The title fibs a bit. I was gone for most of September in Peru, so this will be more of a “Late-August/Late-September” update. Just go with it.

S.F. – August ‘09

The plan that day was to go to the Free Day at the California Academy of Sciences, but that was also everyone else’s plan. I’m not gonna lie, most people in this line were Asians. I’m just saying. The line extended far around the park and out to Stanyan. In our right minds, we decided that we weren’t THAT cheap.
For me, the best days usually begin with botched plans. We exchanged line-waiting for a free view from the deYoung. There was contemplation to see King Tut, but I would never pay that much money to see rags (yea, yea, I know there’s a whole lot more to it).

If you’ve been to the deYoung, you’ve no doubt have seen this Google Earth aerial image of San Franciso. I thought I’d try to take the picture from the same angle as the shadows cast (the sun’s view).

I have a love-hate relationship with S.F.’s Chinatown. On the one hand, I am generally annoyed by the poor tourism that’s promoted here–with crappy souvenir stores and even crappier restaurants, it’s a hot mess of shoddiness. On the other, my family’s been coming here every since I can remember so there’s a lot of local memories have associated with it, particularly in the form of egg noodles with roast duck and wontons. Luckily I was with Cantonese, and he (Brian) found a decent dim sum joint and put his ching-chong to good use (see chicken feet pictured). I’m not going to remember any of the names of these places, but it was probably something Ocean/Dragon/Golden/Imperial/Jade/Palace. We also got a lesson on how to hold two spoons like tongs…just like the professional do! Check it out and practice at home. Then show off to your friends the next time you divide up chow mein at restaurants.

If you ever do find yourself in Chinatown, keep in mind that Stockton St. is FAR more interesting than Grant. The only thing on Grant that I can think to recommend a tourist friend would be the kite store and this one bazaar across the street from it. But, Stockton is a treasure trove of all things good and bad of China with a smelltrack of olfactorial explosions. My siblings and I will often compare smelly things to a “Chinatown alley.” There’s nothing quite like it. Of the many things you gotta do, check out the BBQ shops, the pastry stores (really hit and miss), and this one crap store that’s located on Stockton before you reach Broadway. I can’t remember the exact name, but it’s like a huge warehouse of everything that is “Made in China.” We’re talking about panties, unchecked knives and weapons, bad plastic kitchenware, VHS videos, Christmas decorations…we’re talking everything.

To get back to our car which was parked atop Russian Hill, we decided it’d be a good idea to climb Vallejo (it’s not a good idea). The views were stupendacular, as was this green house my sister Tobias’ed herself in (see “The One Where They Built a House“).

There was also Lombard St turned Candyland, but unless you had the opportunity to “Falcon Heene” over it, you were left disappointed with this unimpressive, poorly-angled street view.

Silicon Valley – August ‘09

The first Silicon Valley phototour was so successful I decided to come back here with Steph and Brain to do a redux. This time we went on a weekend, which allowed for more leisurely eyeing and fewer people distractions. Apparently it’s also illegal to trespass on these campuses, so it was probably a better idea “legal action” wise. First we hit up Yahoo, which had little going for it except for this cubic thing, the colors yellow and purple, its fantasy sports, and a volleyball court. They have other campuses that may have showcased better things we didn’t catch on our tour, but they don’t got no dinosaur…

…like Google! I’ll admit that I do find the undying and blind devotion to Google a little bit “German citizens circa early 1930’s.” They’re pretty bombass, but their masked initiative creeps and concerns me a bit. Those who know me know I have an underdog fanboy love for Yahoo, but I’ll be the first t admit that Google’s properties just kick the llama’s ass. To work at a place that has dinosaur fossils, a community garden, massage chairs, free Odwalla, day-care and laundry service, and a shark’s fin, how could you complain?

Han’s Visit – September ‘09

Enter September, and school begins again. My cousin Han had been talking about visiting Santa Barbara forever. With Han, these things stay what they usually end up being, talk. To my surprise, Han finally followed through after a quitting stint at her old job. Of course, the one weekend she’s available, I had to attend a wedding down in L.A. (see below). We were able to overlap a day in which we hit up 4 wineries in Santa Ynez and had some classic Santa Barbara foods/nightlife fun (yes, that included Wildcats). The top picture was taken at Sarloos and Sons’ tasting room, which paired cupcakes with wines. A novelty really, they did redeem with some decent (if not overpriced) wines. In the top picture, Han looks awfully happy for us having just lost Jason. He had walked off right before this was taken, and I later learned this behavior was typical and not to be reinforced.

Katherine and Michael’s Wedding – September ‘09

Katherine’s was the last of three high-school-friend weddings that I attended this summer. That little girl that was once able to recite the Spanish lyrics to *Nsync’s “This I Promise You” by heart is now all grown up.  In attendance, we had the usual H.S. crowd of M.C., JLee, and company. As with all weddings people attend as single or unmarried folk, there was plenty of griping at the realization that we’re not children anymore. No longer are we listening to “A Puro Dolor” while talking about failed suicide attempts and pregnancy scares. Now we’re talking about success and pregnancy scores.

I love Filipino weddings. Though it’s culturally embedded, the impromptu karaoke never ceases to catch me off guard (at least this time it was pleasant). Along with other traditions, there’s the usual money dance in which the bride takes turns dancing with male attendees who line up in droves for the opportunity to pin cash in return for a moment. It’s interesting how context can determine the appropriateness of an act most would commonly associate to whores (NOT calling Katherine or any other Filipino bride a whore). I was the classy one who pinned a check to her veil for the money dance.

For more, click on the respective links to go to my Flickr.

Full name: Ngô Quý Đôn
Origin: Named after Lê Quý Đôn, an 18th-century Vietnamese philosopher, poet, encyclopedist, and government official.

By Thai: Dickzone, Dick (evolved from “Tich”), D-bag (this hasn’t caught on yet, but it’s only a matter of time and usage)
By Kim: Chromedome (I think she heard it on TV one day and it caught)
By everyone: Tich (pronounced thick; he was a bouncy baby, and the Vietnamese aren’t great with onomatopoeias)

Full name: Ngô Thu-Mi Catherine
Origin: My dad has a penchant for naming his children after the children of his siblings (our cousins). Thu-mi was named after our cousin in Vietnam, Tu-mi. Way to keep it original, Dad. Catherine is not her legally born name. When she was born, our White neighbor had a problem with my mom not acculturating us and giving us all Vietnamese names. This crazy cat lady started calling my sister “Catherine” one day, probably a name she had for one of her stuffed animals that she would talk to on a daily basis, and it caught. It has since become her legal and Catholic name.

By Thai: Cutngrine (pronounced Cut & Grind; she signed up for some contest, and because of her messy handwriting, we still get mailing labels to this name today)
By Thai & Donny: Ginyu, Gin, Cap’m Ginyu (after the Dragonball character, leader of the Ginyu Force, who has a unique technique that allows him to switch bodies with his opponents)
By the siblings: Muck, Muckzone, Mudge (Her Vietnamese name “Thu-mi” evolved to “Tuma” to “Tombstone” to “Tumuck” to just “Muck”)
By Mom: Mi (shorted from “Thu-mi”)

Full name: Chu Quang Thái
Origin: Again, named after one of my cousins…of the exact same name. This explains the uniqueness complex.

By Catherine: Anh-Thai (pronounced eng-TIE; Vietnamese for “Older brother Thai” with an English accent)
By Donny: Lao Tzu (because he thought it was the Vietnamese word for “professor.” It’s not.)
By Mom: Thang Khon (I think it means “bastard” in Vietnamese; who knows why…), Chu (Mr.)

Full name: Chu Kim Chi
Origin: Korean pickled side dish. No, it’s actually Vietnamese for Diamond.

By Donny & Catherine: Not family (my brother etched this on to her bedroom door years ago. If you ever visit, you can still see it there today.)
By siblings: Kimbo Bimbo (because it rhymes and for no other reason)
By everyone: Chinh (not sure why, but I’ll call my mom to find out tonight)

Siblings (interchangeable): Guff, McGuff, Guffinks, Guffin’, Guffman, Ug (short for ugly)

Full name: Chu Thị Ngọc Dịêp

By siblings: Mang (“Urban” for “Mom), Mezzers (a play on the Vietnamese word for “Mom”), Mamon (pronounced Ma-MONE; taken from the French film “Love Me if You Dare”), Men (a play on the Vietnamese word for “Mom” and also for her strength), The Man (see previous), Momsicle (as opposed to Popsicle), Moms (gangster name), Momster (a play on “monster”, Me oi! (how babies call their mother in Vietnamese)

Full name: Ngô Quang Nghi

By siblings: Daddio, Pops, Popolops, Pop ‘n Locks (a play on “Pop & Lock”, Boba Fett (a play on the Vietnamese word for “Dad”), Father (paying tribute to his undying devotion to God)

Full name: Tị Phùng Ty:

By Donny: n00ba, n00b (WoW talk; saying this is usually accompanied by a smack on grandma’s arm)
By Catherine: Grums
By Thai: Grumpelstiltskin (a play on Rumpelstiltskin)
By siblings: Grams, Golden Grams (after the cereal), Babylonia (a play on the Vietnamese word for “Grandma”), Babs

Full name: Jimothy “Jimmy” Chu
Origin: My mom wanted Jimmy because it reminded her of our old dog, Brownie, who she used to call Mickey… We all found it a little boring so we decided Jimmy can be his short name for his given name of “Jimothy.” This was later repeated on the U.S. version of The Office when Michael wonders if Jim is short for Jimothy. We should have patented this name!

By Donny: Zim, Invader Zim, Zimmerman (after the Nick cartoon)
By Catherine: Bimmy (a cross between “Boomer” and “Jimmy”, Bim, Bimothy, Em (Vietnamese for little brother), Emerson (after Ralph Waldo)
By Thai: Ji’Mie (after the cross-dressing teenager on Summer Heights High), Jim Beam, Jim Boom
By Dad: Boomer, Boommy, Boomer Buster (I’m pretty sure I came up with Boomer, but I’m not sure where it came from)
By Grandma: Zimmy (a mispronunciation of “Jimmy” because the Vietnamese language lacks a “J”)

Grad Div Stock Photos.
These are to go on newsletters and publications from UCSB’s Grad Div. It seemed like a fun idea when first suggested, but the thought of our faces representing Grad Div for…indefinite…ever is a little creepy. The girls took it very seriously, as you can tell I did not. They even brought multiple outfits to make it seem like different days. Thanks Joel for taking most of these.

Can they make it more obvious that we support diversity? Between us, we got all the world’s races covered (Brianna counts for most of them). Keep in mind that we recognize we’re not representative of real graduate students. For one, the population is like 90% White. They also don’t dress up like this everyday. Some likely never dress up at all…

This is what I look like when I talk on the phone with graduate students who call in…except they don’t call my cell, and I’m usually in an office with bad lighting.

But this is what I actually feel like most of the time. Grad school makes people do these looks. My mom and grandma do not like it when I make this face, which is why I do it often.

Or this…

This is us “candidly” having fun at work. It was very staged. This, to me, is the most “stock”y of the photos. I can see it as one of the available ones on Microsoft Word.

This is our “Welcome to Graduate Division” picture. I already know that they’re making hundreds of copies of our faces…and I’m not sure how I feel about that. This was after April has peeled off most of the flyers on that door, which she never replaced.

This is us leaning into the sun because April needed more lighting for her face (I’m not racist, this was a real issue). She ended up closing her eyes and ruining the picture regardless.

This is them going for the obligatory “sexy pose” during every photoshoot. It didn’t work out.

This is us in a tree. Brianna was too short and denimed to climb the tree. Her eyes are open, though. We checked closely.

Bow Tie.

Staged, and before I thought to iron out the bow tie.

There’s something about the combination of a bow tie and wood (don’t think that way) that’s very classic.

Bless a good camera & lens. The table is actually nasty, dull, formica, old piece of shit, but the aperture blur produced this cool unexpected reflection. I’ll actually credit it to my good taste in bow ties.

The modern “Dorm Warn.”

Silicon Valley.
Despite being a local, I’ve never actually done a tour of the big tech giants in Silicon Valley. Unless you’re a tech geek, though, there’s surprisingly little to look at. You can’t go on most of their campuses without a contact (we snuck in), and few have anything other than ugly pale people and cubicles to look at.

Ebay’s campus. There were no gavels in sight.

Brings back the days of Oregon Trail.

A cell phone in the early 90’s a la Zack Morris at the Intel Museum.

There’s no meaning to this shot, I just thought it was cool.

It don’t get more Silicon Valley than this.

At the Intel Museum in Santa Clara. Who knew this thing was right behind Great America this whole time? Not terribly exciting, but great for geeks of hardware and computer history.

The backwards “e” and “t” of “Intel.”

This is one of the only shots I have of Yahoo. The main campus is cool looking enough, but there’s not much to look at, and we weren’t supposed to be on their premises. Unlike Google, they actually had a gift store open to the public, though.

Yahoo’s main campus cafeteria. We could have snuck in, but dining with a bunch of hungry geeks somehow didn’t seem like a good experience (I’m not hating, I was just worried it would be awkward)

Google Map’s streetview caught in the wild! Actually, it was in their parking lot and they have a whole row of them. I kept thinking what a boring job it must be to drive that thing around. “Your job today is to drive down every street in San Jose. There may be traffic, there may be people chasing you, there may be people hiding from you, but you must continue. Keep in mind that fire trucks and ambulances will mess us your shot, so don’t move for them.”

The obligatory Google Brent shot. Though Google is pretty awesome and treats their employees well, their campus is far from an amusement park or tourist destination. I guess without access I couldn’t really see much to enjoy other than for the T-rex fossil.

L.A.
I toured downtown L.A. for the first time ever, really (besides for Chinatown & Japantown). They actually have some nice finds, if you avoid the sketch area.

I believe this is the outside of their opera house. I enjoyed the shows and reflections.

I’m actually quite a big fan of Gehry, but all his buildings end up looking the same.

There are few things more iconic to me than the Santa Monica Pier Ferris Wheel. Don’t get me wrong, I would never be caught dead actually going on it, but it’s nostalgic to look at. The London Eye has got nothing on this, and this one probably cost 1/10 of the price to ride.

Circus.

I’m only going to post one picture of the circus because there’s a lot I find unsettling about the circus concept in general. I’d never been to a circus before and so I was actually looking forward to seeing lion, tigers, elephants, acrobatics, etc. We often forget that circuses started off as side-shows displaying freaks and oddities. Though better masked now, modern day circuses are much of the same. While the people involved are by no means freakish or deviant, they are still in many ways misfits. Lower-class workers, immigrants, the uneducated, despite their talents they are still outcasts. I have mixed feelings though, because I did for a second think how cool it would be to be friends with a clown or circus performer. Also, something about whole tone presentation of the event rang desperate and hokey. The attendants are also a little sad to look at. They reminded me of the people who frequent state fairs. I’m a snob, I know.

That’s all I have the energy to post for now.

City of Los Angeles,

I parked my car 5 inches in a red zone. I am diagnosed with medium deuteranopia, or red-green colorblindness (medical record available). I can see red pigments in broad daylight, however at nighttime and dusk (time  of citation), red is indistinguishable from grey/brown on a curb. With traffic lights, I look at the contrast/placement of the lights, however with curbs I rely on a 2nd  visually-unimpaired person, a digital camera with flash, or writing on the curb or signs. I was in a non-local area without these aids and near no fire hydrant. I ask for a one-time pardon.

___________________________________________

To see life through my eyes. Click on “M-cone reduced” under “Red-Green deficient.” I cannot tell the two images apart. This is my life.

Update: It went past initial review, and it looks promising that I am going to be dismissed!

Today, I was just okay.

I woke up later than anticipated this morning, but that was not before waking up earlier than anticipated. Now that I’m on my “soft summer break,” my waking hour wavers without the rigidity of a routine ring. I go to sleep pretty consistently around 1am, but the time at which I wake up never stays the same. On some, 8am just won’t let me get by. On others, 10am ignores me altogether. Today, I got up at 7:30am. After deciding that was too early and knowing that I’d be tired for the rest of the day, I forced myself back to sleep only to re-get up later at 10:30am—far too late for my liking.

Good thing too because I changed, brushed my teeth, and barely got out the door in time for Maricris to pick me up at 11am to go to San Francisco. We were going to Stern Grove to see a free performance by the San Francisco Ballet. Despite some claims, I know absolutely nothing about ballet and don’t have any greater interest in it than any other Joe. Having a handful of dancer friends, I figure the least I could do is attend a free performance by a leading company to generally support their art. We found a wedged but well-placed spot to the right of the outdoor amphitheatre, splayed our blanket, and munch-waited for the next two hours before they took the stage.

The performance was okay. I appreciate it as much as any dilettante could, but I will admit that I dozed off once during one of the slower portions of Swan Lake. I’ll put ballet under the same category as impressionism and 2001: A Space Odyssey as things I fully appreciate for what they are, but do not enjoy. The ballet ended, we left, and headed toward the city center to meet my cousin, Han, for dinner.

It took us over an hour to reach North Beach from Stern Grove, not including the time it took for parking. After we found a parking spot worth waiting for, we walked to my favorite fudge shop, Z Ciocollato, where I bought myself some to-die-for fudge, but not before tasting a few of their new flavors (pumpkin cheesecake, noted). The funny thing is when the clerk behind the counter handed me my sample, she asked me how my day was going.
“It’s just okay.” I told her. She paused with her hand still behind the counter, as if to withhold the fudge sample from me until she got a more satisfying answer.
“Just okay?” she confirmed.
“Yea, today is normal.” I responded.
“Well, let’s see if a little fudge can make it better!” as she finally handed me my tasting of Mayan dark chocolate.
“It’s fine.” I said. “Normal is good.” And with the trigger word, “good,” she finally cracked a smile.

And this is where my point begins. So what if I woke up twice this morning instead of once, like usual. It didn’t make my day begin off more fascinating or eventful. If anything, sleep, while heavenly, is by nature the most boring thing ever. So what if I went to the ballet with a friend. I enjoyed the company and got to see my first real ballet performance, but did it make me jump out of my seat? No. And it didn’t need to. The fudge I bought was really good, but I don’t think I would go as far as to say I’d be giving it the highlight of my month…which is okay. You see, normal is normal. The majority of my days are, by mathematical law, average. I don’t feel the need to be walking around elated or respond to strangers with joy to appease their sales clerk needs. Even as I write this, I don’t think this is a special entry in any way. I probably will go through and reread it once for grammatical errors, but I’m not going to make it into any literary masterpiece. I don’t really want to right now. And that’s okay.

Somewhere in the history of American culture, the word “okay” as a self-description became antonymous with the word “good.” Last I checked, “okay” signified satisfaction or agreement, a desire for no more, no less. “Will you go with me to the ballet?” “Okay.” And it happened. “Would you like to try a sample?” “Okay.” And it happened. “How is your day going?” “Okay.” And it fell apart.

With that, I guess the rough routine of this day characterizes most of my days this past week. I’ve definitely had better days, and Lord knows there have been many far, far worse. But the majority of my days are like this one. I am not happy; I am not sad. I wouldn’t even think of myself as anywhere in between. I just proceeded my day with events and un-events, and it ended. So you’re thinking with all the indifference, why go on living at all? I’ll admit that I’ve wondered that question myself many a times in an existential, non-suicidal way, but that doesn’t mean I would have thrown this day away. I just don’t feel the need to make everyday my wow. And that’s okay.

I realize I haven’t blogged here in many moons. Mostly because I am validly busy these days. Partly because Twitter has destroyed my need for lengthy forms of self-expression. Also because I just haven’t had much to say. I figure a quickie photologue won’t hurt.
This past weekend I drove down to San Diego to spend a few qualities moments with the Grams, who after living with my mom and our family her entire life recently made the unreasonable decision to move to where it’s warmer and lonelier. Here are some photo highlights of my short 1 day visit:

The morning of the day of our big outing, she woke up at the crack of dawn to shower and put curls in her hair. She knew there were going to be pictures involved, so the 'did had to be perfect. I'll admit, her hair's still got it.

Like the best of days begin, things didn't exactly start off as planned. The problem wasn't just that she had used too much Aquanet in her hair that it clumped, but that she somehow still has a can of Aquanet laying around to be using in the first place. Feeling frustrated and rushed, she began tearing strands out in the process of undoing the curls.

I'm not sure what these are called in English, but translated literally, they're "Liver Melons." They're wonderfully delicious when ripe, which is what my grandma was trying to do here. She had accidentally cut into it before it was ready and then decided that it need some more sunshine.

The second I walked into the door, my grandma led me to this plastic mess. She was all excited when she pushed the button and the mechanical piece of trash started chirping. Matter of fact, it continued to do so for about 30 seconds, and then everytime after that I made a noise or accidentally touched it. She said she liked it a lot, especially when she has it next to this plant she has. When asked of what I thought, I told her it was "que," which I guess is the Vietnamese equivalent of calling something "country." I asked her where she got it, to which she responded, "Why should I tell you, you just called them 'que'."

The first of many. Very many.

She really wanted a portrait of both of us, so I spent 10 minutes positioning the camera and stacking VHS upon cassettes to get it to the right height. I realize I look like an exuberant 12-year old, but she doesn't like it when I make faces in pictures with her. Something about bad spirits.

Our first stop of the day was at this random beach. I really couldn't tell you where. We had planned on going to the Cabrillo National Monument, but it was a rip-off. She wanted to pee behind the stairs, so I quickly got her to the bathroom.

...but not before letting her spend a couple minutes watching the surfers. She enjoys it, mostly because it violates her understanding of humans, water, and physics. I'm not sure there is a Vietnamese word for "surfing," but she calls it "water skating." Makes sense.

I know. We're cute.

I hate bringing research into my life, mostly because there are great reasons for me to avoid it, but my grandma gave me a Masuda et al. 2008 schooling after I took this picture for her. She wanted to capture the nice sunflowers, but I wanted to get her face. She told me that I should step back and try to get the entire plant into the frame. Her words, "You have to consider the scenery." Classic holism.

In the process of not knowing where I was going, I somehow ended up at this cross on top of a huge hill. If you've been to SD, no doubt you've seen this. I tried getting my grandma to take a picture with it but something about Buddhism and her being tired prevented that from happening.

She saw a bunny and wanted to take a picture with it. The first one we took was too far away for her liking, so after taking a couple laps around, she decided to came back for a closer attempt. Here we have her sneaking up on the bunny. She actually got pretty close, but when she turned around for the snapshot, the bunny had scurried away. We never got that picture, which is why the photologue ends here.

We ended the day by having a nice down and dirty Vietnamese dinner. She finally got to pee, I finally got to have Vietnamese food. I could tell she was really content and thankful that I drove down to visit, but really I probably had a better day than she did. The gratitude is all mine to owe.

More pictures here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/thaimychu/sets/72157621322359880/

CrunchBase Profile

In my book, this is one of the Top 5 Scams People Love (along with the hot dog 10-pack/bun 8-pack fiasco).

Airline frequent flyer programs intentionally complicate their miles systems as part of their evil marketing scheme, and most of us don’t care. Eager and frequent travelers like me join these various programs and base blood and devotion to these companies at the promise of free flights. We don’t consider that these miles take forever to accumulate–free is free, and travel is gold.

However, the system is, in short, short. And, here’s why:

1. Complex Usernames: Do you ever wonder why your frequent flyer account username is always a combination of letters and numbers reminiscent of a “VERY SECURE!” password? Except this should be a name you know well enough to type it in every time you buy a ticket, receive FF credit, or check your miles. Convenient that most airlines don’t let you change them either…as in you cannot make your username a simple “johnsmith”! Log in with your email address? Can’t do that either! So, 4VTR380C it is…
2. Inanely Illogical Mileage: The mileage system doesn’t make sense. I understand that your miles get calculated by the distance that you fly, but then the redemption awards are all over the place. They also differ from airline to airline. And…did you know that they go up over time?! That’s right. It used to be 25,000 miles to go to Hawaii, now it’s like 35,000!
3. Elite Statuses: I didn’t realize this until I was waiting at an airport in Korea and wanted to go into the lounge. After walking up the winding stairway to the 2nd floor I was ungreeted by a “bouncer” who notified me that I am not of SkyPass elite status. I’ve tried connecting to the wireless at certain airports before and you also have to be elite! Shouldn’t a member be a member? Why do we have to bring the caste system all up in this?
4. Redeeming Miles: As far as I can tell, to receive credit you either have to 1) input your ff# when you purchase your ticket, 2) notify the attendant before your flight at the airport, or 3) redeem retroactive credit. The problem with option 1 is that, as previously mentioned, the ff# is impossible to remember. It’s somewhere in your email, but where… It’s on your ff card, but who carries that thing around? If you fly via an airline partner, the partner website often doesn’t have an option to enter alternate ff# besides their own. The same issues arise according to option 2. I never know what my ff# when I’m at the gate. They ususally can’t fish it out from your name either! Option 3 gets to me the most. If you forgot to indicate your ff# for a past flight, you have to go the airlines website and manually enter in ALL your flight information! Flight number, arrival, destination, date, ticket number (the hardest one to find if you’ve thrown your ticket away), you want to rip your hair out afterwards. On top of this, you cannot redeem your miles until 15 days after your last travel date, and if they cannot locate your records you have to snail mail your ticket stubs in.
5. Expiration Dates: Some airlines keep your inactive miles for 12 months, some 18, others unknown. Convenient that they never warn you when these expiration dates will happen. An email alert or a message when I log in would be nice. Some, like American Airlines, offer the option to renew once expired, but that costs at least $50. The best way is to purchase additional miles, which renews your activity, but the lowest amount is usually $25 for an additional 1,000.  A trick I’ve learned, though, is that you can get miles for all sorts of purchases online and at restaurants. So I just go dine at a participating location and bam! Renewed.

Along comes acruw.com. From CrunchBase:

acruw is a free service that allows its users to track and mange all of their rewards program balances (frequent flyer miles, hotel points, credit card points, etc.) in one location.

In addition to the ability to view all of your balances in one place, acruw also offers a variety of tools to make earning and using rewards easier. Specifically, you can view all possible conversions between your programs (and know if they’re a good deal), view your progress towards elite status renewal, be warned if your points are close to expiration and get help on “cash or points” decisions.

acruw is able to help with these redemption decisions by assigning a dollar value is assigned to each one of your points and miles. This also allows users to compare programs and to get a sense of what their spending potential for their next vacation.

It doesn’t solve the problem. In the end evil still wins. But as a user of this service, I can say that it’s made flying a little bit easier, which in the world of Frequent Flyer Programs, is flying high.

Smooth out those rough Edges

Originally uploaded by bitterbethany

the feeling of sawdust between your fingers after having just used fine grain sandpaper

it’s the little things

Christmas – December ‘06001

Originally posted on May 14, 2008

My mom clutched a silent phone for the better part of Sunday.

As the single employee at a thankless job, she was probably hoping for a word of appreciation. But just as our mother loses track of her five kids’ birthdays, my siblings and I can never seem to remember the one day out of the year that should belong to her.

My older brother didn’t call her. In fact, he never calls quite often. Yet, somehow the usual absence of his phone call stood out on Sunday. If there was one day, that should have been it.

My older sister did call, but only because she needed something. The rest of us siblings often liken her to the Santa Ana Winds. Though somewhat predictable, you can never really brace for the path of destruction she always manages to leave behind. That, and we sometimes find leaves in her hair. She called because Verizon sent her a bill in the mail confirming her death and then charging her $850 dollars for it. She called wondering why Verizon had to tell her she was dead. Also, who did they expected to pay that bill? Regardless, she needed to borrow $850.

My younger sister texted, but only because she had a new number. She’s fondly referred to as MCD, short for Mad Cow Disease. Ironic because she’s lactose intolerant, but you don’t realize the deathly consequences of her actions until a forgettable period of time has passed by. Two weeks prior she had lost her cell phone. The only way to get a new phone for free is to activate a new plan. But, the only way to leave the current contact without being fined was in the death of the account holder…my older sister. On May 6th, another day in her usual well-intentioned stupidity, Muck declared my older sister dead.

In a misinformed attempt to be the star child, my younger brother, the youngest in the household, gave my mom a potted plant. Granted that he gifted it to her two weeks early, he genuinely thought he’d locked down dibs for most honorable child and wondered why the rest of us didn’t call or send gifts on that…Wednesday. My mom had called me that night to brag about how he was the only one who cared enough to remember. “It’s sweet because cacti don’t die.” I told her I’d call her in two weeks, when it was actually Mother’s Day.

But I didn’t call. Instead, I waited by the phone. By now I’ve learned that in the many ways in which I can thank my mom, the most gratifying for her is when I simply pick up my phone. No, I’m not claiming perfect child status. If she hadn’t called me I would have ignored Mother’s Day along with my other siblings. But if there’s one role I’ve adopted as her son who majored in psychology, it’s providing some implicit social support and a thorough debriefing session.

As expected, she called me just before the weekend had turned day. She mentioned that my older brother didn’t call as usual. She informed me of my older sister’s death and then joked that we should have a mock funeral for her. She told me that she learned how to read a text message but still doesn’t know how to store a new number. Also, the cactus died. I must have said two whole words the entire length of the “conversation” before we simultaneously hung up on each other without saying goodbye. And yet somehow, I think that’s all she needed to hear.

Solo nel mar rosso

Originally uploaded by e-mago

Going to a concert by yourself. Sitting still with your hands clasped on your lap, only shifting every piece’s end for applause. Losing yourself in the encore as half the stadium pours out to beat traffic. You walked.

It’s the little things.