Bacon Man

I've had some time to recover and reflect about my encounter with Bacon Man. That's not his name. I slapped that label on him because I don't know his name and I've only been able to recognize him--the few times that I have--because he smells strongly like a piece of bacon.

He doesn't look like a piece of bacon (not that anyone could--but I guess you could say someone looked like bacon if you wanted to imply that they looked like a pig). He doesn't look like a pig. But he is a heavyset man, not very tall--burly, beefy and roughly in his late 30's or 40's but it's hard to tell since he has a thick beard.

I first encountered Bacon Man in February. I was riding the 12 back home. I had finished a class at the Writer's Grotto, and it was late... 10pm. There are quite a few people riding the bus back from SOMA out of downtown, but they're usually people getting off their shift as servers, hostesses or cooks. I was sitting on a two-seater facing out the window when I suddenly smelled a waft of smoky, salty bacon. It was cold and I welcomed the aroma (beats the other smells that are on MUNI). I thought someone was eating a BLT or a hamburger. But when I turned to my right, I noticed that the smell was coming from the gentleman sitting next to me.

He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. He looked tired like he had gotten off from work. I assumed that he worked at a restaurant and had been grilling bacon all day. I didn't take further notice of him, but was surprised how strongly he smelled of bacon all the way through the ride.

I then encountered Bacon Man a second time on the 12, this time in the morning. It was a few weeks ago and the 14 had a meltdown (as it always does) so I was taking the 12 to work instead. This time I sat down next to him not knowing he was Bacon Man until I recognized his scent. I studied him out of the corner of my eye and I realized that he was the same bearded, heavy-set man that smelled like bacon a couple of months ago. But he was dressed in training pants and sneakers and looked like he was heading to the gym instead of coming from work.

My god! I thought. Does one smell like the food they cook all the time if they work at the grill?

He must've noticed that I was looking at him, and turned his head to look at me. I was caught off-guard and looked straight ahead, embarrassed... and hoping he didn't think I was checking him out. 

All through the ride, I kept wondering why he smelled so strongly of bacon. Did he eat it all the time? Now that he was exercising was he sweating it out through his pores? The mystery would constantly revisit me throughout the day. I became afraid of eating bacon, even though I like bacon. But I was afraid I would smell like him, and I didn't want to become like that. It seemed like there was a tipping point with bacon--a point of no return--that once you ate too much bacon, you smelled like bacon and it would never go away.

And then, last weekend I was heading home to see my mother and sister for the weekend and boarded BART at Powell. At the Montgomery stop, he got on and sat next to me. I didn't notice it was him until I smelled that strong, unforgiving smell. I almost gasped--it was the strangest coincidence that he would be sitting next to me, again! But I was 100% sure it was the same Bacon Man, and not just another buffy bearded dude that smelled like bacon. In my heart, I knew that this was more than just some haphazard seating assignment. I felt like fate wanted me to get to the bottom of the mystery as to why this man smelled like bacon.

BART seats allow people to sit closer together because they're not bucket-like as they are on MUNI. I leaned to my right, and tried to smell him discreetly.

Was it coming from his arms and hands? If so, that meant, he worked with bacon. Was it coming from his face? If that was the case, he ate bacon too often. I sniffed him upwards above his shoulder as he was taller than me and my head couldn't really reach his face. Then I pretended to fiddle with my shoe as I tried to catch a whiff from his hand that was resting on his knee. I couldn't understand! He smelled like bacon everywhere!!

Then, he turned to look at me, straight in the face. But his chin was tilted and he was batting his eyes, in what was a rather seductive stare. I realized that I must've sent signals that I was flirting with him by smelling him. I didn't know what to do... I was caught red-handed sniffing him out. I forced out a half-apologetic and half-embarrassed smile and got off that the next stop in West Oakland and waited another 20 minutes for the next train to come.

All the way home, I tried to figure out why he smelled like that. And then it hit me.

I remember working a late shift at the hostel and my coworker telling me that he was going to buy bacon perfume as a gift for his friend... or was it a friend buying it as a gift for another friend? Anyhow, he showed me the product online and I was disgusted.

"Gross, who would want to spray bacon-smelling perfume all over their body?" I asked.

"People who really like bacon," he explained. 

"I like blue cheese, but I'm not going to douse myself with it," I replied.

He just shrugged his shoulders and told me that blue cheese was different and that for some people smelling like bacon was probably sexy and alluring. I remember thinking that no one bought it and if there was someone who did, then he was a fool throwing away his money.

But now, I realized that people did buy this product. And if they pranced around with the smell with the hopes of presenting themselves with mystery, and luring people to come closer to them, then they haven't wasted their money. It worked like it did (does) for Bacon Man.

Mythology and Capitalism

The Marlboro Man... the lone ranger, nevermind that he's on a respirator.

Why poor kids will inherit the planet

Another sleepy Sunday in the Mission, or should I say another lively Sunday. Sundays are the best in the Mission mostly due to the fact that there are a lot of families out and about - moms grocery shopping with the kids, dads taking them to the park, etc. Even if, they're not accompanied by a parent, the kids in my neighborhood are not rich enough to have an ipad or XBox to keep them indoors.

When I was a kid, I vowed not to be like Mr. Benedict who was my downstairs neighbor that yelled at me everytime my ball went into his backyard. I was like, "Really, Mr. Benedict? You're going to lecture me for 5 minutes just because my ball bounced over your fence?" So now, when I walk on the street and a kid's soccer ball or basketball comes my way I like to dribble it over back to them. I think I'm being cool - and I hope they think that I'm cool, too.:)

I like kids playing outside. I like to hear them laughing and having a good time. I pass by Alioto Park (which by the way, doubles as drug dealing hub at night) and love to hear the scenarios kids make up as they're playing on the playground: they're pirates on a ship, they're police chasing a bad guy in a super fast car, or they're a princess locked in a tower... the list is truly endless.

Often times they take me back to when I was kid and could imagine for hours that I was on a magical boat lost in a wild sea. The sun would set and I wouldn't even notice. The charade would end only after i was exhausted and too hungry to go on. But those moments during my childhood, when I was lost in my imagination, are some of my happiest memories.

I feel sorry for kids that I don't go out and play. Granted you can enhance your imagination by playing video games, but that has its limits: there's no contact with nature and no effort required to conjure up another world.

Imagination goes hand in hand with creativity. When we cease to cultivate our creativity, we are killing the spirit that essentially makes us human.

How Easily We Want To Be Offended

There's a great quote from Musashi's The Book of Five Rings:

"Consider yourself lightly; consider the world deeply."

I think this is one of the best quotes of the book because it's probably the most valuable advice we could have today.

I recently attended a workshop on writing personal essays and after a 15 minute writing exercise we were asked to share our work with the class. One other student (the only other Asian-American student) wrote about how she disliked it when people only had the stereotypical image of Asians: karate, chopsticks and straight black hair. She then went on to say that her mother-in-law was like this and how it was a surprise (obviously a bad surprise), because her mother-in-law was a resident of California and apparently, Californians should be more enlightened.

First of all, I like amusing and entertaining personal essays, I don't like ones that bitch and gripe. Secondly, everything around us is so negative and bleak, if I want something sobering, I'll turn on the evening news.

I've encountered this Asian "stereotype", because obvioiusly, I'm Asian. But I don't get offended. People often venture to ask me if I know karate because they want to find some common ground to build a conversation. In most cases - especially if they are asking such questions - it probably means that they haven't had a lot of contact with Asians and this is all they know. Why be offended by that?

I've traveled to countries where I've tried to use utensils when I should've been eating with my hands. I referred to men as women and women as men because I wasn't familiar with the gender of names. I even ended up calling a young man a small monkey because my tones were horribly off in Mandarin. But in every instance, the people around me were gracious. I never felt ashamed (embarrassed, yes!). They politely corrected me and explained where my "mistake" was, instead of dismissing me as ignorant and backwards.

In short, they knew it wasn't worth it in the end to be offended.

It's important to be sensitive and P.C.  but we also need to remember that it's also important to be tolerant and patient. As a society, we're on the right path. It might be happening at a snail's pace for some people but for me, I'm glad that we're making progress. When I was in elementary school and people asked where my parents were from, if I said South Korea, they would shake their heads. They had never heard of the country. That's not the case anymore.

I think we've come a long way.

On Finding the Path

The video above is an interview with Jiddu Krishnamurti. I based my second book on his philosophy. He is one of the major thinkers of the 20th century. I wished he was quoted in mainstream society more often.

Below is a poem I found on the internet. Very inspirational.

Each of us is sent here with a purpose to unfold
Each given only so much time to complete before you're old.
Upon arrival you are sure of the plan to be unfurled
But as you grow you then absorb the teachings of the world.

You're taught about the things in life, what's real and right and true
You're told by those that love you most what you're suppose to do.
You're taught about what's right and wrong based on what they believe
To often shown your limitations, not what you can achieve.

You continue on your journey and do the best you can
To follow this direction, these established ways of man.
You stay within the boundaries of these things you're told are true
Knowing little of the damage long term that they can do.

Through this ensuing process your memories get weak
Your once held purpose since replaced, with the material things you seek.
The plan that you were sent here for, now a distant memory
It's the earthly teaching you've received that makes it faint you see.

As life goes on you start to sense that you have lost your way
Not realizing yet that false beliefs have brought you here today.
Achieving all that they have claimed would bring you happiness
There's still a hunger deep within, these "things" cannot suppress.

You search for deeper meaning, you long to find the truth
Not just what others say is right and taught you in your youth.
But true answers to your questions that point you toward the light
Which lead you toward that once known path, and brings your purpose back in sight.

You've come upon a place in life, there's unrest in your soul
The path that you've been following leaves you feeling less than whole.
You begin to seek your purpose, that which you were sent to do
You reflect on many things you've learned but few of them ring true.

So many things that you were taught you find to be untrue
Innocently by those you love who taught you all they knew.
The more you learn the more your mind resists this newfound news
It goes against what's stored within and creates conflicting views.

Emotions stir your thoughts run wild they shout for you to "Cease"
But the more you seek, and the more you find, the more you feel at peace.
Your search goes on new truths revealed with every passing day
How could it be those childhood lessons have caused you to lose your way?

Confusion mounts frustration grows as you seek to find what's right
The road seems dark and lonely as you journey toward your plight.
But soon the fog starts lifting and as you learn to clear your mind
A faint little voice within you says "Keep seeking and you'll find."

Anonymous