197) Signs

Passeig de Lluís Companys, Barcelona, Spain. Taken on December 30, 2018.

The last time I talked to my tennis and basketball coach was on a Tuesday afternoon on October 30, 2018 at 3PST. It has been one year now. (Time goes by fast. It never stops.) His last missed phone call from me was on Wednesday, October 31 at 7:58pm. (My cousin and I were heading to a brewery. We decided to have him join us.)

Coach was reported dead on Sunday, November 4, 2018. He was found laying on his living room floor. I believe he was gone earlier. 

The Golden State Warriors have suffered huge losses on their first two games at the start of the NBA season. And it's going to be a long season. I'm used to seeing them play as the juggernaut team for the last 5 years.

They've given us 3 rings since 2014. And they have appeared in the NBA Finals for the last 5 years. The Warriors have won 3 out of the 5 years. (That's 60%. That's impressive.)

Last Sunday, a big fire occurred 6 miles away from home. A strong wind blew the smoke on Monday. Yesterday, I saw a hazy sky. My eyes were burning whenever I stepped foot outside on Sunday or Monday. I had to wear a mask. Because of the unhealthy air quality.

I haven't beaten a tennis match against my friend Avi. The matches are getting closer. But he still beats me. I continue to play. Tennis allows me to train and practice my mind and body in competition play. 

​I haven't been on a date in a while. I've asked women out. Most of them would tell me they are taken. All I can do is respect the lady.

My body gets sore every time I finish playing tennis or basketball, or lifting weights. I'm not getting any younger. I continue to stay in shape. (I go to the gym, In-Shape, too.)

A local restaurant, Uncle Sam, has been closed down today, due to bankruptcy. (I found out about it from a friend posting it on his Instagram.) I grew up in Vallejo most of my life since I was 8 years old. I would drive by the restaurant but I never ate their food.

I always heard from people telling me anything and everything is great at Uncle Sam's.

I went to Uncle Sam today. It would be my first and last time to experience the spot. The door was locked. I called the restaurant through phone. A few minutes later, the owner May comes out to parking lot. She talks to me and a few people. 

"I've never been to your restaurant. I apologize," I told May. "I had a great pleasure in meeting you."

She told me her restaurant opened in 1992. "I was 5 years old," I told May. 

​My iPhone was broken after using it for 7 months. Perhaps, I would bring the phone in a sauna or steam room.

My mom told me it can damage the phone. I stopped taking my phone into sauna or steam room on November.

A month later, my phone had no signal. It was broken. I only can use phone when I had wi-fi access. I was able to replace it with a brand new phone in Apple store. (Courtesy from Apple's one-year free warranty.)

My friend shared me her near death experiences.

One was at a garlic festival in Gilroy. A day later from attending the festival, an active shooter was on the loose on July 28, 2019. (The shooter killed 3 people, wounded 17 people, and then killed himself.)

Another was at a theme park, Great America, in Santa Clara. She was with her boyfriend and his brother. They were told to run and cover. They weren't able to get out of the park. Because many people were at the exit. They found a place where they can hide and stay for about 30 minutes. (A robber had a gun. No one was injured or killed.)

"I know we are gonna die anyway. I'm afraid of death to the point I have no idea how I will die," I told friend. "It's crazy how my sister had to take it from being stabbed (with a kitchen knife) multiple times on her throat. It was unexpected."

I was told to read signs in life.

People would tell me: "Be aware. Be careful. Be cautious." Because these people would watch a lot of news. It's understanding. News would alarm them.

I can't tell. I can't read the future. I will never know. It's the uncertainty.

​Because I had no idea my sister was going to be gone at 18 years old in 2003. And today marks my coach's 1-year death anniversary.

After something good or bad happened to me, my younger-self would tell myself, "It's a sign." 

Something good happened to me when I approached and met an attractive lady in Shanghai. We both like each other. We went on dates before I flew back home. It's a sign. She might be the one. Our contact with each other has slowed down. 

Something bad happened to me when I was depressed in 2016 from always looking and focusing on people's social media. Everyone had a partner while I called myself a "lonely blogger" at the time. It's a sign. Something is wrong with me. No one likes me. I still blog to this day. I like to be alone. I do feel lonely at times. I'm human. I'm not perfect. I have feelings.

I can tell you more signs. I see signs as stories now. (Go with what you believe in. It's your choice. It's your life.)

Let's say I watch an hour news every weekday. (I used to. But I became more paranoid. It made me stay home more.) The TV network chooses their own top news or stories.

Everything is happening 24/7 but it's impossible to record and document it to you.

I can go on worrying about myself. (More happenings worst than me. It's not always about me.) Or be blessed to have people around me who love me. (Love unites. Loneliness kills. Forgiveness heals. Be at peace.)

I have met a lot of people throughout my life. They can come and go. Or I remain in contact. Things can change. I just don't know. It happens. It's the uncertainty again.

I meet anyone. I build a bond with someone. I get along with anyone. It's a sign. The relationship can either fade or grow. I can't force or control someone to change.   

​I was talking to a friend on phone the other night. He brought up a quote from Jordan Peterson:  "Life is suffering, and suffering can make you resentful, murderous, and then genocidal, if you take it far enough. So you need an antidote to suffering."

"That's true," I told my friend.

It's a sign. ​It's a story to tell you.