Echo

What’s a prudent amount of money for someone my age (26) to have in a savings account? I went to the ATM to make a deposit the other day and when the receipt printed out, it fell on the ground. So I picked it up, but accidentally picked up someone else’s receipt (the ground was littered with them), and this person had about $27,600 in his/her account. CHECKING account!! Needless to say, that definitely wasn’t my account balance, though I wish it were. How do you determine what percentage of your paycheck should go into savings each month? I’m terrified of ending up broke and homeless.

Breathing Underwater

You know how you’ve been told your whole life that when you go underwater, you have to hold your breath? Or very bad things will happen? Like dying?

I used to have recurring nightmares where I would see a tidal wave coming and I would be running away and screaming for my family to run, but knowing that no matter how fast I ran, I was still going to drown. And the inevitability of it made me feel so desperate and terrified. As the water crashed over me, I struggled against my fear and my impending death.

Until a funny thing happened. One night, when the wave came down and I found myself underwater, I just accepted it and relaxed, and breathed. And then I realized…I could breathe underwater. And somehow, just mastering a recurring nightmare and the element of inevitable doom within it made the biggest difference in my waking life.

That dream is so symbolic. We’ve all been told that no matter what, when you’re literally underwater, you hold your breath or very bad things will happen. I mean, obviously, it’s scientifically proven that if you try to breathe underwater, you’ll probably drown. But it also represents the things in our life that we’ve just accepted because we fear the consequences that have been ingrained in us, despite the fact that we’ve never challenged those assumptions. We’re put in cages early on in our lives, and have just accepted our captivity, never testing the door to see if it is, in fact, unlocked.

In my dream, once I’m underwater, I assume I’m gonna die. But once I challenge what others have told me to accept as the Truth and find that it’s actually untrue, the freedom I felt was beyond words.

Sometimes I think dreams are test runs. You test the boundaries of life, the rules and technicalities. While whatever consequences that arise are erased by the morning hour, the lessons learned and secrets unraveled are your keys to empowerment in your waking life.

In this case, once you realize that you can symbolically breathe underwater, you’ll realize that you’re so much bigger than just your life here on earth and therefore, there’s nothing within it or about it that can cage you or destroy you.

UPS misdelivered a package to our office, and have informed us that we can keep it. Inside, we found boxes of hypodermic needles. You can imagine the scary hijinx that have now ensued.

Julia Angry…

Just got back from the Warriors/Clippers game. The Warriors dropped back to 0-3, losing another one tonight with sloppy play. They just don’t have much chemistry out there. I think they’ll get better as the season progresses.

So let’s talk about my shitty little hick town of Fremont, California. Back in the day, it was all white trash of the cowboy variety. And then Silicon Valley boomed and it became the residential city for Silicon Valley multimillionaires, their employees, and random sports superstars. Not to mention, M.C. Hammer before he dropped the “M.C.” Obviously, the cowboy-up folks hate the Asians, who comprise nearly 60% of the population. There was quite a stir a few years back when some letter eloquently ladened with racial slurs hit an internet message board talking about how all the foreigners in this town need to go home. So seeing how prosperous this town is and how every other car is a German luxury car (or minivan), it’s easy to forget that at heart, Fremont used to be run by white trash.

This morning, my brother and I were crossing a major intersection of the affluent side of town. From the far side of the six-lane road, some guys in a souped up truck were stopped at the light. The driver rolled down the window, pointed and yelled at us, then flipped us off. My brother and I kind of looked around like, “Who’s he pointing at?” before realizing it was us. I grab my brother’s hand as the crosswalk signal turns white and we cross the street. As we approach the truck, the driver of the car demands that my brother “come here.” I can feel my brother scared as he presses closer to me. I whisper to him to ignore the guys. He keeps trying to get my brother to approach the car but when we continued walking, he calls my brother a name and flips him off, then the other guy opens his door like he was gonna come fuck with us. Complete harassment. From a couple of white trash punks.

OH. MY. GOD. There is 1 think you absolutely DO NOT do around me. YOU DO NOT FUCK WITH MY BROTHER. You can fuck with me and I’ll still want to beat your ass, but if you fuck with my brother…I turn into the Hulk and go CRAZY. My temper is explosive in those situations and I have trouble seeing around my rage. Thankfully, it doesn’t get triggered often. But today, I almost lost it. I started shaking when I realized my brother was scared and was ready to yank that kid out of his car and throw down with him, and if I had been in my car with my bat in the trunk, I would have gotten it and had some words. Man, I almost exploded. If we had been anywhere else but in an intersection, walking in front of their car, I would have probably gotten into something. Words at best. But obviously, it was a bad situation that would have turned out really badly if I had reacted.

I know the high road is to always walk away. Bigoted pieces of trash are idiots and obviously, I have and will always have a better life than those guys. I’ve experienced all kinds of senseless injustices either from racism or from people envious of my social status (see: Person Who Shat In the Showers), and it sucks hardcore and makes me rage inside, but when it’s directed at my brother who’s defenseless…it just ain’t right.

Anyway, I’m glad that we walked away. Nothing good was going to come out of that situation. But the saddest thing, is I asked my brother, if I wasn’t around, if he would have gone over to that car. He said, “Well, I wouldn’t if you were there and you told me not to, but if I was by myself, then yes because he told me to.” And that made me scared and really sad. I don’t think they would have physically hurt him. My guess was that the guy was going to spit on him. But Christ. I worry about my brother so much. He’s far too innocent, and people are far too fucked up out there, just looking to outlet sadism and their frustration with life by destroying something pure and beautiful.

I’m angry tonight. I’d like to meet up with those guys in a dark alley somewhere, no cars, just me and them. Okay, and my baseball bat. I’m not completely stupid.

Do You Like Pina Coladas?

Okay, I was just at the gym with my mom and saw they had a Pina Colada smoothie. So I started singing that song to my mom and when I got in the car, it was playing. The universe is synchronized. In this case, I don’t know if it’s a good thing!

So I’m up in the bay area. Came here for the Warriors/Jazz game last night and the Warriors/Clippers game tonight. If ya’ll miss me and want to see me on TV, check out the Clippers game, every time they show the Warriors bench. Our seats are right behind the Warriors bench. First seats, first row. If you see an older Chinese man with a round face and glasses and his arms crossed and looking really serious like he’s part of the coaching staff, look for me right next to him. That’s my dad.

Last night was my first game this season. First game watching Derek Fisher live. When he first got into the game, they called a timeout, so he was standing about 4 feet in front of me in the huddle. That man has GUNS. His arms…are gorgeous. Perfectly chiseled. Oh my God. I have an arms fetish, as exhibited by the period of my life between 10-13 years old when all I would compulsively sculpt was ripped, chiseled arms from shoulders to hands, usually posed in full-flexed glory while arm wrestling (don’t ask…I don’t know either). Anyway, I kept staring at his arms in awe. And then I would notice him noticing so I would look away, and when he looked back down I would stare again. And then he would catch me again and I would look away, and then I would stare again. I felt terrible. But it couldn’t be helped. Damn this Scorpio influence. Revving up my primitive drives. All I want to do these days is objectify men.

The thing I was pissed about last night was that Troy Murphy made an awesome move under the basket to get around Boozer (who’s a monster) and failed to finish with an easy bank-in. Then the crowd booed him. What the fuck, people? This poor kid missed all but 28 games last season, worked his ass off to get back in shape and we booed him. This is why no one likes to play for Golden State. I’ve watched Murph play for years and the guy works hard. He’s probably harder on himself than anyone else. You’ve got these talented players who are lazy and don’t give a fuck. And then you’ve got the guys who work their asses off and become great through sheer willpower and heart. Murph is one of the latter. And then he gets booed by his home crowd when he’s struggling and most needs support. I was pissed. His struggles are psychological. He wants it too badly. He just has to relax and get into his rhythm. And not have his own crowd booing him.

On a different subject, our whole family was in the car last night coming back from the game, and my mom suddenly says, “Your dad wanted me to tell you not to go to clubs by yourself anymore.” I asked her, “When do I go to clubs by myself?” She said, “In Vegas.” So even though my dad was in the car with me, he had my mom pretty much tell me, “Your dad thinks you’re slutty.” And my mom thinks I’m a virgin. They need to combine their two views and find the middle ground because despite my extreme contradictory Gemini projections, that’s about where I sit.

That’s all for now. I woke up this morning and found that Michael had placed a tiny teddy bear (about 4 inches long) by my head to keep me company while I slept. He is the sweetest person in the world.

Have a great weekend, guys!

The Grandaddy of All Inappropriate Office Conversations

Eddie: Hey Julia, come here.
Julia: What’s up?
Eddie: Avi and I were just talking and we have a question for you.
Julia: Hit it from the front to the back. If she’ll like it like that?
Eddie: Avi thinks that girls would be more into gay porn than lesbian porn because you have two guys going at it. But I think he’s wrong.
Julia: Oh, you’re asking the wrong person. I personally think gay porn is awesome and I can’t stand two girls going at it because it bores me to death and I just don’t like it. I don’t even like seeing two girls and a guy, but two guys and a girl is awesome. But don’t measure by me because most girls actually enjoy watching girl on girl. I don’t think very many are into gay porn.
Avi: See I thought they would like gay porn because there’s more dick.
Eddie: You’d think that but they just aren’t into it but I don’t know why.
Avi: Maybe it’s cuz they can’t imagine themselves in that situation.
Julia: I think it’s because gay porn caters to men so it’s all about fucking. And girls want more sensuality. I think that’s why some girls I know say they actually like watching girl on girl.
Eddie: And it’s probably weird for a woman to see a guy acting like a female. I don’t mean as far as sexual positions, but the way they act.
Julia: Have you ever SEEN a gay porn?

[Eddie pauses for a really long time]

Eddie: No.
Julia: You have two ripped masculine guys going at it. I think it’s solely about fucking. I mean, obviously, a woman would prefer to watch a straight couple, followed by two women, but most women aren’t going to be into two guys. I think I’m an anomaly though because if I had to choose between two guys and two girls, I would prefer two guys because I just don’t like watching two girls. It weirds me out. And plus, I think I was a straight gay guy in a past life who fell in love with straight-seeming guys who were in the closet because women and straight guys and most gay guys are all too much drama for me.
Avi: Does this mean you love anal?

[long pause]

Julia: That’s a totally inappropriate question. And only with strangers.

Love…What Is It Good For? Absolutely Nothing.

(No wait. That’s WAR.)

Okay, I’m not going to rant anymore about this election.

Random notes from today:

-I was at physical therapy, waiting in the room for my therapist. I laid down on the table and suddenly, just started thinking about Elton Brand (of the LA Clippers). His face just popped into my head and I couldn’t stop thinking about him, so I thought, Elton Brand must have been in this room before. At the end of the session, my PT was packing ice on my back and we started talking about basketball. He tells me that he played fantasy and started naming players on his team. He says, “And I had Elton Brand who was great for blocks. In fact, Elton’s been on this very table. I was working on him and he was giving me fantasy tips.” WHOA. What a trip. I believe in residue energy. We leave residue energy the way some people leave scents in a room. Always try to be a good person. Because good residue energy feels nice, and bad energy is about as uncomfortable as a mysterious, lingering stench.

-Took my mom to Cafe Des Artistes for dinner. Saw Chris Evans from Not Another Teen Movie. All I kept thinking about was that one scene where he walks in naked except for the strategically placed whipped cream. Beautiful shoulders.

-My mom and I were talking about the war and my mom says, “I hope we’re sending prostitutes over there.” I’m like, “What?” She says, “The government has to do that. Provide that service. Like when your dad was in the military, they had hookers on the base. Because men are different, you know?” Ohmygodohmygod. Too much information.

-I told my mom my theory that homosexuality is actually more natural than people think, because back when men were more primitive and went on hunting expeditions that lasted for days/weeks, what do you think they were doing while they were huddled together in the woods? With a physical, imperative need for “release?” Yeah. Think about it. It’s physically required for men to have that release to function well. And back in the day, they would fuck anything. (Back in the day??? Who am I kidding! They still will) They’re instinctively driven to it, almost survivalistically, and this taboo on it is a relatively recent social development started by a religious minority. I think more happens in the military during stressful times (ie war) than people want to admit.

Today’s Mood: Love to love you, baby.