On a More Serious Note, Or, How to Lose a Friend

Although there are a few fun things I need to catch my posts up on, I wanted to share something a bit more serious today.

Last Tuesday, a friend of mine from college, Russell Jones passed away.  While I was not the closest to him, we shared a lot of close friends, four of whom I got the message from last Wednesday.  I spent a large part of the morning and afternoon still in shock, with brief periods of sadness as well as happiness as I looked over old photos and videos of him.  As much as social media can make us feel alone, the past week it's been a blessing, a way for his friends and family to share their good memories of Russell and well wishes for his family.  It has really helped me in feeling like 3,000 miles aren't so far.

But they are pretty far this week, when so many will be gathering to remember him.  A large part of me wishes I could be there, but knows when I go home in a few weeks I will pay my respects.  In the mean time, I can pay my respects in other ways.

I accept that all the things I'm about to say may be cliche, but they're also true.  I've seen Russell in any emotion, but most of the time, it was happy.  He was a person that couldn't keep that to himself - it spread to those around him, whether they joined in willingly or got dragged along for the ride.  His laugh made you smile, if not laugh yourself, and he was unashamed to do anything to get that out of you.  I truly believe the best moments in his life were those he shared making others happy or being happy with others.  He found his match in ridiculousness with one of our mutual friends, and I remember all the shennanigans they got into - I swear they were trying to top one another, and it made for a great show.

Russell was always up for adventures, or anything new.  He was one of the most active people I've met, following his feet into a novel experience over anything ordinary.  While he could sit and veg out like any college student, it never lasted a whole day - he would have to get up and release some energy or learn something.  He could be competetive when he wanted to be, but giving and loyal to those he trusted.  He could be insecure, but also seemed to be okay with that, taking things by the moment and savoring it.  Russell lived in the present, as his array of activities, hair-styles, and wardrobe were a testament to that. Ultimately, Russell enjoyed life, and particularly enjoyed it with others.

I'm not sure what I believe beyond the life that we live, but I do believe no one leaves without making the impact they were supposed to, or getting what really matters in life "right".  Russell won't get to do many things, but he also did a lot of things many people don't - he took many risks, had a variety of experiences, and made many people happy, even if momentarily.  For me, it doesn't matter how long Russell's life was because he lived most of it as full as he possibly could, and he challenged others to do that too.

The best way I can remember him is by doing the same.  When I reflect on the past year, my "fullest" moments come in so clearly - racing dolphins in a small boat with good friends, watching people dance as if they choreographed it to live bands, driving as fast as I dared while a friend lifted her arms and head out of my sunroof, seeing laughing faces in the light of a bonfire, and even in class, when a discussion was so inthralling I could tell everyone was on the edge of their seats.  The feelings I have in such moments are similar to many I shared with Russell - dressing and attending a themed party, or going drifting in the best snow of the winter in a Wal-mart parking lot.  The moments aren't always glamorous or everyone's idea of adventure, but they're the ones that make us feel connected to one another and maybe something bigger, the ones in which we are absolutely sure we are not alone.

Will that be a bit harder to remember in the wake of this? Maybe, and probably for some.  I can't say what he would or would not want now, but from here on out who Russell is is how we choose to remember him.  I want to remember his best self, and do my best to someday find mine.

Thanks for the laughs and adventures, Cupcake.  I'll be seeing you.

Percy, the Prius, Or, I Get Even More West Coast for a Bit

Better late than never?

So on Father's Day, which I spent with my maternal Uncle and cousins, I went to the grocery store.  As I was leaving said grocery store, I though it'd be fun to get in a fender bender.  When we connected I was more terrified than any other accident I had been in, although I was traveling exponentially slower.

After walking the 30-something year-old driver through the process (he literally ripped off and gave me his entire insurance card), I called my insurance company where the conversation went something like this.

InsuranceLady:  Can you describe the situation for me?

Me: Yes.  Essentially we were both parked in opposite spots in the same lane.  We must have backed out at the same time, because I saw no moving vehicles when I checked before backing out.  We met somewhere in the middle of the lane, and we had turned our cars in opposite directions because we connected at each other's driver's tailights.

IL:...So, you both rear-ended each other?

Me: Basically, yes.

IL: (audible sigh) Well, there's a first time for everything.

Her attitude was most helpful.

So while my dear car, Symon, went into the shop for ten days and sadly got his well-chosen bumper stickers replaced with a new bumper, I got to drive THIS:

Nothing says California* like a Prius - for those both economically and environmentally conscious, while perpertually in traffic.

Okay it was between this and a Black Challenger.  But since the only thing I had to pay for was the gas and I'm not trying to compensate for anything, the Prius appeared the winning choice.

Now I love my car - it's like a hybrid of the 90's and 00's.  Although a 2001, it has a cassette player, but it also has leather seats, a single CD player, and sunroof.  I like that it takes just over 5 minutes for the air to start being the temperature you desire and the emergency brake is in between the seats, like the gear shift.  I've been in more archaic cars, so I never thought it was far behind present models.  Until I got in this.

After figuring out the ignition was a button (as is the parking) and locating the parking brake by my left foot, the Jetsons and I proceeded to lift off and fly into the sky.

I tried to rid my head of the lyrics to "Black and Yellow" as I pressed to start, and spent the next 3 hours running errands, playing music from my phone wirelessly, accepting phone calls, checking my moment-to-moment MPG, and trying to figure out what the hell the "B" stood for on the gear shift (I decided on Badass).

But then I thought of Symon.  His leather seats, all the adventures we'd been on, the new hoods and bumpers he'd had,  his ability to survive minor flooding and the epic slurpee spill of 07/11/09, the trip across country that got me out to California in the first place...

How could I so easily forget my first car?  Faced with this shiny, efficient future, did the past mean nothing?

Eventually I got sick of all the music on my phone and was disenchanted to find in the manual that "B" only stood for engine Braking...something about going down hills, I don't know.  I was happy to see Symon again, although a slightly darker shade of blue and sticker free.

A week ago Symon turned the big 100,000.  My baby is a ripe middle-aged machine now, and I couldn' t be more proud.  I hope he sees 200,000, but even if he doesn't, I'll keep him til he goes to whatever heaven Disney-Pixar invents for cars.  I hope it has rides like the new park.

I have secretly always wondered if I could get to 150mph...but I'd just figure I'd wait until I get plutonium and my flux capacitor and a lightning storm strikes.  Sadly in CA, the latter is unlikely to happen any time soon.

And Amazon is all out of plutonium. Consistently.

And Dim Sum

A couple weekends ago, I joined two of my friends on a Saturday restaurant adventure.  One of the friends, Mia, had been there before, and thank god she had.  In a part of LA that had more Chinese written on the sign than English, she helped us navigate a shopping plaza to the top of the floor.  There weren't other stores at the top - the top was the restaurant.

The seafood restaurant flowed in a typical Hong Kong style Dim Sum.  We were seated at a table, brought tea, and then waiters with carts of a variety of foods would pass by and offer us whatever we would like.  The food comes in individual and sometimes bite-size portions served in steamers or plates, about 3-4 people servings.

Some of our dishes!

There were so many foods to choose from!  Any meat you could think of: pork, chicken, beef, fish, shrimp, squid, and lobster.  And they came in so many forms: fried, cooked as is (spare ribs), on sticks, Gao (rice-wheat dumplings), Bau (fluffy wheat buns with various fillings), soups, and even Phoenix Claws (fried chicken feet...we passed on this one).  So many vegetables were included in these dishes and a nice almond paste and taro to some dishes.  For dessert we chose and almond one, sesame rolls, and the more american pigs in blankets (they were just too cute!).

As we ordered our food, the cart waiters would stamp a sheet on our table with different numbers or shapes (see below).  We tried to decipher the system, but with no luck.

"If we get BINGO, do we get a discount?"

After a very filling meal and waving bye to the soon-to-be-dinner sea animals in tanks along a wall, we stopped by to get Boba tea on the way home.