Wanting a Wonderful Life (or Searching for George Bailey)

Wednesday was such a grueling, amazing, shocking, and intriguing day. I'm in full job-search mode now, and Tuesday I visited two completely different worlds. One was the world of the non-profit. The other was the world of the corporation. And I felt pressures on both ends of the spectrum, and in the end I found myself hoping to find a third, middle-ground.

Facing the People

So on Tuesday afternoon, I went to two non-profits. First, I visited one of my alumni friends working at a labor union. I never met up with him, but fortunately I ran into an old classmate who I hadn't seen in years. She was really helpful, especially since she was only three years ahead of me in the game and gave me some fresh experience.

Now I had a few friends work for the labor movement, and from what I understand, it's extremely emotional. The organizers go through really great highs, and rock bottom lows. The people I know who end up staying in the movement tend to be very intense people who can withstand the emotional roller coaster. My friend was no exception.

She told me that she was on a high that day because she didn't have to go out to the street, organizing workers. Organizing on the street requires a lot of dedication, resilience, and patience. Apparently, the organizers take a lot of crap. They knock on workers' doors and get shut out, fearing to lose their job by being associated with the union. Other workers are frustrated that the union isn't doing enough, and the organizers take the brunt of their ire.

It may sound to you that the workers are real bastards, but consider that this job is life or death to them. The workers take a lot of crap themselves: low wages, long hours, no benefits, bad working conditions, etc. Considering their position, you'd think that they'd welcome the union with open arms, but joining the union sometimes requires that they put their jobs, their lives, on the line. As an organizer, you are forced to confront the realities of people who've had it really hard, and you have to face their fears head on.

After about an hour at the labor offices, and stopping by another non-profit, Search to Involve Pilipino Americans, and getting more career guidance from the Director, my friend Joel Jacinto, I buttoned up my shirt, put on my tie, and left for Downtown LA where I had a date with the skyscraper.

Facing the Numbers

I gave myself an hour to drive three miles in Downtown LA. Good thing to; after the traffic and navigating the maze that would require an engineering degree to navigate, I entered the parking structure, neglecting to see the rate because I only had 15 minutes left to get there (by the way, the answer to my previous entry was ‘a’), I parked, went up the elevator, and checked in with security before going up.

When the time came, they gave us our badges and sent us up to the 43rd floor. We walked into what looked like a classroom, except instead of looking out the window at a street, you saw half of Los Angeles. There were two proctors, suits and all, and they gave us a low-down of what we were actually doing there. They showed a video from their PR department, accentuating all the smiling faces and how Wells Fargo is a dynamic place to work blah blah blah, and we proceeded to take the test.

The test reminded me a lot of SAT. Multiple choice. Standard format. Half logic problems, half math problems. But one intriguing aspect was the content of the questions. Example: “Company X donates $600,000 to charity last year. The board of directors votes to cut their charity donations this year by 20% to increase cash dividends to their stockholders. How much did Company X donate this year?”

Before answering the question, my first instinct was think: “Fuck you, Company X! You’re probably profiting by the millions; you fucking owe the public for your wealth, you rich assholes!” I then answered the question.

We finished taking the test around 9:30 PM, and the proctors left the room to grade them. They asked us to wait a while longer to get the results. While we were waiting, I conversed with a few of my cohorts who were taking the test. I was surprised with how far people came to take this test: Michigan, Texas, Connecticut. The woman who sat next to me commuted two hours on buses from Alhambra to get there. They also had diverse backgrounds: some were recent grads like me, a few had some banking experience, some had been in sales, two, specifically, were escaping the sinking ship that is the music industry. One in particular was a big fan of scuba diving and regulars a scuba shop just a few minutes from my place. I’m thinking of taking it up, when I can generate income, that is.

Twenty minutes later, the proctors came back and called out the names of the people who passed. Out of 30 or so in the room, they called out 10, mine being one of them (of course I had to pass, I’m an engineer, damnit!). They asked everyone else to leave while we stayed to go over logistics for the next phase.

They then went and quasi-interviewed each of us. “Where are you from?” “Why do you want to work here?” “Give me an example of when you had to make a sale under pressure.” That’s when things started to feel a little weird. It was kind of like everyone transformed into these caricatures from reality television. And I took my role too: Hotshot college graduate who wants to climb to the top. It was a fun role to play, in a weird, out-of-body experience kinda way.

When all was said and done, it was 10:30, and we were all brain-dead. I took the elevator down, learned that my car was being taken hostage (must be because I’m a Washington Mutual Customer), went out to the ATM to pick up the cash, and drove back home.

"Where Are You, Mr. Bailey?”

While driving back, I reflected on the day, and distinctly remember feeling pressure in both settings, but for different reasons. While at the union, I felt the pressure to confront the realities of the people. While at the corporation, I was pressured to turn the other way, to instead focus on the numbers and achievement. But in both cases, I found myself getting consumed and torn away from what was most important to me, family.

Yes, and the irony does not escape me; the idea that family is the most important thing to a man who consciously moved AWAY from home to find a career. But I find that being away from home takes away a lot of distractions, and lets me focus on what I really want. And I know it seems a little early to take about providing for a family and parenting, but I also know that careers have a way of transforming you. And they can transform you two different ways: it can affirm you, or it can consume you.

Maybe I was just ignorant, but in both those extremes, I felt like part of me was being consumed. Like taking that road would take me further away from being the father I want to be to my kids. I’m usually really articulate, but right now, I can’t quite articulate what that ideal is. Sometimes you just have to go with your gut, and I just didn’t feel like I belonged there. Continuing to drive, I continued to ponder my possibilities, when the strangest thing popped into my head. I thought about George Bailey.

George Bailey is the main character from the Christmas classic, "It's A Wonderful Life". It’s one of my favorite movies of all-time. I have the DVD, and even in the scorching temperatures of July, I'll pop in this Christmas tale of a man who realizes the impact one person can make on the world. Jimmy Stewart is one of my all-time favorite actors, and his portrayal of George Bailey immortalized him as the all-American good guy: works hard, big dreams, always there for his friends & family, occasionally stumbles & falls, but always rises to the occasion. I’ve always looked characters in movies and television to find admirable traits to emulate, but there is no character, except maybe one, that has had as deep and meaningful impact on my life as George Bailey (the other being Jean-Luc Picard from Star Trek: The Next Generation).

I guess he came up because when I look at an ideal of what I want, I look at him. He has a beautiful wife and family. He has a job that fulfills a real need in the community, helping the working class own homes of their own. It pays decent and provides for his family. And he gets enormous respect from all who know him.

But at the same time, there was one part of his life that I absolutely wanted to avoid: he hated his job. His love for the community always seemed to be at ends with his own ability to provide for his family. At his lowest, his job had consumed him, and put him at the brink of suicide. It had separated him from his ideals of family and community, and left him at the point of desperation.

I have to believe that you can have it all. A healthy and loving family, a career that falls in line both with my skills and my ideals, and the respect from everyone around me. Or is it just my college ideals talking? Am I just asking for too much?

I just hope Heaven reads online journals, because I could use a guardian angel, 2nd class right now.

For a Job Selection at Wells Fargo, I Had To Take a Test

Here's a sample question. See if YOU can get it right.

For each premise, give one of the letters for the conclusion, according to the following key:

a. necessarily true
b. probably, but not necessarily, true
c. inconclusive, it cannot be determined
d. probably, but not necessarily, false
e. necessarily false

Premise: Randy yells profanity at the top of his lungs when he pays more than $20 for parking. Randy parks at the Wells Fargo Center at 7 PM and leaves at 10:30 PM.

Conclusion: If the rate of parking at the Wells Fargo Center is $5 for every 12 minutes, Randy yells profanity at the top of his lungs.

Temporary Madness

Have you ever just gotten up in the middle of the night and felt like you were losing your mind? I kinda had one of those moments just now. I'm thinking that's what happens when you haven't had an in-person conversation with anyone for the past four days.

Returning to the Bay, Part I: The Graduation Party

So I'm back in Los Angeles, not having updated in a week, but certainly not because the week wasn't eventful. This past week was probably one of the most memorable trips back home, and reminded me why I'm so fond of the Bay Area, and why I'd want to move back and raise a family there.

As easy as it would to do a simple blow-by-blow, laundry list of all the wonderful things I did, I won't. No offense to those that do, but I don't get too thrilled reading "what-I-did-this-week" entries. Instead, I'll try to focus more on a single event, person, or emotion. After all, that's what's important, right?

So to begin this series, I'll start with the event that brought me back home in the first place: the graduation party. Another take on the party can be read on my sister's blog.

There are only a few, signature events that motivate all the different people who have affected your life together, past and present. Really, there are only three: graduations, weddings, and funerals. For girls, there's also the coming-of-age birthday (Debut, Quincenera...). Sadly, my breasts weren't big enough to warrant a Debut. Instead, I got a car for my 17th. Nice consolation prize.

Anyway, I didn't really think about how big this shindig would be until, Friday night, just as I got home from the long drive up, and stepped into the kitchen. It was clear; my mom had been saving up for this.

For those who know me, I'm a pescatarian (a vegetarian who also eats fish), but it was clear that for a week, that philosophy was going to go on hold. It really was a sight to see. Marinated chicken, tri-tip steaks, Alaskan salmon, shrimp, pork, noodles, rice; it was quite a sight. I could go on and on about the food, but my sister describes the cooking situation well. All I need to add is that the day before, we had to call two of my cousins, two aunts, an uncle, and my granduncle and grandaunt to help with the food preparation.

Now if I were running the show, I probably would've been lazy and just had the whole thing catered. But my parents are far wiser and harder-working than me, thank God, and went the longer, harder route. Thing is, they're used to it. Whenever some big event comes around, my parents enter this new gear and just go wild. Christmas parties and my sisters' graduation parties come to mind. They break out the food trays, the cooler, the folding chairs, the canopies, and they cook, grill, stew, barbecue, steam, set up, and clean for a good 48 hours. I think it's insane, but I think they love it. I think it's part of the reason why they're so successful; when it comes to their friends, they put their best face forward, and they do the grunt work to back it up. I sit in awe just thinking about them.

The day itself went really well. It started at 1. By 2:30, the house was filled to capacity. Aunts, uncles, cousins, 2nd cousins and their families, my mom's officemates, my dad's officemates, my UCLA friends from LA, even my high school English teacher and three of her grandkids from Montana were there! They were cute; they got me this cute present, a little sheriff's set w/badge & six-shooter, but they said I could only have it if I could create a scene, using the present as props. Looks like that LCC training came in handy. Only folks who weren't represented were my high school friends, but a lot of them either had work or were out of town. It sucked, but then again, I don't know where we could've put them, so it probably worked out for the best.

By 5:30, most of the guests were gone, but my UCLA friends were still around. We avoided the commotion downstairs by relaxing in my room, and I got to divulge more about my past. They ended up browsing through my old yearbooks. Now, THAT was interesting. They were reading all the old messages there, trying to decipher the me before they knew me. They would giggle with glee whenever they read one that suggested that I might have been "dishin' some game"! Ha ha, I swear, I thought I had absolutely NO game in high school. Thought I was too nerdy, too intellectual, and too busy to go steady with anyone. By the time I got to UCLA, I eliminated the first two excuses, but the third stuck pretty well until I graduated. Now the excuse has evolved from "too busy" to "not busy enough"! Ha ha, oh Randy... But really, it was really cool to see all of them that day. James, John, Zara, Lara, Richard, Jonathan, I'd be hard-pressed to find better friends than y'all!

By the time the UCLA crew left to make their trek back down, one family had remained: my father's cousin's family, and they were conversing with my sister and her fiance. They talked about everything: marriage, messed up stuff they did when they were kids, embarrassing their OWN kids, college, etc. I hadn't seen them in years, but they were as happy and engaging as ever. Only further proof that good relationships don't die over time, and that the right people will always be there when you need them.

By midnight, it was only my parents and I who were up, and I asked if I could help put away any of the dishes, but my mom said that I couldn't until she put the leftovers away. They insisted I go to bed and rest, since I was still recovering from a cold the week before. And so I did, which concluded one of the best weekends of my life.

You Know When You're in the Bay Area When...

...you pass by the local gas station: "Regular - $2.61"

I missed you, Oakland!

Analysis of a Tragedy

Procrastinating from packing my things for the afternoon's long drive home, I was doing my usual web-browsing, reading about the tragic terrorist attacks in London. As Americans, I'm sure many of us could not help but reflect back on that day almost four years ago, now infamously referred to as 9/11, the day that catapulted our nation into a state of unending war on the nameless, faceless enemy only known terror. I was encouraged to look back on that day, to reflect on what exactly happened that morning, and how the crashing of four planes (UA 175, UA 93, AA 11, and AA 77) and the destruction of four buildings (WTC-1, WTC-2, WTC-4, and the Pentagon) would inspire almost every major policy decision worldwide for the next four years.

So I started reading some articles, starting with my bread and butter alternative news sites, commondreams.org and alternet.org. To make a long story short, I inevitably ran into some conspiracy theories about 9/11. Now I had read some of these theories before. The most compelling I've read concerns major questions about the Pentagon crash site. Although I find this theory tends to stand up because there is no circulating video evidence of the Pentagon crash, theories about the collapsing towers seem far-fetched, especially since many of us witnessed dozens of videos documenting the collapse. As a UCLA graduate who finds great value in logic, I find most conspiracy theory bogus and stupid. As a bored, unemployed slacker whose wasting time websurfing, conspiracy theory sounds quite entertaining. So I took a leap of faith and started reading. And frighteningly enough, I found one conspiracy theory so well-articulated, in this compelling essay by Morgan Reynolds, I might just be convinced that a 9/11 conspiracy might just be true.

For folks who don't have the time to read thorough his article, let me summarize his main arguments. #1 He debunks the common-held beliefs concerning the collapse of the WTC towers, primarily these two:

1. As stated earlier, common belief holds that the WTC towers collapsed due to the compromised structural integrity of the towers after the crashes of the 767s. If this were the case, the fires would have had to reach at least 1,300°F. However, never in the history of the world (before or since) has a steel-framed skyscraper collapsed due to structural compromise from a fire. The benchmark case Reynolds cites is the 1991 Meridian Plaza fire in Philadelphia, which raged for 19 hours and did not collapse. Both WTC fires lasted less than an hour, and spewed black smoke, implying that the fires were dying and not growing. (A more recent example is the case of the Windsor Building fire in Madrid this past February, which essentially consumed the entire top-half of the building, and yet the steel skeleton remained in tact). The only other factor, then, were the initial explosions caused by the crashes themselves, and yet images of the towers after the crash show little vertical displacement in the support columns (i.e. they did not bend), suggesting that there was not "severe" damage to the towers' structural integrity. This argument holds greater weight for WTC-7, which collapsed later that afternoon, since no significant plane debris hit WTC-7.

1A. Reynolds later argues that if fires set by jumbo jet explosions could melt the support structures of the WTC towers, why wouldn’t demolition companies use similar-sized fires in their own demolition work, which would be far more cost efficient than the current methods they use to implode buildings? Either fires did not cause the collapse of the WTC towers, or the terrorists carried technology that demolitions companies had not yet discovered.

2. Common belief also holds that the floors "pancaked" on each other (i.e. the weight of the building created an impact that caused the floor below to collapse, which caused the next floor to collapse, and so forth). However, experts generally agree that the towers collapsed at free-fall speed (as evidenced in most videos documenting the collapses). However, if the towers collapsed in free-fall, then the idea of "pancaked" floors is highly unlikely, since the impact of each floor would slow the speed of the collapse.

3. Reynolds also argues that although the claim is that two 767s hit the towers, the holes are too small for a 767 by as much as 40 feet. Normally, plane crashes make a crater three times the size of the plane itself. This suggests that the amateur video of the planes crashing into the WTC towers was doctored. (This seems like stretch to me, but look at the initial images of the North Tower and South Tower and judge for yourself).

Instead, Reynolds argues that this evidence suggests that the collapse of the WTC towers was NOT caused by the plane crashes, but by DEMOLITIONS. Along with the previous examples, Reynolds cites other evidence that suggests demolitions caused the towers’ collapse:

• Virtually all the concrete, approximately 100,000 tons in each tower, was pulverized into dust, which would require far more energy than the energy created by the towers merely collapsing due to gravity
  
• Steel beams and columns fell in sections less than 30 feet long and showed no signs of "softening"
  
• Each collapse had detectable seismic vibrations that suggest underground explosions
  
• Hot spots of molten steel at temperatures of 1,350°F persisted days after the towers collapsed, an aspect which characterizes building demolitions
  
• Photos and video of the collapses show "demolition waves", or blast sequences. You can see evidence of this in these videos showing the collapse of the South Tower and North Tower.
  
• On September 8-9, 2001, three days before 9/11, a "power down" condition was declared to install a "cabling upgrade", which would allow terrorists with experience in demolitions to plant explosives in the WTC towers without being recorded by security cameras. (cited on page 45 in the case Rodriguez V Bush
  
• Lastly, one plausible explanation for the collapse of WTC-7 is that it was used as a staging area of the demolitions. It would be the ideal, since it would provide a direct view of the towers, it would been evacuated, which would allow the terrorists to go about their work undisturbed, had its own air and power supplies, was bullet and bomb resistant, and could withstand winds of up to 160 miles per hour, winds that could be created by the collapse of two skyscrapers.

Now, despite all I’ve read and written, I’m still taking in all this information with a grain of salt. However, in this day in age where voter fraud, diminishing civil liberties, condemning memos, and perpetual fear run rampant, where sheepish politicians and a feckless media feed us lies at every turn, it wouldn’t surprise me if, in this world looking more and more like Eurasia in the pages of George Orwell’s "1984", the hodge-podge, raw, design-impaired, renegade websites, spouting off conspiracy theory after conspiracy theory, were the only places where I might just find the truth.

I Am 23, Going On 24.

Just a quick update, after a grueling week of Anime Expo, watching some awesome street fireworks, getting sick, and singing in a concert in Walt Disney Concert Hall, I'm ready to pack my things and head for the Bay for a nice, long week. I'll be sure to post pictures of the important stuff.

Oh, and today I turned 23. For everyone who remembered and sent your best wishes, and for all those who would have sent your best wishes had you remembered, I offer my humble thanks.