Millennials

I Can’t

Two words.

When you really think about it, we are the killers of our own dreams.

For a lot of us, if we’re asked the question, Are you doing exactly what you want to be doing with your life?, the answer is some version of No.

And for most of us, the reason is simple – It’s your own fault.

Think about this: how many times in the past week have you said or thought to yourself, I can’t? It might have been about something small like, “I can’t go out tonight because I have work tomorrow morning,” or “I can’t go over and talk to that girl because she’ll reject me.” You may have also said it for grander issues like, “I can’t quit my crap job because I’m in too much debt,” or “I can’t come out of the closet because my family will disown me.”

We get into this mode where we trick ourselves into thinking that outside circumstances are preventing us from doing and becoming what we want, but really we’re the ones blocking ourselves.

Look, I’m not above this either; I do this to myself just as much as everyone else. I can’t. I can’t. There’s too much goddamn I can’t in my life.

If you’re reading this, do us all a favor: the next time you say I can’t to something, check yourself for a second. Really ask yourself what you can and can’t do.

I’ll try to do the same.

 

Chris.

We’re All Sensitive People

Well, nobody’s perfect. As much as every guy tries to be James Bond or Don Draper, the truth is that the overwhelming majority of us fall woefully short.

What am I talking about? Of course, I’m talking about microaggressions. If you don’t know, here’s the definition:

Microaggressions are the everyday verbal, nonverbal, and environmental slights, snubs, or insults, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative messages to target persons based solely upon their marginalized group membership.

The classic microaggression that I’ve encountered in my life is the classic Where are you from? question. People have asked me that and I’ve responded with Los Angeles only to see utter disappointment in their faces when I don’t tell them that I’m from the Ching-Chong Orient. Sorry, fellas.

But what I really want to comment on is how everything is a microaggression nowadays. You really can’t say anything in the workplace anymore without fear of someone being offended by what you say.

This year, our company holiday party is being held at a Mexican restaurant. The holiday committee decided to make flyers for the party, which included silhouettes of people wearing sombreros, to which some people said, Nope, can’t do that. Microaggression.

I guess if you really think about it, I can see someone being offended by it. But that’s the thing; since when did it become necessary to really sit down and decide if anyone can be offended by the slightest detail of a party flyer?

A few months ago, our team in the office went out to lunch. We chose a nearby Korean restaurant. One female coworker ordered the oxtail soup. When her soup was placed on the table, she started laughing at her entree because it smelled funny. For a moment, I took her amusement as a mockery of my ethnic background and culture. I don’t hit women (I don’t hit anyone, for that matter) but I knocked her out, in my mind.

What I wonder is, would I have even flinched at all if we didn’t live in a world that catered to every sensitive soul? Have we as a society been conditioned to interpret anything and everything as a slight? Are we teaching future generations to take every comment as throwing shade at someone? Are we soft?

In reality, that hostility I felt towards my coworker lasted about 30 seconds. Why? Because I didn’t dwell on it, and that’s what may the problem with everything. If the ignoramous that asks me Where I’m from from is too lazy and dumb to know the difference between Koreans, Chinese, Taiwanese, or American-born Asians, then why trip over anything he/she says?

I get being sensitive to others, but what we really can control is our emotions and reactions. If we all became a little less reactionary to every little word spoken about us, then perhaps society wouldn’t be caught in this web of microaggressions.

But we all know that’s not happening. So tread lightly people, because we’re all sensitive nowadays.

 

Chris.

Guys And Dolls

WordPress, I told you I’d be back, within a week no less.

I saw this photo the other day, and I can’t lie – I laughed my ass off:

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Look, I understand it’s cliche, but it’s true. To women all over the world – we just don’t think as much as y’all.

This explains why dating, and even more simply male and female interactions in general, are so messed up these days.

I admit it – sometimes I check out our Reader feed and I find myself amused at the countless number of posts from male and female bloggers who lament about their romantic struggles. But fear not – I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you. I mean, really, you have to find the comedy in single dating life, especially if it’s your own. Don’t worry, once you’re finally with that special someone, you’ll look back at these days and laugh even harder.

The general opinion is that guys are bad at texting. I tend to agree with this (not me though, I mean, can’t you tell by the Pulitzer-caliber writing quality of this blog that I’m phenomenal at texting) with a caveat – men and women simply communicate differently. The photo says it all – she over-analyzes and he over-simplifies. Maybe, just maybe, if women kept it a little more simple and men pulled back the curtain a little bit more in the text game, then singles would be better off. Just a thought.

P.S. By the way, Guys And Dolls, how did I come up with this oh so witty title? Well, Emily and I were in Netflix and chill mode the other night when we decided to watch Bill Murray’s Christmas Special because, well, Bill Murray is awesome. In the special, Murray sings Baby It’s Cold Outside. I think to myself, Hey who wrote that song? I go on Wikipedia and find out it was written by Frank Loesser. I think to myself, Hey, Frank Loesser wrote Guys And Dolls. And here we are. It’s been three days and I still can’t get this song out of my head.

P.P.S. If you haven’t, you should watch Guys and Dolls. Marlon Brando singing is horrifically awesome.

 

Chris.

Soon Enough, I’ll Get Fingered

I know what you’re thinking.

No, I am not going to prison.

But yes, you did read that right. In due time, a finger will be up my ass. Is it by choice? Well, let’s just say that’s debatable.

What is life but a mere collection of unique experiences? Shouldn’t we be expanding our horizons, seeking opportunities that will lead to a higher state of enlightenment?

Seriously, get your mind out of the gutter. This is not a sex thing.

I went to the doctor recently. I’m one of those types that never go to the doctor. Dentist? Yes, I get my teeth cleaned regularly, but doctor? Nah. I hadn’t seen a doctor in about eight years. But I’ve been getting migraines and I hurt my wrist at the gym not too long ago. I also figured it would be a good idea to get my blood drawn to see what filth lives inside of me.

The doctor, an older Indian gentleman, asked me how old I was, to which I told him that I’m 33. Hearing that number come out of my mouth sounds a little strange; I honestly forget that I’m not 30 anymore from time to time. Then, the doctor said, Well, you don’t have to get your prostate checked yet, but soon enough. Nobody likes getting that checked. Then he went on to laugh for a brief few seconds.

Like I said, a finger up my ass.

It’s inevitable, not necessarily the finger, but getting old. As I was getting my blood pressure and heart rate taken, I sat in the doctor’s office thinking, This is my life now – doctor appointments with prostate examinations on the horizon. I could have sworn I was that douchebag at the club hitting on random girls with negs and demonstrations of higher value just last week. Where did the time go?

But I guess that’s life. I suppose we ought to savor the moments we have now, be in the present. Do things get better with age? I don’t know. I have no idea what the future holds, and perhaps that’s partly why the present is so great, because we don’t know.

I do know, however, that soon enough, I’ll get fingered. That’s all the future knowledge I need for now, thanks.

 

Chris.

She’s With HIM???

The other day, a friend was telling me about someone he knew.

This guy is fat and ugly, but he has a hot ass girlfriend.

I said, “Oh really. Let me see a picture.”

So I see the picture. He’s not that fat, and not that ugly. I’d say he’s an average looking Asian guy. His girlfriend, though, is a very cute blond.

Let’s be real – we’ve all come across this at some point, the guy-girl couple that doesn’t seem to fit. The dude is average looking at best, maybe even below average if we’re sipping on some extra haterade, and the chick is smoking hot.

Wait, wha… she’s with HIM???

 

Personally, I want to examine two things. First, I want to know how this happens. How does a guy out-kick his coverage to that level and nab a woman like that? If the guy’s a 5 and the girl’s a 9, then surely he knows something that the rest of us don’t know.

Second, I want to figure out why this is even an issue. How come we’re predisposed to believe that two people in a relationship should be in a similar aesthetic range?

***

Okay, so how does this happen? Of course, a lot of us will automatically assume that the guy is rich. But for argument’s sake, let’s count that option out. (As is the case of the guy my friend was talking about, I don’t believe he’s that wealthy, yet he was able to score his girl anyway)

It’s got to be a personality thing, right? Men are super visual, which is why this specific blog post even exists. The guy is probably funny as hell. He may also have a lot of charisma and confidence. Maybe he’s done some kind deeds.

Well, I’m not that funny, have low self-esteem, and am pretty selfish. Yeah, you’re fucked.

Here’s something I’ve observed through the years – a lot of men don’t look inward. They’ll look at a couple and wonder, “How the hell did he get her?” when they really mean “How can I get someone like her?”

I’ve got some single friends that wonder why they can’t get girls, but the subtext behind that question is something along the lines of, “What’s wrong with these girls? How come they don’t like me?”

I want to shake the shit out of these guys.

Bottom line – look at yourself and see where you can improve. If you keep doing what you’re doing, you’ll keep getting what you’re getting. Be interesting. Accomplish something. Get to the point where you know that you have a lot to offer up to someone else. Then maybe you can be this guy that can get your beautiful girl.

Okay, calm down.

So why is a looks disparity even an issue? I think it goes back to ideas of self-worth. It’s like that quote in The Perks of Being A Wallflower – “We accept the love we think we deserve.” We see a guy with a hot chick and be like, “Psh, motherfucker don’t deserve that. She must be with him for his money, LOL LMAO LMFAO ROFL blah blah blah troll troll troll.”

I admit, there was a point in life where I was that guy. But really, it’s frustration, insecurity, and a false sense of entitlement that give people this negative attitude that really stunt their growth.

I suppose what I’m really trying to communicate is a message to men out there.

Don’t get caught up in another man’s shit.

If you see a normal guy with a hot chick, don’t start hating. Why don’t you be motivated and inspired instead? Take an honest look at yourself and see how you can be a better, more well-rounded person.

Alright, that’s it. I’m done. This topic got me stressed.

– Chris.

 

Conor McGregor and A Lazy Ass Weekend

Where did the weekend go?

That’s pretty much how I always feel on Monday morning. Friday night to Sunday night always feels like a blur. We start off the weekend with the intent to be active and pursue personal interests – by that I mean drink, of course – as well as take ample time to rest, yet when the weekend is wrapping up, we wonder what the hell just happened.

Am I the only one who feels this way? I’m pretty sure that I’m not.

Here’s a quick rundown of my weekend: Friday night, Emily and I watched Nightcrawler (2014). It’s a decent movie, and I always appreciate movies that have an authentic, real depiction of Los Angeles – 500 Days of Summer (2009) and Drive (2011) are other good examples. That Rene Russo still looks good, by the way.

Afterwards, we met up with some friends for drinks at a bar, and per the usual, I partook more beverages than I should have. I didn’t get trashed nor was I hungover the next day, but still, at this point in my life a night of drinking can take all my energy away for the next day. As a result, Saturday and Sunday were uneventful and unproductive. I guess that’s where the weekend went.

Because I was so lazy on Saturday, I didn’t want to leave the house.

So how did I spend Saturday night? I ordered UFC 189.

I wasn’t expecting a whole lot, but it turned out to be the best UFC I’ve ever seen. I am a casual Mixed Martial Arts viewer – I can properly I.D. fighters like Jon Jones, Ronda Rousey, and Nick Diaz. But watching UFC 189 turned me into a fan of the sport.

I’m not here to give a recap of the entire fight card, but all five of the main card fights were pretty amazing.

Of course, the man who stole the entire show is the man who is taking the sport over by storm – Conor McGregor. He is charismatic, talks trash for days, and has the weight of his entire country of Ireland on his shoulders. It seemed like the MGM Grand Arena was full of Irish citizens on Saturday night. Were Conor to lose the main event fight, the streets of the Las Vegas Strip would have been full of angry, drunk Irishmen (uhh… Security???).

But Conor delivered on his promise, knocking out his opponent, Chad Mendes, in the 2nd Round. He talked a big game before the fight, and he backed it up in the Octagon.

Upon defeating Mendes, he fell to his knees, overcome with emotion. Here’s a man who gave all of himself to fulfill his destiny, with thousands of his countrymen flying all the way to Las Vegas to support him. Any person would be overwhelmed.

It was a great moment for Conor, Ireland, and the UFC.

I bring all this up to highlight the contrast.

Here I am, lazy as can be, not even wanting to step out of the house, watching Conor McGregor accomplish his dream of becoming a UFC Champion.

Blood, sweat, and tears. Endless hours of discipline, dedication, and determination. That’s what it took Conor to achieve his dreams.

The thing is, he had a dream, an actual goal that he wanted to accomplish.

Think about it – at some point in his journey he said to himself, “I want to become the best in the world.”

Most of us wouldn’t dare to think crazy thoughts like this. But Conor did, and he dedicated his life to getting to Saturday night, as the title belt was wrapped around his waist.

So what’s going on with our lives? Do we just live, and that’s it? Are we content to have our things, enjoy the two days of the weekend, never challenging ourselves? Is striving to accomplish unrealistic goals a fool’s errand?

For the greats, there will always be detractors, critics who think they are crazy and out of their minds.

I think it’s time put a little more crazy into my life.

– Chris.

 

Facebook Unfriending Is Awesome

I hate Facebook.

At least that’s what I thought. Over the years, this social media platform has become a wasteland of SPAM, meaningless status updates, and photos intended to promote one’s coolness.

Social media. It’s such a strange phenomenon – we can share ideas, photos, and events with friends, yet nowadays it’s a measuring stick for popularity, or unpopularity, as is the case for most of the world.

Thirsty? Go on social media. Want acquaintances to FOMO? Go on social media.

The other day, I was on Facebook and clicked on the “People You May Know” section.

I was quite horrified at what I saw.

How. The. Fuck. does Facebook know that I may know these people? The group was a weird mix from all over the place, mostly those that I don’t care to see.

It was like seeing a bad dream on my laptop screen.

I hate how smart the Internet is, oh but I love it too. C’est la vie.

It’s funny how an attitude adjustment can change the entire outlook of something.

My disdain for Facebook had gradually crescendoed into full-on loathing over the years. Then, at that moment, as I was on the “People You May Know” section, it hit me. The proverbial lightbulb went off.

Facebook was shit because I made it shit.

Why do I have all these friends? Why am I connected to so many people who I couldn’t care less about? What’s this need for everyone to accumulate more and more friends?

The solution was easy.

That night, I purged my friends list, unfriending over half of my so called friends. The ones I unfriended were a combination of: assholes, people I no longer cared to keep in touch with, people who polluted my feed with all sorts of bullshit, boring individuals, my family, etc. (just kidding about the family, I am so glad my parents are computer illiterate)

What was the result? Apparently, I have way less friends now. But c’mon, who really has hundreds of friends? Show me someone who does; I almost guarantee that I’ll hate that person.

But, my Facebook looks exponentially improved. There’s a lot less selfies and baby pictures now, which is great.

I’m not opposed to someone showing photos of their child, but every damn day? (Emily has gone over this already.)

God bless Jimmy Kimmel. He’s already celebrated National Unfriend Day for 5 years now. But I didn’t want to wait until November 17 to start cleansing my social media.

Over the years I had grown more hesitant to share anything on Facebook for the simple reason that I had so many friends that I didn’t want to share my shit with.

I actually enjoy people sharing photos, opinions, and ideas on Facebook, as long as they are honest and uncontrived.

I posted this message with my remaining friends after my purge, which felt amazing. It was a simple effort to control my content and to eliminate any unnecessary baggage.

Screen Shot 2015-07-06 at 8.25.29 PM

What if everyone was friends with their actual friends? Imagine that.

– Chris.

 

Are You Living Up to Your Full Potential?

As you already know, Chris and I ventured to Phoenix, Arizona this past weekend. We decided to travel by car instead of by plane, which meant we had a lot of time to talk about anything and everything (12 hours round-trip, to be exact). For Chris, it was torture; for me, it was Christmas.

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family roadtrip! phx bound! #pearls #roadtrip #phoenix #lhasaapso #shihtzu #summer #dogsofinstagram #instadog #family

On Saturday night we were sitting at the dinner table with my friends, some whom I have known for over a decade. I couldn’t help but notice the various life stages we are all in. My friends run the gamut: parents, students, professionals, entrepreneurs, starving artists. Despite the busy lives they lead, I was happy we were able to group together for a few hours.

I left feeling particularly impressed with one friend, a successful 40 year-old consultant turned entrepreneur, who in his personal life manages to compete in Iron Mans and still party like a Coachella rockstar.

I’m pretty sure I have been saying for 2 years now that I am going to complete a 10K…

Nobody-got-time-Meme_zpsf8695ef4

It got me thinking, how much of our potential are we using? I asked Chris to evaluate himself with a percentage.

At first Chris answered, 40%. My response was, “Really? I read somewhere that the average human uses 10%. 40% is quite high unless your first name is Elon, last name Musk.” After thinking about it further, Chris replied, “Okay. Maybe 20%.”

20%. I do this reactionary and obnoxious thing in my head as I ask Chris a question. I like to predict what he is going to say next and also answer my own question for myself. 20% is the exact number I would have said if someone asked me. But is it really 20%? If I think back at the past 24 hours, my day looked something like this:

7am – Woke up.
730am – Finished checking Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Pinterest, Missed calls, Text messages, Gchat messages, The Skimm, NY Times’ top stories. Got ready to seize the day!
8am – Walked Kang Kang. Picked up Kang Kang’s poop. Watered the two (dying) rose bushes in our ‘backyard’. Fed Kang Kang.
830am – Made breakfast and coffee. Began work.
6pm – Wrapped up work to make dinner. Walked Kang Kang. Picked up Kang Kang’s poop. Fed Kang Kang.
7pm – Depending on the day, it can vary with activities: exercise, yoga, practice piano, read, write, veg on guilty pleasures (damn Netflix and The Bachelorette). Today was a rare one – I jalked (jogged + walked) 2 miles, swept floors, unpacked, washed one load of laundry, wrote this article.
1130pm – Sleep and repeat.

My weekdays have become quite routine, which is fine. But if I honestly critique myself, I will admit I do not focus the entire 9 hour workday. What I do in the 9 hours I set for myself I could probably accomplish in 4 really focused hours. My 7pm-11pm activities (as of late) have been filled with vegging on guilty pleasures more often than exercise. When I do find the time to read or write, it’s typically been mindless status updates over published works.

I am betting most days I am closer to 10%. 

The Rabbit zodiac in me strives to be above average in everything that I do. Starting today, my new life goals consist of: limiting TV to a maximum of one hour a day; picking up more books; writing more articles; networking and volunteering more frequently… finally completing that 10K.

I was going to write this post on Monday and hashtag it: #MotivationalMonday. But since I procrastinated and it is now Tuesday, I will just hashtag this: #TuesdayTruth.

Don’t expect me to give 20% overnight,
Emily

Liquid Courage

I should know my limits by now.

Yet, every now and then I will revert to my twenty-year-old self. Back when I was a spring chicken, I would drink without noticing my increasing state of drunkenness, and without warning I would end up praying to the porcelain god.

I’d like to think that I’ve matured since then. My tolerance for the booze has lowered substantially. As a result, a buzz hits early and often, but this is just the warning sign I need. I can usually maintain a decent level of buzz for the night without it getting out of control.

But then there are nights like this past Saturday. Four IPA’s later, I had the genius idea to start drinking whisky. This is not recommended; remember the general rule of thumb:

Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear.

Beer before liquor, you’ve never been sicker.

One glass of Macallan 12 – neat of course, any self-respecting man shouldn’t drink whisky on the rocks; don’t be a pussy – would have left me just shy of oblivion. But alas, rookie mistakes still happen from time to time. I had just one more glass of Macallan, and that put me over the edge.

I would tell you what happened after that if I remembered. It was a #Blackout.

 

The next day, I went over the horrific details of the night’s end with Emily.

Some of the highlights include telling two friends that they should date each other – so not awkward – and a bar bouncer asking a friend if I’m alright – apparently I was running into people.

There was one thing that Emily pointed out which I found interesting. I asked her if I was at least being funny while I was drunk. Her response was:

One whisky Chris was good. Two whisky Chris was a hot mess.

 

A regular reader of this blog should be able to tell that I am constantly thinking about the state of men in terms of dating and interacting with women.

Saturday night got me thinking about how men often use alcohol for the purposes of girls. It’s called liquid courage – men use the buzz to give themselves the balls to approach and attempt seducing women. It’s why guys pregame before hitting the clubs.

Here’s my take on this issue – getting buzzed to talk to girls is an easy trick a guy can use, but it won’t make him better at talking to women, and that’s the key, really.

The good thing about alcohol is that for many of us, it will get us into a more talkative state. That’s a big plus for a single man looking to meet a woman out and about. No girl wants to have a conversation with a man and have it feel like talking to a wall.

Being buzzed can also help a man’s energy level. Most communication is nonverbal, and a lot of this is attributed to someone’s vibe. Be the friendly, positive energy guy, and a girl will give you the time of day, unless she’s miss antisocial or miss bitch. In that case, who needs her?

The bad thing about using alcohol is obvious – it impairs judgment. People are more incoherent and make less sense the more buzzed they get. They also forget things like a girl’s name, or other basic information that two strangers would exchange at a nighttime establishment. Men need to be in control of themselves and make sense when they meet women, so let’s not get trigger happy with the beverages.

I suppose the key is finding what works for you. Use drinking to be more social, not reckless. I’ll end it with a quote that we can all think about:

One shouldn’t drink to feel better, but to feel even better.

– Chris.