M.K. Louie

Intolerable Traits

2010-01-28T07:57:00.000-08:00

Nearly seven years ago, I was in a slump. I broke up a long-term relationship and lost confidence in who I was. I became a hermit, crying myself to sleep too many times.

In an effort to inspire hope, my family challenged me to write a list of traits that I would never tolerate again in a future relationship. Two months after composing this list, I met a wonderful woman who lacked these undesirable aspects. There was hope for a relationship, after all. Ultimately, I married her. This list, as flawed and superficial as it is, changed my life for the best. And now, it's public.

10 Aspects of a Relationship I Will Never Tolerate (starting April 2003)

Isolationist: if she ever restricts me from communicating with my family (unless it’s something terribly personal about her and her direct family), I will not tolerate it. Good relationships open you to more people. Bad relationships isolate you from others.
Language Barriers: she must be able to speak sufficient English to prevent unnecessary miscommunication. We should be able to talk to each other for more than two hours without worrying about any misunderstandings. Communication should be easy and not require any excessive effort to say how one feels.
Short-Temperament: she must be patient and tolerant. Any short fuse will lead to a short-term relationship.
Hermitage: she must have a direct and close bond with friends and family. She must not place all her eggs of happiness into one basket. She must be happy without me, but perhaps happier with me.
Drugs: she must not be a drug user. This includes smoking cigarettes. Smoking kills. It also stinks!
Height Sensitive: she must not be concerned with her significant other’s height. Sensitivity to height is a red flag that she will be more sensitive to other superficial 'flaws' I cannot control.
Apathy: showing a lack of feeling or practicing stoicism extinguishes my passion for life and others. Saying phrases such as “whatever,” “I guess,” or “I don’t care” will lead to an immediate step to ending the relationship.
Whining: she must not resort to excessive complaining or disturbing noises to get her point across in a conflict.
Obesity: she must not be much fatter than me. Obesity could be prevented by the majority of the human population - this rule only applies to lazy individuals.
Worldly Ignorance: she must be aware and active of her surroundings in terms of economic, social, and political affairs. Those who are aware of the injustices and suffering outside their bubbles of life are more appreciative and caring with their personal circumstances.

This list wasn't meant to be biblical (I wasn't a man of faith at the time) or applicable to everyone. It's simply something that helped me to be where I am today and prevented me from making the same agonizing mistakes.

Live It Up, Coward!

2009-09-21T19:02:00.000-07:00

Are you the type that never spends time or money on the finer things in life?

Perhaps you have legitimate reasons why you do not. Not making enough money to spend on such luxuries. A loved one is sick or fragile and needs to be taken care of. No time available because of demanding deadlines and urgent projects. Debts are too large to think about non-essentials.

Fair enough.

But what if you don't have a legitimate excuse? What if you do make tons of money but choose to hoard it instead? What if your loved ones are healthy and independent but you only spend money on yourself? What if you have lots of time (if you watch about two hours of TV per night you should pay attention) but you don't want to spend quality time with others?

Then I would say you're a coward. I know this because I often struggle as one.

A coward is defined as someone who lacks courage. Courage is the one quality that enables you to face danger or pain and still move forward. Immense courage is required in loving others - especially when one feels stagnant, apathetic and conflicted.

What if there is rejection? What if things don't go as planned? What if my thoughts and efforts are simply a waste of time? What happens if I get hurt? Those are typical questions every coward faces. Questions that paralyze the individual and those around him.

Unfortunately, most cowards don't even know they're cowards. For example, I lived a life with my own standards and rules. I imposed these standards and rules on those who wanted to share life with me. But getting things my way only pushed them back. People want to be respected and cherished - not lectured or ordered around. It took me a long time to realize I was scared of giving power, time and energy to others. I wanted love but didn't know how to love.

Love consists of many things. Two major components include truth and forgiveness. Truth sets you apart from the deception, manipulation and lies. Forgiveness sets you free from guilt and shame. Together, truth and forgiveness enable people to love each other. To build each other up and appreciate the journey together. Courage takes this love to an unconditional status and empowers you to live your life to its fullest.

So back to my original question. Are you the type that never spends time or money on the finer things in life? What if you don't care for fine dining but your significant other does? Perhaps you believe expensive restaurants are complete ripoffs. Your girlfriend may never explicitly spell it out for you but she would like to be treated and respected differently on occasion. She wants to be cherished.

You may have your own ways to communicate your love for her but every individual has their own particular love language. She, like many other women, may respond more favorably from acts of service and quality time rather than physical touch or gifts. Acknowledge what excites her and take a bold, daring step in her direction. Bring your significant other to that nice restaurant she always wanted to experience. Show her you love her the way she yearns to be loved.

Such expensive generosity and thoughtfulness doesn't have to be frequent. Just try it once! Do this with a smile and absolutely no complaining to ruin the romantic mood. Trust me, she will be grateful to know that you have the courage to love her more than she ever thought you could. To know that you gave up a little bit of yourself (the selfish part) for her. Don't worry about the bill. This moment is priceless. She won't forget. She will be inspired and invigorated to love you more. You'll want to experience this again.

Cowards don't take risks. They're boring and forgettable. Courageous individuals go beyond expectations and are memorable. Be courageous. Live it up and share the experience.

The Dunwich Residents

2009-08-27T20:27:00.000-07:00

This entry is inspired by my Fallout 3 gaming experience. Due to its violent nature, please note that this content is suitable for mature audiences only.

It must have spawned from the pits of hell.

From a distance, this thing could easily be confused as a human. But what I saw in this confined, debilitated restroom was absolute terror. The creature seemed to have been skinned alive yet somehow survived. Thin, transparent mucuous-like fluids covered its humanoid body revealing pink and dark, red muscular tissue. The thing was topless and wore ragged pants, barely providing any cover for its crimson limbs. I could see its upper torso muscles pulsing as organic liquids dripped onto the cracked, blemished tile floor.

With its flammulated back facing me, the hairless creature hunched over on its knees. Its bloody hands violently dug into something. No. Someone. At its feet, a corpse of a woman laid face-down. Its monstrous claws scooped chunks of moist meat from her ravaged back. My jaw dropped as I realized this thing was feeding on what was left of her. I tasted bile surging up my throat a split-second before I vomited.

The creature stopped chewing the fleshy scraps trailing from its mouth and turned its grotesque face towards my direction. Its glazed eyes were void of any pupils but I knew it could see the fear written all over my pale, stricken face. The monster screamed as it lunged. Its razor-sharp claws were inches away from my neck just before my shotgun blew a gaping hole through its chest. I stared at its fallen form and breathed a sigh of relief.

Feral Ghouls.

From what I've read, these things were once people. The excessive exposure to radiation inevitably caused their hair and entire skin to peel off. What's left was a bunch of organs and muscles held intact by a thin film of radioactive organic glue. Wastelanders classifed these zombie-like animals as high-risk encounters. Feral ghouls could never be reasoned with due to their overtly aggressive behaviors and they seemed to attack everything and anyone who wasn't a decrepit, flesh-deteriorating ghoul. Some of the most violent ones even started glowing. Their radiation-saturated brains destroyed any sense of humanity. Every breath and action taken were to serve one carnal need: to feed.

When I shot the feral ghoul, it died instantly. But the gun's noise blast grabbed the attention of other Dunwich residents. I could hear their chilling screams and their slimy feet pattering nearby. They came in full force without any hesitation.

I sprinted back towards the kitchen door. At least that room only had one entrance - with a lock. As I stepped into the hallway, my heart sank as I saw rapid movement ahead. Without hesitation, I pulled my shotgun's trigger. Repeatedly.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The spread of the shotgun blasts ripped four of these creatures in half. Their slimy body parts splattered the hallway with a thick, red streaks. But there were more ghouls. A lot more. I unleashed more firepower through the narrow hallway. Three of these radiated zombies' heads exploded from point-blank range. But the Dunwich Building's residents kept coming. Everytime one fell, another berserking ghoul sprung forward. Their collective shrieks felt like a needle stabbing into my ear drums. Oh God, there were too many!

One frantic monster closed in and knocked the shotgun out of my hands. I swung my right leg in a crescent motion and made contact with its deformed face. I heard a squishy sound as my boot's impact initiated a clothesline effect. Its clawed feet flew upwards and the creature landed on its neck. I couldn't help but smirk when I heard something snap.

My smile disappeared when I felt a sharp burning pain from my right shoulder. I turned my head to see a feral ghoul's canine teeth sinking into my flesh. Screaming in pain, I flexed my left hand's index and middle finger and jabbed them into the monster's face. The swift motion resulted in impaling both of the ghoul's eyesockets. I heard something pop as my digits pressed onward towards the creature's brain. It released its bite from my shoulder and howled. I shut the thing up with an uppercut to its gooey chin, forcing its limp, scarlet body to soar backwards.

I looked down to find my gun but there were too many corpses and torn limbs on the floor. Blood seemed to ooze everywhere. All I saw was red. The Dunwich Building's lack of lights didn't help either. My eyes focused ahead towards the kitchen door and saw more of these creatures emerging from the rooms' entrances nearby. Their screams got louder and louder.

Suddenly, I felt a familiar chilling breath behind me and heard that raspy voice again. "Run!"

I pivoted but didn't see anyone. It didn't matter as I knew what I needed to do. I turned off my Pip Boy's light and ran.

I could hear the ghouls' sharp piercing cries behind me. Their fleshy feet slapped against the ground. They sounded as if rotten eggs splattered across the tile floor. Shit, they smelled just as bad too. The ghouls' stench grew stronger. They were getting closer.

I didn't know how long I could outrun them so I reached into my backpack and pulled out my Stealth Boy. I clipped the clunky cone-shaped gadget on my wrist and activated it once I turned the corner. This technological wonder enabled my entire body to be cloaked with my immediate surroundings so long as I didn't make any sudden movements. I only used it sparingly since its camouflage effect consumed ridiculous amounts of battery power. I think my dire circumstances justified its use at the moment.

Stealth Boys never provided complete invisibility. I confirmed that as I looked down to see my body's frame distorting the wall's visible textures behind me. I stood against the indentation of the wall as one feral ghoul ran passed me. It didn't even glance at the human-shaped wall to its right. Another sprinted past me. And then another. After what seemed like an eternity, their fleshy footsteps could no longer be heard. Thank God their radiated brains equated to stupidity.

I quietly made my way to the next room and closed its door - just in time as the Stealth Boy's battery power shut down. I locked the room's only entrance and switched on the Pip Boy light. The room had a sign above the door: A27.

I took a step away from the door and turned around. Whatever hope I had left in me evaporated as the Pip Boy light illuminated Room A27. The sight of partially-eaten corpses littered around the chamber didn't faze me. But I nearly cried when I recognized the dozens of rusty man-sized barrels. Each one had a labeled picture of three curved blocks revolving around a centered circle. My legs shook and I fell to my knees as I saw glowing yellowish-green fluids leaking out of the pile of barrels. Toxic waste. There was radiation everywere.

My breathing became shallow as a haunting thought struck me. Whatever abilities and strengths I gained from Vault 106, they were gone - ever since I entered the Dunwich Building. Why didn't I sense the ghouls ahead of time? How could I have been attacked so easily? The answers laid right in front of me.

Constant exposure to this raw and harmful energy were sapping away my life. And those rabid ghouls were loving it. Even worse, rumors mentioned that their radioactive bodies evolved and thrived in toxic environments. From faster running speeds to supernatural strengths, these Dunwich bastards were very hard to kill. I could never fight my way out of this.

The thought of becoming their next meal in the Dunwich Building caused me to shudder. I caught a glimpse of my right shoulder. Blood continued to gush out and my arm seemed alarmingly pale. My fingers were trembling and cold sweat dripped from my chin. My vision began to blur and my body was overheating with a fever. My eyes felt heavy and I yearned to close them. But I knew if I fell asleep I would never wake up again.

God, I needed to hear a human voice again. I looked down at my Pip Boy. At least, I could listen to Jaime's voice while bleeding to death. I wondered if the radiation sickness would kill me first as I pressed the Play button.

Jaime's audio taped voice spoke, "My God! There are no survivors in this building - if they're not eaten first, they all become fucking monsters! Damn radiation is killing me. Whatever is in this building is powerful."

I shook my head and clenched my fists. If only I heard this tape sooner, I would have left without question. I could have at least returned with a radiation suit. Way to go, dumb ass. How could I have been so stupid?

Jaime's audio tape continued. "But there is hope. Go to Room A27."

Did he just mention Room A27? There was nothing but dead bodies and enough radioactive wastes to attract an entire ghoul city! What the hell was Jaimie talking about?

The recorded voice played on. "You'll find something that saved my life. Check the closet."

I mustered up whatever strength I had left and slowly stood up. My legs felt sluggish as I limped forward into the room. Scanning for anything that didn't look like a toxic barrel or dilapidated leftovers from a ghoul's lunch. But then something caught my eye. A metallic reflection shimmered from behind a pile of corpses. I hobbled closer and recognized the steel box. Its handles were facing up. There was a fresh handprint disturbing the closet's dusty surface. I opened the storage unit and almost yelled with joy as I gazed upon a rack of sealed and bagged radiation suits. Jaime, you are a saint!

In minutes, a perfectly conditioned protective suit covered my entire body. I knew I looked ridiculous with the bulging black glass-visor helmet and the synthetic blue rubber garments. But none of that mattered.

In seconds, I felt as if I just rejuvenated from a long restful sleep. My shoulder stopped hurting. The fever was gone. I felt strength returning to my legs and my hands no longer shook. I raised my arms in truimph. There was hope. Thank you, Jaime.

I looked down at my Pip Boy and realized that the audio tape was almost done. Jaime's tone changed. He sounded agitated. Almost desperate. He spoke slowly. "I don't know how long I can stay here in the basement. There's enough food to last for a few weeks and my radiation suit should hold up. If you get this message, it means Dad didn't die in vain. He --."

Suddenly, I heard a distinct mucous-filled gurgle from the Pip Boy speakers. My body jolted as the recording emitted what sounded like a series of gunshots. A few seconds later, I could only detect static. I looked down at the Pip Boy display. The audio tape ended.

I reached into my backpack and gripped my silencer pistol. Jaime, hang in there. I'm coming for you. I turned off the Pip Boy light and opened Room A27's door. My renewed senses could detect the ghouls' movements. All of them seemed occupied and clustered near the kitchen. I ran towards the opposite direction into unexplored territory. My steps were light enough to remain hidden. Within a minute, I walked downstairs to what had to be the basement entrance.

As I touched the door's handles, I heard someone's footsteps. These weren't the typical slimy meat-slapping noises. The steps were crisp as they tapped against the tile floor. Whoever was inside was wearing shoes!

My heart began to beat faster. With my pistol in one hand, I single-handedly pulled the door handle with the other. I slowly created an inch of open space between the door frame and the door itself.

Pointing my silencer through the narrow opening, I whispered, "Jaime?"

The shoes stopped pacing. A familiar raspy voice whispered back, "Leave while you still can."

"No way. Not without you!" I replied. I didn't risk my life just to be rejected.

I pulled the door wide open and rushed inside the pitch dark room. A flashing white light suddenly illuminated the entire basement. I instinctively raised my left arm to deflect the surging brightness but it was too late. My eyes stung. Numbness spread over my face as the intense luminosity blinded me.

The raspy voice yelled, "You should have left, Vault Dweller!"

And before I could react, the basement door slammed shut.

The Dunwich Encounter

2009-07-30T21:50:00.000-07:00

This entry is inspired by my Fallout 3 gaming experience. Due to its violent nature, please note that this content is suitable for mature audiences only.

Beneath the starry sky, one structure stood in the middle of nowhere. The wastelanders called it the Dunwich Building.

Legends claimed that a malevolent force inhabited this building prior to the Chinese invasion. It was so powerful that even World War III's atomic bombardment did not completely destroy the towering skyscraper. Some folks believed whatever was found in the Dunwich Building prompted China to attack America. What I found most disturbing were the ghost stories. They warned of countless travelers and explorers entering the Dunwich ruins, but no one ever left.

Walking towards this infamous structure, I could see the skyscraper's surviving bottom five floor levels. Its foundation seemed solid and strong. I kept my head low and jogged around the perimeter of the Dunwich Building. There was something missing. Security. Unlike other surviving shelters, the Dunwich site was void of all radioactive wildlife, robot sentries and territorial raiders. Apparently, even the Capital Wasteland's most deadly predators avoided this region.

But I wasn't seeking shelter or a new home to claim. No, my purpose was different. A few hours ago, a man named Jaime sent out a distress call using the Dunwich Building's radio communications. I intended to rescue him.

Walking nearer to the front entrance, I noticed the cemented patio had a thick, undisturbed layer of dust. Every step I took, I would leave a footprint. I looked up and found several dusty footprints ahead of me. I bent down and studied them. The shapes of the footprints all pointed towards the entrance and never the opposite direction. Perhaps the ghost stories were true. No one ever left the Dunwich Building.

Oddly enough, there was no lock at the front entrance. More surprisingly, even after nuclear fallout, this metallic door seemed fully intact - if not, flawless. I took a deep breath and touched its smooth surface with my left palm. Strange how warm it felt when I pushed it open. My right hand firmly gripped my combat shotgun as I stepped into the Dunwich lobby. The interior was dark and the building's electric power seemed non-existent.

I waited a solid minute and listened for any movement or sign of life. Nothing. I activated my Pip Boy's flashlight. This personal storage device wrapped around my left wrist wasn't the latest model but it had its perks. Illuminating an entire room was all I needed at the moment.

But the artificial light revealed a ghastly sight. Several skeletons sprawled across the floor. The bones on the skeleton were were picked clean and a thick layer of dust settled on their remains. Long streaks of dried brown blood splattered the lobby's walls. The clothing on the dead were nothing but withering rags.

As I took my first few steps into the Dunwich Building, a cold breeze flowed from the inner hallway. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. In mid-step, I heard a raspy voice whisper, "Leave now."

I cocked my gun and pointed it forward. I squinted my eyes to see further but nothing was visible. I silently counted to thirty as my right index finger yearned to pull the trigger on a moving target. But I saw nothing.

Another chilling wind brushed past me. Suddenly, the front door entrance slammed shut. I nearly jumped as the sound echoed. Without thinking, I sprinted back to the door and grabbed its handles. With a sigh of relief, the metallic entrance opened again. I looked up to the night sky. The stars twinkled brightly as if they were signaling me to exit.

I wanted to leave. Life would have been easier if I took a few steps out the door, pretended nothing happened and moved on with my life. I would have returned to Megaton and enjoyed the safety and peace within the city's fortified walls. But no, someone needed me. And his name was Jaime.

I took a deep breath and pivoted around. I slowly walked down the dark hallway past the lobby and came across a room to the left. The sinks, dishwashers and stoves indicated that this room was the building's kitchen. There were more corpses scattered across the tile floors and tables. All of the deceased were covered in old filthy rags and settled dust. This time, however, I noticed some of the dead's limbs laid several feet away from their skeletal bodies.

One of the kitchen lights ahead of me flickered. I creeped up towards the light source and saw a bunch of audio disks on the table directly below the bulb. I stopped to scrutinize this pile of data - they were each labeled in chronological numbers with the handwritten name: Jaime. In an instant, the light bulb completely illuminated. I looked around for someone playing with the kitchen's light switches but the accumulated dust on the control panel indicated that no one touched it in ages.

I grabbed the audio disks and inserted them into my Pip Boy, according to their designated numbers. While they were uploading, I checked for any other kitchen exits. There were none so I closed the entrance I came in and locked the door.

I sat down on a chair and pressed the Play button on my Pip Boy. At first, I heard static but a few seconds later, I heard a young man's voice from the wrist gadget's speakers.

"Day One. Dad left without telling me goodbye and this is my first day out of the hospital since the 'incident.' What could have made him leave without warning? He must've had his reasons. But the Capital Wasteland is too dangerous for one man. I must find him..."

My heart skipped a beat. It's not everyday you hear about another person's dad ditching his son without an explanation. But Jaime's first reaction was to look for his father. Should I be looking for my dad too? No, my circumstances were different. My dad didn't want me to leave Vault 101. He said it was the safest place to be. But then again, I don't think Dad anticipated the Overseer trying to kill me. It didn't matter. I must find Jaime first. He was the one who asked for my help anyway. Not Dad.

The next few journal entries revealed how Jamie encountered a bunch of blood-thirsty raiders. He had to kill them to prevent an entire family from being slaughtered. I haven't even met Jaime but I knew I liked him already. He was a man of faith who pursued justice. Amazingly, God answered his prayers as this rescued family knew of his father's exact whereabouts. They pointed him towards the Dunwich Building. He, too, was warned of the ghost stories. But Jaime went anyway. We have a lot in common, Jaime. I hope to meet you soon.

As I was about to listen to the next audio tape, the light bulb's power quickly faded. I stopped the audio playback and listened. Seconds later, I heard something shuffling outside the kitchen. Reflexively, I turned off my Pip Boy light and readied my gun.

The noises grew distant. After unlocking and opening the kitchen door, I walked into the hallway corridor with my gun ready. The noises seemed further away. They were coming from one of the rooms a couple of doors down. I edged closer to the targeted door and recognized the woman's restroom sign on it.

I opened the door and gagged as a putrid smell filled my nostrils. The stench seemed to be a combination of puke, shit and death. Whatever the source was, it almost made me gag. The room's lights were flickering, revealing stalls on the right hand side. There was another section of the restroom to my left but it was blocked by a thin wall. The noises came from around the corner.

My eyes widened as I saw a shadow of a man six feet ahead. His shadowy form was hunched over, looking down at the floor. As I stepped closer along the restroom's walls, I heard the man's deep breathing and something else - a voice. It was filled with mucuous and sounded like gurgling. Was this person in trouble? Was he pleading for help? Could this be Jamie? My heart was pounding.

Before I turned the corner, the restroom's light went out. I couldn't even see my own hand. The gurgling noise was louder and the foul odor was overwhelming. I had to see who was in front of me. I turned on my Pip Boy light and readied my combat shotgun. What I saw was beyond human comprehension. Instinctively, I screamed and pulled the trigger.

And then all hell broke loose.

Coerced Generosity

2009-06-26T07:36:00.000-07:00

This entry is inspired by my Fallout 3 gaming experience. Due to its violent nature, please note that this content is suitable for mature audiences only.

Miles away from home, the citizens of Megaton begged me not to light the match. I didn't listen.

Once the flaming stick hit the dried bushes, the wastelanders fled. Attracting the local raiders and radioactive wildlife were the last things my neighbors wanted. But I knew what I was doing. At least, that's what I kept telling myself as I warmed my hands over the blazing pile of dead wood.

After the citizens' footsteps could no longer be heard, I sat in silence. The only audible noises were the crackles from the burning bushes before me. Quite the serene moment.

Such experiences don't last long enough in this mad world. I was reminded of this when a rock the size of my hand bounced past me. Either someone had bad aim or simply desired my attention. Possibly both.

"Hey kid, whatcha doin!?" a voice shouted.

I slowly turned my head and saw a man twenty feet away. His baseball cap covered his greasy hair but couldn't hide a dirty, pimply face. He wore a brown-stained shirt and ragged pants.

"What does it matter to you?" I replied.

The man continued to walk closer. "Well, it's not too often someone actually sets camp in my territory."

"I wasn't aware that the Capital Wasteland was yours."

"Everything and everyone I see is mine, kid." The man revealed a toothless grin.

"I'm surprised you're still alive with all the Radscorpions, Yao Guai and Deathclaws crawling around. Then again, maybe they're smarter than you for not trespassing my land."

I kept my hands at my sides, but close enough to draw my holstered pistol.

The man started giggling. "You amaze me, kid. You don't look scared at all."

"Should I be scared?" I asked.

"You really don't know who I am?" The pimply-faced man laughed. "My name is Jarkis."

Jarkis expected a reaction from me but I stood there silently. Not moving a muscle.

He clenched his teeth before raising his voice. "You'd be shitting bricks if you knew what I've done to youngsters like yourself."

I replied, "What do you want from me, Jarkis? If you can't tell, I enjoy sitting by myself."

The man frowned. "You're stupider than you look, kid. I'll make this quick - drop your weapons before things get... messy."

"Try it, buddy. I see you're not even armed with a gun." I patted my pistol, holstered on my left leg.

Jarkis smirked. "I don't need a gun when I have friends." He clapped his hands.

I heard numerous voices cheering and screaming at the top of their lungs. Raiders. I hate these guys. Their footsteps echoed from the boulders behind me. They waved and shot their guns in the air. What a waste of bullets.

Three individuals with blood-stained clothes ran past me to join Jarkis. Each of them held either a leadpipe or a baseball bat. Their weapons dripped a thick red fluid onto the ground. At least one unlucky soul must have met Jarkis and his men shortly before our introduction.

"You scared now, kid? Four of us and one of you."

This time, I smiled. Not the reaction Jarkis desired or expected. He froze in mid-step.

"Wrong. I count five of you scumbags. Three of your ugly friends next to you. That makes four." I extended my thumb and pointed behind me. "One coward still hiding behind those boulders, holding a bloody ice box to protect your precious loot."

Jarkis' jaw dropped. "How the hell do you know that!?"

"Jarkis the Red Death, you have no idea who you are dealing with."

The raider's face turned pale. He began to stutter. "Y-y-ou know who I am?"

"I know what you've done to my neighbors and their families. Not many folks are sick enough to harvest organs from people while they're still alive. Yes, Jarkis. I know your name very well. And I've been expecting you."

Jarkis took another step back. "K-k-Kill him!"

The single man remaining behind the boulders dropped his box and came out to greet me with a baseball bat. One of Jarkis' nearby henchmen joined him as they both began to circle around me. They raised their baseball bats in unison. The coordinated footwork and synchronized practice swings were red flags that I was facing an experienced and lethal duo.

Although raiders typically used guns, Jarkis' crew didn't want to damage any potential organs they intended to sell - so they often resorted to melee weapons to beat and 'prepare' their victims for surgical submission. Tonight, I'm ending the Red Death's practice.

I reached for the two scabbards packed on my back and grabbed one sword for each hand. These blades were crafted by the Chinese Army when they invaded American soil during World War III. I bought these two particular swords at Moira's Supply shop as they didn't seem too old or rusty. She claimed they were in good condition. Time to see if my bottlecaps paid off.

The two proximate raiders lunged at me simultaneously with a vertical strike targeting my head. I blocked their weapons with each sword in cross form. They pulled back and swung horizontally. This time I ducked and heard the two baseball bats smack each other.

These raiders growled in frustration. They weren't holding back their aggression as they desperately wanted to add my death to their list of stupid accomplishments. They swung again and again with increasing rage but could not make contact with their target.

I could have kept up this defense but I knew I had other sickos to deal with. I blocked another vertical attack with my left sword and horizontally slashed with my right. This maneuver prompted me to spin and pivot on one foot as I continued my swing in a complete 360 degree motion. The momentum of my sword hit home twice.

My two attackers fell to the ground. One of them without his head. The other dropped his baseball bat and grabbed his neck, which spurted out gallons of his lifeline in seconds. His voice gurgled as thick, red bubbles slowly emerged from his mouth.

A minute seemed to pass as Jarkis' men simply stood and stared at their fallen companions. Jarkis' jumping up and down as well as his yelling brought them back to reality. They dropped their melee weapons and grabbed their handguns. They weren't taking any chances anymore. Unfortunately for them, I wasn't either.

Without hesitation, my hands released my swords and drew out my pistols holstered at my hips. Before the discarded blades touched the ground, Jarkis heard two gunshots. I noticed a wet stain spreading from his pants as he recognized the bullet holes in his men's foreheads.

"Where are your friends now, Jarkis?" I muttered as I walked towards him.

The man blinked repeatedly and shook his head. "Th-th- that's impossible! No one! No one is that fast!"

Common sense would dictate that he's right. No one is supposed to be this fast. But one visit to Vault 106 changed everything for me. I holstered my pistols, picked up my swords and sheathed them in their scabbards. Jarkis raised his hands high.

"P-P-please! I don't want to die!" He dropped his backpack and slowly opened it wide. Hundreds of metallic pieces shimmered from the campfire. The raider held his bag of bottlecaps as if it was a pot of gold. If he didn't have a death warrant, he could have bought a spacious house and lived comfortably in Megaton.

"See? I-I-I can give you my bottlecaps. My guns... everything!"

"I'd like that."

Jarkis smiled. "Thank you!" The man took off his filthy baseball cap and used his right sleeve to wipe the sweat off his forehead. "You are a good man!"

"We're not done, Jarkis," I said as I took a stepped forward. The man's eyes widened as he looked up at me.

"We're not?" The smile from his face vanished.

"Justice hasn't been served yet," I replied as I walked closer. "We both know how much pain and suffering you have caused. Donating your belongings won't make things fair and right again."

"Please! I was stupid! I'll never hurt anyone again!" The man moaned. He raised his hands again in surrender and fell down to his knees.

"No, you won't." I cracked my knuckles by interlocking my fingers together and extending them outward. I started walking toward him again.

"No! Wait! I beg you!" Jarkis screamed. Every step I took forward, he took one step backward. I could see his hands shaking uncontrollably and his mouth open wide. Sweat poured down his face as if he completed running a marathon.

"What do you think should be done for your crimes, Jarkis?" I asked as I got nearer. "The death penalty can do only so much, so please... convince me how this world would be a better place with you in it."

When I was three feet away, I stopped. His backward walk also ceased. I wanted an answer. A good one. And he knew whatever was coming out of his mouth would have life-changing consequences.

In seconds, he spoke with excitement. "I-I-I can free all my slaves!"

I snapped my fingers. Jarkis jumped back.

"That's a good start! But what else can you do?" I folded my arms, waiting for a followup answer.

Jarkis' jaw dropped. His eyes looked down in defeat. He shook his head. His breathing became very fast and I can see tears welling up in his eyes.

He cried out, "Please! Just tell me what you want me to do! I'll do anything!"

In a blur, I unsheathed my swords and pointed my blades at the man's jugular. Out of fright, he tripped on his own leg and fell on his back.

"Here's a hint. Tell me something you know I want to hear," I replied with a smile. "Impress me."

"I will! I will! I wi -"

"NOW, Jarkis!" I yelled.

Sweat dripped from his pale face. His eyes darted to the left and right. He was thinking. Hard. In an instant, he looked directly at my face and blurted out a name.

"Jaime! You must find Jaime!" Jarkis cried out.

I dropped one sword and with one free hand grabbed Jarkis by his shirt. I brought his face close to mine. His breath smelled like rotten eggs but I didn't care. I was finally getting something important from this man.

"Who is Jaime? Where is she?"

He shook his head. "No, not she. He's a guy. And he needs help!"

"Why does he need me? And how do you know him?" I stared at his eyes. Jarkis was probably too scared to blink at the moment.

He replied, "It was on the radio half an hour ago. He begged for someone to help him escape this abandoned building. It's called Dunwich. I couldn't hear everything he was saying because of the static."

"Bullshit, Jarkis." I let go of his shirt and the man fell to his knees. He raised one arm - as if that was going to protect him from me.

"No, it's true! I swear! My boys would have checked it out and robbed him tonight but we don't go anywhere near that building anymore. It's too dangerous and haunted."

I raised one eyebrow. "Haunted? How so?"

"I-I-I don't know. We've heard some crazy ghost stories. I even sent some of my crew there weeks ago. Th-th-they never came back. I didn't want to lose any more of my men so we stay clear of the Dunwich site now."

I raised my sword and swiftly swung it at the raider. Jarkis screamed. The blade stopped two inches away from his neck.

"Jarkis, are you screwing around? I don't have time for lies, much less traps!"

"No, I swear it! On the souls of my family!" His eyes couldn't get any wider than they were. His breathing sped up. His legs were shaking.

"Jarkis," I raised my left blade and pointed it directly at his right eye. He began to wail. His shrieking grew so loud that it began to hurt my ears.

"Shut up!" I yelled as I kicked him in the chest. He landed on his back. The impact knocked the air out of him. He stopped screaming but continued to whimper.

I simply stared at Jarkis. He curled up in a fetal position and covered his face with his hands. Five minutes ago this infamous raider was planning to profit from my murder. Now, he was nothing more but a broken man. But even broken men have value.

"I believe you." I said.

Jarkis uncovered his face with his hands. He looked up at me. Tears welled up in his eyes.

"I'm granting you a new life, Jarkis. But you have to promise me something."

Jarkis vigorously nodded his head.

"Free all your slaves and give them everything you own. Keep enough for yourself to survive but if I don't hear about your generosity when I return, I will hunt you down." He let out a deep sigh of relief as I lowered my weapons.

I raised one finger and pointed it towards the raider. "If you harm anyone ever again you are a dead man. You've seen what I can do and you know I would find you. Do NOT break your promise, Jarkis. That would make things ... messy."

I picked up his bag of caps and closed it. Then I threw it at its owner. The backpack bounced off his chest.

"I promise." Jarkis said. No hesitation. "For the rest of my life, I promise!" The man's sobs grew louder as he repeated himself. "Oh god, I will keep this promise!" He sat cross-legged on the floor, looking down at his bag. Tears streamed down the man's cheeks.

"Congratulations," I said. "You're officially a retired raider. Now do something good for once and tell me where this Dunwich building is."

Sagacious Prognosis

2009-05-28T14:41:00.001-07:00

This entry is inspired by my Fallout 3 gaming experience. Due to its violent nature, please note that this content is suitable for mature audiences only.

"How bad is it, Doc?"

"Sorry, son. You only have one day left to live."

"What!?"

"Just kidding!" The doctor laughed. I didn't.

I wanted to punch this joker in the face but that would be unwise. Besides guns, doctors are the most valuable assets in the Capital Wasteland. The entire city of Megaton would unleash their wrath upon me if I even threatened their only physician. And he knew it too. Asshole.

"Son, whatever you breathed into your lungs, it's not killing you." The doctor sat down in the office chair and raised a foot to rest on his desk. "In fact, you're healthier than you've ever been."

"You gotta be joking." I said.

He looked straight into my eyes. "Not this time."

He threw me a folder of documents. "Compare last year's medical charts to today's lab results - I won't bore you with the details, but your physical conditioning and even radiation resistance have radically changed - for the better."

I began rummaging through the medical files. What I read was unbelievable - no, impossible. "There's something wrong with your equipment."

A digital voice shrieked from the corner of the doctor's office. "How dare you! I am not a piece of equipment!"

The doctor and I turned our heads to the source as it propelled itself with power ducted fans. Everyone in Megaton referred this six-armed motor robot as Gizmo, which often assisted the doctor in medical surgeries and procedures - including my physical and psychological examinations. Its voice was inspired by some British actor from the pre-war days. Charming but I never felt comfortable with artificial intelligence.

Gizmo hovered near me and I could detect its one-eye camera staring me down. Thankfully, this floating piece of junk had no defensive measures as its programming was purely for medical purposes.

The doctor raised his hand. "Easy there, Gizmo. The young gentleman didn't mean to offend."

I rolled my eyes. "Sorry, Gizmo. I just think your sensors are flawed."

The robot raised all six of its multi-jointed steel arms. "Blasphemy! I've never been wrong in my life! That's 200 years, 129 days, 13 hours, 46 minutes, and counting, you damn Yankee!"

I ignored the talking tin can and handed back my medical file to the doc. "This chemical agent is responsible for the deaths of countless wastelanders and Vault 106 citizens. Countless! How can you say this chemical is not harmful?"

The doctor bit his lip. "I don't know. My only guess is that when this gas was initially released, it was too potent for the human body and thereby produced disastrous results. However, after decades of dilution, perhaps exposure to this gas is harmless - if not, beneficial."

I spat. "Beneficial!? I hallucinated about my dad attacking me in that fucking vault!"

Gizmo interjected. "Sir, there are no indications that the patient is suffering from any drug abuse that would typically produce hallucinations. The patient's testimony is very peculiar. Perhaps he is just an idiot who has family issues?"

The doctor leaned back into his chair. "How do you know you were hallucinating? Didn't you tell me that the Vault door was manually operated to seal you inside? That doesn't make sense if you were the only person left alive in Vault 106…"

I slammed my palm on the doctor’s desk. "I don't know how that door closed!” I glared at the doctor - for a moment, his face turned pale. “And I'm not going back there to find out."

The doctor raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Son, I'm not asking you to. I'm just saying that whatever is in your body is not hurting you. Shit, just look at that bandage you wasted!"

I looked down expecting to see a red-soaked bandage on my ankle. Only a few hours ago it was bleeding profusely so I requested Gizmo to replace the bandage after cleaning. But it was dry. I ripped it off and my heart skipped a beat. No blood. Not even a hint of a scratch.

"What the hell is going on?" I murmured.

The doctor picked up a pen and began scribbling something on his clipboard. “Your prognosis gets better. Let’s talk about reflexes.”

Without warning, he threw the pen at my face from point-blank range. Instinctively, I raised an arm. After two seconds, I realized that the pen rested on the palm of my hand.

"What the f - "

The doctor stood up. “Young man, you have no idea what you are capable of. Heightened reflexes. Enhanced perceptive senses. Strong as a mutie, but half as ugly. Who knows what else you can do...”

"I think you over-estimate me, Doc." I shrugged.

He placed a hand on my right shoulder. "Vault 106 may have been cursed. But you’re not. Whatever is changing your body, consider it a blessing."

I stepped back as the doctor’s hand dropped off my shoulder. "What do you know about blessings, old man? We live in a rotting world where people kill each other over a bottle of water. And if we're not killing each other, something inhuman out there will finish us off."

"Son, we're still alive. That's a blessing. Don't tell me you'd rather be dead. That would be a waste of my time."

"And mine!" Gizmo yelled as it propelled itself to another room.

I fell silent. I hate it when I'm lectured to. Even more so when I knew the Doc was right. I needed to focus on what I have as opposed to what I don't have. And at this very moment, I gained something I’m just beginning to understand.

One final concern begged for an answer. A part of me didn't want to ask. But the burning question escaped my mouth.

"How do I know this chemical won't kill me later on?"

"You won't." The doctor replied as he filed away my medical documents in the office cabinet. "By that time, who cares? You'll be dead."

I slowly nodded. I heard exactly what I needed to hear. And it was enough to move forward.

He extended an open palm. "Now pay up some bottle caps and let me help others who don't heal as miraculously as you."

I shook the physician’s hand with a firm grip. "Thanks, Doc."

"No problem. Come back when you inhale something else."

This time, we both laughed.

29 Years of Gratitude

2009-05-27T12:06:00.000-07:00

Today is a special day for me.

Not because I officially become 29 years old but because I have incredible moments to reflect upon for the past 29 years.

Five memories that brought me to tears this morning.

Break Dancing in Japan: dancing more hours than I sleep on a daily basis taught me you can find community in anything you love to do. Performing in front of thousands is something I'll never forget. If only SYTYCD existed when I was in college. Hah!
My 3 Breakups: each one reminds me how idiotic and selfish I am. I'm thankful for who I am today but regret hurting loved ones who never deserved the pain I inflicted upon them. A learning process I never want to experience again.
Accepting Christ as my Lord and Savior: knowing that someone as sinful as myself can be redeemed completely inspires me to share the Good News everyday.
Deceased Friends and Family: high school friends to grandparents - a harsh reality I came to realize: change happens and living life without them hurts a lot.
Meeting Mrs. Mewie: coincidental that we first met online? Coincidental that we're both 4th generation Chinese Americans? Coincidental that our family members knew each other way back from their college days (30+ years ago)? Coincidental that Mrs. Mewie and I laugh with and at each other every freaking day? No way. We were meant to be.

I realize I don't reflect as often as I used to. Life has been extremely busy focusing on the things I love - career, church, writing, married life - today was exactly what I needed to be grateful.

Surviving Vault 106

2009-04-16T23:44:00.000-07:00

This entry is inspired by my Fallout 3 gaming experience. Due to its violent nature, please note that this content is suitable for mature audiences only.

Time is precious, especially when you don't have much left.

Every fiber of my being wanted to leave Vault 106. But what I discovered must be destroyed. This evil had claimed too many innocent lives. The footsteps of Vault 106's insane citizens grew louder. Any minute this room will be filled with blood. Hopefully not mine.

I stood by the vault's kitchen door and poked my head out in the hallway. I cursed as I saw over a dozen individuals in grimy stained clothes rushing from the opposite end. They were carrying lead pipes, baseball bats and knives. I was armed with my shotgun but I knew that alone wasn't going to stop a fanatical mob in these tight corridors. I shut the kitchen's door and looked for a lock. My heart sank - no lock.

Beyond the door, one of the freaks yelled, "More fun for everyone!"

A female voice shrieked, "Rip out the prize from his corpse!" I didn't have the luxury of pondering what that prize may be.

I scanned my immediate surroundings. There was another door that led to an empty bedroom. Perfect. I reached into my backpack and activated five frag mines. These babies had electronic motion detectors. Once powered up, any sudden movement would trigger its explosive effects. I planted them on the kitchen floor and closed the metal door behind me.

I saw a bed at the end of the room and sat on it. I closed my eyes and whispered a quick prayer. "God, please protect me."

The kitchen door opened and psychotic laughter echoed throughout the vault's hallways. Like music to my ears, I heard a series of instant beepings followed by powerful sound blasts. The bedroom's metallic door shook but held firm. Silence reigned the vault. Thank you, Jesus.

I opened the door with my gun ready. I've never been so happy to see severed human limbs sprawled across the kitchen floors. The insane Vault 106 citizens would never harm another innocent soul again.

I traveled deeper into Vault 106, as I needed to replenish my food, supplies and ammunition. The rusty stains and dried bones of murdered citizens were a common decorative theme for each room. Every skeleton I came across justified my actions for ridding the world of these lunatics. The problem was solved.

I knew I was wrong the moment my vision temporarily blurred. Suddenly, my perception of the world literally turned blue. I thought I walked in a room with blue-tinted light bulbs but something horrible was happening. This old-bloody splattered vault instantly revealed itself as a spotlessly clean and functioning vault. Even the old ragged furniture looked brand new. Impossible!

My heart thumped faster. Sweat trickled down my right cheek. My mouth felt dry and my breathing became more difficult. What happened to the air - that's it! There was something in the air! Gas!

The vault's computer archives I accessed earlier explained the release of an experimental gas that prompted Vault 106 citizens to create havoc. How could I be so blind? The vault citizens were not the problem. It was the gas. The same gas that I breathed into my lungs!

I didn't know if I was too late and too exposed to the chemical agent but I knew I needed to get out. Holding my breath for as long as I can, I bolted towards the exit. Unfortunately, my current position was two floors below ground level. Running without breathing that long of a distance would incapacitate me. I had no choice but to inhale the tainted air as I fled for the surface.

After reaching Vault 106's ground floor, I thought I might be less exposed to the experimental gas. After all, it's been decades since this gas was released throughout the vault. But then I saw something in my way. No someone. I raised my gun to fire but the figure stepped out into the light.

My legs froze. My jaw dropped as I recognized this familiar person. "Dad?"

He replied, "Where do you think you are going, son?"

Strangely, I also heard his voice from behind me. "Breathe in the Blue, son."

I turned and saw Dad. Again. Behind him was another man... who looked exactly like Dad. And another behind that man. I knew I was going crazy. That damn gas was affecting me!

"You're not real!" I yelled.

My Dad(s) stared at me with glazed eyes. In unison, they said, "Of course I am..." After a few seconds of silence, all of them shrieked, "And you will stay here with me!"

These things that resembled Dad sprinted towards my position with that familiar menacing laughter. I panicked and fired. Once the bullets appeared to make contact, these creatures would instantly dissipate into nothingness. The projectiles bounced off the vault's metal walls. More and more images - ghosts - of Dad came out of the shadows. His many faces showed nothing but rage and hatred as I ran towards the exit.

My legs started aching and I began coughing uncontrollably. The mob of Dads were close. I felt their chilling breath upon my neck. These phantoms screamed at me to stop. I saw a faint yellow light down the hallway and realized it was the Vault's only entrance. Freedom was in sight.

Someone or something pushed a series of buttons on the exit's control panel. The door started to slowly close. The light from the outside world began to fade as the vault's gigantic metallic door nearly covered the entrance. My legs felt sluggish but I kept running. My life depended on this.

In three seconds, the vault would be permanently sealed from the outside. I used every last bit of strength to dive forward. I shut my eyes and screamed. I heard the giant metal door shut. I felt a phantom grab my left ankle with an overwhelmingly icy firm grip.

I continued to scream, thinking that I failed to escape - imagining myself as the latest prisoner to Vault 106. But the ghosts' voices ceased. I felt a jagged rock against my chest and the gritty sand under my palms. My blue vision faded as I perceived a red gash on my left ankle. Miraculously, my coughing stopped as I sucked in fresh air. With a new sense of hope, I found myself staring at the exterior steps of the rusty entrance door. I survived Vault 106.

But nothing good came out of this cursed location. Whatever I breathed into my lungs was still there. I could taste its subtle acidic taint. This foreign substance lingered within me. Perhaps there was nothing to fear. But what if this chemical agent was designed to remain dormant? What if I was a walking time bomb, just moments away from unleashing destructive madness unto others?

These questions I could not answer but I knew someone who would.

Discovering Vault 106

2009-03-11T22:53:00.000-07:00

This entry is inspired by my Fallout 3 gaming experience. Due to its violent nature, please note that this content is suitable for mature audiences only.

There is something magical about the world we live in. Everyday, we discover new people, objects, places and experiences.

There are moments of excitement and joy as we find hidden treasures. On the other hand, there are instances of horror and disgust when we unearth things that were never meant to be found. Today's discovery proved to be the latter. It was a Vault entrance.

Vaults, like the one I was raised in, were built underground to endure nuclear attacks. Vaults reopened upon two conditions: 1) World War III's nuclear bombardment ended; and 2) the immediate environment was measured with safe radiation levels for human colonization. From that point, Vault citizens were called upon to rebuild what was left of America. My vault opened several decades after these two conditions were met, but that's a story meant to be told another day.

This particular vault door had a number on it. 106. It was already open so I assumed radioactive monsters would be inhabiting this seemingly abandoned man-made cave. I noticed dried blood stains smeared across the steel floors and walls. Typical visuals in a post-apocalyptic world. Nevertheless, I was concerned. Perhaps Vault 106 citizens were attacked by raiders when the Vault doors unlocked? Little did I know that raiders were going to be the least of my worries.

As I walked down the quiet corridors of the underground structure, I found a computer. The machine was still operable and juiced up by the Vault's self-sustaining generators. Thank goodness Dad disciplined me to study while growing up - I applied my science skills to hack into the active terminal. Education is precious, especially in a world where virtually every school had been reduced to rubble. Dad would be proud how quickly I bypassed the computer's security.

Reading the computer's files, I discovered the grim truth why Vault 106 was no longer a refuge for civilization. According to its electronic records, the Overseer initiated an experimental gas exposure to its citizens. These folks were totally unaware of the experiment and they suffered the ultimate price. The gas prompted the unwilling participants to go berserk. In seconds, Vault 106's citizens lost their reasonable senses and began murdering all those who were immune to the chemical gas. The records didn't give me much more details but I knew enough. I was in trouble.

I heard movement down the hallway. A survivor? What does an insane citizen look like? Did the effects of the experimental gas wear off? Did someone survive the attack and escape the insane mob? I was determined to find out.

I ran as lightly as I could down the hallway. Two distinct voices spoke in the next room. One male. The other female. The door was already open and I heard small talk over the radroaches infesting the place. The couple sounded friendly and with no taint of insanity. I even detected some flirtatious comments from the male voice.

There was hope and I clung on to that as I turned the corner. I also readied my shotgun. I took to heart a note from a fortune cookie my Dad gave me for my seventh birthday: "Hope for the best, prepare for the worst." Such advice enabled me to experience many more birthdays.

There was a kitchen - full of stocked canned foods. The place was a mess with rust stains on the walls and floors. Rotten food littered across the kitchen counters. Not the best way to maintain a healthy lifestyle but hey, I wasn't here to judge.

I saw a bald-headed man and a blonde woman, each wearing a dirty pair of Vault 106 uniforms. Unwashed clothes are common for any roaming wastelander so I found no indication of an unstable mind. The man seemed to be in his fifties and the woman in her young twenties. In these dangerous times, the age gap between romantic partners was nothing to be concerned about - survival, co-dependency, and companionship are key factors in any modern day relationship.

The couple was sitting across from one another at the dining table. They were holding hands and continued to talk about pesky radroaches. After a few seconds, the young woman noticed my presence. Under all those layers of dirt, I could detect a pretty face. Then the man turned his head towards me.

They both gave me a blank stare. I stared back for what seemed like forever. Awkward, to say the least. Eventually, I lowered my gun.

"Are you okay? Do you need any help?" I asked.

The man stood up and slowly revealed the most wicked smile I have ever seen. I don't think I could forget those yellow jagged teeth stained with blotches of brown.

I continued. "I'm from Vault 101 and I mean you no harm."

Then the young woman stood by his side. She started laughing hysterically.

Finally, the man spoke, "We have another present. Let's open him up!" He took out a lead pipe from his pocket while the woman picked up the baseball bat on the kitchen counter. Her laughter grew louder and began to hurt my ears.

I aimed the gun at the man and spoke, "Don't do it, friend. It doesn't have to be this way."

His smile exposed more yellow, crooked teeth. Some brownish drool began to emerge from his ghastly maw. He raised the lead pipe with his left arm and screamed, "I'm going to enjoy this!"

That was the last thing he said before his right arm exploded in countless bloody pieces of flesh and bone. My shotgun never fails in close corridors. The man's smile disappeared as his bald head turned deathly pale. The lead pipe dropped to the ground, quickly followed by the man's body.

The woman's laughter ceased as she looked at her partner's silent form. The man's right side sprayed blood all over her. She turned towards me, her face drenched red.

I raised my left arm with an open palm facing her.

"Please! Don't come any closer or I will shoot you too."

Blood continued to drip from the woman's face as a familiar disturbing grin began to emerge. Suddenly, she jumped at me and swung the baseball bat at my head. I ducked. The wooden stick crashed against the wall adjacent to me.

I rolled forward avoiding another swing. Dropping my gun, I grabbed the sledge hammer slung to my back. I swung and heard a loud crack from the woman's legs. Her body flew backwards.

The woman stood on one leg, still gripping her baseball bat. The other leg dangled - I must have broken something. The hairs on the back of my neck froze as she didn't seem to even notice her crippled state. Without hesitation, she started to limp towards me. My heart began to beat faster. I couldn't look away from her haunting smile - she was so close I could see her yellow, crooked teeth stained with light brown spots. As her broken body approached, I realized the layers of dirt and fresh blood covered any semblance of a human being. I didn't see a pretty face anymore. I saw evil.

"Stop it! What's wrong with you, woman!?" I yelled.

"Die! Die! DIE!" She snarled.

I took a deep breath. The psycho bitch lunged towards me and I struck as hard as I could. My sledge hammer drove straight down on her cranium. I heard a rip and a split-second later, her head bounced off the floor. The woman's body toppled over, showering the kitchen walls with a new coat of dark red.

My jaw dropped as I stared at the woman's severed head. Then I looked at my hammer to see anything that could have decapitated her. There was nothing extraordinary - just a typical wooden stick with a heavy metal block at the end. None of this made sense.

I heard footsteps from below. Several footsteps. They were getting louder. I had two choices. Run away or hold my ground. I checked my ammunition and reloaded my shotgun. I knew what had to be done.

Time to purge Vault 106 from this madness.

Triples

2009-03-05T09:58:00.000-08:00

Inspired by my Facebook friends, here are my life's triples...

Names I go by

Mewie (Mew + Louie = Mewie)
Mikey
M.K. Louie

Jobs/Careers

Marketing Communications Strategist
Legal Analyst
Break Dance Teacher

Places I Lived

Glendale
Tokyo
Syracuse

TV Shows I Watch

24
Lost
How I Met Your Mother

Places I Visited

Australia (love those mates and koalas!)
Lake Tahoe (favorite domestic vacation)
Las Vegas (2nd favorite domestic vacation)

People that E-mail Me Regularly

GRX Clan
Mrs. Mewie
Pulse Ministry

Favorite Foods

Red Meat
Rice
Sushi

Songs I Love

Edge of Heaven - Prism (inspires me to write my novel)
Zocalo - Armin Van Buuren (theme song for one of my characters)
Journey to the Line - Hans Zimmer (best sad song ever)

Books I Would Read More than Once

World War Z - Max Brooks
Gears of War: Asphos Fields - Karen Traviss
Job - God

Movies I Love

Heat
LOTR Trilogy
Dark Knight

Things I am Looking Forward to

Expand the Kingdom of God
Play Basketball
Game it up with the GRX Clan

Three Drinks

Midori Sour
Lemonade
Cytogainer Chocolate Malt (my daily boost for energy)

People I Miss

My friends on the East Coast
My friends in Japan
My friends in Southern California

Explore and Focus

2009-02-11T07:04:00.000-08:00

2009 begins as a very challenging year.

The economy is badly damaged. I attended a funeral of a loved one. Friends are suffering from broken relationships and the fear of unemployment. Not the best of times.

I am reminded of the times I hit rock bottom and the two practical things I did to rise up again. Explore and focus. Explore those things you always wanted to know more about - whether it's taking up a musical instrument, playing a new sport, or learning a foreign language. Next, focus on something you know you are interested in.

There are three major benefits to exploring and focusing.

Escapism: life can be extremely difficult with stress and grief. Escape from these overwhelming circumstances by exploring something fresh. Once your focus is on to something intriguing, stay there for a little while. Escapsim is not meant to avoid or deny your problems - rather, your escapism should help you calm down, rationalize and ultimately resolve a very difficult reality.
Productivity: passion to learn and practice boosts your productivity. There is so much we don't know in our lives - the whats, hows, wheres and whys. Wouldn't it be fascinating to recognize and perfect the unknown? Focus on a hobby and you will develop fulfillment in something, even if temporary. Focus on a skillset and you will have the potential to enhance your career. Focus on knowledge and you will empower yourself to connect and better understand others.
Sharing Life with Those Who Can Help You Most: as you escape and progress in your area of interest, you will come across wonderful individuals who share the same passions. These people are in tune and experienced to what you are seeking and because they share the same goals, they will most likely support you to succeed. Ultimately, you will find yourself united and integrated with a community that helps you appreciate what you enjoy most.

When I failed the California bar exam for the second time and remained unemployed for several months, I needed to explore and focus. I discovered Lynda.com and was introduced to the world of graphic design. After a month of training and experimenting, I developed a portfolio with powerful applications such as Adobe Photoshop, Illustrator and InDesign. A week later, I landed my current employment! Best yet, today, I still use Lynda.com (certainly helps when your employer pays for the service) to enhance the quality of my work. Not only can I produce meaningful art and effective designs, I network with other professionals who can aid and inspire me to improve.

In the end, my faith tells me that everything happens for a good reason, despite the dreadful circumstances. Perhaps we are meant to experience such moments to mature into something far greater and stronger than we ever imagined. And when we don't see any hope, I often read this simple yet profound message:

"The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain."
- Kahlil Gibran

This year requires exploration and focus but imagine what you will accomplish once you meet these requirements. I sense much joy ahead.

10 Random Facts

2009-02-02T18:13:00.000-08:00

Inspired by my Facebook friends, I've written down 10 random facts about myself.

Writing is what I do most everyday and I love it. Whether its business communications or writing my novel, writing is my greatest asset and pleasure.
I've been slacking off in my blog because of my addiction to Xbox LIVE and hanging out with friends and family. The experiences shared have been highly entertaining and meaningful. What I should also be doing is blogging about these experiences!
I mildly suffer from trichotillomania - a hair-pulling mental disorder. I often have the urge to pull hair from my body. I used to pluck from my head in high school but then I (and others) noticed balding spots. People think I shave my armpits but it's due to uncontrollable plucking. This isn't a painful process and I actually enjoy the feeling of plucked hair - I feel cleaner without it. Still, it's an uncontrollable habit so I often wear jackets and long-sleeve shirts to restrict myself.
The only times I shouted at my wife is when I'm gaming online - expressing my outrage that I'm lagging in performance b/c she's surfing the Internet. One time she intentionally uploaded hundreds of photos while I was gaming. She's a clever one.
I've never played beer pong before. I don't know what I'm missing. In fact, I don't believe I played any drinking game before except for "Fuzzy Duck." Probably b/c I have no tolerance whatsoever for alcohol.
Perhaps once a year, my wife looks at me in disappointing disbelief. We share a theory that she is growing taller and/or I am shrinking. When we stand next to each other, we just have to laugh sometimes at the (increasing) difference in height.
The inevitable has happened. I have retired from break dancing. It was pretty lonely practicing by myself so I moved on to train for community-centered activities, such as basketball. While I may be declining in upper body strength and flexibility, I've gained more stamina and developed wonderful relationships with fellow b-ball players.
In a non-scientific manner, I diagnosed myself as "involuntarily anorexic." I rarely have the hunger or appetite for anything. I don't know why but all food basically tastes the same to me - expensive or cheap, I cannot differentiate by taste. I eat to live and don't live to eat. The bad news is that I have difficulty in maintaining and gaining weight which causes my immune system to break down.
My motivation to exercise is different than most. Sure, it's nice to be buff and all but now that I'm married, my primary goal is to counter my involuntary anorexia - the more energy I expend, the better my appetite and the less likely I'll be sick again.
About once a week, the wife and I discuss nominations for our future children's names. I'm hoping to have all the future Mewies start with the letter "M" but she keeps insisting on this "K" name for a future daughter. It's a nice non-"M" name but I'm stubborn. I don't think this will be an issue until we seriously plan on having children. That won't be for another year.

Monster Hunt

2009-01-15T00:11:00.000-08:00

This entry is inspired by my Fallout 3 gaming experience. Due to its violent nature, please note that this content is suitable for mature audiences only.

When I was a child, I was deeply afraid of monsters. At the time, my dad would tell me they were nothing but figments of my imagination or that I've been watching too many vids lately.

However, after emerging from my home vault and walking in the wastelands of former Washington D.C., I realized that monsters were very real. I encountered gigantic scorpions which required major firepower to destroy. These things, much like the other natural wildlife, mutated into lethal monstrosities by being exposed to World War III's atomic weapons. God knows how many people have died since these creatures spawned worldwide.

Hunting monsters was my calling. And I enjoyed it immensely as adrenaline pumped through my body. This career path was quite economical too as I collected their meats for nutrients and bartered for something better with caravan merchants. Quite risky but that's why I must train diligently.

Monsters are not the smartest creatures but they have uncanny perception. Naturally, stealth is an essential skill in the hunting business. Pulling off the first strikes against these fiends is always a good thing - you don't want a radscorpion sneaking up on you and impaling your body with its two foot long stinger. So training is something I take very seriously. While reading covert ops books helps, nothing is better than actually practicing stealth. Obviously, the best time to do that is at night.

On my prowl for monsters, I came across a school bus. At first I thought I was alone, until I saw a shadow nearby. Something was on the bus. I crept up slowly to get a better view.

I found my target. It wasn't a multi-legged monster. It was worse. People referred these beings as raiders. These people (if you can even call them people) gave up their humanity to be the blood-thirsty scum of the earth. They banded with other psychos to prey on the innocent. I've seen their handiwork as they decorate body parts of victims around their homes - a warning or celebration of how cruel they could be.

The front of the school bus confirmed my raider suspicion as a limbless female corpse rested on a bloodied pike. The image made me want to puke. I held in my dinner as I clenched my fists and swore to myself that this woman will be avenged.

The raider was alone. His headquarters must be nearby - after all, the school bus functioned as a watch tower. Time to test my sneaky skills.

Taking out my pistol, I ran as silently as I could to the bus. Unfortunately, I wasn't quiet enough. I failed to see a bent tin can on the ground and knocked it over. The man turned his head towards my direction. He saw me and I froze.

In his hand was a THERMAL DETONATOR!

Just kidding, it was a frag grenade - I was inspired to quote one of my favorite sci-fi vids. But I knew I was in a very bad situation. He had considerable cover with a vertical advantage and I had nothing to hide behind.

I realized that a one-time headshot would not work. The raider was wearing an arclight helmet, an ugly plated headgear that protects the face from welding metal sparks and in this case, my bullets. The man was covered in heavy armor as well. He flicked off the grenade's switch. It was hot and about to be thrown.

I made a quick mental prayer. I might have also soiled my pants.

The bastard yelled out, "It's time to die, Chicken Shit!"

The raider took a step forward, giving his throwing arm the momentum to seal my fate. In a split second, I did the unthinkable. My pistol fired.

BOOM!

The frag grenade detonated. A red cloud of flesh and guts sprayed the ground near me. I could have sworn one of the raider's eyeballs bounced off my right shoulder.

For a good ten seconds, I just stood there in amazement. I knew the explosion would grab the attention of other raiders and attract the nearby wildlife. It was time for me to leave. But wow, I just did something a normal person can only dream of doing. I shot a freaking grenade out of a man's moving hand. God certainly answers prayers.

Although I failed my stealthy exercise, I left with a huge smile on my face. Justice can be very sweet... and umm... messy. On that note, I need to seek out a new pair of jeans.

A Sucker for Babies

2009-01-10T14:25:00.000-08:00

This entry is inspired by my Fallout 3 gaming experience. Due to its violent nature, please note that this content is suitable for mature audiences only.

While exploring Washington D.C.'s wasteland, I heard a little baby crying up ahead so I went to check it out.

To my surprise, I saw a baby carriage out in a children's playground. What the hell is that doing out here? More importantly, who would abandon a baby in the midst of radioactive wildlife, psychotic raiders and freakish Super Mutants roaming around? There were skeletons sprawled across the area. Their bones were charred. Perhaps the baby's protectors?

The baby's cries became louder. As I got closer to the carriage, I knew something very wrong was going to happen but I pressed on anyway. Suddenly, I saw a flash and my ears went numb. I felt like I was flying backwards. After two seconds, I realized that the stroller exploded in flames. It was a freaking bomb!

My chest was in pain. That's a good sign. I was still alive. A second later, hot red lasers showered my vision and I reflexively moved behind an old rusty car. Adrenaline pumped throughout my body as I scanned the area for enemies. My ears were still ringing as I heard more laser shots hitting my cover.

Something else was wrong. I felt heat and looked up. Fire. On the vehicle. Very odd.

My brain slowly processed the following:

Vehicles have fuel.
Fire + Fuel = Big Explosions
Martha focker, I'm about to die!

After two seconds of sprinting away, the car's explosion propelled me into a nearby rock. Blood was gushing all over my limbs, I didn't even know where I was hurt - I just felt agony everywhere. At that moment, I wanted to die. Barely conscious, I crawled behind the rock I smacked into. All this mayhem because I have a thing for babies. Give me a break!

I turned around and the entire playground was on fire. In the midst of this carnage, I spotted a robot walking - it looked like it was something out of a 1950's sci-fi movie with its glowing lights and extendable grappling claws. Its mounted laser cannons were still glowing from its recent attacks. The robot scanned its immediate area for my body or anything else organic. Its sensors did not pick me up... yet.

Enough of this crap. I grabbed my hunting rifle and with two quick shots, blew its head off. The robot was nothing more than scrap metal. I decided not to celebrate this victory since both my legs were crippled from the car explosion. Ugh.

I just hope the doctor doesn't have any cheesy jokes about how it's going to cost a leg for medical aid.

Communicating Effectively

2008-12-18T13:22:00.000-08:00

We may have fantastic ideas and solutions for positive change but these things are useless if we cannot communicate effectively.

As a marketing communications strategist for a professional services firm, communication skills are essential to inform and persuade partners and clients to take action. Whether this is executed through business intelligence or marketing collateral, the ultimate objective is to provide relevance and value to the reader. You achieve this goal by communicating effectively.

To communicate effectively, you must be concise. The more direct the message is tailored to the reader, the easier and faster one will understand it. In this Information Age, we are bombarded with information overload so we don't have the time or energy to read everything - we are trained to avoid irrelevant topics and skim unnecessary, fluffy words.

Discussing miscellaneous topics and adding flavorful words to your message may add variety and increase general interest. However, be mindful about the one primary message you hope to convey. Do these other subjects and verbiage strengthen your readers' understanding or weaken it?

Think about what makes most sense to the reader. Most likely, you can identify and cut out the excess - as a result, you will deliver the words and topics that truly matter.

To communicate effectively, you must abide by proper grammar rules. Following these rules empowers people to be comfortable in understanding your message. Breaking grammar rules results in inconvenience, confusion and distractions to your message.

Rather than focusing on your message, readers may be composing a new message: "Why isn't there a period at the end of the sentence?" or "This writer cannot spell!"

Communication is one of the most effective ways to differentiate yourself from your peers. Invest the time to be concise and refresh your knowledge of proper grammar. These efforts yield great return and more value as you continue to share life on life.

Realize Your Value

2008-10-27T15:18:00.000-07:00

Some people do not recognize value in themselves and feel unqualified to help anyone. But they are wrong and dig themselves a deeper hole.

Our current value is easy to measure. Consider one's education, experience, resources and work ethic. Most people hire and invite others to share life with them based on this present value.

Potential value is your willingness to enhance your current value, to improve your education, to accumulate more resources, to seek more relevant experience and to raise the bar in ethical standards.

For those who struggle with their current value, potential value is often ignored and discounted. They conclude that their past will determine their future. This is probably the biggest mistake people can make when their future is always uncertain.

Imagine an 80-year old man who lives in exile for murdering another man, has no self-esteem and stutters or stammers when he speaks. This man did not find much current value in himself until he realized his potential value. Did you know that this 80-year old man was Moses, one of the greatest Hebrew heroes known to mankind?

Most people are proud of their family tree and gain confidence knowing their ancestors' history. But what if your family doesn't have the same credentials? What if your family members are regarded as 'lesser valued' people? Fear not.

Imagine being a direct descendant of a deceiver who dressed up as prostitute to become pregnant. Imagine knowing your geneology connects you to an actual prostitute. Imagine being a product of an adulterous relationship. I know one person who has this family history. His name is Jesus Christ. His ancestors include Tamar, Rahab the Harlot, and Bathsheba. Look up their stories and realize that God is not ashamed of imperfect people - He has great plans for each one of us, especially when we feel we can't sink any lower.

So yes, you are worthy. Your dark past can discourage you but it will not own you if you place your hope in transformation. In the end, my daily inspiration stems from who I am becoming rather than who I was before.

Another Conservative Supports Obama

2008-10-20T12:29:00.000-07:00

When one of your heroes endorses the other presidential candidate, you gotta think twice. I did.

This election's re-evaluation process was painful and challenging. It always hurts when your pride gets a kick in the butt. Ultimately, rather than choosing the candidate who best aligns with my personal values, I am voting for the candidate who can best unite and lead America.

McCain is consistent with my beliefs: pro-life, appointment of conservative judges, tax cuts for everyone, against universal healthcare, etc. - Noteworthy, but not enough.

I understand that Obama's appointment of liberal judges may result in more barriers and obstacles in living out my Christian faith. I understand that more babies will be murdered without the overturn of Roe v. Wade. I understand we don't have the moral right to force people to give more of their hard-earned money to Big Brother government.

However, Obama has a gift to unite people. He is a great communicator. He does not insult or sound condescending when disagreeing with an opponent. The man connects with his supporters - to gather 100,000 people in St. Louis - that is an accomplishment. To raise $150 million from 632,000 donors - that is an accomplishment. To gain the trust and respect of other conservatives - that is an accomplishment!

On the other hand, McCain's campaign tactics resulted in tremendous disappointment. There is nothing presidential in attacking a person's character when you can easily focus on more productive, fruitful measures such as your adversary's credentials, reasonings and perspectives on important issues. If that is how our Commander-in-Chief will confront present and future enemies of America, our nation will not advance.

I applaud McCain for who he is: a respected war hero and long-time serving senator. I hope that after this election is over, he is not remembered as the grumpy old man his camp propped him up to be. I also pray that he reverts back to his authentic self of honor and respect.

As for Obama, he has an undeniable powerful force of momentum. He promises something very different than the failed policies of our current administration. He is the X-factor that provides hope for the future. He has gained my respect and my vote - not because of what he believes in, but because of what he has accomplished.

As for my greatest concerns in this election - national security and foreign policy - both candidates are mostly in agreement -they do not want to leave Iraq prematurely; both want to bring the focus back to Osama Bin Laden; both support Israel. Their stances do not differentiate enough for me to say that one leader is absolutely better than the other.

In the end, I could be wrong in my decision. I do not blindly embrace this change, nor am I happy in voting for a liberal Democrat. But when it comes to putting country first, I'm willing to take a chance on Obama.

Who Do You Represent?

2008-10-16T12:12:00.000-07:00

When we share life on life, we always identify with someone or something.

We often express this identity by the clothes we wear. Sports fans proudly wear their team jerseys.

We often express this identity by promoting our preferred presidential candidate. Posting a politician's name on your web site or a political party's sign on your front yard sends a message who you associate with.

We often express this identity by giving recognition to the schools we attend. I'm guilty as I have a Syracuse University Law School Alumni license plate frame on the back of my car. Go Orange!

Many people and entities allow and encourage us to represent them. So I wonder, are we truly reflecting our chosen ideals, brand names, and organizations?

When drivers post a metallic fish on their automobiles, but practices road rage, are these genuine ambassadors of Christ? When the Los Angeles Lakers win/lose championship games and parts of the city erupt in riots, is that what a Laker is all about? When a U.S. soldier commits a war crime, does this individual represent our nation's brave heroes?

We need to be accountable for the groups we identify with. We need to make sure misrepresentations are recognized and resolved. We need to differentiate ourselves from deceptive groups or disingenuous individuals who conflict with our values. If we don't, there's no point in identifying ourselves with anything or anyone.

We need to represent who we are.

World Views on Government Power

2008-10-09T07:06:00.000-07:00

World views affect how we share life on life.

When we see suffering in this world, who do we depend on for the solution? Who can people turn to when they are in need of mercy and justice? What is our role in relieving pain and suffering? How can we help our fellow neighbors?

There are 2 distinct world views about government power between our presidential candidates.

Obama World View: America allows its elite citizens to accumulate wealth at the common people's expense - the greedy rich must be restrained. Government is the answer to the problems of the poor and impoverished. Taxation’s purpose is to redistribute wealth and to control behavior. After all, isn't that the fair thing to do?

McCain World View: American citizens can accomplish great things if they are not heavily restricted. Americans are the most charitable people in the world and don’t need Government to decide where to distribute their charity for them. Taxation is a necessary evil to generate revenues for the limited powers of Government.

My conservative values lean towards McCain, but there are humbling merits to Obama's world view.

My World View: America is the most powerful force for good in the world yet most Americans with economic privileges and power do not do enough for the common people. Real compassion for the poor and impoverished do not stem from government programs but from a culture of deliberate - not forced - giving of our own. Government is the answer to our national security and should regulate abuses of our free markets. The more we take care of ourselves and others, the less dependent we will be and the less taxes the Government will require.

As you can see, world views give different motivations and solutions in how we share life on life. We may have compassion for those in poverty, but how we reach out to them will ultimately be decided by those who feel they have the responsibility and purpose to connect, build and serve them.

In the end, I do not recommend placing your faith in the government to help others. Rather, invest your resources and share life with authentic individuals who have the passion and experience to effectively give back. These people should inspire you to serve the least of us and give you the faith and strength to joyfully give as opposed to feeling obligated to give. If we all listened to this calling in life to serve something beyond our selfish means, imagine how the quality and passion for life would improve.

Maximize Your Day

2008-10-07T01:53:00.000-07:00

Some days you need to relax. Most days, however, productivity is key.

Here are seven ways to maximize your day:

1. Wake Up Earlier: the sooner you wake up the sooner you will take action. While others sleep in, you have a headstart to do something great.

2. Love What You Do: passion prompts you to grow and take steps beyond the norm. Don't settle for the easy yet boring routine. Pursue something worthwhile.

3. Never Stop Learning: does your passion prompt you to want to know more? How many books did you read last year? If you're tight on money, look up online tutorials, read relevant blogs and research at your local library. Seek out those resources to enhance your skills and knowledge.

4. Minimize Your TV Watching: relax every once in a while but the less you watch TV, the more time and energy you'll have in doing something more productive. Unless you're pursuing point 3, pretty much anything is more productive than vegging around.

5. Be Physically Active: you can't do anything well if your health is deteriorating. Exercise and play sports. These activities won't only boost your physique but will give you the mental energy and the needed endorphins to be optimistic in everything you do.

6. Start Writing: for at least twenty minutes every day, write something down. It could be about anything - the process will clarify your thoughts and improve your communication skills. Coming from personal experience, blogging helps.

7. Share Life with Others: even during the busy seasons, call at least one person you love and respect each day. Love is not motivation, but inspiration. Surround yourself with people who inspire you to be a better person.

In the end, optimizing your day requires an attitude and commitment to improve. Don't go at it alone - accountability and outside feedback will help you grow in areas you could not have figured out on your own.

Marketing 101

2008-10-02T10:55:00.000-07:00

As a marketing professional, I often ask and remind myself what my career is all about.

Am I supposed to concentrate all my efforts into branding, advertising, promotions, and the like? Many see marketing that way but the experts know these are simply tactics.

Marketing is an analytical strategy that positions you to create demand for your services or products. This positioning depends upon critical thinking of the following:

Target Market: people who we want to take an active interest in our stuff - and no, we do not waste resources in targeting everyone. A successful company cannot be the lowest priced, highest quality business that has something for everyone. Rather, marketing professionals need to research who our most relevant customers are, where they are, what they want, and how they perceive and approach us.
Competition: the folks who hinder you from connecting with your target market. The more you know about your competitors, their objectives, and how they react to customers’ needs, the better equipped you are in positioning yourself and your products in a different (hopefully more attractive) light.
Yourself: identifying your strengths and abilities to fulfill your vision. This isn’t necessarily about having the biggest budget and all the resources in the world at your disposal, but ultimately about the company’s strengths, weaknesses, culture and determination to meet the company’s goals.

By analyzing these key factors, only then can you implement an effective marketing strategy and execute the necessary tactics (advertising, branding, etc.).

What I love about my career is that marketing isn’t just for business - you can apply this analytical strategy to personal goals, ministries, and even hobbies.

In the end, marketing is all about understanding who you want to impact, pinpointing your biggest obstacles, and determining how capable and willing you are to achieve your vision.

Sharing Politics

2008-09-15T13:00:00.000-07:00

Politics can be considered a taboo topic when sharing life with another. Conflicts of values and beliefs may lead to awkwardness, confrontations, etc. - heck, wars and genocides erupt from different points of views. Politics can be dangerous.

However, no matter what one believes, HOW you share life (and your politics) with another is what will ultimately determine if someone would like to share life with you again. Do you perceive others as unpatriotic or disgusting when they are in disagreement with you? If so, your words and body language may convey that thought. Watch out for that.

As a conservative, I often find myself outnumbered on the Left Coast. Virtually all my dearest loved ones happen to be liberal - they have completely opposite political views. Needless to say, political issues are not the decisive factors in who I share life with. In fact, the diversity of views and opinions is what makes our relationships stronger and intellectually stimulating.

So where do you stand on the political spectrum? To define and simplify politics, consider these four perspectives. Providing a definitional framework leaves room for several exceptions and hybrid points of views, but I find that these categories apply to the majority of Americans.

Liberals: believe in government intervention in the economic realm, but not in the social or moral realm.
- Typical liberals support higher tax rates on the rich because they believe a mandatory distribution of wealth helps lower-income families and the overall economy.
- Liberals are against laws that regulate morally questionable activities, such as abortions and gay marriages because they most likely don't perceive such activities as immoral or do not want to restrict another's private behavior.
Conservatives: believe in government intervention in the social or moral realm, but not in the economic realm.

Typical conservatives are against abortion - despite concerns for women's privacy and conveniences, conservatves believe abortions are murderous acts and thereby should be outlawed.
Conservatives support lower income and corporate taxes because they don't believe in penalizing people's financial successes or encouraging welfare recipients to be dependent on the government for their economic problems.

Libertarians: believe in individual freedom and don't believe in government intervention in either the social realm nor the economic realm.
- Like liberals, libertarians believe in the right to do whatever they like to do with their bodies - abortions, drugs, prostitution - libertarians believe these morally questionable activities should not be regulated by the government.
- Like conservatives, libertarians believe the best way to fight poverty is to guarantee a system of free enterprise and free trade - to promote private charity initiatives, which are more effective and better justified morally than government programs of wealth transfer.
Authoritarians: believe in government intervention in both moral and economic realms.

In essence, authoritarians do not trust individuals; the government prioritizes the collective group's concerns over individual choices.

Feel free to post a comment in how you relate to these categories and what you believe in. If you don't know where to start, take this political compass test.

Learn Patience ASAP

2008-08-22T23:57:00.000-07:00

When things don't go our way, it is tempting to immediately do something we often later regret.

By the same token, we admire those who have the stamina to persevere during difficult circumstances. We call this virtue, "patience."

There are several reasons why patience is essential to sharing life.

Wiser Decisions: taking a step back and not relying on impulsive actions or emotions - patience empowers us to think more clearly. To refrain from doing something utterly stupid, to resolve a situation without escalating the tension, to prevent fights, etc.
Peace of Mind: human desire seems limitless but developing the ability and skill to detach one's self from desire, if only for a moment, produces relief, relaxation, and acceptance. No, this doesn't mean to completely surrender our wants and needs. Rather, we must realize that most of our goals do not need to be instantly fulfilled. Otherwise, we would be slaves to the "Do this ASAP" mentality and inevitably burn out. Do things well, but don't do everything all at once.
Strengthen Your Faith: the Bible emphasizes love is patient. If you truly care for someone, you will not ignore his or her shortcomings. Rather, you will encourage, support and hope for transformation and growth - not necessarily to happen overnight, but for the long run. Even after countless disappointments, patience empowers us to accept loved ones as they are.
Get the Most from Sharing Life: happiness doesn't stem from achievements alone. We should value the preparation, motivation and effort, whether success or failure results. Reaching your destination may be important but do not discount the lessons learned and friendships made from the journey.

When I think about patience, the first person that comes to mind is my wife. I still don't understand how she can be so patient with someone as difficult as me. After 5 years of sharing life together, we have yet to have our first fight. It's not in Mindy's nature to viciously lash out or intentionally retaliate whenever I mess up. She contemplates the issues and prays for me instead.

Even when Mindy is angry, disappointed, and saddened by what I do or do not do, she never raises her voice. I remember our most difficult moments together concluded with painful tears and hearing the hurt in her voice - both were red flags informing me that I've strayed too far. They are reminders that I need to be a better husband. Yet, she still loves me.

It's humbling to be in the presence of those who display patience. There is a supernatural sense of peace and respect amongst them. All things considered, if there was something I'd like to learn as soon as possible, patience is on the top of my list. How ironic.

Who Do You Trust?

2008-08-18T12:41:00.000-07:00

In today's Information Age, accessing information is not a problem.

Gathering reliable information, however, is an incredible challenge.

Take a look at politics, for example. I thoroughly enjoyed Rick Warren's one-on-one interviews with both Obama and McCain. Based on their direct responses, I can reason out and make solid conclusions of each man's character and world views. Or can I?

No matter who 'won' the evangelical voters, there is a disturbing report that accuses McCain of cheating the interviewing process.

So who do you trust? What sources can you depend on for reliable information? As we gather overwhelming amounts of data, it's nearly impossible to filter out the lies, exaggerations, and misinformation without second-guessing our sources.

Sharing Life in 10 Words and Less

2008-08-14T13:02:00.000-07:00

People desire to be significant. Worthy. Important. But what makes an individual special?

I appreciate those who have the passion to connect, build and serve others. To share life on life in these ways can be expressed in 10 words and less...

One Word: creatively.
Two Words: provide value.
Three Words: gain their interest.
Four Words: differentiate yourself from others.
Five Words: never think you are superior.
Six Words: offer something to help people develop.
Seven Words: present them with a new, positive idea.
Eight Words: tell them to expect a phone call soon.
Nine Words: arrange a hangout/date before you leave their presence.
Ten Words: don't do anything that makes you look like an a**hole.*

Sharing life on life does not entirely focus on getting what you want or making money. Sharing life is more about surprising, caring, paying attention, and thinking about others. Ultimately, do something that gains your target audience's attention and prompts a positive response. Professional businesses and careers are built upon this principle and all parties involved have something to gain from sharing life on life.

In the end, your sense of worth increases as you think about others. Naturally, folks tend to notice thoughtfulness and often communicate - perhaps even reciprocate - their appreciation.

*Humorous behavior that teases but does not harm is acceptable (and very effective) depending on the person.