8 Asians

I’ll post about my adventures in Canada soon enough, but first I wanted to talk about a side project that I’ve been working with a couple of people - 8 Asians.

8 Asians is a collaborative blog of eight different people of Asian decent. We’ll be posting about whatever Asian issues are currently relevant in our lives, whether it be pop culture or current events or politics. Think “The View,” with Star Jones and Rosie O’Donnell and that chick from Survivor. Now, replace them all with Asian-Americans and Asian-Canadians. Yeah.

My role in this weblog is one part editor, one part blogger, one part casting director because I’m trying to cast a bunch of different writers. Some of the writers are relatively familiar, while others are first-time bloggers. That’s on purpose. Admittedly, the blog is pretty rough both in terms of design and process, and I’m doing this in my free time when I’m not working at the start-up, but it’s something to pass the time, I suppose. (And, if you’re a writer interested in writing about Asian-American issues that might want to be on the blog at a later time, let me know.)

The Gayest Vacation Ever

On Saturday, I am leaving for a week-long trip to Miami, for the Miami Gay & Lesbian Film Festival.

If this seems a little out-of-character for me, it’s because it is: I’m going as a guest of my friend Royce, who won tickets, airfare and hotel accommodations to the festival through a contest. I’m actually the fourth person he chose, since his boyfriend isn’t over the age of 21, another friend is getting ready for the Peace Corps and yet another friend is in Arizona.

Seriously, I’ve never been so excited to be fourth string in anything, ever.

While I’ve been to Disneyworld three or four years ago, I know enough to know that Miami isn’t the same as Orlando. What I DO know about Miami consists the following: Miami Vice, The movie “The Bird Cage,” Gloria Estefan and Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. So basically, the image in my head is of the following: Nathan Lane in a hot pink bikini, listening to his Walkman (NOT his iPod, mind you, his WALKMAN) while he’s rollerskating down South Beach. Then some random guy in a Hawaiian shirt comes up to him, does a line of cocaine and shoots him in the back of the head. The End.

On top of all of this, Royce and I are going to spend a day or two in Key West, which single-handedly makes this the gayest vacation I’ve ever been on. (Seriously, have you browsed the gay accommodations in Key West? Christ, I’m going to feel like I’m trapped in an 80’s Chaturbat porno movie.)

I’m handling all of this with a mixture of excitement and absolute horror; while Royce is getting an outfit, his hair done and has appointments at tanning salons planned, it’s not really my thing, personally. And as a result, I might have to apologize to the locals later for how tubby and pale I am, walking around their city full of beautiful people. If nothing else, it’ll make for an interesting blog post. (And if you’re in the area, of course, let me know one way or another.)

Two Things I’ve Learned From Eating Alone in Vancouver

Two Important Lessons I've Learned

This is the first time I’ve eaten out alone. Well, okay, the first time I’ve eaten alone that isn’t a fast food restaurant or a burrito truck or coffeehouse, but an actual restaurant where the point of the institution is to sit there with someone else, eating food together. Eating out has always been a social activity for me. I don’t go to bars alone, don’t go to movies alone and have never gone to a nice restaurant alone before. And yet, here I am, taking blurry camphone photos of myself while the two Japanese girls in the school uniforms roll their eyes at me.

For one reason or another, I thought it would be more difficult than it actually is. As I end up more and more in strange cities where I know very little Jasminlive people, I figure I should start getting used to this feeling; being strangely alone, but not necessarily lonely. (Or is that the other way around?) Now all I have to do is be able to stand hanging out at a gay bar by myself and I’m all set.

Someone told me that even the bad sushi in Vancouver is great sushi. THIS IS A BOLD-FACED LIE, especially if you go to that one sushi house on Main Street and Broadway. Bacon-wrapped scallops should never be in a bento box. EVER.

Moving to San Francisco

All the talk about taking a new job at Brickhouse brings me to this point as well: Starting in July, I am renting out my unit in Fremont and moving to San Francisco. And not just anywhere in San Francisco, but in the Mission District. I used to joke that the Mission was a place where only two types of people exist: heroin junkies and Live jasmin product managers. Well, burn me a spoonful of drugs and give me a copy of Microsoft Visio, because I’m comin’ home.

To illustrate the contrasts between my current and future living situations, I’ve written a simple list.

Commute time:

Fremont: 1.5 hours including traffic and parking and time sobbing in the men’s restroom from the stress of commuting

SF: 20 minutes, walking and BARTing

Building style:

Fremont: Two-story condominium, build in the 90’s, vaulted ceilings. Actually, not too bad.

SF: A Victorian, converted into three separate units. A fucking Victorian! It’s like I’m going to be living in Full House, except not in a safe area and there’s absolutely no boys that will grow up into born-again Christians, meth addicts or socialites. There will, however, be a laugh-track machine.

Fremont: Greater in number, mostly Indian or Taiwanese, agitated due to the apartment complex not allowed them to play outside due to liabilities

SF: Fewer in number, agitated due to their mothers previous heroin addictions; may or may not be in a street gang

Neighboring commercial building of establishment:

Fremont: Kentucky Fried Chicken

SF: Lexington Club (For the record, this will actually be the second time living next to a lesbian establishment. I know, crazy, right? I was also going to be a really inappropriate comment about chicken or fish, but that got self-censored by my notoriously refined taste in humour. With a fucking u; that’s how refined it is, bitches.)

Neighbors:

Fremont: Angry older woman in her 50’s with tall plants in her patio to prevent neighbors from looking in. Has a bobblehead cat on her SUV.

SF: Laurie, who referred me to the apartment. Fellow gay geek, no bobblehead cat that I am aware of. +10.

Parking:

Fremont: Ample, but I have a parking space.

SF: Shitty, but I have a parking space.

Social life:

Fremont: Zero, on a scale of one to, well, anything

SF: It’ll be at least a million times better; unfortunately, a million times zero is still zero.

Returning to Yahoo!

A couple of months ago, I had written a blog post where I had announced I was leaving Yahoo! to pursue an opportunity in Vancouver. Maybe if this website wasn’t so public I would go into some of the details; instead, I’ll simply say that lessons were learned, photos of myself sitting alone in restaurants were taken. Once it became obvious that I wouldn’t be moving to Vancouver any time soon, there was a lot of moments working from Internet cafes and watching television at home. (Did you know Bob Barker isn’t on The Price is Right anymore? Or that Rosie O’Donnell was once on The View? I KNOW!)

When it was time for me to start looking for jobs, applying to Yahoo! again wasn’t even remotely on the radar - besides, who leaves a company only to come back to it, right? - until Kevin told me about an opportunity at Yahoo! Brickhouse, Yahoo!’s experimental start-up incubator in San Francisco. When he told me about the project, the types of things I would be doing, as well as some of the fantastic people involved - people I respect professionally as well as am friends with in real life - well, I had to at least see what kind of trouble I could get myself into. (I’m under NDA so I can’t really say much besides that. If anyone really gives me a hard time, I’ll just say I work on Gay Pipes or something.) This job is also giving me an opportunity to move out of Fremont and to the Mission, but that’s for another blog post.

So we’ll see.

By the way - just so we can get it out of our system now: I’m a Brick… Hooouuuse. Yes, I’m might-tay might-tay, just lettin’ it all hang out, yes yes. I know. It’s the name of a popular song in the 70’s. I get it.