Rising Son

Where I Came From

2009-02-04T17:12:00.001-08:00

In evaluating a city council meeting that I attended last evening, a thought that kept entering my mind was "remembering where I came from".

I have my opinions, and I can wear them on my sleeve. And more often than not, people who disagree with me take issue over them, but it's often because I tend to write very strongly. I write much more effectively than I speak.

I came from humble beginnings. We were basically poor, my mother and father and I. We lived in military housing, depending only my father's income from the Navy. My family didn't own their home until after I graduated high school. My family didn't own a car until I was 6 years old.

I can on and on, but it's a boring story, and everyone else has a story to tell too.

But to get to the point, many of us forget where we came from.

Today, I do pretty well for myself. I run a small business, an incorporated business, where my wife and I are the stockholders. I get to work out of my house, and the industry I'm in is such that my clients never need to talk to me. I might get an e-mail once in awhile from one of them, but this industry is so automated, there's really nothing much to talk about day to day.

That gives me incredible amounts of freedom, with a high profit margin, being able to work from home, and being able to work anywhere there's an Internet connection. Few business owners can comprehend what I have.

I'm very grateful for that. I actually started a meetup group a couple years ago just to share that knowledge with others in my town. And I'm more than willing to share that knowledge again.

But I would never for once think that I'm at any higher level than anyone else. Everyday I remind myself to stay within the arms of the People. The people are who I champion. I come from these humble beginnings, and as far as I know I'll probably die with a humble ending.

Well, going back to that city council meeting. All I could see was selfishness. Despite all the explanations we were given, I found none that made any lick of sense. It was pure selfishness all the way through. Even today, I continue to hear excuses used to justify their selfishness. Only our Mayor seemed to listen to the people, and put himself above the self-serving interests of his colleagues.

It's a bold statement from me. For those of you in my town who happen to find this blog, well there you go. Don't forget where you came from. No one is a self-made man. Each person got help from other people to get where they are. Keep yourself in the arms of the People, those people won't forget.

My Dad Has Cancer

2009-01-22T06:56:00.000-08:00

Last October, my dad called me to say that he has cancer.

Fortunately, his comes with a very high survival rate. He found a lump on the side of his neck. Turns out, there's a malignant 'noma of some type growing on the back end of his tongue. He's on chemotherapy and radiation, and things are looking good he says.

So that conversation has thus far caused me to be more concerned about him. I've thought about him, and felt rather sympathetic.

I remember that song in the 1980's by Mike and the Mechanics, "In the Living Years", that described a man who's father passed away and was left without the chance to rekindle a lost relationship. I've described my lost relationship with my father in an earlier article here.

So thinking about his cancer has perhaps made me think of my father in a new way.

The past couple of years since his retirement, he's made trips down here to visit me. And in those visits we've talked about the old days when my father, mother, and myself lived together as a family, and he's answered my barrage of questions of why things happened the way they did.

Him being in Renton, WA and me here in Menifee, CA makes it difficult to have a father-son relationship. I feel like time is running out, and if my dad and I are ever going to become father and son again, I need start soon.

Little Green Army Men

2009-01-20T18:34:00.001-08:00

I think of all the toys I grew up with as a kid, my all time favorite was my collection of little green army men.

My mom used to buy me bags of them, and each time she threw down another bag at me, I would pour through them eager to find what new soliders I'd find, similar to a philatelist pouring through a box of old envelopes.

That was when I was between 5-8 years old. In those days, I had a friend who lived on the other side of the block, Mark. We could cut through our backyards and hook up.

And he had his collection of army men also. The American guys were always "army green" in color, while the German guys were always a grayish blue.

Mark's house had a cool area by the side, mostly covered over by thick growing oleander. But his dad was pretty cool. He cut out some branches and carved out a space in the dirt where we could dig our trenches, plow out some roads, and build some hills. Then set up the battlefield.

Once set up, we would execute the battles. Booom! Kssssh. Crack-kak-kak-kak! Vrooommm! KaBOOOM!

What fun.

Mark's dad and mom were hippies. This would have been around 1971-1974, in San Diego, in the community of North Park, right off the corner of Boundary and Orange Ave. I actually lived on Iowa St, but Mark's house was on Boundary. (see map). This was a time when the hippy movement was just dying down, and they were reentering suburban life.

Anyways, his dad would tell us the stories of World War II. Mark and I would sit down on the dirt, legs folded together and staring at his face while he spoke. He said the Germans would cram their cannons with poop whenver they ran out of bombs. "Ewwww!" we said. "Yeah." he replied while nodding his up and down.

Down the road, my mom bought me little plastic indians and cowboys. Mark and I tried playing with those too, but we just didn't find much fantasy with cowboys and indians. WWII always seemed to present some kind of mythical quality for us. Stories of Germans blasting fecal mortar fire allowed our mischievious minds to wander freely throughout the art of war. It helped foster a sense of creativity.

Later on as I grew into my teens, I bought my little brother a bag of Army men, along with a bag of Germans. I showed him how to play. But that was during the 1980s, when we had a video game console. The wonders of childhood will never be the same.

When is the End of the World

2007-10-08T00:11:00.000-07:00

I'm watching this television program on History Channel right now about the end of the world.

It's centered around the year 2012 doomsday prophecy. They've spent considerable amount of time describing a woman named "Sybil" who during the Roman era before Christ, predicted that the world would end around this time.

You know how it is. Back in the late 1990s, all the major media channels made a big deal about Nostradamus and his prediction that in the year 2000 the world would end. I remember even Pat Robertson saying that it was true. Then, it never happened.

So Nostradamus is out, and now Sybil is in.

I saw a website that predicted the Apocalypse, or "the Rapture" would begin in August of 2007. And this website even quoted Pat Robertson that this is when it would happen. Well, so far, Pat Robertson is still here on Earth, so I guess he was wrong.

Here's what I believe.

First, the world won't end, at least not for another few billion years. When we talk about "the end of the world", we're talking about a massive loss of humanity. Otherwise, there's nothing Mankind can do to physically end the world.

Second, as it stands right now, the world continues to add more people than it takes away. If we keep on adding more people, then certainly there will come a time when there are SO many people on this planet, that we'll become vulnerable to pandemics. The Earth can only produce so much fresh water, so much food, and so much oxygen. Eventually these commodities will become so valuable, that it will be the cause of great war. Anybody can predict this. Whether or not it happens on 2012, I doubt it.

Third, a doomsday means different things to different people. If you're an Iraqi, then sure enough, the world did in fact end as you knew it. But it just changed, that's all. If another country were to invade the United States, and actually occupy it, then Christians here might claim that the Apocalypse started.

Fourth, this talk of global warming as an indication that the end of the world is coming is baloney. The Earth has been going through cycles of warming and cooling for a million years. That's how much of our geography was created, by ice sheets growing and receding. This isn't the end of the world, this is just Nature doing what it has always done.

As far as these soothsayers like Nostradamus and Sybil, they're just people who rolled the dice and came up lucky. For every prophet who predicted that the world will end in 2012, there were a 1,000 others who predicted a different year. I mean, how many fortune tellers has this world produced? If you consider that Humanity will indeed experience disaster over the centuries, then sure enough at least of few of those soothsayers will get a lucky roll of the dice.

My Mother's Getting a Divorce

2007-10-02T21:11:00.000-07:00

My mom is pursuing a divorce from her husband, this is her second husband, and now her second divorce.

I came from her first marriage, BTW.

So basically, I'm losing a step-father. Yet, I don't feel like I'm losing anything. While he was my step-father, he never really bonded with me. I don't necessarily blame that on him. The reason why is because when my mom married him, my real dad would visit me every now and then, and we'd spend a weekend together. I think my step-dad didn't want to take his place out of respect.

I don't know when my mom's second marriage fell apart, but it fell apart a long time ago. They were married on February 12, 1976. I was there for the ceremony.

I think the death-knell of their marriage came when they moved from California to Colorado. At that point, my step-father lost all of his friends. When they were still in California, he had several friends from work, and from his old days in the Navy, coming over to visit, or they'd hang out at some bar.

But after moving to Colorado, he had to start all over again with making new friends. Except, he didn't make any new friends. I tend to think it's because he lost his social skills by that time. As he grew older, he just wasn't that spry, fun-loving guy he used to be.

So without friends, he became angry. And the more angry, the less social he became.

I guess I look at myself as I get older. Lisa and I are not the passionate, cute, and amorous couple we used to be. Lisa's declining health makes things difficult, and the flame just burns more slowly for us.

I hope our marriage lasts as long as we both shall live. We still manage to have lots of friends, and we make it a point to visit them and attend parties, and get togethers. Our friends is probably the biggest reason why we haven't yet moved out of Menifee.

I Hate Emergency Rooms

2007-09-25T10:53:00.001-07:00

Lisa and I spent most of the night last night in an emergency room.

She was fine yesterday morning, until about half-way through dialysis. Then her temperature went way up. The nurses at the dialysis did nothing for her. Then she came back home. And complained for the next couple of hours.

This high temperature has been plaguing her for the past few days. She had seen a doctor a few days ago, when it started. He prescribed antibiotics. But she stopped taking them after she started feeling better. And then, of course, it flared back up.

So I asked her if she had taken antibiotics. She said, "just now". So I said, "then drink some water", and "get some sleep". But all she was complain about feeling hot. So, I reminded her again what to do, and went back to my office. Then she starts yelling, and beckons me to come downstairs to her. So I go downstairs, and asked, "what?". She says, "come on, we're going to the hospital".

Then I started arguing with her. I told her there's no reason to do the ER just for a temperature. How many hundreds of times have I ran a temperature, and went to the ER? None! Moms, Dads, Grandmas, doctors, always tell you to just drink some fluids, take some Tylenol, and get some rest. In this case, she even had antibiotics! But no. She has to go the ER for her temperature! So, I got angry.

So she starts walking out the front door, and I started following her. We drove to the ER, and sat there for 3 1/2 hours until they finally called her in. Then she laid on a bed for another 2 hours until I got pissed off, that I left her there and went home.

When I got home, I started feeling sorry for her and angry at myself. So, I picked up her favorite blanket, and drove back to the hospital. She said a doctor finally saw her and gave her a boost of the same antibiotic she was on. Now, she was just laying there waiting to hear further word.

So, I stayed there another 2 hours until the doctor came back and said she could go home. The doctor said that she had a urinary tract infection, and to keep on taking the same antibiotics.

So basically, the doctor did little more than just give her some more of the same antibiotic she was on, and then tell us to do what I had told her to do originally. She spent nearly 9 hours there just to hear that.

We didn't get home until 4:30am. We went straight to bed, and I woke up around 10:30am. Then I get a call from my accountant that my appointment with her was at 10:00am this morning. So I basically blew that too.

My Own Religion

2007-08-15T06:05:00.000-07:00

I'm not religious in the sense that I don't follow any of the established faiths.

My mother and father were not religious. As far as I know, my grandparents were not religious either, except for my mother's mother, who was a Bhuddist.

But I do have my own religious beliefs.

I call it "religion" because that's essentially what any belief is, as long as you practice what you believe.

I believe there is an afterlife. I say this because I don't believe that life is just DNA and cellular structures. Life is a force. It's what makes our souls. If you believe in souls, then you probably believe that souls are separate from bodies.

I don't necessarily believe that souls go to Heaven or Hell. I'm not sure what happens to our souls when our bodies die. I don't have a belief for that one.

I believe that if anyone judges us, it's ourselves. We know what's right and wrong, based on our interpretation of what the public thinks. If the public says that homosexuality is immoral, then anyone doing it would have it weigh on their minds to some degree or another. Except today, the public thinks differently about homosexuality than 50 years ago. So, people judge themselves much differently today than long ago.

If there is something that's making you feel guilty, or just bearing down on your conscience, it's going to make you do things. It might make you tell lies, or hide the truth, act defensive, or avoid something altogether.

I tend to believe that when you die, the things that weigh on your conscience, and to what degree they weigh, influences what happens to your soul. It's kinda like God judging you, except you're judging yourself. I think that's where the Catholic "confession" comes from. If you confess your sins, you're saved. In my case, it's more about clearing your conscience.

So throughout life, I try to keep my conscience clear. You can see the parallels of that with Christianity. I grew up in a Christian society, though I am not Christian. But you could say that I've been influenced.

I get a big laugh out of the "big bang" theorists. There are people who call themselves "scientists", who claim that the Universe was created from a "Big Bang". And from that, stars and planets formed, and from the stardust, and the radiant gases, came life. Except this hasn't actually been proven yet.

I mean, no one has actually recorded the Big Bang on video, or in photos. They haven't recorded it in any form at all. In fact, there isn't even conclusive evidence. There is only evidence that suggests it. So then, why is the "Big Bang" considered to be science? Why isn't a religion?

In fact, the Big Bang theory is actually that, a religion. It's a belief, designed to explain where we all came from. Is that really what religions are, theories to explain where we came from?

And the Big Bang theory has its wackos who stand up on pulpits and preach the gospel, that we're all just cellular bodies, made up of gases, and that any talk of Christianity is unconstitutional. Yeah well, they sound just like the preachers and the priests, who spout out their gospel too.

You see, it's all a fucking religion. Whether God created the Universe, or whether the Big Bang created the Universe, it's all beliefs, with no proof, designed to explain where we came from.

Therefore, since we don't know where we came from, and we don't know where we're going, we might as well just follow that old phrase, "Do unto others, as others would do unto you". And, pack a gun just in case.

Motorcycle Independent

2007-08-15T05:08:00.000-07:00

Last Monday morning, I quit the riding club I had belonged to.

In one respect, I made the decision quickly, but in another respect, I could see this developing over the past several months. That is, I had this feeling inside that a confrontation would come, but I just didn't know when or how.

I actually eluded to this on this very same blog, back in November of 2006 in a post entitled, "Riding Club Leadership"...

But I hate making enemies, and I can forsee myself making some enemies down the road. When that happens, I'm going to really question my involvement with this club.

I always felt I had great intuition, I knew there was "writing on the wall", but I just didn't know exactly what it read.

A good friend of mine, Tom, who was also in the club, quit as well, on the same day. He actually told me that he could see this coming, even back before I could sense it. But then again, he knew the other two founders better than I. They were the reason why I chose to quit.

Tom and I were two of the four "founding members" of the club, while the remaining two were the ones that I had a falling out over.

I'm not going to spill it all out here in writing, because I sense that others in the club read this blog. I'll only say that I have differences with them in the direction the club should go in. The differences were fundamental enough, that we could not resolve them, nor put them past us. And that's just putting it nicely.

So I'm going to remain "independent" for awhile. That is, I'm not going to ride with any clubs for the forseeable future. I may join a club eventually, but for now, I don't see anything on the horizon.

And here's why. For the past year-and-a-half, since becoming one of the club's founders, I've worked my ass off for the club. I stepped up and organized majority of the rides, meetings, and bike nights. I led most of the rides. I promoted the club across several public access websites and forums. I attended rides with other clubs, and established relationships with other clubs. I created avenues for recruiting new members. I did more for that club than anyone else.

The members who remain in that club, would never have been there if not for me. I may not have recruited them all, but I was the one that gave them reason to join. It was the rides and bike nights that I organized, it was the people I brought together, it was the reputation I built throughout the public, that made it great to be a member.

After putting so much effort into the club, and then to see the other two founders act the way they did, and say the things they said, I simply don't have the inspiration to do it all over again. Even if Tom and I were to take over this club ourselves, and have the other two founders walk away, it still wouldn't be the same. I'd still feel uninspired about giving myself to an organization.

I mean, this is the reason why I quit my regular job, and went to work for myself. Organizations don't love you back, people do.

So for now, I'm going to focus on the people.

Connecting All the Professional Bloggers

2007-08-06T23:39:00.000-07:00

Today I got a request from another professional blogger asking to become friends on MySpace. I don't really know him personally, but we did have an e-mail exchange a year or so ago. Before that he requested adding me as a friend on Facebook, even though I didn't have a Facebook account.

Weird, I thought.

But the truth is that I would love become friends with other professional bloggers even if that friendship is only through negatively and positively charged ions.

It also got me to create an account on Facebook. I didn't exactly know what Facebook was about until I accepted this guy's invitation, and set up an account. I thought it was like LinkedIn, full of professionals. It's actually just another MySpace, full of teenagers.

The world of professional blogging has its own aristocracy, its own "A List" and "B List", etc. I suspect this guy is on the A List, though I don't really know that. But a few years ago I intended to immerse myself into this unique society, only to be turned off by it. It's just like any other, full of bull shit, and people full of themselves.

At one point, I found myself falling into the same traps. I saw myself getting into the same stinky shit holes of self-absorbtion. Then I decided to pull out and get out.

Now, I'm content to just exist out here in the blogging boondocks. I just blaze my own trail. I don't even read the old "blogger's blogs" anymore, in fact, I can't even remember the names of them. Some days I'm content to just blog on my local blog, "Menifee 24/7" and call up some friends and ride to the local bar.

Meanwhile the blogging elite are busy kissing each other's asses at the many blogging awards they've created for themselves. They set up an entire society and framework, just to place themselves into positions of prestige and admiration.

You can tell I get pretty turned off by the whole elitist thing. I imagine this crabby attitude of mine will keep me from getting rich. That's ok. I remember that old movie, "You Can't Take it With You" with Lionel Barrymore. That's what I want to be.

So it's interesting that this guy happened to look me up on MySpace, and found me. Maybe he just wants to pad his friendship count, or maybe he really wants to be a friend.

Eat Like a Japanese

2007-08-04T21:44:00.000-07:00

Being half-Japanese, and raised by a Japanese mom, I ate a lot of Japanese food.

Growing up, my friends would come over for dinner every once in awhile and tell me that my mom is the best cook. "Oh really?" I would say. It's all the same stuff she would cook everyday. I couldn't tell if it was any good.

Then I started having dinner at my friend's house and having their mom cook. Oh, wow. Now I knew.

I remember living in Yokohama, when I was about 4 years old. I can still remember that far. My mom made chicken curry. Curry is a wildly popular dish in Japan, except they adapted it to their tastes from the original Indian curry. But this night, my mom made "spicy hot" curry.

I didn't want to eat it, and she got angry with me. I kept saying that it was too hot (both temperature-wise and spicy-wise). I simply wouldn't eat, and just kept delaying. Finally, she had enough and sent me outside. It was dark outside, and no one else was out there. Moreover, this was winter, and I saw snow falling. I was freezing out there, and I started crying.

My mom opened up the door, and asked me if I was ready to finish my curry. I said, "yes". And so I had to sit through the whole thing while my mouth caught fire.

I also remember another dish she'd make up a few times each week. She'd take a couple of raw eggs, and mix it with soy sauce, and stir it up, just like making omelette batter. Except she'd pour it over a bowl of steamed rice. She'd make this for breakfast mostly. I remember liking it, and eating it up. This was something she ate when she grew up. These days, I couldn't imagine eating that.

What Japanese people eat a lot of are pickles. Their favorite is actually a Korean specialty called "Kim Chi" or "Kim Chee". It's cabbage fermented in chili sauce, salt, and vinegar. I have to admit, it's really tasty. I like it. But it's really stinky. Japanese eat lots of pickles, but not American pickles. These are pickled with a variety of pickling juices and they pickle just about anything from cloves of garlic, to baby squids, to eggplant. If you can soak it in something for a month, they'll try it.

Japanese-style pickles are such a favorite in Japan, that each dinner or lunch is always accompanied by some pickles. They'll cut or shred them in small pieces, and then grab a piece and add it to a mouthful of whatever they're eating.

No Japanese dish can be authentic if not's accompanied with some steamed rice. You can't just steam any rice, it has to be a certain variety called, "Calrose". Calrose is the most common variety in the United States, but for a long time, it was rare in Asian countries. Nowdays, it's the staple variety in Japan. It's sticky and clumpy, which makes it easy to pick up with chopsticks. Rice is like bread in Japan. You never eat on its own, you eat it with something else, or you top with something. Most cases, you just pour some soy sauce over it, and eat it just like that.

Speaking of soy sauce, there's actually different varieties. There's a Japanese variety, and a Chinese variety. The Japanese has a slight brown tinge, where as the Chinese is more black. Kikkoman is the favored brand, but Yamasa is another old competitor.

You've all heard of ramen, right? Well the Cadillac of ramen is the "Sapporo-Ichiban" brand. Japanese don't eat any other brand but that. Top Ramen, forget it. Maruchan, forget it. Nissin, forget it. It's either Sapporo-Ichiban, or forget it.

Ok now, sushi. Take most of the sushi varieties you find at a US-based sushi bar, and throw them out. Japanese don't eat any of the shit like "Spider Rolls" or "Philadephia Rolls", or "Monkey Balls", or God forbid, "California Rolls". Instead, keep it very simple. Order "Maguro", which is blue-fin tuna, and get it just that in a roll of rice and nori (seaweed paper). That's what Japanese eat. They also do the same thing with pickled radish, just that, in a roll of rice and nori.

But if you want to talk about raw fish, Japanese prefer to eat sashimi. That's bite-sized slices of fish filet. They pick up a piece, dab it with some soy sauce, and slurp it down.

What about wasabi? I notice that when I eat sushi with my friends, they'll put in gobs of wasabi, and smaller amounts of soy sauce. They tell me, "I really love lots of wasabi". Japanese don't do that. It's the other way around, they take a saucer of soy sauce, and mix in a small amount of wasabi, just enough to add a bit of spiciness to the soy sauce.

Actually, what sushi bars offers as wasabi, isn't really wasabi. It's horseradish. Real wasabi is not horseradish. It's wasabi. It's has a distinct taste, similar to horseradish. Except wasabi is very difficult to grow. There's such a small supply of real wasabi, that very few restaurants offer it. If you're certain your favorite Japanese restaurant offers real wasabi, I'll challenge you on it.

Don't forget "sembe" (pronounced SEM-beh). It's flavored rice crackers. They're shaped into small pieces, usually colored brown from the soy sauce that got baked onto it. This is the Japanese version of popcorn when they watch television.

Here's another Japanese favorite. Get a bunch of spinach leaves, and steam them. Try not to boil them, just steam them until they're cooked. Then refrigerate the batch. When it's cold, place it on a dish, and pour some soy sauce over it. Mix it up a little, and sprinkle some sesame seeds. Then eat. It's quite good, and yes, it's what Japanese people eat.

Weird Dreams

2007-04-19T05:26:00.000-07:00

Here I am up at 4:45am after a bad dream, and blogging away at 5:30am.

While often times, I dream about things that happened in real life, or of people I know. But then there are times I dream about things that never happened, or just strange to be real.

Like just now.

By now, I can't remember all the details. But it was a case where I got into an organization, Arizona State University for some strange reason (I was never involved with them), and someone in the upper echelon of management saw me and decided to use me for some utilitarian purpose. They put into place a system that would exclude me from the normal path that all newcomers would go through, and fast-track me into position of great power.

In this organization, dubbed "AZSU", there was great turmoil in the form of power struggle, between the traditionalists who wanted to preserve the greatness of the institution, and the pragmatists who wanted to rebuild the organization into something completely beyond its original intent. Both the traditionalists and pragmatists occupied similar positions within the organization, and everyone had their duties. But the pragmatists could not move forward on their plans because everything had to have to approval of the "Board", and this Board had to allocate funds.

The Board, was the supreme decision maker, led by a person who acted as its foreman, though each board member shared equal power. I was being fast-tracked into this Board, but I didn't realize it until I found myself on its doorstep, almost like an abandoned newborn.

But membership to the Board was not easy. There were several checks and balances in place to ensure that Board members came from all walks of life, had the blessings of several positions of management, and could retain the delicate balance of power between the traditionalists and the pragmatists.

Except someone wanted me in this Board to upset that balance of power, and shift it towards the traditionalists.

In the dream, I can remember myself as a neophyte, practically naive about how political everyone was in the organization, and how everyone questioned every single piece of news. I was almost like a marionette on a set of strings. In the back of my mind, I had come to realize that I was being manipulated. However, I didn't care and accepted this fate as my calling in life.

And it was when I was meeting someone from the pragmatists, that I woke up. But just before I woke up, I was explaining to her the history of how I came into the position I was in, and before I could explain everything, she would jump to conclusions and make presumptions. I kept having to correct her by continuing on with my story. But I woke up before I could recite the whole story.

I suppose I may have lived out this dream in real life, with my employment at CompReview. Just prior to when CompReview sold out to HNC Software, there was a definite division in the ranks between those who held on to the company's traditional foundings and those who wanted to adapt to the changing times. I was just a low-level manager, but one who happened to report directly to the majority stockholder of the company, one of the two guys who started the company.

My role as the manager of Research & Development put me in charge of developing and maintaining the company's core competency. I was the one that everyone wanted to manipulate, but could not because my boss kept me "untouchable". My boss was actually among those who wanted to adapt to the changing times. I was indifferent to the struggles between these two groups, and only set my sights on improving the company's core competency. In that sense, I was still pure. My boss saw to it that I stayed that way.

But once CompReview sold out to HNC Software, my boss was out, and I reported through the same chain of command that everyone else did. I was now vulnerable to attack, and I didn't really know how to react after all those years of being protected. I simply wanted to focus on improving the company's core competency. But instead, I had higher-level managers tugging at me, and at the same time, stabbing me as a scape goat. I quit that place, and went to work for one of its competitors.

I guess, had I continued sleeping, my dream probably would have evolved that way.

Buying My Grandfather's House

2007-02-26T18:56:00.000-08:00

Last October, when my father last came down to visit me, he asked if I wanted to buy my grandfather's house.

My grandfather died in 1986.

He lived in a two-bedroom house in downtown Renton, WA, on Williams Ave, just a block up from the Whistle Stop Tavern. He moved into that house around 1969, just after my grandmother divorced him. As far as I was concerned, that was HIS house, because that's the only house I remember him living in.

Even though I never lived in Washington, I did visit him many times. Everytime I visited him he had fudgsicles to offer me. His house was always a mess because that's what happens when guys live by themselves. His only companion was his father (my great-grandfather), who happened to live right next door. The two of them would spend their afternoons hanging out, smoking and driking screwdrivers.

My grandfather's house is a craftsman style home built in the 1900's. It's got a full-sized basement, it has a "casita" in the backyard, and a greenhouse for growing vegetables.

When my grandfather died, my father inherited it. He fixed it up, and rented it out. He's had the same renters since day one. These renters have government assistance (I think it's called Section 8), where the federal government guarantees the rent as long as my father keeps the rent low. He says these renters take very good care of the house. He actually hires them to do basic maintenance, deducting the cost from the rent.

If I buy the house from him, I'd inherit these renters.

The reason why he wants to sell the house is because he plans to retire this April. He currently has a mortgage on his own house. So when he retires, he's going to lose some significant income, and hence, wants to sell his father's house so that he can pay the mortgage on his own house.

Frankly, I'm not sure I can afford it. Actually, I probably could afford it, but I'd really be stretching things thin. I don't want to see my grandfather's home fall into the hands of someone who wants to tear it down and build something else. I don't want to see these renters get kicked out either; these are very honest and responsible people.

But if I do this, it has to be a wise investment. I don't see myself living in my grandfather's house, at least not in the forseeable future. But I do think that area of Renton is already highly valuable. That downtown area has undergone a lot of renovations, and it's now a great place to shop and take a stroll. Since my father inherited it, its value has increased five-fold.

As far as the rent goes, these renters won't be earning me enough to offset my mortgage payments. In fact, in most cases, rental properties never do. A profit is only made when the owner sells the property.

So here's the conflict...

If I'm buying this house for sentimental reasons, why would I ever want to sell it? That is, I'd purchase something that would actually cost me money each month, and even though the property is appreciating, I'd never sell it. It would just keep burning a hole in my pocket.

That's the problem when emotions and sensibility don't agree.

My Career in Healthcare, and Fair Isaac the Giant

2006-12-01T00:01:00.000-08:00

It seems like my family has been associated with the health care field.

My father's mother was a registered nurse. In her last position she was the Chief Nurse at a convalescent hospital in Washington.

My father spent 20 years in the Navy as a hospital corpsman. And then he spent another 25 years working in health insurance companies and local hospitals doing everything from claims handling to patient services.

I also spent 16 years in various positions within the health care industry, but in the area of finance.

I got my start in 1987, when mom helped me get a job at Healthcare Medical Center of Tustin, in Tustin, CA. She was working there cleaning rooms. She knew the Director of Business Services, and got him to hire me as a File Clerk. I routed mail, pulled charts, filed charts, and lots of other odd stuff.

Then I got promoted to a biller-collector, where I called health insurance companies and barked at them as loud as I could in hopes they'd expedite payment to us. I also set up payment plans for cash-patients, and managed their Medicare & Medicaid accounts.

I did this again at another hospital in Stanton, CA, called Midwood Community Hospital. About 8 months later, they converted into a psychiatric hospital. Psych accounts are probably the toughest to bill and collect. First because psychiatric care is not covered under the normal "Major Medical" coverage of health insurance. Rather, they're paid through a separate policy that attaches to Major Medical, and these policies are capped at very small amounts of like $50,000 lifetime.

And by the time a patient is admitted into a psychiatric hospital, the admitted psychiatrist has already used up half of that cap in doctor's visits.

And because these patients are psychologically deranged, they usually don't pay their bills.

And just about all psych patients stay in the hospital for several months at a time, and rack up monster bills costing $100K to $150K. And this was 15 years ago!

Anyways, after that I did some billing and collections work for various clinics and medical groups. Finally, I got laid off, and got a job doing medical bill review.

Medical bill review was quite fun, particular after having worked as a medical biller. Basically, a medical bill reviewer looks over the bills that get submitted to insurance companies. The insurance companies usually hire an outside review agency, like the one I was working for. We'd review each bill to identify excessive charges, unwaranted charges, miscoded charges, duplicate charges, and try to find other reasons why the insurance company shouldn't have to pay the charges.

I did that for about 2 years, and then I went into research and development.

CompReview was a company that built and designed claims ajudication software. The software specifically did medical bill review, but also performed utilization review (which is looking for services that doctors should not have performed). And it also provided electronic data reporting capabilities that interfaced with State agencies.

My job was to research all the state and federal laws and regulations pertaining to claims adjudication, medical bill review, utilization review, medical data reporting, and then write up implementation specs to our software programming team.

We basically designed artificial intelligence that was able to scan electronically submitted health care claims, and identify excessive charges, unnecessary charges, miscoded charges, duplicate charges, and all that other stuff, and then send the insurance company an electronic claims analysis, telling the adjuster how much to pay.

It was tons of reading, writing, and tracking of legistlative changes. I subscribed to probably a hundred different insurance-related journals, bulletins, and newsletters, as well as state registers and the Federal Register. I maintained a library (we had an actual room the size of a living room) filled with every book imaginable on the subject.

I joined national organizations on medical coding, EDI, utilization review, and any other group I felt was necessary to keep us in the loop on current industry trends.

It was a lot of work.

CompReview was bought out by HNC Software, in 1999. HNC developed "neural networking" software. This was scientific stuff that mimicked the thought processes of the brain. By analyzing millions of records of historical data, it could actually predict what would happen. The Pentagon actually used this software to help its guided missile systems learn from its mistakes!

HNC also developed credit card application software. Every time someone applied for a credit card, or any kind of loan, the software could predict your risk. This was actually HNC's flagship product.

Well, I ended up quitting HNC in 2001, and went to work for competitor company, Innovent Technology, which also produced similar automated claims adjudication software. I basically did the same thing there.

By the way, Fair Isaac Corporation bought out HNC Software in 2001, or 2002 I believe. Fair Isaac is the company that invented the FICO Score.

If you think about it, Fair Isaac now owns the claims adjudication system that I helped design. This system has contained in it, about several billion health care claims spanning back to the past 15 years. That's a lot of people, and a lot of health care history.

Then consider that Fair Isaac also own the credit card application software that also contains billions of credit card applications (the software is used all around the world).

This means that Fair Isaac can link the Social Security numbers found on the health care claims to the Social Security numbers found on the credit card apps, and build a pretty impressive profile on just about anyone in this country.

Making a Difference in Someone's Life

2006-11-27T16:50:00.000-08:00

I get e-mails from people saying that one of my sites made a difference in their lives.

Most of these come from two websites that I designed and own in a partnership basis: CousinConnect and AdopteeConnect.

CousinConnect is the older of the two, it was conceived by myself and my business partner, David. We added a third partner, Sheila, once construction began on the site.

To sum it up, it's a database that anyone on the Internet can use to help them find a distant relative that can provide additional information on their family's history. We launched it on January 1, 2001, and in those days, genealogy research was a very popular use for the Internet.

AdopteeConnect is very much the same, but it markets itself to people searching for family members separated at birth.

Both websites are free to use, we only earn income from affiliate marketing links.

We've helped people reunite with lost sons and daughters, lost brothers and sisters, even aunts, uncles, and grandparents. This is the same sort of stories you hear on the news where they show video of two people hugging and crying happily at the airport. Only, it's all private and there are no cameras.

Here's an e-mail we received earlier this month...

I was recently contacted by someone named Pat Tiffin who had taken the time to search for my Aunt from the query I left of CousinConnect.com. My Aunt Diane, whom my younger sister and I have not seen for 32 years, has been found!!! She is alive and well living in Kansas! We called her this past weekend. She was so glad to hear from us. We have a lot of catching up to do! My sis and I plan to visit her in early summer.

Thanks CousinConnect for making this all possible!

God bless you!
Reading these "success stories" is refreshing, in that reminds you that making money is not the only reason why you publish websites. Otherwise, you'd simply publish porn. If you can design a website that not only makes money, but also makes a big difference in someone's life, you've found a very special combination.

Freedom of the Ride

2006-11-17T01:43:00.000-08:00

It perhaps seems redundant to keep writing about my interest in riding motorcycles. But in the context of an autobiography, it's really does shed light into who I am.

Just about any biker will tell you that riding a motorcycle is perhaps the closest thing to freedom they can experience. I agree with that as well.

When I was a kid, during my step-child years, I wanted to run away. I actually attemped it when I was 16. But I had enough common-sense to pull me back. My mother actually ran away from home when she was 16, and never went back. When I showed up home again, she knew what happened and tried her best understand me.

In those years, I would frequently spend a lot of time walking for miles and miles on my own, venturing out into areas my family had only driven through. I had done this on bicycle too, roaming as far 40 miles out and spending almost the entire day, returning late at night.

Being alone in such unfamiliar territory caused me to reflect deeply into myself. When all you have is yourself, all you think about is yourself, from survival, to eating, and just relying entirely on your own faculties.

Jumping on a motorcycle and riding for miles out into countryside is perhaps an extension of that. I get away from everything else familiar to me, and rely upon myself. It helps me understand the person I am.

I suppose you could do this in a car too, but a car tends to provide you with a certain amount of protection. A motorcycle leaves you out in the open, just you against the elements. It also gives you that old familiar sense of freedom.

Freedom is a very important part of my ideological thinking. In my childhood, I had always wanted to run away and find a someplace to belong to. That's really what riding a motorcycle means to me.

Now days I belong to a riding club, but still get on my own sometimes. I do like riding with other riders though. Perhaps many of the folks I ride with have at least something in common with me. I may not wear the tattoos, or the jewelry piercings, but I do feel like I belong.

Getting Feet Wet in Competition

2006-11-17T01:02:00.000-08:00

Of all the websites teaching me the old school principles of competition, it's Menifee 24/7.

It's a blog that I started a couple of years ago as an experiment in local blogging. I had been publishing blogs to a national and global audience, but never to a local audience. I had relationships with advertisers that wanted national exposure, but never advertisers that wanted local exposure.

Since then, Menifee 24/7 has grown some, and is enjoying some notariety among local business owners here in Menifee.

But what's teaching me the old school principles of competition is another website, MenifeeLive. The guy who runs it, Ben, is a nice guy. I met him and chatted with him for a bit. We still trade e-mails.

He wants to build the most popular web portal focusing on Menifee life. Basically, I want to do the same thing with Menifee 24/7. However, we're taking completely different approaches. He started by building a large portal with articles, photos, calendars, weather, links, you name it. He's also fielding advertisers. On the other hand, I'm starting by building community participation through blogging, and have put off advertisers for the time being.

My strategy is to create an online community by signing up bloggers and encouraging others to post comments. Ben's strategy seems to create a comprehensive resource of information with the expectation of attracting visitors. His strategy is actually the preeminent strategy used by many other successful portals.

But remember, I built Menifee 24/7 as an experiment by taking the concepts of blogging and community building, to a small local level.

So, which strategy is winning? Well, I don't know yet. Right now, Menifee 24/7 is attracting about 5,000 unique visitors per month. I don't know what MenifeeLive is attracting. I do know that Ben has since added blogs to his website, and is asking people to join.

The old school principles of competition I'm talking about involve getting myself into the field by visiting organizations and businesses and pitching my idea to everyone. I'm handing out business cards, visiting Chamber mixers, getting involved in community events, and getting to know the movers and shakers in this town. I've never done that with any of my other websites. I suppose I ought to, except that I don't know who meet with since those websites are published to global audiences.

But it's been pretty fun meeting new people and learning about their stories. It makes Menifee seem a lot more smaller.

Riding Club Leadership

2006-11-15T00:43:00.000-08:00

I find myself taking more and more responsibility in the motorcycle riding club I'm in.

In this year of 2006, our riding club experienced the loss of several members, all leaving because they couldn't get along with other members. It's been devastating to the club, and is trying the patience of myself and the other founding members.

I'm trying to get the remaining members interested in riding more, and trying to get more people to join our club. Read my article on Biker News Online entitled, "Is This The Sophomore Blues For Our Riding Club", where I touch on this subject.

I don't really want more responsibility, because I have enough it already running Clear Digital Media, and managing our personal lives.

I joined the club because I wanted ride motorcycles with other folks, and to make friends. I didn't want to "run" the club. Rather, I'm only interested in helping the club, and helping the other founding members build it into a success.

But even with my status as a founding member, I still enjoy it. Even if I'm having to lead most of the rides, or organize most of the rides, or be in charge of keeping everything on schedule, I still enjoy it.

But I hate making enemies, and I can forsee myself making some enemies down the road. When that happens, I'm going to really question my involvement with this club.

The truth is that you don't need a club to ride a motorcycle. You don't even need a club to find other riding buddies. There are times when I'm not sure being in a club is necessary. What's the difference between riding in a club, and just riding with other buddies? I've tossed that question around, and I just can't seem to figure it out.

If anything, a club is just an organization, and organizations lend themselves to power-trips, egos, and bureaucracy. I don't want any of that. Another founder in the club suggested establishing "First and Second Officers". To me, that's the start of creating the power-trips, egos, and bureaucracies. I DO NOT want to manage egos.

But like I said, I still enjoy riding with this club. I hope that enjoyment continues.

The War Against Junk Food

2006-11-15T00:22:00.000-08:00

There is a war going on against the junk food industry. You've all probably heard about some of the battles, where people are trying to ban sodas from public schools, or making movies that scare people away from fast food.

Read my article entitled, "Fast Food Nation, Yeah So What?", where I dive into this some more.

I can't understand how people can forget history.

We had an all out ban on alcohol in the 1920's, dubbed "Prohibition". It caused to people to buy their alcohol underground, which in turn, caused organized crime to flourish. In the end, our country had to repeal the ban just to put an end to organized crime.

The fact is that you cannot stop people from getting the things they want.

I've come to believe that what junk food opponents are really against is corporate America. They hate business. They hate money. It's not the bad food they hate, it's that companies are making money selling it.

McDonald's takes a lot of heat for selling so many Big Macs. Of course we all know that eating Big Macs is not healthy. But what is a Big Mac anyways other than hamburger, bread, mayo, mustard, pickles, lettuce, and tomatoes?

You can go to a grocery store and buy hamburger meat, not the lean stuff, but the low-quality stuff. You can also buy hamburger buns there, and buy pickles, and lettuce, tomatoes, and everything else.

Hamburger meat, whether it's pure beef, or a mix of beef & pork, or even a mixture of meat, intestines, and tongues, is still high in cholesterol, still high in fat, and can still clog your arteries. Doens't matter if it's in the form of a Big Mac, or in the form of a casserole that you baked yourself.

So why aren't junk food opponents protesting moms making casseroles?

That's why I said, junk food opponents are not against junk food, they're against corporate America. That's all it is.

Why I Hate Animal Rights Groups

2006-11-14T23:41:00.000-08:00

It all comes down to wacked ideology.

Animal rights groups like PETA, HSUS, et al, have this philosophy that anything having to do with mankind is inherently unnatural.

Dogs are essentially animals that man created, even cats as well. This is true. Centuries ago, perhaps as far back as the Ice Age, man was able to breed the wolf, and through a process of natural selection, kept the offspring that he found desirable. Eventually, man learned how breed these animals for specific traits that suited his needs.

That's where dogs of today came from.

But groups like PETA believe this is wrong, and the path to end all dog suffering lies in eliminating dogs. They feel that the reason why we have too many unwanted dogs is because we have a love affair with buying perfect puppies and paying a high price to get pure bred animals. And that's true we do. But PETA considers this to be animal suffering.

They point out certain tragedies like the high number of unwanted dogs euthanized in animal shelters as Man's fault for even having created the dog breeds. It was not normal for Nature to have domesticated dogs, and now the euthanization of dogs is Man's fault.

So their solution is to get rid of all the dogs. No dogs means no euthanasia, which means over population, which means no animal suffering.

PETA actually kills the dogs they "rescue". I wrote an article about this subject entitled, "Faces of Dog Death", which points out that PETA actually admits to killing EVERY dog and cat they get their hands on, at least in the State of North Carolina.

And people are donating money to PETA on the grounds that they're out to save animals?

PETA uses slick marketing campaigns that capitalize on current events. Recently, when Israel began shelling Lebanon in an attempt to kill Hezbollah terrorists, PETA sounded an alarm about the USA not allowing fleeing Americans to bring their dogs on board US Naval ships. They pleaded for people to donate money to their cause, but the truth is that there's nothing PETA could have done to convince the US Military to change its position. PETA could have used its resources to rescue those dogs, but they didn't. In effect, they seized upon an opportunity to collect more money for their campaign to eliminate the world of domestic animals.

PETA even made lots of noise about the dog tragedy going on in China, where the government is killing ALL medium to large dogs in an attempt to stamp out rabies. But PETA isn't doing anything to rescue these dogs. They're using the opportunity to collect donations.

I even wrote an article about the Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act, a bill in Congress to punish anyone who commits harm and destruction to other people and property associated with pet shops, breeders, circuses, county fairs, and food processors. PETA signed on in opposition to this bill. Why? Isn't PETA against violence. Apparently not. They think it's ok to burn down a building as long as that building contributes to the perpetuation of domestic animals.

The bottom line is that Animal Rights groups are not friendly towards domesticated animals. They don't want to save them. If you're a dog owner, then PETA is not your friend.

If anything you, should support Animal Welfare groups. These are the rescues and charities that seek to help domestic animals, give them permanent homes, treat their illnesses, and feed them food.

Divorce is the Worst Thing That Can Happen to a Son

2006-07-03T00:15:00.000-07:00

My parents divorced when I was seven years old. Looking back at my life, this event had the greatest impact on me growing up and in my adult life.

I guess the truth is that it really isn't the divorce that should be blamed, but my father. He robbed me of the childhood I should have had. I'm not going to spell out the details of why the divorce happened, because I know I have family reading this. Suffice it to say, I don't blame my mother for divorcing my father.

The divorce caused me to lose a father, as well as mother. First, my father was already gone for half the time because of his enlistment in the U.S. Navy. In the years leading up to the divorce, it was hard for me to bond with him. For one, I was so young, I couldn't appreciate having a father, and two, he was gone most of the time. By the time the divorce took place, I had just started developing that bond.

I also lost my mother because it forced her to work. She had been working anyways, at night, to supplement the family income. But now, there was no longer a mother for me to come home to after school. She'd either come late in the afternoon, or she'd be working all evening long.

But worse, both my father and mother remarried and virtually started their lives over again. My mother remarried when I was ten years old, and my father remarried when I was fifteen.

My mom had a new son as well as a new husband, and I couldn't help seeing the three of them as a new family, with me tagging along as old baggage. After my half-brother was born, I kept looking to my father as my only family. He'd visit me once in a while, and I relished those visits.

But eventually, he remarried too, to a woman who already had a son, about five years younger than me. His name was Alex, and he never knew his real father. Alex latched on to my father, and my father seemingly latched on to him. Alex was the son my father never had in me. He relocated his wife and Alex to his hometown in Renton, WA, far away from me. I couldn't see him again, except for a few weeks in the Summer.

Even visits up to my Dad's house seemed empty. It wasn't like the old days when it was just me and him. We didn't really go out and do much together. For the most part, my dad was preoccupied with Alex's soccer teams. It took me until I was in my 30's that I realized I had lost my father long ago. All this time I kept going up to visit him, hoping that we could rekindle those times when it just me and him, but it never happened. He had become Alex's father, and I was old baggage.

The last time I visited him was Christmas of 2000. I never went back, I never called him again. His communication with me was reduced to sending cards for my birthday and Christmas. One Christmas card he sent was unsigned. At least three times he included personal checks that bounced. I stopped cashing his checks, refusing to take his money.

My mother is still an active part of my life, at least as active as most moms are with their middle-aged sons. Even though I resented her remarriage and her new family, she still loved me, and after I left home, she still kept in touch with me, and still visited me. For that, I still honor her.

The Pain

The reason why I say divorce is the worst thing that can happen to a son is because when the parents remarry, and start new families, that son feels as if he's lost his sense of identity.

I felt like the family I once had was destroyed. I didn't feel like a part of my mother's new family, and I certainly wasn't a part of my father's new family. I wanted to run away. In fact, I tried to, but returned home late at night realizing how stupid that was.

It's a feeling of rejection, as if you're a painful reminder of what went wrong. I became very angry that my family was taken away from me. I'm still angry today, though I've managed to gain enough sense and cool to put some reins on it.

If not for my wife, I'd probably be in prison, or would have killed myself. Lisa is the calming effect. She grew up in a home where the mom and dad remained married for life, even though they had their problems too. They went to church, had lots of close family, didn't move around, and created lots of fond memories. Perhaps that's part of what attracted me to her. She's always there to remind me that I now have a place where I belong, and that I don't need to be angry anymore.

Had my father been the good man he should have been, and my parents never divorced, would I have turned out differently? Absolutely. My life would have taken an entirely different road. Yes, I would not have met Lisa, and I would have a totally different career, but I'd be a different person, a better person no doubt.

But I can't complain. Lisa has been great for me, I love the business I've started, and I like the friends I have now. But that anger still chews away at me.

How My Interest in Motorcycles Started

2006-07-02T00:18:00.000-07:00

I guess I have my step father to thank for getting me interested in riding motorcycles.

He had a 1948 Harley Davidson Panhead. He actually built it from junk yard parts. It was actually a 1948 frame, but with a 1952 engine. He built this in his college days after high school. When he joined the Navy, the bike remained in Colorado.

I remember in 1976 the three of us, my and my mother included, drove his Chevy van to Colorado to retrieve it. When he brought it home, he dismantled and begun a long process of putting it all back together.

I think it wasn't until 1984 that he finally put it all back together. I remember him starting it up for the first time. He hopped on to the bike, put his foot on the kick starter, and the damn started up on the first kick. I was floored. I thought for sure he'd had to kick it several times, and play with the carburetor settings for a while.

For the next several years he rode that thing to work and everywhere else. That got his interest in motorcycles back up. He would ride with his buddies to various watering holes.

In 1984, after I graduated high school, he convinced my mother to buy me a used a motorcycle. He bought 1979 Kawasaki KZ400 from a friend of his. It was actually a third-hand bike. It had dented gas tank, and a ripped up seat. It wasn't running because it sat in storage for a couple years.

We took it all apart, and he showed me how to put it all back together. That was my only mode of transporation during my college days, and I rode for three years.

It was actually a lot of fun riding it. My friend Greg ended up buying a Kawasaki KZ450 shortly after, and we would ride everywhere. Those times riding with Greg to the pool hall, to the movies, to everywhere we could think of, is what cemented my interest in motorcycles.

It wasn't just the riding, but riding with a friend, and enjoying the freedom together. Back then, California didn't have a mandatory helmet law. We'd hop on our bikes with a t-shirt, shorts, and sandals, and go all over the place. What fun!

Then in 1988, I had my first accident. I was on my way to work, to downtown Santa Ana, to the library where I was working weekends only. It had rained the night before, and the streets were all wet. I was riding down 4th Street, approaching Grand Ave, when the traffic light turned yellow. I had to make up my mind to go through the light, or stop. I hesitated for a moment, and then noticed several cars on Grand Ave. I decided to stop. There was water and oil on the asphalt near the intersection, and the wheels on my bike locked up, and threw me high side.

I landed on my knee pretty hard and it hurt pretty bad. Fortunately, I had on full gear, including a full-face helmet. That probably saved my life because it took some bad scrapes and gashes.

From that point on, I decided I needed to get a car for commuting to work, especially on rainy days. I bought a 1989 Chevy S10 pickup truck. From that point on, I just stopped riding altogether.

My motorcycle stayed in my garage for several years. Finally, I gave it to Shaun, my nephew. He wanted a motorcycle to work on and ride. I don't think he ever it got it running.

It was until 2004 that my interest in motorcycles grew up again. This time it was neighbor Don Watkins. He told me about the Harley Davidson he wanted to get. He finally decided on the Dyna Wide Glide. He kept talking about it everytime I saw him. So finally, I decided to get one too.

I was originally looking at the Harley Davidson Road King and the Heritage Softail. But when I saw the Yamaha Road Star, which looked like a competitor to the two Harley models, I was sold. It was a more powerful bike, looked really great, but had much lower price tag.

For the next several months, Don and I rode our bikes to all sorts of places. It was just like those college days with Greg. But Don was in the Navy, and often he was gone for weeks or months. I wanted more friends to ride with.

Doing a search on the Internet, I found a club called Southern Cruisers Riding Club, with chapters all over the USA. They had one in Temecula, which was just 15 miles to the south. I met with them, and joined up. I met several people who went on to become good friends of mine. Since then, the Temecula chapter shut down, but we went on to form a new club, the Iron Horses Riding Club, and kept the magic going.

Like in the college days, it was the friends that made riding so much fun.

Sunny Skies in America

2006-06-30T03:38:00.000-07:00

I recall during my college days, where I majored in music, my mother handing me a note with some lyrics she wrote. She wanted me to write a song from them. I lost the note, but I remember the meaning of the words.

One phrase I can still remember...

"sunny skies in America"

She wrote about a conversation she once had with her younger sister, about explaining to her why she was leaving her. My mother and her sister, Yoko, lived together in Tokyo when the two of them were in their 20's. In 1964, my mom met my dad and they married a year later.

He was a sailor in the U.S. Navy; his boat was docked in Tokyo and he was in town looking for fun. I suppose in those times, a Japanese girl dating an American service man was like hitting the jackpot, because it meant going to America if she married him. When they married, he took her to Hawaii where his boat was headed.

My mom saw this as a chance to start a new life, hence the words "sunny skies". Up until then, her skies were always dark.

The interesting thing is that my mother's mother did the same thing earlier before, but she met and married a U.S. Air Force sergeant. This took place when my mom was 10 years old. Instead of taking my mom and her sister with them to the United States, she instead placed them in the care of her father (my mother's grandfather). In other words, she abandoned her daughters in exchange for a new life.

That seems to be a theme on my mother's side of the family, sacrificing the one thing most dear to them, in exchange for the opportunity to run away.

The dark skies that my mother lived under stemmed from the abandonment by her mother. She still doesn't forgive her mother for this, and I wouldn't blame her. My grandmother will probably take that sacrifice to her grave, knowing her, I'm not sure she really feels shame from it.

My mother and her sister were abused by their grandfather. His wife was actually his second, their step-grandmother. My mother tells me that she considers her her real mother, because she was the only who wanted her and loved her.

Their grandfather, Jitsutaro Ito, was actually a wealthy man, the owner of some kind of architectural firm in Tokyo. But he lived well outside of Tokyo, on a large parcel of land and operated a small farm there. My mother and her sister had the job of farm hands, growing and picking all the vegetables, cleaning the house, and doing pretty much all the labor.

He wouldn't even buy them tooth powder. She said she and Yoko would scrape sulfer from some rocks and clean their teeth with it. He provided them with just a few sets of clothes, and made them pick and hunt their own food. She told me about having to hunt sparrows. Remember, this was a wealthy man.

My mother ran away at 16 years of age, and managed to find jobs in Tokyo and Yokohama. Eventually, Yoko left home several years later, and the two of them lived together for awhile.

The truth is that when my mother finally did arrive in the USA, she found sunny skies only briefly. After that, it's been a long struggle to find happiness, and I'm not sure she hasn't stopped looking. But if you ask her, she'll tell you that coming to America was the best move she ever made.

About Me

2006-06-30T00:47:00.000-07:00

I'm what's known as a "nisei" (NEE-say), a second-generation Japanese-American.

My mother was born and raised in the Land of the Rising Sun, hence the name of this autobiography "Rising Son". My father was a career sailor in the U.S. Navy. The two met in Tokyo of 1964, and married in Tokyo of 1965. He brought her to Honolulu, Hawaii, which is where I came into being.

My childhood was rocky. My parents divorced when I was seven. I didn't get to know my dad much, since he was overseas for half of the time. The next few years was spent being fathered by my mother's various boyfriends. She finally remarried when I was ten, and spent the rest of my youth a step-child.

It seems my teen years were spent angry. To make it short, I felt like I lost my family. My dad remarried and raised a son, while my mom remarried and raised another son. They got new lives to replace their old ones, but not me. I saw myself as old baggage that my mom had to carry around. I wanted to bond with my dad, but he moved far away. At 16, I actually tried running away, but I had enough common sense to force me back home. That anger took root into my soul and still lingers today. It's one of the many feelings that built the person I am, and explains why I am, where I am now.

The few years after high school, during college, were spent trying to figure where I belong. My best friend, Greg, grew up under the same situation, and we spent a lot of time together. Then I met Lisa, and we married a couple years later. I also found career to build upon, bought my first home, and started feeling as if I found a place to belong.

That probably saved me more than anything else. If not for that, I'd probably be in prison, or suicidal, allowing the angry feeling from my childhood to fester and dominate my being.

Instead, I now own and operate a business. My wife and I live a nice house, have great friends, and enjoy life quite a bit, despite her nagging health problems.

Though my childhood anger still lingers deep inside, and still raises its ugly head. That's really what this autobiography is about, dealing with this negative feeling and trying to live a normal happy life. The truth is that my life is like a balancing scale, with the demons on one end, and common sense on the other.

In reality, those demons are beneficial, because it drove me into what I am, an entrepreneur, an optimist, a challenger. It's what keeps pushing me to reach higher and do better.

I'll explain it all in this autobiography.

About This Autobiography

A few years ago I started writing my autobiography. I was typing it out in Microsoft Word. I'd write it a little at a time when I felt up to it. But after having written several pages, I came to realize that no one would read it. I'm not a famous guy, so no book publisher would take it. I figure I would print out the pages when it's finished, and store it in a box in my garage. After my death, someone would go through my belongings and find it, and read it.

That seemed so far fetched. What good would it do me if someone understood me better after I'm dead? I'd rather have them understand me while I'm still alive.

So, I figure I would publish it here in blog form. As long as it's online, someone's going to read it. Also, I figure it will stay online for quite sometime since I have published under my company's website.

History of My Family

2006-06-29T04:46:00.000-07:00

Sunny Skies in America - Leaving behind the one thing you love the most in exchange for a chance to run away to America is a theme that seems run in my mother's side of the family

Business and Career

2006-06-29T01:29:00.000-07:00

My Career in Healthcare and Fair Isaac the Giant - Dec 1, 2006

Getting Feet Wet in Competition - Nov 17, 2006