what do you do?

what do you do?

a conversation with lilly yesterday unveiled a social interaction technique which i’ve been unaware of. after a bit of reflection, and analysis i now know what’s really going on..

at a party, or somewhere mingling with people i’ve never before met, i discovered a set of questions any and all ask.

in college it was
#1: “what’s your major?”,
#2: “where’s your hometown?”,
#3: “where do you live now?”

if nothing sparked from those three questions, chances were you were probably having the first and last conversation with that newly met person.

post-college a.k.a. the real world (or as i refer: “high school again”) there is only one question that people ask.

“what do you do?”

i told lilly that i dodge the question like neo in the matrix. there’s multiple reasons i do this. first reason: 9/10 chance that the next question from this newly met person is “oh, what is that, what do you actually do as a ____?” short story shorter, i end up talking about work. i talk about work at work, not at parties, bbq’s, clubs, bars, parking lots, kitchens, bedrooms, or street corners.

second reason: the categorization effect. as soon as you find out that someone is a harvard law graduate and works at the hottest law firm in the big bold city you live in, your mediocre ____ job just feels smaller. sometimes i’m the person feeling small, other times i’m the one making people feel small. regardless, i don’t like the situation either way. it kills the conversation, and upsets the comfort level.

third reason: david deangelo says not to. i wrote a blog about guys reading and watching videos in order to learn how to date/meet women. david deangelo was one of the guys selling the secrets to unlocking a woman’s wild side. i read a few of his posts and recall a few of his concepts. a key one was to avoid being boring. when a girl asks you what you do, don’t say you’re a computer engineer, she’ll yawn. tell her that you’re an underwear model!!!

deangelo’s technique was to be different. break the routine, be someone that she hasn’t met 14 times in the last six minutes.

point is, with “the question” on the table –you’re stuck talking about it. you’re making judgments/assumptions and so are they. basically you’re shooting down that fun, memorable, interesting interaction’s chance of happening between you and the newly met person.

i dodge. and dodge. and if they whip out the armor piercing bullets and ask “what job do you do for a living” i hit the trap door button and watch them fall down a shoot emptying into a pool full of hungry oversized crocodiles.

“hi i’m ____”
“hi. ameer, nice to meet you _______”
“so ameer, what do you do?”
“i normally eat, stand around, sometimes i have been known to talk to people”
“you eat? no i mean where do you work?”
“oh, work. well i’m working on growing a beard… how’s my progress”
“your beard looks…. errr *strange look* it’s growing”

from here i can tell if this person needs that ‘where in society does this person fit it’ feeling, or if they are willing to let go and hold the conversation that i feel should be held at parties, sidewalks, grocery stores, clubs, bars, lebowski fests, etc…

another pet peeve is the fact that everything reverts back to that job if it’s revealed.

“well, i like watching movies”
“oh, well since you’re an interior designer, you must like watching drama movies”

“i like fishing”
“ah yes, most of my friends in construction like to fish too. do you have a boat like they do?”

“i wrote a postcard to my friend when i was in france”
“oh, since you’re a journalist, do you, like, write everyone postcards when you travel”
“no, i thought the topless sunbathing woman with hairy armpits on the postcard was hilarious”

sure it aids in putting a memorable tidbit with a name, but c’mon. there’s thousands of other tidbits that can distinguish your acquaintances.

bottom line: what i do is not restricted to my occupational title. i blog too, and that’s just the ice berg’s tip.

drill

drill


$40.00 for that drill bit. gotta milk it for all it's worth.

coffee

brown energy


i don't drink coffee so much. when i do, i feel a difference. ambition, motivation, and creativity start to ooze from my fingertips. unless i'm not aware that coffee simply induces sweaty palms.

i wrote this small ode to coffee while high on the brown bean.

it’s not called frisco

i’m a self declared californian. california has 3 major parts to it. southern california (aka socal), central california (aka the armpit of california), and northern california (aka norcal). i’ve lived in san diego, orange county, los angeles, san jose, and san francisco. i have not lived in every city of the golden state, but i have lived in the largest three, plus some.

with credentials like these, the following opinions should be taken as fact, not simply the ideas of a califor. just as california is referred to as cali, cal, and the golden state, cities in california have more than one name.

these cities that i’ve resided in are also referred to by more than one name. some of these names are deemed ok by the people who live in the nicknamed cities, other names produce an immediate grimace.

starting with san diego (my initial city of residence): there’s names for san diego that us san diegans use, and other names that may get your face beat in if you say them with a serious face. why this phenomenon occurs is beyond me, maybe i’ll discover it someday and compose a book on why this happens. “sd” is an acceptable and used nickame for “america’s finest city”. if you have a bad taste in your mouth, saying “daygo” is a great way to have someone slap that taste right out. the fact that i just typed “daygo” on my blog almost upsets me.

next in my order of california residence is orange county. before the hit tv show, the o.c., orange county was referred to as o.c., “the” was added for emphasis. i’ve heard people talk about the orange curtain, describing the wall that keeps the orange county residents from pesky los angeles folks, or is it to keep those snooty orange county-ites in?

after living in orange county, i moved on up to los angeles. i didn’t live in the hip cool beach cruising part of la that rakes in brownie points for the city. i hung my hat in east la and south central. los angeles is known as la, and referred to by these two letters most often. the city of angels, to my knowledge, does not have a disliked nickname. angelic however i think not?

i then moved to san jose, also known as san jo (pronounced: san ho). i don’t know how people react to the one nickname of this dreadful place. i heard one person call it man jose, due to lack of females. i called it suck jose, cause i just hated this portion of the silicon valley. end of that.

and now i’m in san francisco. of all the cities i’ve lived in, san francisco holds the torch for most nicknames. san fran, frisco, sf, the city, and city by the bay are the ones that come to mind. i’ve even heard tales of a laundromat in san francisco that held the name “it’s not called frisco” which sounds about right to me since i’ve seen a place called brain wash – a bar/laundromat in south of market.


do people call dallas -dal? new york –n’ork? france -fran? all i know is what i’ve lived and seen. and personally acronyms are my favorite. sd, oc, la, sf, stupid san jose just doesn’t sound good as sj. i’m already over it.

picasa2

i have downloaded, installed, and enjoyed google’s picture management program: picasa2. it’s great! fast, smooth, easy, intuitive, and you can add names to the images. why is that a good feature? because it makes searching and sorting reall fast and easy.

for example, when i see a picture of james, hong, gene, and jon i simply put their names down. then whenever i look for a picture that has hong in it, i type his name in the search box. bam! i’m bombarded with portraits of the worst fisherman known to…. well man.

it’s great, but the labeling process is tedious since my photo collection is 10gb! (quick breakdown: 1 picture is ~600kb, 1024kb is 1 mb, 1024mb is a gb) that breaks down to 12,556 pictures and short video clips. i’ve got my work cut out for me.

one thing i noticed as i’m going through my many digital photos are the people in the photos. some of my photographed friends have very different expressions/looks/faces. and some people look the same, regardless. i’ve made a few examples-

efrain is very much case one:



james is very much case two:

sidekick on some entropy

i lost my sidekick a few months ago. i loved my sidekick, moreso than batman loved robin. and you know batman loved robin!

just a week ago, me and my sidekick were re-united! farewell to the fish phone!

with sidekick, i have found the path i so abruptly lost. it’s safe to say that i am back to my objective: conquering the world. how does one conquer the world with a mobile phone? easy! start a blog!

yes worthy blog reading enthusiasts, i have yet another blog in which i have given life. this blog is special. the blog is called sidekick on some entropy, and all posted to via my sidekick!!!

i can write and post pics straight from my phone. this means that anywhere i have tmobile’s gprs reception, i am blog ready! consider me a loaded gun. loaded blogger gun that is =)






LINK TO MY NEW SIDEKICK POSTED BLOG

big lebowski

dude? dud!

when it comes to fashion, i’m a dude. i mean i’m a dud. is there a difference?

i’ve been a huge fan of the big lebowski since i saw it weeks ago, and if anyone knows what i’m talking about when i refer to his wardrobe for that movie, you’ll catch my ‘dude’ humor. (his alias is ‘the dude’.)

i was looking at clothes the other day. i was looking at my clothes. a person’s clothes represent the person inside. a person’s clothes tell you who and what the person inside them are. appearance plays a much larger role than we let on. i’ve been rejected by girls who would otherwise throw themselves at my feet begging for my attention and affection, simply because of my appearance. yea, i kid you not!

as i was looking at my clothes, i meandered the path each garment had traveled to wind up hung and wrinkled in my closet. how did they get there? who bought these? what do these clothes say to people who don’t wear them, the people that have to see them.

mother buys most of my clothes. yes, still. i looked at my shoes –mom. the shirt i had on my back –hand me down from my younger brother. pants, mom. socks, mom. boxers, xmas, mom.

my clothes aren’t me, they don’t say ‘i am this-type-of-person’ to the world. my clothes serve the sole function of covering me and keeping me warm. my clothes say ‘these are the clothes that my loved ones think i’ll most likely wear’ i am not making a personal statement, nor am i giving a clear image of my persona via wardrobe.

i judge people based solely on their clothes daily, yet act as though i should be granted immunity by the fashion gods. thou can’t judge me!

maybe, just maybe, i should look into spending more of my money on clothes, and less of my money on computers i don’t need. sure it’s great to have all your mp3’s and .avi’s in a pc that runs in your car on a 7” touch screen. but the right brand of jeans will do me wonders.

video and music

audio/video memories

i loved rap. my mom and dad hated the ‘glorification of ghettos’ that rap implanted into my young and impressionable head. why do you like to listen to people talking about bitch this, fuck that, shoot you in the face, fuck fuck fuck. it really was gold hearing my parents mimic cypress hill and nwa.

nobody over 23 years old knew who lords of the underground, blackmoon, pete rock, south central cartel, masta ace, or a tribe called quest were. these groups were huge, but huge within in a small demographic. at least they were in my local suburban high school world.

flash forward to today, they renamed rap to hip hop and made eminem and 50cent international superstars. i’ve been to technology seminars where 50 year old men in suits talk about downloading the latest 50cent songs off the net. wft? only 10 years prior i was being grounded for buying rap crap with parental advisory stickers for uncensored lyrics.

rap was what i liked, it was cool. hearing witty rhymes, the creative use of words, and of course the raw emotion that rappers conveyed drew me in. my friends liked rap too, but i don’t think they liked it as much as i did. i wanted my driver’s license solely for the fact that i could go to wherehouse music stores and dig through used cd sections

each rapper had his own style, each producer left a fingerprint on his beats, and each album has a nostalgic feel to it.

i liked rap so much, that i’d get home from school as soon as possible in order to catch rap city, on b.e.t. i’d tape the music videos on vhs tapes and share with my friends. if we only had broadband internet and p2p filesharing back when i was 14 years old, i would have been glued to my computer. ha, i currently am glued to my computer.

the music videos directly affected how i felt about the songs. some music videos were so fun, so magical, and so memorable that i would grow an affinity to the song. i’d play the song and remember the video in my head. i’d relive how cool i thought it was (example: dr. dre’s nothin’ but a g thang i wish i was in that video! bow wow wow yippie yo yippie yay.)

some songs were opposite. i’d like the song, watch the video, and start to dislike the song. i.e. wu tang clan’s m.e.t.h.o.d. man, they could have done so much better, and i’m not knocking the lowbudget. it was just a poor vid.

i’ve come to love videos with music. not just music videos, all video with music over it.

almost every movie has that scene in it. i call it the music scene. it’s the part of the movie where time goes really fast, things happen. it’s not just a song with a scene, its many quick scenes. daniel san learns karate, two people get to know eachother, the team starts playing many different games and starts winning. sometimes it’s just a slow motion walk from the club to the car like in swingers, etc. these scenes are what i live for. that and electronics =)

i have done some stabs at video editing and such, and plan to stab more and more. imagine that ‘reeeh reeeeh reeeh’ sound and the motion made famous by alfred hitchcock.

songs resurface the memories you have tied to them. if that song was used over an awesome bit of video, then that memory of the video will resurface when you hear the corresponding song. i recently watched a movie that i can’t stop talking about, survive style 5. it’s japanese, yet uses the cake song ‘i will survive’, in a musical scene. after watching the video with that song playing, i immediately felt a need to hear that song again. a song i didn’t really like, is now marked with five stars on my itunes playlist.

i look forward to making more of these video audio treats that i appreciate so much. i hope you are too.

aa

aa
(setting) alcoholics anonymous:

hi, my name is _____. and i’m an alcoholic.



is this backwards to only me? anonymous? the thoughts that come to me while cooking spam and eggs over rice!?

"sitting, wishing, waiting"
- jack johnson

mom and dad never really pushed me to meet girls. a girlfriend wasn’t high on mom and dad’s priority list, in fact it didn’t make the list. focus for our hero was: grades, health, extra curricular activities, keeping promises, telling the truth, helping others, grades again, and all the other goodies that parents want their children to do while growing up. i’ve never heard my mom or dad say, “why don’t you have a girlfriend? when are you going to have a girlfriend? when are you planning on getting married? am i to expect grandchildren anytime soon?”

when i hear my friends talk about their parents asking these questions, i can’t relate.

on a few occasions when the subject has popped up, mom simply told me “it’ll just happen”.

i’ve blindly fallowed my mom’s advice. i sit at the bus stop. unsure if there is a bus to come pick me up.

let’s take a step to the side, and look back upon my ‘big things’ (job, friends, school, etc…). getting a job was no cake walk. finding a job is a full time job. school also didn’t just come to me, school required lots of work and sacrifice. friends require effort as well. it took work and elbow grease to establish the friendships i’ve built.

so why then, do i sit on my ass and let the woman of my dreams come wallowing into my arms? does this happen?

why are other parents pushing school, grades, a good job, and the fact that being married at 26years of age is rather common, even in california. more so, my posed question is, why aren’t my parents pushing the significant other panic button?

living organisms exist basically to procreate. passing the genes on, and keeping life going is the only thing left when you boil away life’s bs. and i’m suppose to just sit on my hands? cause it’ll just happen?

have i been going about life entirely backwards? has everyone been pushing for and pursuing that which i’ve just sat and waited for? i couldn’t have attained a degree by just letting it come to me, nor a job. how do i expect to find myself in a relationship?

the thing is, mom and dad have never steered me wrong. they have 75+ combined years more experience than i do on this planet.

i ask myself how did they meet? did they find each other while focusing on the other “important things”? did mom and dad experience a freak occurrence by meeting and falling in love by simply waiting for it to just happen? have they passed me down advice that only works for 1 in 1,000 people?

maybe she will read this post, feel the electricity tingle her spine, and fall into my arms with the ease and confidence that mom and dad have raised me with. if not, then i’ve got a lot of not-doing-anything to do.