A couple years ago, I made a friend who constantly said “ship it!” It was his favorite phrase, and he repeated it enough times in his already enthusiastic and mantra-laden nature to pique my curiosity. To him, it marked progress — shipping a product was a culmination of iterations made to create something purposeful, something that represented collaboration, and innumerate hours spent poring over specs and adjusting as necessary.

While I always appreciated the sentiment behind this, often thinking about it in semi-awe, I never really experienced it until recently. Just as there is a high associated with so many things like runners’ high, there’s also a product high — that moment of elation in the wee hours of night as you put on the final touches before your product gets thrown in the spotlight.

Perhaps this moment was a bit more profound  for me because I’ve always been in a service-oriented profession where the template of work is traditionally in place. Even with journalism, any article you write is but a contribution to a larger content network — it’s not an act of empowerment in and of itself.

While it’s a product I see as a work in progress, as a draft looking for disruption rather than evolution, it  spoke to something I knew that I want to become a part of my work — I want to build products. I want to help create products and give life to ideas that live on beyond simply services. I’m not sure what shape or form these products will manifest themselves in — and they may very well be in services — but “ship it!” will be a mantra that I certainly will begin to to adopt as one of my own.

World Trade Center Tribute Lights - New York City, New York (from Flickr user dennoit)

9/11 always gives me pause. Like it does for so many others, I think it’s one of the few times where I have that chilling feeling of being “frozen” in time — captured and encapsulated within a very distinct sort of memory of pointed clarity reserved for those moments that represent something life- and value- defining.

for me, 9/11/2001 happened during my junior year of high school. in what i thought would be just another day of school, i watched the small tv in the kitchen as i ate the pb&j sandwich my dad had left on the counter for me. it was one of those old tvs on its final sprints out which you had to adjust every so often to cut through the static, but that morning, it clearly broadcast the bewildered and concerned voice of the ktla 5 news anchor that a plane had just hit the world trade center in new york city.  the rest of the day proceeded in slow motion, with teachers whose attention was progressively turned towards what was happening on the east coast, as they struggled to intersperse those eerily quiet periods with words that tried to make sense of what was taking place.

at the time, i didn’t really know what to think — i didn’t have any close friends or relatives that lived on the east coast then, but i knew it was something that would fundamentally change the fabric of this country. i remember going home that evening with those questions of why, how, and feeling a profound sense of sadness and perplexity. at 15, i had “seen” enough of the world to understand the gravity of the situation and to appreciate what it meant to be “american”, but i was still too young to grasp the full implications of the events of that day. i think for many of us who went through our high school years during that time, it was the first time that we, in the US, were personally confronted with a national tragedy of that magnitude and scale, and it continues to be  that shared moment we can all recall in clarity the events and thoughts of that day.

in the last ten years since 9/11, our nation has undergone momentous change. we have entered one war, elected the first african-american president, experienced the dawning of a communications revolution, and are in the midst of one of the most volatile economic times our nation has experienced. we have seen governments questioned and regimes crumble, and even as our worlds becoming increasingly intertwined, we are continuously reminded of the need to stay united, to come together in mutual understanding and respect.

9/11 is a day that will continue to haunt all of us for years and history books to come. but the story of its legacy is one that we have the opportunity to still write. aside from a war that has waged on for the last decade, what will be the story of the legacy of 9/11? especially as we approach the 2012 election season, what will be the stories that we will carry with us? 9/11 brought us together as a nation, and as a global community. as we continue in an era of growing multiculturalism and globalization, let us be reminded that it is in our unity that we have always found strength and while we must never forget our values, we cannot let the dogma of our fears define the course of our nation and the actions we undertake.

9/11/2001 – may we never forget.

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”

- Steve Jobs, 2005 Stanford Commencement Speech

It’s been more than five years since Steve Jobs gave that commencement speech at Stanford, but it’s a speech that I find just as relevant today (perhaps moreso even) as I did then.  Even today, I’ll pull it up on my iPhone or MacBook when I need a gentle nudge in the “right” direction. While the adage of “following your heart” is one that is doled out especially often within Western cultures, Jobs articulates it in a manner that resonates particularly well — creating that fine balance between being both personal and vague enough for you to fill in the blanks.

While we all knew that the day would come that Jobs would no longer be at the helm of Apple as the company’s CEO, it’s a fact that perhaps none of us really wanted to accept. After all, here was someone who has truly made a disruptive and lasting impact on our society, in helping us define what we want, disrupting industries, and creating entirely new business ecosystems altogether — multiple times over (of course,the fact that these changes made him one of the wealthiest men in the world helped too )

And despite his notorious working style (Apple employees routinely report of his near-Draconian management style), Jobs is a visionary in the true-est sense of the word.  From the idea of a “personal computer” to Pixar,  to the portable world of iPods and iPhones, Jobs has helped shape the very way we think about media, music, pricing, and technology. And with the introduction of the iPad, it seems appropriate that the individual who introduced personal computing has now sparked the catalyst for the shift into the post-PC world.

The question for Apple will now be how much of the company’s innovation was its own and how much of it was Jobs? Granted Jobs is not fully leaving his place at Apple and will remain on board as an adviser, the cultural and organizational changes will certainly be felt.

As a society, we always have a way of romanticizing the past and the accomplishments at the end of one’s professional tenure, and while this doesn’t mark the end of Jobs’ career at Apple, it certainly is the end of an era. However, in Jobs’ case, and in reflecting on the ideas he has already made come to life, perhaps there isn’t much romanticizing there.

Thank you, Steve Jobs, for your inspiration and work. There are many who can hatch grandeur dreams, but only a few who can translate them into tangible visions. Thanks for being the few among those few, and for so eloquently articulating those words of wisdom that will stay etched in this writer’s mind for many years to come.

a compilation by the WSJ of steve jobs’ quotes from over the years: http://on.wsj.com/nuTYC2 

But a large part of it is the complexity of the practice itself, despite a very simple and innately intuitive objective — companies should compensate their internal business units for services rendered the same way they would with any external service. In this way, according to theory, companies would be prevented from shifting profits to lower tax jurisdictions.

As an example, Apple, which makes its famed iPods and iPhones predominantly in its Shenzhen, China factories, managed by third-party FoxConn and its own Apple-owned site.  Apple pays FoxConn the equivalent of a cost plus 5% margin but could choose to “charge” its own privately held subsidiary a cost plus 15% amount. Because Apple only has to pay a 25% tax rate in China, versus the 35% in the US, Apple would automatically gain a 10% cost savings for all business expenses incurred in China.  (all numbers, except for the corporate tax rates, are made up)

Transfer pricing tries to prevent this through a principle known as “arm’s length”, and while each tax jurisdiction has its own definition of what is considered arm’s length, it’s generally accepted that companies may compensate their internal business units at a margin that is roughly equal to those realized by third party companies.

While most reports like the recent 60 Minutes special are quick to tack onto the $60 billion of tax dollars that flow overseas every year, and the questionable practices that surround it, this fundamental principle remains largely untouched and unspoken for.  Rather than calling for this practice to be done away with (which is not possible; if anything, the number of countries that have enacted transfer pricing in recent years is steadily on the rise), emphasis should be placed on creating less ambiguity. What entails a sales and marketing service? What third-party companies should be considered as comparable in determining arm’s length? Are public companies, which are often the only companies with publicly available financial statements, even the right benchmarks to use?

And perhaps the foremost challenge and threat governments, particularly the US, should consider is the question of intellectual property transfer.  Especially among Silicon Valley companies, the ongoing trend has been to shift valuable technical IP developed in the heart of California’s Silicon Valley to the corporate-friendly business environment of Dublin, Ireland (tax rates range between 10% and 12.5%), where English is also the lingua franca.   According to an article by BusinessWeek, Google has been able to save more than $3 billion in taxes by housing the company’s search advertising IP in Dublin.

More than just profits, however, what happens when a paper-based transfer of IP translates into talent-based IP transfer?  Then, while the numbers won’t be as quantifiable or seem as impactful as $60 billion in tax savings, the implications will be far more substantial. Rather than asking the question of how we need to crack down on corporations to retain tax savings, the more pivotal question will be what we can do to ensure that IP developed within the borders of any one country need not move simply based on tax merits.

views expressed are only my own, and are by no means comprehensive. i am not a transfer pricing practitioner or expert, just a passerby thinking aloud  :)

The first night in Tokyo offered a glimpse into the daily life of Japan’s “salary men” – working professionals who put in 60+ hours a week at their desks and relieved stress on the weekends by going out with friends and co-workers, often ending up highly intoxicated on the streets (or subway trains) under the city’s neon lights.  On the streets of lively Shibuya, it wasn’t an uncommon sight to see men sleeping on the streets, and perhaps the most surprising thing was that no one seemed to find this surprising. I’ve always heard about those “capsule hotels” (“hotels” literally big enough for someone to sleep in in case their late-night activities prevented them from catching the last train) but I suppose that the warm summer nights in the relatively safe streets of Tokyo allowed for the former option as well.

By Monday morning, riding the subway cars was a sharp contrast to the events of two short evenings ago. The yells and excited chatters of Friday night were replaced the calm of a city waking up for another work week, with only the sound of the rails as the only accompaniment to the silence.  Regardless of the noise and energy level though, Tokyo was a city that knew how to live in style (especially the women). And in true contrast fashion that I have come to know and appreciate Tokyo by, while the men predominantly wore white collared shirts and black/grey slacks to work, the women were dressed in the cutest dresses, skirts, sandals and heels.

On the streets, fashion was definitely a serious affair, among both men and women. Never have I seen so many people with colored and/or otherwise permed up-dos, and if flair was measured by cloth, Tokyo-lites certainly had it down. Although Harajuku is the neighborhood that most associate with Tokyo’s young fashionistas, it was something that could be experienced in almost all of the city’s central (and peripheral) neighborhoods.

These days, I tend to travel with very few expectations, but Japanese food was something I had very high expectations for. After all, when you concoct something as amazing as sushi, and apply the famed Japanese attention to detail to the culinary arts, could you expect anything less? Sadly, I was disappointed though this was probably hindered as much by my inability to communicate properly beyond an “oishii!” as anything else. There also seemed to be a surprising lack of fresh veggies and meat, which I now wonder if it was in part exacerbated now by whatever may be happening just north of Tokyo following the earthquake and tsunami. Luckily, not all was lost as my good friend Simon was able to show us some of Tokyo’s hidden gems, including 風雲児 in Shinjuku, one of the best ramen houses in Tokyo (at one point it ranked first in the Ramen rankings! (yes there is such a thing J)). After a half-hour-plus wait, we were seated at small bar with seating for about 15 and presented with bowls of steaming ramen in chicken broth and dipping sauce – truly an oishii there (albeit a bit salty towards the end).

Just as no Japanese food experience would be complete without ramen, no visit to Japan is complete without visiting the traditional Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples that define the country’s religious identity.  According to one tour guide, up until she became a tour guide, she really didn’t have an idea that Buddhism and Shintoism were two different religions.  Another said that the Japanese liked to hedge their bets, and in not knowing which religion was “right”, decided to adopt the customs and teachings of both.

I was originally going to title this post “100 hours in Tokyo”, with the intention that it would sum up that whirlwind tour feeling of spending just four plus days in one of the world’s greatest modern metropolises. After those hundred hours, however, “searching” seemed like a more apt title, especially for a city who seemed to assume as many identities as adolescents and quarter-lifers searching for themselves. But perhaps, that is what defines Tokyo – a city in constant cultural evolution, looking as much to the future as it is tied by its past.

it seems that in the year of the rabbit, the theme is “peace, security, and focus”. perhaps i’ll personally just take two of the three, but here’s to wishing you all a very happy chinese new year filled with love, laughter, and shared memories.

Live your life (The Holstee Manifesto)

Paris - View from Notre Dame

i’ve never been a die-hard romantic (okay, perhaps deep down inside) and being the skeptic that i am, i always smiled off those grand, overarching statements that paris — PARIS — was the most romantic city in the world. i think a good friend of mine (a guy) even went so far as to say that it was the perfect city — as long as you had a girl’s hand to hold.

after three days in paris though, i must confess that this city truly captivated my heart. the funny thing is, it did so in a way that i find it hard to explain — it’s just that je ne sais quoi feeling you get as you walk along the seine or its many neighborhoods. with some cities, you can pinpoint the vibrancy of the culture, the pace of life, the way it magnifies certain aspects of society, but with paris, it was just the ambiance that captured you as you walked along its cobblestone streets, occasionally catching that waft of baked bread and pastries from nearby boulangeries.

of course, it helped that parisians knew how to eat, and food was an affair the french did not take lightly. literally. decked out in buttery goodness, the selection and variety reminded my friend and i of the saying that “if it flies, swims, or walks, you’ll find it in cantonese cuisine.” except, just like paris had done to me (and many others), the food had a way of bewitching you. if ever there was a way to a person’s heart through food, the way the cuisine engaged all the senses would have led you to believe that that food would have to be french.

Parisian marketplace

perhaps a large part of this infatuation has to do with our first day in paris, where the skies went from brilliant blue to being swept up in sepia, followed by that blend between snow and hail, and finally giving way to a twilight that was only made more surreal by the city’s warm, yellow lights against the reflections of the recent hail/fall.

Paris in sepia

fluorescent lighting may be more energy efficient, but i had almost forgotten how calming and warm those yellow lights could be. it was as if the whole city was an exhibit within a larger museum and some curator had carefully arranged its placement to tell its visual story.

at twilight

of course, the city had its share of great museums. while we were only able to visit la musee d’orsay and the louvre this time around, i can see why paris has become — and remained — this cultural and artistic hub. while the grandeur, elegance and sheer volume of the collections of the louvre were somewhat akin to a combination of the old getty museum in malibu, california, the british museum, and the metropolitan all rolled up in one, the simplistic elegance of the orsay was probably my favorite, especially for the impressionist in me. and to see it in paris,  the birthplace of degas and home to the likes of monet, was certainly a highlight.

and while paris may arguably be the most romantic city in the world, i was glad to have been able to explore it with an old friend. and the memories and parisian adventures for those few days was also a reminder that some of the greatest romances need not be romantic ones, but a story of great friendships as well.

paris - tbc

London Eye - November 2010

Visiting London has always been some sort of distant fantasy of mine. I guess in the same way that one puts off visiting local sites in hometowns, I had put off visiting London as a place that was always going to be “there”, and whilst the “emerging economies” would only change with each passing year, London, and the “Old World”, had already seen its era of change pass by.

On the other hand, there is something in visiting a city that is so steeped in history and culture. It takes you back to history, English class, and the sciences. And coming from the ever-changing culture of Silicon Valley, I found it to be a surprisingly pleasant reprise. Of course, it had its own set of intense moments, stemming more from the lack of familiarity with the neighborhoods than fire-drills in the traditional working sense. Since my friend and I were staying with friends at Oxford, an hour outside of London (sans traffic – I think our longest Oxford to London commute took somewhere closer to three hours due to an accident on the road!), it involved timing busses (which only ran in once an hour past a certain time), figuring out London’s impressive – and massive – underground tube system, realizing our dependence on mobile Internet (Google Maps has never felt so much like a godsend), and coordinating meeting times here and there.  Our first night in London, we went up the London Eye, the city’s iconic Ferris wheel along the Thames River. From above, the city looked so deceivingly calm but as we would learn in the coming days, there was much more to London than meets the Eye (no pun intended )

Like my friend Jay observed last night while walking from Buckingham Palace to Big Ben, there is a satisfaction you get in traveling mayhem that comes when everything begins to click, when you can recognize that to get from Westminster Station to King’s Cross, you would need to hop on the Circle Line, without looking at the metro tubes map.

I think London’s metro tube system is definitely one of the most impressive I’ve seen (and something I think a lot of larger US cities can learn from, including San Francisco!). Coming from San Francisco, where the Clipper system – a smart-chip embedded transportation card – was only recently implemented, London’s Oyster card system was a reminder of how it should work. When the Clipper first came our (Translink back then), I always wondered why there wasn’t any incentive for people to actually make the switch. You had to go to a local store, tag it on a bus where more often than not, the transponder isn’t working, the funds you add to your card are often delayed by 72 hours that there isn’t this “top off” concept, and perhaps, the most effective driver, you pay essentially the same, if not more (your time etc). With the Oyster system, you are actually rewarded for using your card. During peak hours, a trip within Zone 1 costs four pounds (roughly 7 USD); conversely, through the Oyster card, it comes out to be about 1.5 pounds ($2.40). But anyway, there is enough to write about the effects of pricing mechanisms of different public transit systems for another blog post. =)

But perhaps what London left me most with was how much I missed San Francisco. While I definitely appreciated Buckingham palace, the cute neighborhoods around Paddington and Notting Hill, true London-style fish and chips and Magner’s cider, I missed the zany San Francisco culture. The type of inexplicable and intangible craziness that surrounds this city teeming with ideas and just a sheer enthusiasm around … creating.  Perhaps I haven’t given London a fair chance (after all, three days is hardly enough to properly explore a city, even in San Francisco’s 7×7 geography, much less sprawling London).

Now, we’re off to Brussels, as I write this on Eurostar. While it was a bit of a sad farewell with London, I had to keep reminding myself that along the way, there was still Belgium and Paris to come. I do have to admit that Paris is a city that I have always wanted to go to, rent a little studio across from the Eiffel Tower, and just sit and read, write, visiting little cafes with tea, pastries, fromage and wine, and weekend trips to the French countryside (no, I definitely haven’t romanticized it at all).

As for London, I’m sure I’ll be back, and would definitely love to check out of those crazy Oxford costume parties (And of course, Top Shop )

on my trek downtown, somehow the memories, noises, and feelings of two falls ago washed over me as i felt myself transported back into the depths of september shanghai evenings. it reminded me of the excitement of a city stumbling through the spring reincarnation of a new century, and the growing pains that accompanied it. it reminded me of the constant awe i felt at realizing that even if i were to live in shanghai, there was always so much to discover (i know this is true of any city but shanghai especially reminds me of this).

except this time, the hustle and bustle of the city was not that of shanghai, but of san francisco, a city i have dutifully called “home” for the past three years.

a lot has happened in those three years, but none have truly been as significant as this year. i remember starting the year out saying that this would be year where i wouldn’t have any real resolutions — not in the sense that i didn’t want to accomplish anything, but because i truly didn’t know where it would go.

and thus far, it has held true. i have left one job in pursuit of a dream and in doing so, have seemingly found balance with the start of another career.  and in doing so, i have continued to find pieces of myself, and i am truly thankful for the friends who have helped me discover those pieces along the way.

but perhaps the most important lesson i’ve learned and that this “journey” has given me thus far this year is that nothing is absolute. i have always believed that life is a journey, and one worth exploring, but i guess i had never really lived it. while i can’t say that i’ve really explored, at least i now know that i can.

and for the commitment-phobe in me, that is a lesson that is well-taken to heart.

but in all honesty, perhaps that’s what our 20s should be about – to set out into uncharacteristic falls, to stumble, explore our curiosities, and really live our life rather than follow a blueprint that has been handed to us. and for some people, that may be following the guidelines in pursuit of one social milestone after the next – and that’s okay … as long as you’re doing it for yourself.