Victory at Long Last

Wow. The Celtics did it. After the first two playoff rounds, when they were forced into game 7s, I was certain the Lakers would be able to beat them in 5 in the finals. But after a humiliating, demoralizing, emasculating, debilitating, eviscer-- you get the idea-- loss at home, I was so infuriated I wanted to boycott the rest of the series altogether. But tonight, cooler heads prevailed and, as much as I wanted to see my home team win, I was able to put my post-game-5 wrath behind me and just enjoy a much-deserved Boston victory. And let's be honest -- nothing beats watching KG jump up and down one minute, then bawl like a baby the next, and then hit on Michele Tafoya in the midst of his emotional outpouring. Pure entertainment.

Speaking of victory, I'd like to take a moment to revel in a recent personal triumph. For the last five years, I have been engaged in a battle of epic proportions with one of the biggest bureaucratic messes known to man. The first round of Shivnit vs. the Department of Motor Vehicles began in 2003, when I moved to Maryland for a job and decided to take my car, which was registered in California, with me. Upon moving, I had to re-register the car and re-fi the car loan in Maryland. This is where the trouble began. You see, California's Department of Motor Vehicles uses paperless (i.e., electronic) titles, whereas Maryland's Motor Vehicle Association is slightly behind the times. When the MVA never received a title (since there wasn't a paper title to begin with), it seemed my hands were tied, since in California, it was on record that the title -- the paperless title -- had been released. Effectively, the title was lost. For two years, throughout 2003 and 2004, I repeatedly contacted the DMV and the MVA in increasingly futile attempts to track down the title. (At one point, I spoke to someone at DMV who, upon hearing my problem, said, "I don't actually deal with paperwork here. Let me transfer you." He then proceeded to put me on hold for over 30 minutes, while I sat there thinking to myself, "What do you mean you don't do paperwork?! You're at the freaking DMV! You are paperwork!")

Anyway, fast-forward to 2005. After two years in Maryland, I got homesick and decided to move back to California, bringing my beloved car with me. At that point, I was somehow able to re-register the car in California without proof of ownership (the title was still missing), but as luck would have it, a clerical error resulted in my '99 Accord being classified as a $78,000 vehicle. (The person at DMV accidentally hit an extra digit on her number pad.) So for the years 2005, 2006, and 2007, the registration fees for the car were about four times more than what they should have been. After the first year, I realized what had happened, but in order to correct the car value and reclassify the vehicle, I was told that I would need to bring in the title. Riiiiight.

Over the last three years, through multiple fruitless visits to the DMV, I have talked to countless paper-pushers who have all said the same thing: You need to have the MVA send us a duplicate title. (But how do they release a duplicate if they never received the original?) Well, then you need to contact your financial institution and have them send the title to MVA. (But my financial institution doesn't have the title.) Then you need to contact the MVA. (So wait... what?)

At long last, in the final round of Shivnit vs. DMV, I have achieved victory and knocked out the big beastly bureaucracy that has been the bane of my existence for half a decade. After persisting for so long, I found someone at DMV today who was competent enough to hear my case, have me fill out a "missing title" form, go back to old (very old) DMV records to verify that the car was purchased in California, issue a duplicate title, and adjust my car's value on record -- all in one DMV trip!

The point of the story? After many years of frustration, the Celtics aren't the only ones celebrating victory tonight!

In Memoriam

My grandfather passed away today. He was 96 years old. He had a heart attack, but the doctors said that heart attacks at that age are painless. Dada didn't even know what was happening to him. In fact, as the paramedics took him to the hospital, he kept insisting that he was fine. I wonder if he even believed them when they told him he had suffered a massive heart attack.

When he got to the emergency room, the doctors found a clot in a major artery. After consulting with my parents, they attempted to remove the clot, but before they could even insert the stent into the artery, Dada suffered another attack. He left us moments later.

We are happy for my grandfather today. He lived a long and beautiful life, and even until the very end, he was always as self-reliant as his health and body would permit, often showing more concern for others than for himself. He left this world not knowing what was happening to him, not feeling any pain or suffering. I cannot imagine a death more fitting and well-deserved for a man who lived as peacefully and with as much compassion and spirit as Dada.

We miss you, Dada. And today, we are celebrating your life and memory.

Killer Comfort Food

I saw the Asian version of Anton Chigurh this evening while I was in the check-out line at the grocery store, and I almost soiled myself. He purchased two very large cases of beer and some ice-cream.






Not only is he a badass, he's also a Ralph's
Club cardholder who eats Rocky Road right
out of the tub!

School Ties

This June will mark the tenth anniversary of my high-school graduation and, therefore, the impending doom of my high-school reunion, and here's why I'm not even a tiny bit excited...

First of all, I went to high school in a really small town, one I like to call Pleasantville-With-Color. Kids who grow up in PWC may go far and wide for college or work, but inevitably, they come back by their mid-20s and settle within a fifteen-mile radius of their childhood homes. Naturally, this means that on a random trip to the local shopping mall, odds are pretty good that I'll run into someone from good ol' PWC High, and frankly, this has been enough for me. Chance run-ins generally turn into, "What have you been up to all these years? Where are you working now? Do you still keep in touch with so-and-so? Blah, blah, blah." You know, the things you might discuss at, oh, I don't know, a high-school reunion?

Honestly, I don't really see the point of going. I've made sure to stay in touch with my closest friends from grade school, and knowing what the rest of PWC's Class of '98 has been doing over the last decade probably won't change my life in any significant way. Besides, it's not like half the world isn't on MySpace or Facebook. If I really want to know what you're up to, I can find out on any given night from the comfort and privacy of my own home. No ten-year waiting period required! Imagine that.

Having said all that, I must admit that part of me is a little curious about what the reunion might be like. It's one thing to use the internet to find people, but to actually see them in the flesh, to talk to them face-to-face and see how they've changed, can be a purer and more unique experience -- one that isn't tarnished by cliched, superficial Friendster profiles. ("My favorite movies are 'Bad Boys,' 'Friday,' 'Bad Boys 2,' 'Next Friday,' 'The Fast and the Furious,' and 'Friday After Next.' My hobbies are drinkin' and pimpin', fo' sho'." Riiiiight.)

On second thought, maybe I'm not so curious after all.

It's About Time!

I generally like to give myself a two-week grace period on New Years' resolutions. What this means is that on the first of every January, I make a set of promises to myself for the year, and by the 15th, I have to be well on my way to fulfilling them.

As such, my year got off to a fairly good start. I've been hitting the gym pretty regularly (mostly running and swimming), started learning French, began a journal (the pen-and-paper kind... remember pen and paper?), and even started reading about agile software development in my spare time. Fun stuff.

But my biggest feat so far this year? Learning to knit. This is something I have been attempting to do off and on for the last year and a half, with the help of Knitting for Dummies. I've found that it is really difficult and frustrating to learn how to knit from a book, and have repeatedly given up in the past as a result. But at the beginning of 2008, I embarked on a relentless pursuit of knowledge and -- voila! -- I can finally purl. (You see how I snuck some French into that last sentence? Pretty slick, eh?) My scarf is a little over a foot long so far. I try to add a few rows to it every night. I think I have about two feet to go, given my size. (This is one of those rare instances where I'm actually okay with being short.)

Yes, 2008 has been treating me well so far. Oh, and I'm finally back on this thing. Just in time to meet that two-week mark. We'll see how long I keep it up this time. Until my next post: bon soir, mes amis!