knock, knock, knocking on the back door. A working toilet becomes my goal in life. Nothing else matters except excavational bliss.

So I hunt. I hunt for amiable facilities. With nerve-chilling suspense and utter determination, I reach my objective and let out a wistful sigh. The deed is done. All is right with the world again.

Over the years, I’ve repeated this performance enough to discern efficient search patterns. Patterns that I’m going to share with you today, because, well, I’m just that kind of guy.

Here is a list of what I’ve found to be the best places for a public restroom, more or less in order of cleanliness. Please note that this list only pertains to the United States. If you’re reading this from another country, you should totally put together your own list and let me know in the comments.

Large Hotel Chains

Walk in like you’re a guest or conference attendee and stroll right over to a directory or building map. I don’t think hotel employees care if you’re not one of those, but it might make you feel less self-conscious. Hotel chains like Marriot, Westin, even Holiday Inn have public restrooms. Generally, only guests and employees use them, so you can except clean and well-stocked facilities.

Large Bookstore Chains

Stores like Barnes & Noble and Borders Books often have public bathrooms. The ubiquity of these stores makes them good options as well. Their bathrooms generally aren’t too heavily trafficked, clean, and well-stocked, though I’ve seen exceptions.

Department Stores

Large department stores like Macy’s, JC Penny’s, and even some Targets have public restrooms. They aren’t always the cleanest, but are usually above-average. For an added bonus, if you can find a Nordstrom’s, you’re golden. Those guys take care of their restrooms well. Their bathrooms are like royalty compared to the commonfolk bathrooms of Sears.

Colleges and Universities

I wouldn’t recommend a grade or high school at all (that’s just creepy), but sometimes a higher-education facility can offer a building with public bathrooms. It has become rarer and rarer though, as many require some form of student identification. And with good reason. If I was a student there, I’m not sure I’d want some random person laying a stink in my school’s bathrooms.

Government Buildings

Most government buildings have metal detectors that ward off easy access. They also monitor suspicious activity, like someone snooping around for a bathroom. But I’ve seen some city halls that are totally open and have relatively clean facilities. Courts are not generally clean though; I guess criminals clog toilet bowls to get back at the system. Yes, stuffing a toilet bowl is the perfect way to stick it to The Man.

Hospitals

If you happen to be near a hospital, you can consider ducking into their hallways in search of a public restroom. The quality of care can vary significantly, as well as the difficulty of finding some restrooms. Also, you can’t help but wonder if you’re going to catch something while gracing their porcelain seats.

Museums and Art Galleries

Most museums and art galleries require a fee to enter. There are a few that are entirely free though, or waive their fees on certain days. You may have to wait in line at the more popular places and their facilities are just average. But when you’re done, you can take in some culture to replace the, uh, culture you just dumped.

Bars and Restaurants

Most of these places discourage non-patrons from using their facilities. In a crowded bar or restaurant, you could conceivably duck in without drawing too much attention though. Just pretend you are a patron, if possible. Fast food restaurants tend not to care as much as sit-down restaurants.

Cafes

Same as bars and restaurants, these places discourage non-patrons. They also have just one bathroom. So unless you are in truly dire straits and don’t mind the dirty stares & impatient knocks, this can be a last resort. Otherwise, you can just buy a cup of coffee. Just don’t bring it into the bathroom with you. Gross.

Gas Stations

I consider these an utter last-resort. They are usually filthy and not well-stocked. Just looking at the toilet bowl can give you herpes. But hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

Parks

Another utter last-resort. Some public parks have restrooms. They are usually filthy and not well-stocked, if at all. Plus, the toilet seats are usually cold and swarming with colonies of who-knows-what that might make it burn when you pee.

P.S. And yes, there’s an app for that. There are quite a few iPhone apps that will find restrooms near you. I haven’t found any to be that helpful yet, but hopefully over time, they will improve.

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The Geek-Turned-Player Theory

Being a self-admitted geek, I’ve known many other geeks in my life. I’ve seen some grow up and become successes. And I’ve seen some grow up and become, for lack of a better word, players. Dangerous players.

Not players in the sense of metrosexual predators or greased-up Jersey Shore rejects. These guys are more clandestine. Girls don’t suspect they’re in the clutches of such a geek-turned-player until, well, sometimes never.

First, some background.

A geek-turned-player (GTP) grows up as an unpopular teen. He is the typical nerd, dork, dweeb, pick your favorite insult. In a phase where fitting in is so crucial, they stick out like a limb with gangrene. Though many make it through as strong, self-confident adults, this can foment into a deep psychosis for a few.

This bitterness can evolve in many ways. Some embody the taunts and turn them into strengths, such the skinny nerd who grows up to be a muscle-bound guy. Others harbor the acrimony until the acids melt away their relationships. Some do both.

A GTP is the latter; he does both. He also turns rejections from girls into a dictum of life: he wants to be a guy who can “get” all the girls who’ve rejected him. As you can imagine, a layer of misogyny pervades their actions. They want to get those girls, or girls in general, and hurt them.

Ironically, they overtly state a hatred of players, the guys who can go to any bar or club and get a phone number as easily as a mosquito can feed in a nudist colony. GTPs see themselves as the antithesis of the traditional player.

“I would never have a one-night stand,” they declare. “I will always honor and respect women.” Therein lies the danger of a GTP. Not only are they shattering hearts like a player, but they are unaware of it.

How do they get from geeks to heart-shattering GTPs?

After college, they tend to do well in their careers. They become white-collar workers and executives in well-paying jobs. They date a few girlfriends along the way who imbue them with some fashion sense. They may even start exercising and getting fit. To look at them now, you would never know they were scrawny four-eyed nerds in high school. Now, they look like intelligent, respectful, well-paid knights in shining armor.

At this age, these traits start to attract women in numbers not before experienced by these geeks. Where girls once ignored them, women are now being drawn to them like ants to molasses. And here they sit, happy as anteaters.

Much of this happens to average geeks, regardless of their proclivities. All sorts of sociological and biological factors play into this phenomenon. Single women in their twenties or thirties tend to seek men who are stable, financially, emotionally, etc., even if they didn’t seek those factors when they were younger.

That’s how I’ve lucked out, at least. Go sociological & biological factors!

The GTP differs from the average geek in his behaviors after meeting a girl. The GTP, flush with the exhilaration of meeting a girl, starts to behave like a traditional player. Despite his proclaimed position on one-night stands, his qualms melt away in the heat of passion.

Then he does it again. And again. And again. He starts to realize his sexual prowess and magnetism and begins to flaunt it openly, oftentimes to the chagrin of his peers. He believes himself to be God’s Gift to Women: he has all the qualities of a traditional player, along with money, status, and success. What girl wouldn’t want him?

However, he still puts on a veneer of respect. His misogynic beliefs are well-hidden. Women see him as a nice guy, even months or years after he has broken their hearts.

For the unfortunate, this heartbreak is infinitely worse than being with a player, because of the emotional connection made. Indeed, the GTP’s armament includes psychological weapons such as long, deep conversations, the kind that make women think about marriage and children.

Breaking up with a deadbeat player is one thing, breaking up with a potential husband and father of your children is another.

Deep inside, the GTP doesn’t see himself as a player, however. He still harbors a resentment of players and sees his actions as innocent. This belief reinforces the effectiveness of his weapons. Those long, deep conversations, as they are happening, are earnest and from the heart.

So what changes the morning after? Something subconscious. A switch flips. The emotional connection from last night fades as the excitement of new prey emerges. As soon as another woman starts up a conversation, the previous one is forgotten.

For the goal isn’t to meet a woman and start a wonderful relationship. The goal is to meet women. And to see if he can “get” them. The exhilaration of each new encounter has become a drug.

This is something the GTP never experienced as a teen. He never got the intoxication of fleeting puppy love out of his system like others his age. While most of us are moving on in stable relationships, he is stuck. He is a late bloomer who is addicted to the high of new women.

I haven’t seen much written about this phenomenon before. I suspect it is, thankfully, rare. However, I’ve seen it enough times to discern to articulate this theory.

The popularization of geek culture may be partly responsible for the rise of the geek-turned-player. Or maybe it has always been around and I’ve only begun to notice it.

Whatever the case, the GTP is a dangerous animal on the dating scene. I’ve seen female friends unknowingly wrecked from them. I’ve seen colleagues & acquaintances evolve into GTPs themselves. The result is always disastrous, especially for the women they’ve left in their wake.

Beware the geek-turned-player.

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How to Live a Long, Happy Life

I intend on living a long, happy life.

It would be cool to be a great-grandparent, for instance. I’ve also got many things I want to do. Write books, learn new things, start businesses and non-profits, help my community. So many plans, so little time.

Age is not the limiting factor. Health is.

So how can I live a long and happy life? Dan Buettner, a National Geographic writer, believes he knows the answer. He founded the organization Quest Network, Inc. to conduct a study of “Blue Zones” – regions of the world where there are sizable populations that live active lives past one hundred years of age.

There are currently five known Blue Zones in the world:

• Sardina, Italy
• Okinawa, Japan
• Loma Linda, CA, USA
• Nicoya Peninsula, Costa Rica
• Icaria, Greece

Buettner and his organization studied these regions and discovered four key traits that all share, regardless of geography, culture, religion, or other factors.

1. Move Naturally
2. Right Outlook
3. Eat Wisely
4. Connect

Move Naturally

People living in Blue Zones don’t run marathons or lift heavy weights in gyms. They don’t sit in front of the TV or computers a lot either. Instead, they take a lot of walks. They climb up stairs. They hike up mountains. They even tend gardens, which require daily manual labor.

The Sardinians live on hillsides. So to get around, many walk up and down these hills all the time, even those in their eighties. Many Okinawans maintain personal gardens that they cultivate with pride. It’s not uncommon to see elders plowing and raking and pulling out weeds.

The trick is to do something active every day that you enjoy. That way, being active isn’t a chore; it is something you look forward to. And that’s why it works.

If you love doing cardio at the gym, then more power to you. Otherwise, take a walk around the block. Walk to the local grocery store instead of driving. Use the stairs instead of the elevator. Take a parking spot further away from the entrance of the mall so you have to walk a bit. Play sports with friends. Play the Nintendo Wii. Do something active everyday.

Right Outlook

Blue Zone inhabitants maintain a healthy perspective on life. They take time to slow down and relax from their hectic schedules. They use healthy outlets to vent their stress. They take problems in stride.

It’s not that they live boring, unexciting lives. Loma Linda is the home of a large medical university and medical community. Being a doctor is far from relaxing. The majority of these residents – those that regularly live long, active lives, at least – are also Seventh-day Adventists, a Christian denomination. Their religion aids in their ability to find peace with their frustrations.

Aside from mechanisms to dispel stress, Blue Zone inhabitants also deeply believe they have a purpose in life. That purpose could be as small as the Okinawan fisherman who sees his purpose is to fish so he can feed his family, or the Okinawan grandmother who knows her purpose is to care for her great-great-grandchildren. Religion also imbues a deep sense of purpose to Seventh-day Adventists.

Many don’t retire. They keep on doing what they enjoy doing, because they believe it is their purpose, their reason to get up every day.

Look for healthy outlets for your stress. Some use exercise, some take walks, and some create art to find relief. For others, it’s spirituality, religion, or their family and community.

A sense of purpose is also equally important. If you don’t have a reason to wake up every day and stay healthy, then find one. Spirituality and religion fill this hole for many. Family and community fill this for others. Still others find their purpose in their work or art. And sometimes your purpose isn’t bestowed upon you; it is something you go out and determine for yourself.

Eat Wisely

Those in Blue Zones eat healthy food in moderation. By healthy food, I mean their diets include a lot of vegetables and little processed food. Seventh-day Adventists are vegetarians. Okinawans eat lots of fresh fish. Sardinians consume homemade food. Each community has a different meal mix, though all contain a lot of vegetables and little processed food.

By moderation, I mean they don’t overeat. They don’t serve huge, American-sized portions. The Okinawans even eat from small plates as a means to minimize overeating. Others take breaks between servings. Since it takes several minutes before the feeling of satiation hits your stomach, taking a break can curb the amount you eat.

Include more vegetables in your diet. Decrease the amount of processed food and fast food from your daily intake as much as possible, or remove it altogether. You don’t need vitamin supplements as long as you eat a wide variety of vegetables, grains, and meats.

And perhaps even more importantly, reduce your portion sizes. Eat from small bowls. Take breaks between servings. You may find yourself feeling full without the usual volume you consume.

Connect

The last common aspect of all Blue Zone elders is their sense of family and community. To them, family comes first. Grandparents aren’t shut away in nursing homes. Respect increases with age, so the eldest are given the most respect.

They also feel a sense of belonging within their communities. Friendships endure throughout lifetimes. A person can count on a friend in time of need, and give selflessly when that friend is in need. You’ve got my back, I’ve got your back.

These tight bonds are formed with people of similar values as well. Everyone in a particular community shares the same core values of enjoyable activities (walks, hikes, etc), a healthy outlook (able to vent with each other, a feeling of purpose), healthy diets (natural foods in moderation), and a sense of belonging.

If you’ve been estranged from your family, consider making amends. Be the bigger person and take the first step at healing that bond. In cases where that’s totally impossible, foster the friendships you have, especially with those that share the same values. Consider being a part of a healthy tight-knit community, such as an activity group, special interest group, religious group, etc.

Is This Possible?

For some, this news is obvious to you. But for others, this may seem entirely impossible. How such a lifestyle can be followed in today’s society? I hear you. I know it’s not easy.

I don’t think it’s impossible either. It just takes some extra effort and a lot of discipline. Moving naturally and eating wisely are the easiest ones to do first, since they involve changes in behavior. The tough part is sticking to the new behavior long enough for it to become habit.

Having the right outlook and connecting to others are much tougher. The first involves changing a mental model that’s been ingrained for years. The second involves both behavioral and mental changes.

Part of having the right outlook is having healthy outlets for stress. This can include exercising, talking to trusted friends, or creating art. There are numerous self-help websites and books you can turn to for more ideas as well.

The other part of the right outlook is a sense of purpose. If you can’t find an easy answer, you are probably waiting for that purpose to come to you. Let me correct that misconception: that is not going to happen. Not everyone is lucky enough to be given their purpose. You need to go out and find your purpose. Create one. Look for something you believe in, whether it is a family member, a vocation, or a cause. As long as it allows you to follow these other traits and doesn’t harm others, embrace it as the reason you get up every morning.

Finding a community that accepts you is probably the toughest one to achieve. If you weren’t born into a tight-knit family or community, you will have to work hard to become a part of a healthy community. However, it’s worth the effort. Once you are in a good community, a sense of purpose will almost certainly come to you.

How do you find such a community? Church groups are an obvious source. Activity groups and special interest groups are another, though not all will give you an encompassing sense of community. Some people join such groups just to do the activity, then return to their own communities without further involvement in the group.

Neighborhood-based communities are also a good source. There are “gated communities” (a set of houses enclosed within gates) that try to engender such a sense of belonging, not only for goodwill, but for protection too (crime is less common in such neighborhoods).

For some, their work can also provide a viable community, though like activity and special interest groups, not all of the members may be willing to put in the same level of commitment as you. To them, it’s just a job, not a community.

I am lucky that I follow and have a lot of these traits. Hopefully I can continue to foster them throughout my long, happy life, and vice versa. For many, I had to work hard to create them. But once they’ve become engrained in my life, following them is as easy as eating and breathing.

Want to see more? You can watch Buettner’s talk at a TEDxTC conference on September 2009 about his study of Blue Zones. It’s a fascinating talk.

Now go live long and prosper. And talk a walk around the block while you’re at it.

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Ten New Year’s Resolutions You Never Thought Of

Drum roll please. Here are ten New Year’s resolutions you, being a sane adult of above-average intelligence, never thought of. Which is a good thing.

1. Adopt a new vice – Why all the bull about trying to stop a vice, like smoking or junk food? Everyone knows you’re not going to do it. Instead, go out and get a new vice. Start snorting Kool-Aid or hijacking school buses full of penguins.
2. Eat as many weird meats as you can – You can define weird any way you like. Frogs, turtles, snakes, lizards, worms. Nah, those aren’t weird enough. Chicken embryos, fish excrement, maggots, and testicles of just about any animal. That’s more like it.
3. Read every street sign you see out loud – Whether you’re walking down the street by yourself or on a crowded bus, read those street sounds loud and proud. Articulate each and every one. Some may thank you for the reminder, others will punch you in the face.
4. Fart downwind – Not as easy as it sounds, especially in a building with no wind. To rectify that situation, keep a handheld fan on your person at all times. Every time you fart, fan it downwind. Fart, fan, fart, fan, fart fan, just like that.
5. Set the World Record for Most Times Abducted by Aliens – Might be tough to carry this one out. Unless you start carving mountains out of your mashed potatoes or invent warp drive technology or [insert your favorite sci-fi/alien reference here].
6. Learn to play the accordion – Weird Al Yankovic played one, so why can’t you? The key is to practice, practice, practice. Especially late at night, when you can’t sleep because all the weird meats you’re eating are causing massive downwind farts.
7. End all discussions with “To be continued…” – Leave everyone hanging. Extra points if you can end on a cliffhanger or an especially important point.
8. Spit generously – Nothing says “manly” like lodging a good, healthy loogie from the gullet and landing with a satisfying blop. And chicks totally dig it.
9. Start ending sentences with a preposition – You know you want to. This includes blog posts, of course. Ending with prepositions is where it’s at.
10. Suck less on a daily average – Since the opposite of suck is blow, then to carry out this resolution, you can thusly and simply, blow more.

And no, I am not resolving to do any of these. If you would like to, then, please stand upwind of me.

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How We Met

We met at a wedding. I know. It’s a cliché to meet someone at a wedding. Some even crash weddings to pick up those someones.

Not us though. Meeting a guy was, at best, on the periphery of her radar, if it was even on the screen. The bride told me there would be hardly any single girls there. So I turned my focus to enjoying Hawaii since it was my first time there.

My table at the wedding reception was the loud, drunk table. You know that table. Every wedding has one. Its guests are a raucous, rowdy bunch, roaring with alcohol. Elderly family members look over in disgust. Yup, that was us.

After a round or two of tequila shots, we crowded the bar for one more. We were all friends of the bride, so she joined us too. “How many should I get?” I asked.

A friend glanced around the group. “About seven, I think.”

I turned to the bartender and ordered seven tequila shots. As he handed me the shot glasses and I handed them over to my friends. However, there were only six of us. I was left with two shots in my hands.

That’s when I turned around and saw her. A cute smile and pretty freckles in an adorable black & white dress. And without a drink in her hands.

“Want to do a shot with us?” I asked her. I didn’t want the extra shot to go to waste. It was the polite thing to do. Plus, she was cute. “We’re doing a shot with the bride.”

“Sure,” she smiled and took the glass. I smiled back.

“To the bride!” someone shouted. We all raised our glasses and poured the burning tequila down our throats. Like liquid lava down our gullets, searing down our chests. I stifled a cough.

“Thanks,” she said as I took her empty glass.

“I’m Mike, by the way,” I told her.

“I’m Mia.”

I smiled. She smiled. And that’s how we first met.

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The Phone Call from Mom

The caller ID displayed my family’s number. I answered cheerfully.

“Hello?”

“Hi Mike,” my Mom greeted.

“Hi Mom. What’s up?”

“I have something to tell you that might upset you.”

No one – I repeat – no one ever wants to hear those words from their Mom. No one. I sat down, took a deep breath, and asked, “Okay, what’s going on?”

“Don’t be upset when I tell you, okay?”

How can I not be upset when you tell me it’s news that might upset me, I thought. It’s impossible. Whenever someone tells you that you might be upset, chances are, you’ll be upset. And even before telling me, I’m upset just knowing I’ll be upset.

It’s like saying: “Don’t look down.” What does everyone do when they hear those words? They look down. It’s a natural reaction. When someone tells you don’t to do something, you do it. We’re all stupid that way.

“What’s going on Mom?” I asked, voice a little shaken.

“Don’t be upset, okay?”

What did I just say?? Well, I didn’t say it out loud. If this was upsetting news, the last thing I wanted to do was add more upset to the conversation. I bit my tongue and tried not to imagine the worse. Unfortunately, trying not to imagine the worse means… yup… imagining the worst. Death, destruction, divorce, diarrhea, dysentery… what could it possibly be?

“Okay, I won’t be upset,” I lied. I really wanted to know. “What’s going on?”

“You know when you were home two weeks ago?”

Frantically, I reviewed my trip two weeks ago. Seemed like a normal & uneventful trip. Nothing crazy or disastrous happened. No drama of any kind. “Yea…?”

“Well, when you knelt down to tie your shoes, I noticed something…”

I head my breath. There was a tumor on the back of my neck. Blood was gushing out. Blackened skin adorned my neck.

“I saw the top of your head…” she continued.

I cleared my throat. The tumor was on my head. It had a face and eyes. It was my conjoined twin, finally bursting to life.

“Your hair is thinning Michael. I saw the top of your head and your hair is thinning. Right at the top of your head. Your hair. It’s thinning.”

“What?” I blinked. ” That’s it Mom?”

“Your hair! It’s thinning!”

“You got me all worked up for that?”

“Don’t be upset now! I told you not to be upset!”

“Mom. I’m not upset. I know my hair is thinning. I thought you called because something crazy happened back home, like someone died or is in the hospital. My gosh Mom… you scared me half to death…”

“So you’re not upset?” She almost sounded disappointed.

“No Mom, I’m not. I know my hair is thinning. I don’t really care. If it happens, it happens. Nothing I can do about it.”

“You can use Rogaine,” she countered.

“I don’t need that. If I go bald, so what? It’s natural. This isn’t something I can control.”

“Sure it is, with Rogaine.”

Good thing my Mom couldn’t see me rolling my eyes. “Rogaine doesn’t grow your hair back. Not that I’m an expert on that stuff or anything, but I heard it only keeps you from losing more hair or something.”

“Don’t you want to keep your hair?”

“Mom.” I took a deep breath. “Am I going to be the same person with or without hair?”

“Yea…”

“So why does it matter?”

“Yea… So you’re not upset. That’s good, that’s good.”

“I think you’re more upset than I am.”

She chuckled uneasily. “I just called to tell you that. That’s all. I am glad you are not upset.”

“Thanks Mom. I think. Don’t worry, I’m fine. This is natural. Thanks for… uh… calling to tell me about this.”

“Sure sure.” She paused. “Are you sure you don’t want Rogaine?”

“Good bye Mom.”

“Okay okay. Bye bye. Take care of your hair!”

And with a Click she hung up.

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The Lens of Life: It’s All About Perceptions

The glass is not half full nor half empty. The glass has water in it, filled approximately to the middle. Or: the glass has equal portions of gas and liquid content within its cylindrical interior. Or: the glass is entirely full of air and water. Or… you get the point.

It’s all about perception. Life isn’t how it is; it’s how you see it.

If you see the world as a cold, harsh place, then for you — the world is indeed, cold and harsh. Sucks for you.

If you see the world as a fun & challenging place, then for you, the world is fun & challenging. Rock on.

Here’s a metaphor I use: my life as a series of lenses. My perception of life is influenced by the lenses through which I view it. Every lens is tainted by the grime of experience. In fact, each lens was created by the summary of past experience, heated in a cauldron of emotional responses and cognitive rationalizations.

It is impossible to be truly objective, unless you’re a robot or Vulcan. But as a human, it’s impossible because of the construction of our brains. Studies have shown that memories are forged through a furnace of emotion, for better or worse. Interestingly enough, emotional memories are retained better than those devoid of emotions.

Think about your childhood. Which memories are most vivid? Those that are most painful or happy, right? How about the 303rd bath you ever took? Why don’t you remember that one? Because it was mundane and relatively low on emotional content.

Over time, these emotional memories, mixed with your genetic predispositions (you can thank your Mom & Dad for that) and environmental factors (education, cultural upbringing, friends & family, religion, social status, etc) shaped your unconscious view on life. Together, this mixture hardened into a lens through which you now view your life.

Lenses are limiting. They limit how far you can see and what you can see. This is not a bad thing. It is a natural ability that offers you protection, your defense mechanism, if you will. Prejudices, assumptions, and beliefs all come from your lenses. Some limitations can be hurtful, some can be helpful, though the degrees of such are subjective.

There isn’t just one lens either. There are many, shaped through various phases of life. You may have your family lens, your work lens, your school lens, etc. The number of lenses depends on the number of wholly different experiences you’ve have and your awareness of, and synthesis of, those life phases. Living in a foreign country often splinters one’s world view and creates a new lens, for instance.

Mine include my family lens, my Chinese American lens, my New Yorker lens, my Californian lens, my traveler lens, my spiritual lens, my anthropological & sociological lens, my self-reflective lens, my self-improvement lens, my entrepreneurial lens, my technology-oriented lens, etc. There are many more I’m not aware of too, I’m sure.

As you can see, your lenses don’t map not just to your phases of life, but to the different ways you view your identity as well. And, of course, they all overlap quite a bit.

There are no right or wrong lenses, better or worse lenses, just degrees of helpfulness in society and influence on your actions. Some lenses may enable you to be a highly-successful person in some situations, but horribly inept in others. Others lenses may make you terribly miserable in some situations and protect you from harm in others.

However, you aren’t stuck with a particular lens. You can change your view, as long as you cognitively try. It just takes effort. Sometimes tremendous effort. But it is impossible for everyone.

How? For some, it’s simply a matter of being aware of your different lenses. For others, supportive friends & family can help. And for others, professional advice and help is required.

I’m sure you’ve met people who’ve changed the main lens through which they view life. They may be religious converts or political converts. They may be so excited about their new view that they won’t shut up about it. Such a person has had a major epiphany (which is generally how a major change in lens view affects a person) and is naturally excited about it, though not all changes are so grand.

Want to try a quick lens switch exercise? Imaging yourself as a soccer player. You’re on the field. You can feel the brisk chill of the afternoon air. The smell of freshly-cut grass is all around you. A trickle of sweat is at the corner of your eye. Other players are yelling at each other. The ball is being kicked around. You’re keeping an eye on the ball, your teammates, and your opponents. Your mind is flipping back and forth from anticipating where the ball will be and how other players are reacting to the ball. Your legs are also getting tired and there’s a side stitch in your gut. And damn, you’re thirsty.

Now imagine yourself as the coach of that team. You’re standing on the side of the field. Someone’s brewing coffee besides you. Your players are yelling, the other team is yelling, and the fans are yelling behind you. You’re keenly watching your players run up and down the field, positioning themselves around the ball. At the same time, you’re also watching the opponents and analyzing their positions in relation to your team’s. Your goalie looks tired and you’re worried about a potential goal. Another player is being overly aggressive and you’re concerned about the referee calling a penalty. Two of the opposing players are really strong and fast, so you’re trying to make sure your team doesn’t let them through your defense. Your voice is sore from yelling commands and encouragement to your team.

In the first lens, you had the view of an individual contributor on a team. You had to be conscious of your own actions as they related to others, while balancing your fatigue and condition.

In the second lens, you had the view of a supervisor of a team. You had to have a gestalt of the entire game and offer not only direction, but encouragement as their confidence rose and shrank.

That is a small example of a lens switch. Both views are totally correct while being entirely different. All of us switch like that daily, maybe even hourly.

Now consider this: what if you’re able to combine lenses? Or switch between both in any given situation? What if you, as a soccer player, also considered the game from the coach’s point of view? That’s what a team captain often does. Viewing the game through both lenses would put you on a path for advancement and leadership in this situation.

Combining lenses often gives offers such power and opportunity. It opens your mind to other views you may not have otherwise considered. It keeps your mind amiable to new ideas and new contexts.

You know the saying, “Never judge a person until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes”? Same principle applies here. When you’re viewing your situation through another lens, you’re revising the natural limitations of what you perceive. While you’re probably replacing them with the limitations of another lens, you’re still expanding your previous boundaries. And that’s the power of changing & combining lenses.

Of course, this is all an opinion formed through my own lens. This is how I perceive my life. You may perceive it differently and prefer to keep your current world view. In which case, I can’t help but think: sucks for you.

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A Vegas Tradition

The elevators ding open to the beeps, bells, and chimes of the MGM casino floor. We hang a left, a right, another right, then trough through throngs of tourists.

Excitement tingles in our fingertips. We could throw lightning bolts from our hands, it’s so strong.

This is how it always is. It’s become our Vegas tradition.

Our first destination is the Zuri Bar. Dark shadows criss-crossed with crisp blue lights cast an unsettling web on the walls. Deep bass boom-boom-booms into our bodies. It’s a club atmosphere meant to psyche up even the most anxious player. To us, it just adds to the soundtrack of Vegas, followed by the singing of slots and cheering at craps.

Smoke waifs our senses. Occasional puffs pollute our noses. It’s a city of all sins, especially the self-destructive and peer-destructive ones. It’s a place where one goes to die a little each day, literally, morally, perhaps even spiritually. That’s okay though. As soon as you leave, those mutilations remain. What happens in Vegas, well, you know.

We crash into the couches and survey the scenery. Some of the guys see them as prey, with their loose wallets, polished ATM cards, and optimistic naivety. Me, I like to people-watch. I make up stories for each one.

For instance, that lady in the little black dress over there, sitting by herself? She’s having a clandestine rendezvous with a high roller she met at the Mirage. Being that she was staying at the Mirage with her husband, she had to arrange this meeting at the MGM.

Little does she know that her husband is also having his own secret rendezvous… with that high roller’s… brother! Gasp.

This is all a manifestation of my mind’s meanderings, of course. Take off its leash and it will run loose in all kinds of directions. The scotch whiskey doesn’t help either.

Oh, I didn’t tell you about the scotch whiskey? Macallan. 21-year, maybe 25-year if we’re feeling especially lucky. The 50-year? Well, one day. Like mellow velvet down your throat, the water back brings out hints of toffee and cloves. It takes off the edge for those who have such a distaste, and it accentuates the flavors for those who have such a taste.

Price: a Benjamin and change.

We savor our Macallans slowly. It is a rare delicacy that we appreciate in all its elegance. The sounds, the smells, the sights… every sense is tempted as much as it is offended. Just the way we like it.

The waitress serves as eye candy we devour hungrily. Short skirt, low top, and lots of skin. The uniform designers sure know how to rile up their audience. A comment here, a joke there, and she giggles. The fact that this act increases her tip notwithstanding, we smile and feel invincible. What better way to measure a guy’s manhood than by how many times he can get a hot chick to laugh?

Then the psychology begins. We torture each other with taunts and torments. We encourage each other with enthusiasm and applause. Break ourselves down and build ourselves up. Just like in the army. Our way of becoming Vegas Strong. Fuck yea.

Once we’ve been molded appropriately, we’re off to our next destination. The high-limit slots. We’re not talking your Grandma’s slots here. I’m sure she’s a lovely lady who once made that big win of three hundred dollars. Good for her.

I’m talking about a Benjamin a pull. Feed the beast a one-hundred dollar bill, then stroke its shaft. One pull each. Maybe two or three more if we’re feeling incomprehensibly indestructible. Fortune favors the fools on Friday, we fathom. It’s the beginning of the weekend, the perfect time to lure the lustful with luxuriousness.

The first victim pulls once. Hits one-thousand right away.

The second victim pulls once. Nothing. Twice. One-thousand and two hundred.

I pull once. Nothing. Twice. Nothing. Aw shit, why not? Thrice. One-thousand and six hundred. Thank you beast, for regurgitating such regal riches.

Price: a Benjamin. Reward: ten-fold or more.

Armed with confidence, indestructibility, and optimistic naivety, we approach the tables to start our attack. The rest of the trip is dictated not by tradition, but by the tides of fate. We enter it with the full knowledge of our odds. And that, my friend, is our Vegas tradition.

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Are Running Shoes Bad For You?

You can blame your expensive running shoes on those foot aches, knee problems, and stress fractures. At least, that’s what a handful of articles have been reporting.

This topic naturally caught my attention. After running two half-marathons, I’ve been training for a full marathon. Unfortunately, I had to drop out because of a chronic knee injury that just won’t go away, even after some basic rehabilitation. My next step will be to see an orthopedic surgeon for further advice and perhaps an MRI. Major bummer.

It started innocently enough in an article about toes. Published in March this year, Seed Magazine’s ”The Running Man, Revisited” discusses the endurance running hypothesis: that humans evolved as long-distance runners. The size of our toes, according to a handful of scientists, has given us the ability to run long distances. Specifically: short toes. Long toes increase the amount of mechanical work required by twenty percent.

This is from an article in the Journal of Experimental Biology, ”Walking, running and the evolution of short toes in humans”. Apparently it caused a stir when it was published in February.

Then just a week ago, writer Christopher McDougall penned two articles (that I know of) about the dangers of running shoes. “The painful truth about trainers: Are running shoes a waste of money?” in Mail Online and “What Ruins Running” in the Boston Globe.

In those articles, he reports on the runners in Tarahumara, Mexico, and the fact that they run barefoot. He cited a senior researcher at Nike Sports Research Lab who examined people all around the world who run barefoot. McDougall also interviewed Dr. Daniel Lieberman, a professor of biological anthropology at Harvard University, who said, “’A lot of foot and knee injuries currently plaguing us are caused by people running with shoes that actually make our feet weak, cause us to over-pronate (ankle rotation) and give us knee problems.” McDougall’s conclusion: run barefoot.

My friends and I have naturally been reading these articles with great interest. We’ve all spent gobs on money on running shoes, after all. I have a great pair of Brooks Beasts (thanks again Eric!) that make me feel like I’m running in air. Did we all waste our money?

One runner asked her running coach about these articles. His reply:

Take some time to read [these articles] as I think the have some great points and raise valid questions, however [here] a few objective thoughts to keep in mind. Because the articles also need to be put in context before you chuck your running shoes in the garbage…

1. Our society in general, works much, much harder than in generations past, meaning that we spend more time sitting at our computers and less time sleeping/resting and doing the necessary recovery/cross-training activities that are essential for endurance athletes.
2. We’re runners so we run. The lack of strength & cross-training can leave a lot of us more susceptible to injury.
3. Our society also is very fashion/business conscious, meaning that the majority of us are wearing footwear that is very bad for the strength/health of our feet. (Dress shoes, heels, etc.)
4. At an early age, most of our parents put us into stiff shoes, which may have prohibited the muscles in our feet from developing as they should have.
5. The article discounts that the majority of people live in urban populations, and run primarily on harder surfaces (concrete/asphalt), whereas many of the runners the author focuses on were running on soft surfaces (cinder tracks, grass/dirt trails, etc). In general, runners who include a small amount of trail running into their regiment (once every few weeks is enough), tend to have fewer injuries. (However, you can’t run 100% on soft surfaces if you are training for road races.)
6. This article discounts the thousands of people who have actually benefited by improved technology in running shoes.

As with everything in life, it’s always good to have a balanced perspective, listen to both sides of an argument, and maintain a healthy dose of skepticism.

I’m sure there’s truth in those articles. I’m sure shorter toes really do help us run longer distances, just as I’m really sure shoes in general have made some kind of impact on our feet. But most of all, I’m sure glad I don’t have to chuck my expensive Brooks Beasts in the garbage.

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