Sold Even as I type this I can hear Xian saying, "You know, sometimes you type things you probably shouldn't in your blog." On Tuesday I was summoned to a sales meeting. I thought it might be mildly interesting. I was curious to hear the perspectives and perceptions of other people in the company. After all the slides were shown I was told many, many, many times by many different people how vital my numbers are. Over the last few months I've been under pressure (think Queen) to increase my team's numbers. Tuesday forcefully hammered the point home. It's not that the expectations are unreasonable. The goals are aggressive yet fair. It's that the numbers will come at the expense of what I enjoyed about work. When I compare summer 2003 to summer 2004, it's really obvious. The numbers were decent last year, but I was incredibly proud of the product. The boys did some really oustanding work that was lauded by our peers. I swelled with pride every time someone mentioned how much they enjoyed the site. This year the numbers are much better, but the pieces have no soul. They're produced in a smart and systematic way that's effective at getting traffic. So now I'm at a crossroads (think Britney) of sorts. Do I go full on with raising numbers? Or do I try to make something creative and interesting? I can't do both in the situation I'm in--not with the current directives and my skillset. Maybe I should grow up and accept that everything is a business. Or maybe I should keep tilting at windmills and try to create something that's different. On a side note, I was surprisingly uncomfortable at the sales mixer. I usually have fun playing crowds, but not on Tuesday. It felt weird being escorted around meeting various sales / biz dev / marketing people. It's a bit ironic and more than a little hypocritical considering that I was on their side of the fence less than a decade ago.

Comic Conned My trip to San Diego was fun. The Con was okay. There were lots of games there, but most of the publishers were using the same builds they used at E3. The panel I moderated went okay. The panelists were great and there was only one question that really irked me (read the documents I send you people). Unfortunately it was the first panel on Sunday morning and it was in a ridiculously large room. Oh well. It was a neat experience and I'd do it again if asked. Friday night took an interesting turn. I went out with a bunch of gaming people. It was a lovely night in Old Town with good food, good drink, and good people. For some reason we decided it would be a good idea to go to Tijuana at 1:30 in the morning. Highlights include one guy vomitting at a strip club, interesting ladies, and a sandy dance club. Thankfully I made it to my 10AM shoot on Saturday. I kept it together until 10:52 when the cameras stopped rolling. Sunday had some really funny drama. We were supposed do a shoot at 9:30, but the floor didn't open until 10. Rannie snuck the crew in with the clever use of other people's badges. Security wasn't thrilled about this and kicked us all out. Unfortunately one of the security guys was a total assclown and got pushy with one of the PR guys. There was pushing, yelling, and all that good stuff. Our guy was detained for a bit and we weren't allowed to shoot. We got it all in after the panel though. It was pretty funny. Anyway, here's a picture update: The Unfortunate Karaoke Evening The Road to Tijuana The Security Incident

Just Say No   I really need to learn how to say no to dares. It started with the words, "I'm not doing a shot unless Tracey does a shot." It ended with a busted flip-flop and staying in Tijuana until sunrise.

Frazzle Rocked This morning seemed like it would be simple. I was supposed to write an article and edit a handful more. Then I got the call. I had to do a radio show in ten minutes and schedule two television thingies before noon. Oh, I had to answer a bunch of email questions for my panelists about the little jammie we're doing this weekend at Comic Con. Plus, Itagaki was coming over at 12:45 to show us a game. I successfully managed to juggle everything and have it come out okay. Though I think I lost even more hair. *sniff* I publicly admit that I should have been more of an $**&$@) about how the demo went. I feel like I let Ben down. Selfishly I admit that I feel comfortably detached from things so it didn't really bother me. Bryn welcomed his son into the world last night. He did not name him Ponce Williams III as I suggested. Nor did he name him Oliver as he claimed he would. Phu thought the lads name was Samuel Jackson, but that's not it either. To paraphrase a line from the first episode of Friends, "Welcome to the world Samuel John Williams. It sucks. You're going to love it." Though I'm not really looking to Comic Con, I am looking forward to running away to San Diego. I haven't fled for a few weeks and I do miss the warmer weather. I should visit cousin Rachelle while I'm there, but I think I'll lock myself in my room when I'm not at the con or in the gym or by the pool. Gatti vs. Dorin is on Saturday. That should be lovely. It was Digital Carlos Mesa in the house tonight. Thanks guys. It was rather lovely. Sandra emailed me yesterday. Changing mobile numbers twice seems like an even better idea than it did a few weeks ago. I had a lot of fun with this article. It's too long and I get really gratuitous with needless ramblings, but it's one of the few times this year that I've written something for work that feels personal. Plus I got to take a dig at Shane's cat. If you're really bored, check out my Stranger and The Third Age interviews. I give myself a C-, but it was super cool chatting with Lorne. He rules and his games make me smile. Bleh. My frazzled morning has pretty much left me disoriented the whole day. Don't even think about calling me a disoriental. That's worse than being called an amnasian.

Rayphoria   Don't you hate it when other people steal your blog titles? *sigh*   So last week was tres busy. McNamara made me close Buddha bar with him on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Friday was Tammy's 35th birthday party. And there were a bunch of press events. Adding all those things together made for a lot of "on" time. I behave (or try to) a certain way among flaks. My personna is a little different for the other journos. The camera requires a different character. And I have to be something else entirely around people I don't know. Unfortunately it got to the point where I couldn't turn it off and just be me. There were several instances when I was around coworkers or people that know me relatively well and I kept putting on a little show. I really wanted to tell myself to shut the *&%$ up.   Saturday I kept getting calls to do stuff. Since I'm away the next two weekends, I probably should have gone out and caught up with people I haven't seen for a bit and won't see for a bit longer. Instead I went to the gym, took a long nap, and played Mario Golf. Oh, when I actually tricked myself into going out, I got into a fight instead--same old argument, different day. Oh, I want to send the evite for our housewarming party but there are two issues. 1) There might be some travel conflicts. 2) My roommates won't let me name the party Rayphoria.

Rollercoaster Gah! My mood has been so up and down in the last 24 hours. I had a fun and insightful lunch with Kohnke yesterday. Then I caught up a lot with McNamara last night. So that was all good. For most of today I've been incredibly sad. I can't shake it either. Also I've been disoriented since I'm wearing my subscription (tee-hee) shades for the first time. I haven't worn glasses in forever and my depth perception is way, way off. Thrice I went to open a door and missed the handle. Twice I took poor steps and almost tripped (good thing nobody saw...I hope). So now I'm clumsy and sad.

Shoe Therapy After a lazy trip to Sunnyvale, I managed to convince myself that I was really distraught for missing 90 minutes of my life last weekend. When I'm distraught, my first instinct is to go shopping. Since I've been boxing and eating a bit better, most of my clothes are a little big for me. I still need to get smaller for September so I probably shouldn't buy more clothes. So what does that leave me to buy? Shoes!!! Of course, I don't really need an excuse to buy shoes (ever). I blame it on my Filipinosity. Ryan accompanied me to pick up my new shades and make my biweekly pilgrimage to Lush. I've learned that Ryan is a good shopping enabler. I ended up getting these really weird, really orange Kenneth Cole flip-flops. They were only $17, which justified the orangeness in my mind. Plus I really miss Steve, and that brown mo-fo looks suave in orange. I also got these Campers Twins flip-flops. They may or may not have been $90. I really love them and they're cool. Oh, further justification--I'm going to be in Los Angeles and Cabo soon, so I need flip-flops. (Never mind that I bought two pairs of Aldo flip-flops in the last month.) I have a new neurotic obsession. Recently I was told that someone described me as "charismatic but cruel" and the words have been haunting me ever since. For most of today I kept telling myself, "You're not cruel. You love your friends." I silently repeated this to myself every five minutes or so. Then I'd go about continuing my hazing of the new Cuban kid and the new Belgian kid at work. Those cigars and waffles will be lovely. Seriously though, I'm not cruel. Most of the time I'm pretty happy/shiny on the outside. Maybe sometimes I show my affection in unusual ways. That stems from Suite 704 in Dutch Quad. If you visited our dorm and we didn't raz you then it meant we didn't like you. I'm not cruel. Really.

Random Flashback It's Fall 1997. Our band--Lo Fat Mooken--is about to go on stage to play at Asian Occasion. I'm feeling really uncomfortable with one of our songs: an interesting interpretation of Shonen Knife's Tortoise Brand Pot Cleaner. I pull the drummer aside and tell him, "Dom, I don't know about this song. It's not that good." He quickly replies, "You're right. It sucks." We go and find Roland, the third member of Lo Fat Mooken, and Dom says, "Roland, we're not doing the third song. It sucks." Roland says, "Okay. We still need to play another song though. What do we all know?" After coming up blank for five minutes I offer a solution. "I Used to Love Her is three chords. We can totally do it." And so it came to pass that Lo Fat Mooken closed out their set with a three-chord song by Guns and Roses.

Blackout Well that was interesting.... Intimate Karaoke II started out really cool. It was a small group, good vibes, some new additions, and no drinking on my part. Unfortunately, things happened and a certain someone (glares at Shane) made it seem like a really fine idea to have a drink. After several glasses of vodka and some vile Chinese stuff, I became utterly smashed. I swear there were worse days during my dreadful Sandra period, but I totally can't recall a good chunk of the evening (like 90 minutes). Now, I know I become pretty idiotic on the sauce, but apparently I was pretty obnoxious too. And I swear the blackout isn't a convenient excuse for my rudeness to Cindy, Seanbaby, and Stella...it's the sad, sad, sad truth. Apologetic emails are definitely in order. On a fairly troublesome note, Shane got all Inspector Clouseau on me and started investigating my personal life. His initial conclusion was so unbelievably wrong that it ruled. To prevent him from jumping to more ridiculous conclusions I told him about ***** and me. On a positive note, I only drunk dialed X 4. I'm hoping I didn't say anything stupid--particularly to one drunk dial victim--but the chances of that are fairly low. Oh yeah, I have no recollection of leaving karaoke and arriving home safely. I was silly drunk at karaoke then all of the sudden I woke up this morning. Thanks to Rannie, Xtina, and Matt for making sure I got out okay. Hopefully Matt was the one that undressed me. Today's recovery consisted of yamcha at Ton Kiang and shopping in J-Town. I got this super-cool bracelet that says "Heart Breaker" on it. It makes me smile and think of Foxy Lady. I also encountered the most incompetent crew of barristas ever. I swear, it was like the four stooges making the most dreadful lattes imaginable. I miss Tobie's superb frothing skills. Rannie dragged me to the gym around 6:00 and it seemed like a good idea. The headache was (seemingly) gone and I was more tired than anything else. The first two rounds of hitting the heavybag sucked. After every shot, my head throbbed in a most irritating fashion. After six minutes of this I decided we should go in the ring and work on our footwork. So there's a couple of lessons to learn here. 1) I should not drink vile Chinese stuff on an empty stomach ever again. 2) Someone should take my phone away from me after two drinks. 3) People should keep Shane away from me when he becomes Encyclopedia Brown. 4) I should not box with a hangover. 5) I should not drink for the rest of the month. Unfortunately McNamara is in town this week and he'll want to play dice. I wonder if I can play for Diet Cokes without my manhood being questioned.

The Punisher Hi! And also ouch. I've successfully punished myself for submitting to the temptations of pepperoni pizza last night. I went 20 rounds over the course of two gym sessions. I'm sore, but not as much as I thought I'd be. Of course as soon as I got home, Phu started baking cookies. These weren't just any cookies--they were cookies of concentrated evil. Ignore the oatmeal in them because the white chocolate and peanut butter M&Ms negate any positive benefits oatmeal has. Since I'm pretty sure I can't handle 20 rounds of training two days in a row, I did not partake in the cookies from hell. My new theory is that Phu moved in to steer us away from the light. He was, after all, Darth Pikachu once upon a time. Oh, there's also a new installment of RAZ. Go read! It's awful!

Guilt I snagged two slices of Xian's pizza tonight (thanks!) because I was out of PowerBars (and PowerBar-like things). I feel horribly guilty and will go to the gym twice tomorrow. Is my body up for 20 rounds? Probably not, but it should be punished.

Sometimes I Run Running is a pretty versatile action. Right now I'm running towards something new and exciting that could change my life forever. I'm also running in place because there's something that might change, but I desperately don't want it to. I'm also running away from something really wonderful but need to do so because I have to protect myself.

Mood Swing Ignore my previous happy/upbeat post. I plan on jumping off my terrace later this evening...maybe sooner.

917 So after 18 months of mooching off of Sprint's free phones/plans for journalists, I'm finally back to my old number. It was a minor ordeal setting up the phone to my account. It was cute adding all the options I wanted on my plan (I had a newbie customer service rep that was adorably uncomfortable). Anyway, I have a new mobile number (again). If you're really nice to me I'll let you know what it is. Since I'm always looking for signs and symbolism, I found it rather appropriate that I'm going back to a 917. You see, yesterday I finally had a work idea worth dreaming about. It's been a long time. I feel like Shawn Michaels--I just had to find my smile. I'm really, truly, honestly excited about this one and I'm going to try really hard to make it happen. It's nice to have dreams again (I don't count the ones where I marry Britney--too easy). I guess I just needed to be inspired. Now I just need a lady believing in my dreams, saying, "Go get 'em tiger," right before I leap out the window.

Happy Canada Day! That is all. Carry on.