<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079</id><updated>2012-02-16T08:24:01.201-07:00</updated><title type='text'>216 Tao</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>90</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-6762330752072465952</id><published>2008-01-01T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T20:41:18.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year.</title><summary type='text'>I woke up and realized that I missed New Year's. Then I went back to bed. I woke up because my roommate was knocking on the door. I had taken his keys, because I didn't bring my own. I took a cab back to the apartment.I opened the door and went back to bed. I woke up again, and went to the bathroom. It wasn't number one or number two. Should it be named number three? My roommate was watching </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/6762330752072465952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=6762330752072465952' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/6762330752072465952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/6762330752072465952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2008/01/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy New Year.'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-7980064562788748290</id><published>2007-12-01T10:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T11:34:24.862-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ramblings. Don't Make It More Important Than It Is</title><summary type='text'>I miss my friends. It's nice to travel. It's pleasant meeting new people. But there is something to be said about being in a place that's home. That's familiar. You enter a pocket and it's a ritual. Good friendships are sacred like that. Trust. Commitment. Wine. When you meet new people, where do you start? From the beginning. It seems so far away from where we want to be. Can't we give each </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/7980064562788748290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=7980064562788748290' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/7980064562788748290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/7980064562788748290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2007/12/ramblings-dont-make-it-more-important.html' title='Ramblings. Don&apos;t Make It More Important Than It Is'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-6699802997558448638</id><published>2007-08-13T11:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T11:02:13.262-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Eightball on His Wedding Night</title><summary type='text'>Michael is older than I am. He told me that he stayed in his marriage for one thing, actually two things, and they’re both his children – a pair of little girls that he spends all his time with. It’s easy to focus on them and ignore her.They met in college. He loved Ohio State. She loved Ohio State. Isn’t that enough to support a marriage? They were both huge college football fans and they could </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/6699802997558448638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=6699802997558448638' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/6699802997558448638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/6699802997558448638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2007/08/eightball-on-his-wedding-night.html' title='Eightball on His Wedding Night'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-5982871777651509079</id><published>2007-08-09T11:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T11:58:29.217-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rain in the Sky</title><summary type='text'>Kristalyn said, "Think about when you tell this story of your first pet and how great it will be for your childrent to hear."So let me begin the story. I walked towards the security guard and said, "This is the first time I've ever brought a pet on-board. How do I go about this?" He told me to take the animal out of the carrier and walk through with it. Take her out of the carrier? It was a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/5982871777651509079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=5982871777651509079' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/5982871777651509079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/5982871777651509079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2007/08/rain-in-sky.html' title='Rain in the Sky'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-1251521918262815437</id><published>2007-08-08T11:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T11:35:59.153-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflections on My Father</title><summary type='text'>My father and I spent a lot of time together during the preparation for the move. Calling car companies in order to ship the car, figuring out cost, looking into selling the house verses renting the house, and which place was the better vet. Safe to say, we were working on each other's last nerves. But I do get it - why we fight. We're both passionate and we both want to do what's best, but what </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/1251521918262815437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=1251521918262815437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/1251521918262815437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/1251521918262815437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2007/08/reflections-on-my-father.html' title='Reflections on My Father'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-1676075901602392433</id><published>2007-01-11T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T18:34:55.579-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yahoo News Tidbit</title><summary type='text'>The day after President Bush announced his plan for a deeper U.S. military commitment in Iraq, Gen. Peter Pace, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, told reporters the change in reserve policy would have been made anyway because active-duty troops already were getting too little time between their combat tours.The Pentagon also announced it is proposing to Congress that the size of the Army be </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/1676075901602392433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=1676075901602392433' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/1676075901602392433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/1676075901602392433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2007/01/yahoo-news-tidbit.html' title='Yahoo News Tidbit'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-330526137684673278</id><published>2007-01-04T04:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T09:38:32.106-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How To Undo A Unicorn With A Hacksaw</title><summary type='text'>It’s 6:12 AM. I stepped outside to get a CD from the car, and the moon is still out – full. It looks like a beacon. There are only a few clouds in the sky, transparent and passing it by. I’m remembering yesterday – the talk with Mom. She told me about the 12-year old that lived across the street had shot out the front window with his BB gun. How when the police came, he pointed his rifle at the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/330526137684673278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=330526137684673278' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/330526137684673278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/330526137684673278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2007/01/how-to-undo-unicorn-with-hacksaw_04.html' title='How To Undo A Unicorn With A Hacksaw'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-45344665928325362</id><published>2007-01-03T10:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T09:42:58.859-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How Do You Pronounce Charlotte? Correctly</title><summary type='text'>While driving back to the apartment, John says, “Oh God. Did you see the name of this town?””Yeah, how could you forget. We’re in Shay – Lot, Michigan.” Al says.”Yo, do you know how it’s spelled?” John asks.”How?” Al says.”It’s spelled like Charlotte, like in North Carolina. God, these people are retarded.” John says.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/45344665928325362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=45344665928325362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/45344665928325362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/45344665928325362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2007/01/how-do-you-pronounce-charlotte.html' title='How Do You Pronounce Charlotte? Correctly'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-7349711854243789594</id><published>2007-01-03T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T10:47:09.388-07:00</updated><title type='text'>While Standing in Line at Wal-Mart</title><summary type='text'>We were standing in line, and Al asked some girl what town we were in and she said, “Shay – lot.” Al says over and over again, “Here I am, shopping in a Wal- Mart in Shay-Lot, Michigan, shopping for black towels.”            In line, we start talking, and then John disappears and brings back a calendar and hands it to Freeze. He says, “Yo, this would look great in your place.”           It’s a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/7349711854243789594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=7349711854243789594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/7349711854243789594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/7349711854243789594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2007/01/while-standing-in-line-at-wal-mart.html' title='While Standing in Line at Wal-Mart'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-3242246189952324973</id><published>2007-01-03T10:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T09:42:32.539-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Are You Crying Over Ricky Bobby's Dad?</title><summary type='text'>It’s the next day, and we’re watching Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, and then there is a scene where his father finally picks up these tickets at the box office, which have been left there for years. He turns around and then scalps them for $60.00. Freeze says, “John, are you crying – over the movie?”“No, no, no,” John shows Freeze and I the phone. It’s a picture message of his wife</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/3242246189952324973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=3242246189952324973' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/3242246189952324973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/3242246189952324973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2007/01/are-you-crying-over-ricky-bobbys-dad.html' title='Are You Crying Over Ricky Bobby&apos;s Dad?'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-5103138814835924799</id><published>2007-01-03T10:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T10:44:16.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>John's Text Message</title><summary type='text'>We pull out of the driveway and then head towards Novi [pronounced No – Vie], but all day long we’ve been arguing that it should be pronounced No- Vy, like the name Lori. And Al is driving, and he passes Freeze and John, and then in the process passes up a black Lansing police cruiser. He gets pulled over in less than a minute of leaving Freeze’s abode. “Shit he got me,” Al says. “Fuck, I hate </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/5103138814835924799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=5103138814835924799' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/5103138814835924799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/5103138814835924799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2007/01/johns-text-message.html' title='John&apos;s Text Message'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-5273770396203500898</id><published>2007-01-03T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T10:42:59.958-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Underwear</title><summary type='text'>John stood naked in the kitchen, smelling his underwear, “Good God, these stink. I haven’t changed my drawers since Christmas.” Then he smelled them again, and his head whipped back as if the underwear and smelling salts were the same thing. He turns to the guys and asks, “You wanna smell?”           ”Let’s not do this, let’s not play the smelling game.” Jay says.           ”Yo John, those are </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/5273770396203500898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=5273770396203500898' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/5273770396203500898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/5273770396203500898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2007/01/underwear.html' title='The Underwear'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-8086318943914813375</id><published>2006-12-27T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-12-27T10:59:19.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Excerpts</title><summary type='text'>There's only a handful of people that still read the blogs, and most of them are friends I met through writing. And this is for them, because of those that I met through writing - only a handful of us are still doing so. It was easier when we had teachers and deadlines, less bills and responsibility. More alcohol. We had one another - we inspired one another, maybe it was out of competition, but </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/8086318943914813375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=8086318943914813375' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/8086318943914813375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/8086318943914813375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/12/excerpts.html' title='Excerpts'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-2334660431246334897</id><published>2006-12-15T11:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-12-15T09:17:59.807-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wii Nintendo Platform</title><summary type='text'>With the Playstation 3 and XBox 360 being the dominant videogaming platforms, Nintendo got back into the fold with the Wii. And one of the biggest problems that came up was that the strap, on his wireless [bluetooth] controller was that it was flying out of people's hands when it was playing the sport games. In an article discussing the problem, this quote struck me:Nintendo is hoping the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/2334660431246334897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=2334660431246334897' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/2334660431246334897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/2334660431246334897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/12/wii-nintendo-platform.html' title='The Wii Nintendo Platform'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-3321213987167575007</id><published>2006-12-13T01:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T11:35:36.328-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Parts of a Letter to a Stranger</title><summary type='text'>My grandfather [a man I called a grandfather] said to me, hurry and be rich and get married. Do it all before I die. His face is puffy from the heart pills he’s on, and he still smokes. I nudged him in the shoulder and said, “We’ll you better live longer then.”He tried to introduce [that’s the Vietnamese introduction] to some women, but I knew it wasn’t going to work. They thought I was picky, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/3321213987167575007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=3321213987167575007' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/3321213987167575007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/3321213987167575007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/12/parts-of-letter-to-stranger.html' title='Parts of a Letter to a Stranger'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-9027261672045859813</id><published>2006-12-11T22:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-12-12T17:03:07.634-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Used to Call Him Jesus Mike</title><summary type='text'>He looked like Jesus, and he was passed out on the couch at a party that I took him to. Whose Jesus is here? That was what I remember, because all the guys had long hair and a beard. He slept for most of the party, but remembered the part he was awake for. Said he had a good time. That was my first memory of him. I learned he died on myspace today. A common friend wrote back and said:Hey Dave,</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/9027261672045859813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=9027261672045859813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/9027261672045859813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/9027261672045859813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/12/untitled.html' title='I Used to Call Him Jesus Mike'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-4455624117194049779</id><published>2006-12-10T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-12-12T17:04:28.199-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stories from the Ironbound</title><summary type='text'>I emailed a friend today, but I decided that I should start sharing these stories here:My friend Freeze and Hadji came into town and we met the Clevland Women's Rugby Team, a quarter of which are lesbians. With that said, Freeze made out with three of the members in a four day span. Two of which were lesbians, hence he was dubbed "The Converter."Last Friday, I met with the girls and played "Beer </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/4455624117194049779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=4455624117194049779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/4455624117194049779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/4455624117194049779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/12/stories-from-new-jersey.html' title='Stories from the Ironbound'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-115464414398129091</id><published>2006-08-03T16:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T16:29:04.070-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Indiana Tran</title><summary type='text'>Joshua said, "You're practically there on the one year anniversary of Katrina." I thought about it - it does seem historic, doesn't it? One of our history's worst disasters, but as much debri, missing windows, FEMA trailers, and hints that Katrina was here - I tried not to reflect on it. People here are rebuilding, inspite of being screwed out of financial aid, manpower, or just time. These </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/115464414398129091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=115464414398129091' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/115464414398129091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/115464414398129091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/08/indiana-tran.html' title='Indiana Tran'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-115457124524660811</id><published>2006-08-02T20:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-08-02T20:14:05.263-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Vague Rantings</title><summary type='text'>I'm away from work, but it never seems like I'm actually away. I've gotten wind of the problems, but more importantly the politics of everything. And the only thing that I wanted was actually pretty simple.To teach, to help, and to have a job that protected me as I did all those things, but even though they haven't attacked me. There is part of me that feels that I'm not being looked after. The </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/115457124524660811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=115457124524660811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/115457124524660811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/115457124524660811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/08/vague-rantings.html' title='Vague Rantings'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-115448283558779510</id><published>2006-08-01T19:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T19:40:35.603-06:00</updated><title type='text'>On Location in the Big Easy: Part 2</title><summary type='text'>Again since today was Kristalyn's birthday - we went out to a restaraunt that served barbequed oysters. Let me tell you, you don't understand true love until you know what barbequed oysters are. I believe the place was called Grillot's. As I'm writing this, there is an eleven year old cat still chasing his tail. With that said, because it had nothing to do with anything else that I'm about to say</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/115448283558779510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=115448283558779510' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/115448283558779510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/115448283558779510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/08/on-location-in-big-easy-part-2.html' title='On Location in the Big Easy: Part 2'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-115447007848489960</id><published>2006-08-01T15:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T16:09:18.590-06:00</updated><title type='text'>On Location in the Big Easy</title><summary type='text'>I'm currently in Mandeville, LA - if you look at a map and find New Orleans, look for the bridge just north of the city. Take that bridge, which spans 24 miles over water, then you'll find me. I came here through Memphis, TN, then through Oxford, MS, then to Kentwood, LA [home of Britney Spears]. Kristalyn and I have decided that it has answered a lot of questions we've had about the pop star, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/115447007848489960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=115447007848489960' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/115447007848489960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/115447007848489960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/08/on-location-in-big-easy.html' title='On Location in the Big Easy'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-114565255362665731</id><published>2006-04-21T16:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T14:49:13.643-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Obituary, Per CC</title><summary type='text'>LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOST DIES TRAGICALLYDavid C. Tran, host of the popular Fox network show “Shut the Fuck Up” was found dead in his Cleveland home late Wednesday.  Cause of death was determined to be a heart attack resulting from chronic constipation, according to the Cuyahoga County coroner’s office.Tran graduated from Bowling Green State University in 2000, astonishingly without an STD.  </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/114565255362665731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=114565255362665731' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114565255362665731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114565255362665731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/04/my-obituary-per-cc.html' title='My Obituary, Per CC'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-114527735279239291</id><published>2006-04-17T08:34:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T06:35:52.806-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Almost Home</title><summary type='text'>In NYC today, I'll post something when I get back. I haven't foresaken you my children.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/114527735279239291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=114527735279239291' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114527735279239291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114527735279239291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/04/almost-home.html' title='Almost Home'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-114369212526207519</id><published>2006-03-29T23:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-29T21:15:25.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shit Hitting the Fan</title><summary type='text'>Some people would find it hard to believe that I’m any good at poker – my face says too much. I was walking back to my class and my vice principal asked, “Hey amigo, you all right?” Then another co-worker asked the same thing. They all could see the frustration on my face – by the end of the day I almost snapped at a student.He made some ignorant comment that was supposed to sound like a white </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/114369212526207519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=114369212526207519' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114369212526207519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114369212526207519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/03/shit-hitting-fan.html' title='Shit Hitting the Fan'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-114294279984659190</id><published>2006-03-21T07:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-21T05:08:01.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Letter from Valerie</title><summary type='text'>It is difficult for me to tell people why I like V for Vendetta. I would say dialogue, but I could not quote it to prove it. So here is an excerpt from the original comic book dialogue, one of the most powerful scenes in the movie:I was born in Nottingham in 1957, and it rained a lot. I passed my eleven plus and went to girl’s grammar. I wanted to be an actress. I met my first girlfriend at </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/114294279984659190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=114294279984659190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114294279984659190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114294279984659190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/03/letter-from-valerie.html' title='The Letter from Valerie'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-114294083638492307</id><published>2006-03-21T06:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-21T04:33:56.386-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And I Prefer It That Way</title><summary type='text'>These rants always come at odd times – when I can’t sleep, when I should be sleeping, and when I do sleep it’s to the TV still on. I dreamt I was sitting in line for an indoor amusement park, and the woman that stood in front of me was frantically hiding the fact that she had hair plugs. I woke up to the infomercial.I was listening to Johnny Cash’s rendition of “Hurt,” originally done by Trent </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/114294083638492307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=114294083638492307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114294083638492307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114294083638492307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/03/and-i-prefer-it-that-way.html' title='And I Prefer It That Way'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-114285402195318213</id><published>2006-03-20T06:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-21T04:31:35.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Take it Personal</title><summary type='text'>There’s another siren screaming down the street. It’s just another posted note about how something else in this world is wrong. Last week consisted of memos and emails from by boss or my co-workers barking about what we’re all doing wrong. I was yelled at by a parent – she came in lecturing me as if I was her own child, and when asked who was to be blamed – I said the state mandates were, the one</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/114285402195318213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=114285402195318213' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114285402195318213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114285402195318213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/03/dont-take-it-personal.html' title='Don&apos;t Take it Personal'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-114173539282892610</id><published>2006-03-07T07:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T05:43:12.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where's Your Corona, Babe?</title><summary type='text'>I don’t hate Harry Potter, but I hate Harry Potter fans. Does that make sense? That’s my same feeling about The Dave Matthew’s Band and Leonardo DiCaprio. I don’t mind them personally, but I mind the people that practically worship these things.American Idol fans, Clay Aiken fans, Oprah Book Club members – all right, I hate them all completely, I can’t lie about that. And people that have an </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/114173539282892610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=114173539282892610' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114173539282892610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114173539282892610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/03/wheres-your-corona-babe.html' title='Where&apos;s Your Corona, Babe?'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-114169531349630900</id><published>2006-03-06T20:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-06T18:40:51.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Four Random Ideas</title><summary type='text'>I talked to my friend and co-worker CC, a tall, big, black woman. She told me about her boyfriend, a big, black man. She said, “I’m a big woman, I need a big man.” She has known him for about 12 years, and I told her – dating is nice, but getting back out there and having to learn people is exhausting, constantly having to expose yourself to strangers – like an overworked flasher. CC said, “Women</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/114169531349630900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=114169531349630900' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114169531349630900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114169531349630900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/03/four-random-ideas.html' title='Four Random Ideas'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-114121639697568897</id><published>2006-03-01T07:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-01T05:36:56.110-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kiss Me, I Was Irish In A Past Life</title><summary type='text'>I’ll post something concrete after progress reports are done, but in the mean time, for St. Patrick’s Day, I’m thinking about making shirts that will read the following and I’m going to look into iron-on’s, if it’s economically possible. No fifty dollar bullshit.I was thinking about something along the lines of:1) Kiss Me, Because Eventually I’ll Look Irish.2) Kiss Me, My Girlfriend Says It’s Not</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/114121639697568897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=114121639697568897' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114121639697568897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114121639697568897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/03/kiss-me-i-was-irish-in-past-life.html' title='Kiss Me, I Was Irish In A Past Life'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-114100691533610280</id><published>2006-02-26T21:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-26T19:25:34.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cryptic, Dubious, Opaque, Tenebrous...</title><summary type='text'>There are important things that I want to talk about – but not here, because it never seems like the right place to voice them. Too many people say “I’m sorry,” and it always manages to come out “I pity you.” Too many people try to fix it, as if to say their experiences and duct tape were interchangeable. Too many people give me statistics that are supposed to make me feel better – how does one </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/114100691533610280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=114100691533610280' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114100691533610280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114100691533610280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/02/cryptic-dubious-opaque-tenebrous.html' title='Cryptic, Dubious, Opaque, Tenebrous...'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-114052209954445798</id><published>2006-02-21T07:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T04:41:39.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tran and the Wolf</title><summary type='text'>I looked over the summary of “The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of the Pickup Artist” a few weeks ago when you mentioned it on your “away message,” so I know it’s you because I’m nosey like you are. I also thought it might be a nice gag gift for a friend who has what I call “Coleco Game,” or out-of-date game. But it’s not that I have problems finding or meeting women, it’s the longevity of</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/114052209954445798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=114052209954445798' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114052209954445798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114052209954445798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/02/tran-and-wolf.html' title='Tran and the Wolf'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-114049377773146125</id><published>2006-02-20T23:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T04:03:03.726-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So About This Italian Woman</title><summary type='text'>When we first met – I’ll be honest, I was attracted to her. She had a look and an attitude that I liked, that I’m usually attracted to – there’s a strength that I love about Italian women. But I didn’t know how to approach her. I felt a bit invisible around her. So I was actually a little nervous and excited when we did have a chance to go out and catch a drink as group. It was a chance for us to</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/114049377773146125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=114049377773146125' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114049377773146125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114049377773146125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/02/so-about-this-italian-woman.html' title='So About This Italian Woman'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-114037531800668769</id><published>2006-02-19T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-19T11:56:56.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday</title><summary type='text'>A young man talked about killing his girlfriend, because she was going out with a male friend. I’m not sure if it was a date. I’m not sure if he actually owned the guns he talked about cleaning the night before. I’m not sure why he wanted to tell me that she had a miscarriage the next week. I don’t know why he wanted my advice about giving or not giving her a Valentine’s Day gift. I’m not sure </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/114037531800668769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=114037531800668769' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114037531800668769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/114037531800668769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/02/sunday.html' title='Sunday'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-113991867285093750</id><published>2006-02-14T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T05:20:34.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Because I'm a Romantic</title><summary type='text'>As prophesized by my calendar, “The Blood Letting” day is upon us. Hallmark, Tiffany’s, and Godiva, “The Trinity,” will rain on us with the fiery of a thousand platinum credit cards, and at the end there will be two flickering candles, an obscenely large bundle of roses that are already beginning to wilt, a bill for an overpriced dinner that was too small and dry, and bad champagne that will be </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/113991867285093750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=113991867285093750' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113991867285093750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113991867285093750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/02/because-im-romantic.html' title='Because I&apos;m a Romantic'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-113983496479745832</id><published>2006-02-13T08:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-13T06:04:47.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spike Lee in Mississippi?</title><summary type='text'>KN called and left me a message, “Get back to me, because I have to get this off of my chest.” When I called her back, she told me that she was part of an audience in which Spike Lee was the guest speaker. And there was a sense of pride in her voice when she told me about the many, great things said and discussed between Spike Lee and the Ole Miss students.Lee said that rap culture has </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/113983496479745832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=113983496479745832' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113983496479745832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113983496479745832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/02/spike-lee-in-mississippi.html' title='Spike Lee in Mississippi?'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-113948610958569087</id><published>2006-02-09T07:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T04:55:09.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Was Just a Wednesday</title><summary type='text'>I was helping a couple of students on their writing assignment, and I asked them to draw on their own experiences, so in order to help stimulate their memories – I’d ask them to tell me a story about their mother, father, etc. One student told me about how his uncle hated him, because he and his cousin would stay up late and play video games high. Then they’d raid the fridge, and his cousin would</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/113948610958569087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=113948610958569087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113948610958569087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113948610958569087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/02/this-was-just-wednesday.html' title='This Was Just a Wednesday'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-113948462025105161</id><published>2006-02-08T12:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T04:30:20.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Breaking Bread with the Enemy [Pittsburgh]</title><summary type='text'>A friend CK asked me if I’d be interested in joining her rugby team for their fundraiser – all you can drink domestic drafts, all you can eat wings and pizza for 20 dollars for the Super Bowl. Normally, I’d say no, because I actually like watching the game, but since I neither gave a shit about the Steelers nor the Seahawks, the idea then turned – maybe I can drink myself from remembering this </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/113948462025105161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=113948462025105161' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113948462025105161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113948462025105161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/02/breaking-bread-with-enemy-pittsburgh.html' title='Breaking Bread with the Enemy [Pittsburgh]'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-113931860940063228</id><published>2006-02-07T09:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T06:24:05.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So She Was Peruvian</title><summary type='text'>When the snow hit Saturday, my friend [who will remain nameless] and I decided to go to a strip club. SIDE NOTE: Save all your feminism or that’s yucky or it’s degrading or how can you get enjoyment out of that comments for someone who fucking cares. My minor was Women Studies, I don’t want to hear it – I already have a degree in it.Back to the story – our friend was a bouncer or security at this</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/113931860940063228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=113931860940063228' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113931860940063228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113931860940063228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/02/so-she-was-peruvian.html' title='So She Was Peruvian'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-113915837362953094</id><published>2006-02-05T12:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T04:28:30.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry I Drunk Texted You</title><summary type='text'>How to measure how bad a week you’ve had – take the number of drunk dials and text messages you sent, and times that with how many days of the week there are. For instance a normal person’s might begin on let’s say – Thursday or even Friday, and then be drunk all weekend and that number would be three or four, but in my case they started Wednesday, and that day began with the carry over from </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/113915837362953094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=113915837362953094' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113915837362953094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113915837362953094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/02/sorry-i-drunk-texted-you.html' title='Sorry I Drunk Texted You'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-113915658644648615</id><published>2006-02-04T23:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-05T10:01:44.696-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Do This Under Protest</title><summary type='text'>Dear Mississippian Low-Lander,Just because you tag me doesn't me that I'm compelled to fill out any dumb questionaire about who I am. My confidence, my inner self is stronger than any internet promise or favor. That's a lot to ask of person, that is a lot to expect from a person and quite frankly I'm offended by your audacity. But I'll do it just this one time, but understand that I'm doing this </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/113915658644648615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=113915658644648615' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113915658644648615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113915658644648615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-do-this-under-protest.html' title='I Do This Under Protest'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-113870801637857841</id><published>2006-01-31T04:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-31T04:46:56.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Today's Horoscope: Libra</title><summary type='text'>Quickie: Give in a little more than you're used to today and you'll improve your flexibility.Overview: Craving something out of the ordinary? Well, whatever you do, don't ignore it. Go and find something that thrills you right down to your very toes. It's exactly what the stars want for you right now.Tell me how this isn't about me getting laid?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/113870801637857841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=113870801637857841' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113870801637857841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113870801637857841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/01/todays-horoscope-libra.html' title='Today&apos;s Horoscope: Libra'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-113862082971861695</id><published>2006-01-30T04:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T04:33:49.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How I Keep Sane at Work</title><summary type='text'>The first is just a co-worker and I goofing off. The second and third are students that fell asleep and I then I decided to have some fun at their expense. This is how I keep sane at work.  </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/113862082971861695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=113862082971861695' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113862082971861695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113862082971861695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/01/how-i-keep-sane-at-work.html' title='How I Keep Sane at Work'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-113859597280174679</id><published>2006-01-29T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T04:37:33.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'>High Fidelity</title><summary type='text'>1) She hated her own name, and renamed herself Riley. She was a 20 year old singer in a punk rock band, half of her hair was blonde and the other half was black – the last time we spoke, she said she was going to try red and then go back to all blonde. She always blushed when we talked. Her fingers were always filled with rings and she had an unhealthy infatuation with the Green Lantern, Jack </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/113859597280174679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=113859597280174679' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113859597280174679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113859597280174679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2006/01/high-fidelity.html' title='High Fidelity'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-113310716123929820</id><published>2005-11-27T11:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-27T08:59:21.260-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What is Appropriate to Say?</title><summary type='text'>When we walked back into his hospital room after the nurses removed Richard from the breathing machine, we watched the small point in his stomach pulsating, small bursts that decrescendo. Kristalyn looked over her mother, while Ryan looked over her. Steven watched over Robin and Tom—he watched over all of us. I wrapped my arms around myself and held my coat closer to my body. It was a sad attempt</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/113310716123929820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=113310716123929820' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113310716123929820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113310716123929820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/11/what-is-appropriate-to-say.html' title='What is Appropriate to Say?'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-113214838586947691</id><published>2005-11-16T09:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-16T06:42:21.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Strep, Gyllenhaal, and Vietnam Music</title><summary type='text'>I went to the doctor and he said, “Well, it’s either mono or strep throat. Let’s hope it’s strep throat.” So I sat at home and logged in some hours on Madden, and put Terrell Owens on the Atlanta Falcons to see how that would feel, and after one game, I couldn’t stomach throwing him the ball—I still hate that guy.I also took in a matinee yesterday. I saw Jarhead. I have to admit that I’m a big </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/113214838586947691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=113214838586947691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113214838586947691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113214838586947691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/11/strep-gyllenhaal-and-vietnam-music.html' title='Strep, Gyllenhaal, and Vietnam Music'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-113206024370846417</id><published>2005-11-15T09:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-15T06:10:43.726-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Are You Being So Negative</title><summary type='text'>So she said, “Why are you being so negative.” I could tell her that I work there and she doesn’t, and because of that she simply doesn’t know any better, but I’d be lying. She knows me better than I know myself, and if there is anyone like that in your own life – you can understand how much that can piss someone off.She’s right though – there are moments when you’re helping someone [as a teacher]</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/113206024370846417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=113206024370846417' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113206024370846417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113206024370846417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/11/why-are-you-being-so-negative.html' title='Why Are You Being So Negative'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-113176607395812347</id><published>2005-11-11T23:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-12T14:22:43.843-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where Have You Been Tran?</title><summary type='text'>It was so much easier updating the blog when you’re unemployed, and because of that – I’m sure my readership is down to 3 regular people, and that’s being kind.Work has been keeping me busy – I’m an English teacher at a charter school designed for “high risk” students. On my first day at work, a Puerto Rican student came up to me with a doctor’s note which said please excuse “so-and-so” due to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/113176607395812347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=113176607395812347' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113176607395812347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/113176607395812347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/11/where-have-you-been-tran.html' title='Where Have You Been Tran?'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-112533229563349740</id><published>2005-08-29T13:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-08-29T10:18:15.646-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Not Dead</title><summary type='text'>I'm not dead. I've been training and doing other things, but I'll be back to update briefly.XOXOTran</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/112533229563349740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=112533229563349740' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112533229563349740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112533229563349740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/08/im-not-dead.html' title='I&apos;m Not Dead'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-112311138633016457</id><published>2005-08-03T20:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-08-03T17:23:06.336-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Be Cool, Bitches</title><summary type='text'>I've been busy in my own right. I'll get an actually post after the wedding, but in the mean time, I saw "Be Cool" for the first time and damn near died after hearing this quote:Nice ass won't get you through your whole life. Once you turn thirty you better have a personality.There isn't a day that doesn't go by that I don't thank the world for Vince Vaughn.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/112311138633016457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=112311138633016457' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112311138633016457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112311138633016457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/08/be-cool-bitches.html' title='Be Cool, Bitches'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-112256822174707841</id><published>2005-07-28T13:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-07-28T10:30:21.816-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Unsolicated Advice</title><summary type='text'>Last night, a man who doesn't write told me how I should write.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/112256822174707841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=112256822174707841' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112256822174707841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112256822174707841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/07/unsolicated-advice.html' title='Unsolicated Advice'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-112238650248014495</id><published>2005-07-26T11:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T08:11:23.043-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The CSU Writing Conference [Expounded]</title><summary type='text'>The Writer’s Conference was located across the campus in a sector called: Trinity Commons and it was the conference portion of a church, which made me feel uneasy simply because I say the word “fuck” a lot. I decided to take the train into Cleveland and then walk from E. 4 to E. 24, because I wasn’t going to get a jog in so I decided that twenty city blocks would be a nice way to start the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/112238650248014495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=112238650248014495' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112238650248014495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112238650248014495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/07/csu-writing-conference-expounded.html' title='The CSU Writing Conference [Expounded]'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-112109852975875251</id><published>2005-07-11T01:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-07-11T10:15:29.766-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Is the Lake Clean Enough to Absolve?</title><summary type='text'>I told my mom about the eight people, who crossed the jogging path, as they headed towards the lake—dressed all in white. She asked me if they were the Triple K—her name for the Ku Klux Klan. I said that they weren’t, and then she asked me how I could be sure.“They were black, Mom?”They walked towards the lake, flowers in hand and then dropped them into the lake. They watched them float far out, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/112109852975875251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=112109852975875251' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112109852975875251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112109852975875251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/07/is-lake-clean-enough-to-absolve.html' title='Is the Lake Clean Enough to Absolve?'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-112077568601902898</id><published>2005-07-07T19:34:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-07-07T17:02:55.056-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Want My ATV!</title><summary type='text'>A sprinkle of Asian makes everything better—we’re paprika for the soul.Thanks goes to Cristin for the link. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/112077568601902898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=112077568601902898' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112077568601902898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112077568601902898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/07/i-want-my-atv.html' title='I Want My ATV!'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-112059226821024649</id><published>2005-07-05T16:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-07-06T12:19:25.786-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Posts Are Getting Weirder</title><summary type='text'>At the Fourth of July party, I told a girl, “If artists didn’t have art as an excuse for why they watch people, we’d all be perverts.”I’m trying to understand myself better. I’m completely fascinated by other people’s lives; listening to their heartbreak, trials, sins, tragedies, and secrets. It was why I started watching “Diaries of An Affair,” where couples [with the aid of friends, lovers, and</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/112059226821024649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=112059226821024649' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112059226821024649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112059226821024649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/07/my-posts-are-getting-weirder.html' title='My Posts Are Getting Weirder'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-112052015629629813</id><published>2005-07-04T20:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-07-04T17:41:47.750-06:00</updated><title type='text'>This is Me, Being Boring in Person</title><summary type='text'>To Do List:1. Fuck O-Ren Ishii2. Tell Vernita Green, “Babe, 50 Cent just ain’t fucking worth it.”3. Insist that Budd stay with his other alias of Mr. Blonde4. Teach Elle Driver sign language [LOL]5. Kill Bill6. Piss off non-US bordering blog community [Singapore]7. Give Singaporeans a sense of humor* Note to Self: May not be possible, thus far—no good Singaporean comedians8. Unite men [and hot </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/112052015629629813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=112052015629629813' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112052015629629813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112052015629629813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/07/this-is-me-being-boring-in-person.html' title='This is Me, Being Boring in Person'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-112022761055006398</id><published>2005-07-01T11:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-07-01T15:06:26.553-06:00</updated><title type='text'>An Attractive Dunst</title><summary type='text'>I was watching a movie called “The Secretary,” starring James Spader and Maggie Gyllenhaal. She plays a woman that is recently released from a mental institute, where she was incarcerated for being a cutter [a person that finds enjoyment in bloodletting], and then after her release, she applies to be James Spader’s secretary. It’s an S&amp;M love story. James Spader asks Gyllenhaal to wear restraints</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/112022761055006398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=112022761055006398' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112022761055006398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/112022761055006398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/07/attractive-dunst.html' title='An Attractive Dunst'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111996906972939809</id><published>2005-06-28T11:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-07-27T08:29:40.270-06:00</updated><title type='text'>For a Good Time, Call Who?</title><summary type='text'>Due to the high amount of emails I get from this one post, I've disabled any new comments:There’s been a woman that I’ve been infatuated with. I thought: is it really the desire for the woman or the desire itself that was appealing? Is it the need of a particular person, or is it the emotional bond, any emotional bond, that’s important? I’d like to say it’s the person, a combination of tangibles </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111996906972939809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111996906972939809' title='97 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111996906972939809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111996906972939809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/06/for-good-time-call-who.html' title='For a Good Time, Call Who?'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>97</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111928261473767351</id><published>2005-06-20T12:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-06-20T14:25:12.116-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ongoing Struggle of Minton’s Self Promotion</title><summary type='text'>A friend wrote an entry admitting that he used to carry some jealousy towards minority writers:So, I used to be a little jealous of the amount of anger material these minority writers had access to. I mean, Tran, Vietnamese, the child of naturalized immigrants, had the Vietnam War to use as a world-event that affected his life without his choice.There is a lot of inspiration in one’s cultural </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111928261473767351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111928261473767351' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111928261473767351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111928261473767351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/06/ongoing-struggle-of-mintons-self.html' title='The Ongoing Struggle of Minton’s Self Promotion'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111901852272340742</id><published>2005-06-17T08:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-06-19T13:05:50.546-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Asiaphile?</title><summary type='text'>A Korean friend, who was told she didn’t look Korean, did an internet search for "Korean Women"—wanting to compare herself with other women, not knowing the search would bring up hundreds of pornographic web sites and images. Then yesterday, she did another search for “Yellow Fever.” She was looking for the stereotype not the actual disease. She found the following word—Asiaphile. They can be </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111901852272340742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111901852272340742' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111901852272340742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111901852272340742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/06/asiaphile.html' title='Asiaphile?'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111921019797879316</id><published>2005-06-16T13:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-06-19T13:45:08.020-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It Is Her Story</title><summary type='text'>I was browsing through on-line journals and tripped over a woman’s page, she recounted an incident:She went out with her friend for ribs, and after seating themselves they noticed an attractive man and his girlfriend seated themselves nearby. As she sat, she couldn’t help smiling at the man when he asked, “Are these seats taken?” She told him no. She examined him. He was well dressed in a polo </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111921019797879316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111921019797879316' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111921019797879316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111921019797879316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/06/it-is-her-story.html' title='It Is Her Story'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111893821630860004</id><published>2005-06-16T13:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-06-19T13:47:16.560-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Yesterday was Cinema Day</title><summary type='text'>Yesterday was cinema day. I saw “Batman” with Robin which didn’t sound funny until a friend pointed it out. I’m not going into detail because I don’t want to ruin the movie experience for anyone else. I will say two things, first off—I’m going to say right now, it is the best comic adaptation I’ve ever seen. And secondly, I’m going to quote a statement which I believe hits the nail on the head.I </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111893821630860004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111893821630860004' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111893821630860004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111893821630860004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/06/yesterday-was-cinema-day.html' title='Yesterday was Cinema Day'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111876875888348429</id><published>2005-06-14T14:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-06-19T13:07:58.003-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Few Months Ago</title><summary type='text'>A few months ago, an internet friend tore down her site. People were writing her malicious letters and there were probably other cruel things, unmentionable things that were entailed in the breaking of a person that she didn’t want to mention. I told her to take it all lightly, and make a link for the hate mail. Laugh it off, but the truth is—it’s difficult to walk away unscathed when they use </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111876875888348429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111876875888348429' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111876875888348429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111876875888348429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/06/few-months-ago.html' title='A Few Months Ago'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111642410627679139</id><published>2005-05-18T07:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-06-19T12:53:29.976-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cleveland Metropark Zoo</title><summary type='text'>My Trip to the Zoo-By: David Tran </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111642410627679139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111642410627679139' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111642410627679139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111642410627679139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/05/cleveland-metropark-zoo.html' title='Cleveland Metropark Zoo'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111619081738491794</id><published>2005-05-15T18:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T07:59:14.790-06:00</updated><title type='text'>When Asked</title><summary type='text'>"I mistook the statement," responded Natalie Portman when instructed by the director that the intimate scene was going to entail her to shave. I know, beauty isn't just skin deep, but I'd like to consider that beauty is 2 to 3 settings higher than mine on a hair clipper. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111619081738491794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111619081738491794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111619081738491794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111619081738491794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/05/when-asked.html' title='When Asked'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111618919641691993</id><published>2005-05-15T17:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T07:58:13.683-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Blake's Seafood Restaurant &amp; Bar</title><summary type='text'>The weather killed the plans. It rained out the cancer walk and the road trip out to Bowling Green State University, but the day did make a good story. Kristalyn and I went out to Blake’s Seafood Restaurant &amp; Bar [not very inventive, is it? I believe Jack’s Bistro from Three’s Company had more thought put into it] in Hyde Park. The restaurant looks fancier than it really is—think upscale Red </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111618919641691993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111618919641691993' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111618919641691993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111618919641691993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/05/blakes-seafood-restaurant-bar.html' title='Blake&apos;s Seafood Restaurant &amp; Bar'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111598421519690483</id><published>2005-05-13T08:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T06:04:28.466-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to BGSU</title><summary type='text'>I’m going to pick up Kristalyn from the airport today, and then tonight we’re going to participate in the Relay for Life of Lorain County/North Ridgeville. Then tomorrow she is going to bust my ass on the track and then we're off to Bowling Green State University, if you’re in the area, meet me up at BW3’s at 6 to 7-esque or email me with your number and we’ll meet up. As of now, I just know J. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111598421519690483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111598421519690483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111598421519690483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111598421519690483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/05/back-to-bgsu.html' title='Back to BGSU'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111579078676843543</id><published>2005-05-11T02:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T18:34:26.316-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi Fi Club</title><summary type='text'>Hi Fi Club:I’ve been going to this Hip Hop club for the past few months. It’s all gold rope chains, baggy clothes, and thick women. The security guards pat the patrons down upon entering, and they’re trying to instill some Cleveland civic pride—it’s a bit preachy and headstrong, but it’s candid, honesty more so than most people hear in the span of a month, let alone a night. Suave said, “Be 100%.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111579078676843543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111579078676843543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111579078676843543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111579078676843543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/05/hi-fi-club.html' title='Hi Fi Club'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111556373772036681</id><published>2005-05-08T08:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-05-08T08:54:13.936-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Second Scotland</title><summary type='text'>On my morning walk, a man, with a broken in hat, a stretched out sweater and busted jeans played the bag pipes on the Lake Erie shore. The morning fog, the rolling hills, and the cold breeze made one believe that Cleveland was the second Scotland. He played to the water—slow and soft echoes—wake up dear, it said. It’s the morning, he implied, it’s now time to begin. I stared intently—wondering if</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111556373772036681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111556373772036681' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111556373772036681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111556373772036681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/05/second-scotland.html' title='Second Scotland'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111522289199506918</id><published>2005-05-04T01:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-05-04T11:45:26.893-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cleveland Curse?</title><summary type='text'>"Women who claim to love sports will be treated as spies until they demonstrate a knowledge of the game. Bonus points will be rewarded for the ability to pick a buffalo wing clean." -Rules for Men, Rule Number 3.Kellen Winslow Jr. is just another Cleveland first round draft pick that still hasn’t produced. Last year, he suffered a broken leg on special teams when he went for an on-side kick. On </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111522289199506918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111522289199506918' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111522289199506918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111522289199506918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/05/cleveland-curse.html' title='The Cleveland Curse?'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111491285051835070</id><published>2005-04-30T20:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-05-01T06:34:33.770-06:00</updated><title type='text'>30 Year Memorial</title><summary type='text'>I might try to write something meaningful, but today is not the day. I'll just leave you with this idea: If I do marry a non-Asian woman and reproduce, it will soley be because I want cute ameri-asian babies. Admit it white people, you want to fuck us for our cute gene, don't you?I've crossed a line, haven't I? </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111491285051835070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111491285051835070' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111491285051835070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111491285051835070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/04/30-year-memorial.html' title='30 Year Memorial'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111474961760361119</id><published>2005-04-29T13:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-05-01T08:10:41.020-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Dad, My Uncles on Nam</title><summary type='text'>My father had some friends over. They peppered each other with cognac and spring rolls [that’s the explanation for the crunching on the telephone]. “Can you believe it? We’ve been here for thirty years?” my dad said, referring to all the the American press Vietnam is receiving for the “Fall of Saigon.” He reminisced about when they watched “The Deer Hunter” for the first time. He said that a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111474961760361119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111474961760361119' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111474961760361119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111474961760361119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/04/my-dad-my-uncles-on-nam.html' title='My Dad, My Uncles on Nam'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111474455078742886</id><published>2005-04-29T00:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-05-04T07:05:25.060-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Accidents on West Blvd.</title><summary type='text'>There was another accident on my street. It’s the sixth one I’ve seen. Most of the time, it’s a car trying to cheat its way into the intersection. “I can beat them,” they say. The first accident I saw was an elderly woman being driven by her son, who hit the car because he hesitated on the left turn. The trunk opened on impact and their groceries littered the street. I brought out some water and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111474455078742886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111474455078742886' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111474455078742886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111474455078742886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/04/accidents-on-west-blvd.html' title='Accidents on West Blvd.'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111454292532035783</id><published>2005-04-26T13:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-04-28T20:39:24.923-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Day After Tomorrow</title><summary type='text'>So that was yesterday, and this is today. I believe being moody and cranky is completely justifiable, because if the weather can change on a whim, I so as fuck can too. And I believe Ohio is the only state that can actually say, "And tomorrow morning, there is a 75 % chance of the Apocalypse with morning fog." </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111454292532035783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111454292532035783' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111454292532035783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111454292532035783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/04/day-after-tomorrow.html' title='The Day After Tomorrow'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111443922148240953</id><published>2005-04-25T08:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T11:59:34.786-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to CLE</title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111443922148240953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111443922148240953' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111443922148240953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111443922148240953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/04/welcome-to-cle.html' title='Welcome to CLE'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111412111434884785</id><published>2005-04-21T16:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-05-04T07:08:46.113-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It Was During the Summer</title><summary type='text'>I had stronger feelings that I cared to discuss—even my friend knew this before I was willing to admit to the fact. Yes, she was attractive, but it was her humor and her willingness to say, “Yes, I’m flawed. But aren’t we all.” Vulnerability, it was something that I had an attraction towards, but not within myself. But I forget, people never stay the same. I remembered my father’s voice, “Always </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111412111434884785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111412111434884785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/04/it-was-during-summer.html' title='It Was During the Summer'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111385075767230728</id><published>2005-04-18T16:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2005-04-18T13:00:36.333-06:00</updated><title type='text'>While At Temple</title><summary type='text'>I’m never forthcoming—I still probably won’t be by the end. It’s more amusing, in my opinion, because people actually might believe it might be them I’m talking about. Someone who hasn’t talked to me or contacted me might believe it is them—then a line is made, and on one end it is egotistical and then on the other end it is empathic. But these days—I talk to few people. We all talk to few </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111385075767230728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111385075767230728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/04/while-at-temple.html' title='While At Temple'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111357960924587695</id><published>2005-04-15T09:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-04-15T09:40:09.246-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Today's Tao</title><summary type='text'>He said, “I’m looking for intelligent people to talk to.”  I didn’t question him, even though I knew it wasn’t the truth. It was what he said as not to sound shallow or simple around new women, even though there was a strong case for it. Why? Isn’t ignorance a shelter? Aren’t they happier?Intelligent people—we’re usually a little angry and somewhat frustrated, because along the way we figured out</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111357960924587695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111357960924587695' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111357960924587695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111357960924587695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/04/todays-tao.html' title='Today&apos;s Tao'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111202393219023539</id><published>2005-03-28T08:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-10T12:06:51.283-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Is Your Messiah Fully Resurrected? Pt. 2</title><summary type='text'>I didn’t have an analytical paper for Cleveland State University, but they required that I have one—even though it was for writing. It’s their way of understanding how I think. I didn’t know where to start it so I turned to my other friends [actually, just my one friend that continually bails me out from this life].The paper was based on the expansive definition of the intention of death in </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111202393219023539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111202393219023539' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111202393219023539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111202393219023539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/03/is-your-messiah-fully-resurrected-pt-2.html' title='Is Your Messiah Fully Resurrected? Pt. 2'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111197936528653264</id><published>2005-03-27T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-10T12:07:28.056-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Is Your Messiah Fully Resurrected? Pt.1</title><summary type='text'>Kris called me and said, “Robin’s water broke.” She was in Mississippi at the time, and then I went to the hospital. Later I learned more about the female human body than any man should [dilated, centimeters, and pumps]. A man should only know the female body during special occasions like sex when it comes to the do’s and do-not-do’s, because any more than that would take any allure that is “</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111197936528653264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111197936528653264' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111197936528653264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111197936528653264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/03/is-your-messiah-fully-resurrected-pt1.html' title='Is Your Messiah Fully Resurrected? Pt.1'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111046537325927738</id><published>2005-03-10T07:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-10T12:08:02.763-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's March Right?</title><summary type='text'>I think of the cliche - tortured writer. It must be why great writers live in Iowa, the Ozarks, and in places with dirt roads with mailboxes named "Salinger." You can't write that great novel in NYC or LA. You can't write it in Chicago - well you can during the winters. But you can write it in Ohio, but for what other reason could there be? Why else would so many talented writers I know actually </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111046537325927738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111046537325927738' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111046537325927738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111046537325927738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/03/its-march-right.html' title='It&apos;s March Right?'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-111006921139277553</id><published>2005-03-05T17:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-10T12:14:54.816-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Churchill, Freedom of Speech, and Fuck</title><summary type='text'>We were watching an audience at the University of Colorado, in attendance for a speech by Ward Churchill on C-SPAN. I was in Ohio. She was in Mississippi. She asked me what I thought about Ward Churchill, and my first instinct was to hesitate – how was I going to word my answer. Shape it and make it fit in a nice way – but better yet, not get into an argument.That was when I realized that talking</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/111006921139277553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=111006921139277553' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111006921139277553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/111006921139277553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/03/churchill-freedom-of-speech-and-fuck.html' title='Churchill, Freedom of Speech, and Fuck'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-110987493932159198</id><published>2005-03-03T11:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-10T12:17:09.936-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Religion, Flipping Burgers, and Alanis</title><summary type='text'>Inspired by Yahoo Article: House Oks Job Training Bill for Faith Based ProvisionDoes believing in God allow you the right to flip burgers? I’d like to believe that God is all caring and he [He or Alanis] wants all his [His or Her] children to flip burgers if he or she deems that it is his or her path, or at least flipping burgers is an avenue onto a greater path – like swing shift manager or </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/110987493932159198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=110987493932159198' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110987493932159198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110987493932159198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/03/religion-flipping-burgers-and-alanis.html' title='Religion, Flipping Burgers, and Alanis'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-110799418087325858</id><published>2005-02-09T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-10T12:16:44.150-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Fat Tuesday</title><summary type='text'>It wasn’t because it was “Fat Tuesday,” even though some of the drunken voicemails that I left will quote me saying, “Because it’s Fat Tuesday, Fucker!” It was an excuse to interact a little bit. I’ve been so reclusive of late, and there was no better reason to leave the house than to see debauchery. Boobs for beads -- someone deserves knighthood, a holiday, or at least a street named after him [</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/110799418087325858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=110799418087325858' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110799418087325858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110799418087325858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/02/fat-tuesday.html' title='Fat Tuesday'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-110787663569329785</id><published>2005-02-08T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-10T12:20:37.926-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Might Regret This Later</title><summary type='text'>My father said, “I think the best course for you is California.” And I’ve thought about it -- I’ve even looked into UCLA and USC for an M.F.A. in Creative Writing. No it’s not a M.B.A. or Law Degree [both things I have looked into in the past], but more importantly it is a direction. But I’m leaning away from it -– not the degree, but the geography even though there are quality people residing </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/110787663569329785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=110787663569329785' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110787663569329785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110787663569329785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/02/i-might-regret-this-later.html' title='I Might Regret This Later'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-110733000038647335</id><published>2005-02-02T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-04T11:23:03.710-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Secret to Great Reality TV</title><summary type='text'>Did you know it is possible to shed 20 lbs in 24 hours? I didn’t either, until I saw my new favorite show in the world: The Ultimate Fighter. Let me explain –- it has what every good reality TV show really needs:1. Confessionals: Because guys that want to be in the UFC must have brilliant things to say in their TV journals.2. Competition among already easily agitated people: Because cage matches </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/110733000038647335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=110733000038647335' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110733000038647335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110733000038647335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/02/secret-to-great-reality-tv.html' title='The Secret to Great Reality TV'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-110731687803353882</id><published>2005-02-02T02:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-04T11:23:35.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rambling M[Tr]an</title><summary type='text'>Conversations [for me] are difficult, because I’m horrible at “The Art of Bullshit.” I hate disposable discussions. I hate talking about the weather, God, and Iraq. I don’t want to trade quips on economic reform or dirty my hands with anything that has to do with gallop polls. I hate deconstructionists and “The O’ Reilly Factor.”So maybe I’m just good at rambling.But even if it is rambling, there</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/110731687803353882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=110731687803353882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110731687803353882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110731687803353882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/02/rambling-mtran.html' title='Rambling M[Tr]an'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-110685820215883807</id><published>2005-01-27T16:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-04T11:23:59.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Funny How?</title><summary type='text'>I was at the comedy club again last night, and this time there were five different comics, and each one took their stab at me [my fault for sitting so close], and each one made their “Hey look at the Chinese, South Korean [which was new], or Asian guy -- he’s different, everybody stare and laugh!”    &lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt;    Am I funny? Am I funny looking? Is it that easy to laugh at me?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/110685820215883807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=110685820215883807' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110685820215883807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110685820215883807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/01/im-funny-how.html' title='I&apos;m Funny How?'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-110659093281234452</id><published>2005-01-24T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-04T11:24:31.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tough Jobs Always Pay Cheap</title><summary type='text'>I’ve been a regular at a comedy club called Bassa Vito. For a heartbeat – I contemplated comedy, because they said, “You’re so funny, you should be a comedian.” But after the other night, I changed my mind. I saw a guy go on stage and these four people heckled him all night. He drove from Detroit to get beat up on stage in Cleveland and probably got paid enough money to cover his toll and gas.He </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/110659093281234452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=110659093281234452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110659093281234452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110659093281234452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/01/tough-jobs-always-pay-cheap.html' title='Tough Jobs Always Pay Cheap'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10284079.post-110624935265542416</id><published>2005-01-20T12:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-04T11:25:00.103-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On Things Californian in Nature</title><summary type='text'>I hadn’t seen Grandmother in a year, and when I asked how she was doing – my family would say, “She’s old.” They said it because it just seemed easier than saying, “She’s dying.” Age and the course of nature are easier to withstand than the gust of the word “death,” because there is a hint of guilt and even worse – helplessness. On the plane to California, in-between the “Bourne Supremacy” and “</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/feeds/110624935265542416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10284079&amp;postID=110624935265542416' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110624935265542416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10284079/posts/default/110624935265542416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taotran.blogspot.com/2005/01/on-things-californian-in-nature.html' title='On Things Californian in Nature'/><author><name>Tran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01860747907495382889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/236/3149/1024/t-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
