A New Beginning!

It's been a little over a week since my last post, though, if you've noticed, I have been popping up in the comments sections of other blogs--often multiple times--over the last two weeks, time probably better spent working on my novel, but I do have a few days coming up when I will be able to work on that exclusively, provided that my housemates (okay, I'm thinking of one in particular) doesn't invite a bunch of his friends over and make all sorts of noise.  To be fair, he's not that loud.  Unfortunately, he's still the loudest person in the house.

But I digress.  The main thing that has been keeping me from posting, besides my frequent visits to other bloggers' blogs, concerns what happened after I quit my bakery/barista job two weeks ago.  I should point out that I am not making up the contents of this post.  You'll see why I make a point of mentioning this once you've read what I've written below.

The Monday after I quit my job (as I noted in this post), I started U.S. Census training.  Yup, I am one of the "forty-million strong" who applied for and were hired to be enumerators (a fancy way of saying that we count people who didn't send back their census forms).  Knowing that this job was coming up softened the blow of quitting a permanent position, no matter how shitty the pay, but I knew that I needed to find another job within the four to six weeks in which I would be enumerating.

As it turned out, the job found me.

One of my housemates had told me about an ESL school a short bus ride away from where I live.  I had gone there in February to see if they needed anybody, but they didn't.  Still, I had met with the director and had emailed him my resume, after discussing what kind of qualifications I would bring to the job (three years teaching English in Japan).  I had later seen an ad for a combined ESL teacher/ administrative position, and while I wasn't crazy about the administrative part, I sent in my resume a second time, back on March 4th.

Now, the final week of April, as I head into my training session on Wednesday the 28th, I notice that I missed a phone call.  I check my voicemail.

It's the director of the school.  There's an opening.

I don't have training on Thursday, which is convenient for two reasons.  1.) I can schedule an interview for the opening, and 2.) the downtown census office needs to retake my fingerprints.  So, on the same day, I get fingerprinted and interviewed.

The interview goes pretty well, but it's not the greatest interview I've ever done.  The director of the school tells me he'll try and let me know by Friday.  I thank him and send out a thank you email, figuring there's not enough time to send out a card.  He emails me back and asks for contact information for a reference that I gave him in letter form, though I told him during the interview (but maybe he was focused on the paper I was giving him) that her contact information is no longer good (unless the director wants to call the company in Japan).  I give him several options in trying to contact her or the company.

Friday ends with no further word.

Saturday and Sunday end in similar fashion.  Since the school is closed on the weekend, I'm bracing myself for news on Monday, though I keep checking my phone, checking my email account.  When I hear nothing on Monday, I think that maybe I screwed up with the references.  But I know the director is checking on them, so that's a good thing, right?  Maybe I came in second.  But he did contact me, out of hundreds of applications that they get when there's an opening, so there's hope, right?

I get a call Tuesday morning.









I got the job.






As of right now, I am only teaching one class that lasts roughly two hours (two fifty-minute sessions, separated by a ten-minute break).  The term ends on May 21st.  On May 24th, I am scheduled to test some of the students.  Based on their scores, they will be placed into classes, and teachers will be called and told their schedules, which will not fluctuate for the entire four-week term (so if, say, an entire class quits, the teacher still gets paid for that class).

So, from May 25th on, things will start getting very busy, as I am required to work at least twenty-hours for the census each week, plus four to six classes for the ESL position.  And did I mention that SIFF starts on May 20th, for which I will be volunteering?

The census could last anywhere from four to six weeks.  Right now, it's looking like it'll take six weeks, which will bring me to the middle of June (SIFF ends on June 13th, which will be six weeks and a day from when I started enumerating--they don't count training as part of the six weeks, though I did get paid for it).  So, for the three weeks that SIFF is running, I will have very little free time, unless the census takes less than six weeks to complete.  Luckily, for my ESL job, one Monday a term, the students go on a field trip, so I will get a day off (even if I have to enumerate at night) this upcoming Monday, as well as the day after SIFF (and hopefully, my enumerating) ends.  Unless I want to go on the field trip, that is.  But I think I'll take my breaks when I can.

Little free time also means not much time to post blog entries, read blog posts, work on my novel, or read.  As I said, I will have free time up until May 25th, when the first day of classes for the new term starts, but then, for the next three weeks, I will be super busy.  I still should have some free time later at night for a quick post here and there, and I should have mornings free on weekends, so I won't completely disappear from view.  But if you don't hear from me for a while, you'll know why.

I do find it interesting, though, that all of these good things started happening after I quit my job.  Guess it was a good decision, after all. :-)

A New Beginning?

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.
-Eleanor Roosevelt

I kept repeating that quote after I came home tonight from work.  No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.  No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.  No one can make you feel inferior....no one....

I quit my job today.  Usually, when one leaves a job, it is customary to give the company two weeks notice (and in Japan, a whole month).  I have followed this courtesy at all of my jobs...those that allowed me to stay on long enough to do so, that is.

All but this one.

I had taken next week off for U.S. Census training, and since the schedules are done one week previous, I figured now was the best time to quit, since they had already scheduled me out for next week.  I also thought that I had read in the company handbook that during the first ninety days, an employee could quit at any time and for any reason, a power usually reserved for the employer in regards to the employee.  So I quit, effective today.  Unfortunately, I was told that I read that part wrong, and that the penalty is that this company may never hire me back.

I had two main reasons for quitting immediately.  One was that I didn't want to announce my departure, and then have to put up with two weeks of people asking why, of looking at the disappointment in people's faces, of fumbling for an answer that makes my decision clear without placing blame for my departure on any one person.  In other words, I wanted to leave quietly, without people knowing that I was leaving until right before I was gone.  Well, I bungled that, as this immediate departure will probably cause more problems than giving my two week notice would have.  Oh well.  It can't be undone.

The second reason was that the job sucked.  Physically, mentally, emotionally, I might have been able to squeeze out another week (I had next week off, so I only needed one more), but it was a struggle just to make it to the weekend.  I stayed an hour over my scheduled end time every night this week, usually for an hour or so (last night, I only stayed 30 minutes over).  Tonight was the only night that I put everything out on the floor (I worked in a bakery department), and I stayed 1 hour 15 minutes over!

Then there was the training.  Originally, I was trained to be a barista.  Then the construction of the coffee shop was delayed.  I was moved over to the bakery without having been certified for the barista position.  I was officially trained a total of sixteen hours in the bakery (they kept saying I was a trainee, but every night that I worked at the bakery, except one, I was alone for all but an hour or half hour at the beginning of my shift, and the one in which I was only alone for the last hour was worse, because the person I worked with baked so much that I couldn't put all of it out on the shelves in the hour that remained).  In fact, though I was trained for the morning shift, the first time I was put in the bakery by myself was for a night shift, and there was no overlap with the person who worked the earlier shift.

Finally, the job itself just wasn't for me.  I should have said that when questioned by the manager on duty as to why I wanted to leave immediately (so much for leaving unnoticed, huh?).  I am not a fast worker, except as a cashier.  I prefer jobs that aren't so hectic.  This job was more or less a shot in the dark, and it got me to the point where I could take the census job, without a gap in pay, but it wasn't a job that one would associate with me.  For people who can do that kind of job, good for them.  They probably had proper training.

Failure is the opportunity to begin again more intelligently.
-Henry Ford

This quote is on my desk, though I had to search the Internet to see who said it.  I've been looking at this quote throughout most of the day.  If quitting is a type of failure, then indeed, it is giving me an opportunity to begin again.

Did I make the right decision?  I don't know.  I should be able to find something within the four weeks that I am working the census job, and hopefully something that will actually cover my expenses, rather than just put a dent in them, as my recent job did ($8.65 an hour).  The only reason to hang onto that job for a little longer was its benefits, but why join a union, with union dues, if I'm only going to work at there for a few months at most?

Years from now, I'm hoping that I'll look back at this decision as similar to Jack London's decision to continue writing stories over working a steady job at the post office, and not as a step that leads to my having to leave Seattle due to lack of funds and lack of work (though that's being a bit dramatic).  Due to my quick exit, I know that the company I worked for won't hire me again.  At least my checks are still being sent to my barista training store as opposed to the one in which I worked at the bakery, and at least I shop at a different grocery store than the one that I worked at.  But I shouldn't be this depressed less than two days before my birthday.  I should remember the quote by Eleanor Roosevelt, and realize that today I fulfilled one of my favorite quotes:

Always do what you are afraid to do.   -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Maybe this is a turning point in my fortunes.  As Aaron Eckhart said in The Dark Knight, "The night is darkest just before the dawn."

Here's to the dawn.




Author's Note: This post was written on Friday night and posted just after midnight on Saturday.  So when I write "today," I'm writing about Friday.

Seattle Grandeur

I didn't have a good day at work today.  But, as I was walking home, I turned to my right, and saw.....



Mountains.

Mountain Re-enactment

This is why I love Seattle.

When a bad day is had in such beautiful surroundings, it doesn't feel as bad.

Then I was almost hit by a car.

Okay, so I made that last part up, but it would have been ironic if that had happened. ;-)

In Search of Beethoven's Sixth

Things get broken during moves.  It's inevitable, like rain in Seattle.  Sooner or later, it'll happen.

I've been lucky in that, while some objects that have been shipped to me have been scuffed, only two items actually received irreparable damage.  One was an Easter egg (not a real egg, folks!) attached to a string, which my mom thinks I received when I was very young, for one of my first Easters.  That egg cracked, since my mom decided to ship it to me in a box full of hard objects, protected only by the layer of cotton that my socks gave it.  The other damaged item annoyed me more, and was damaged in a somewhat strange way.

I received this Furtwangler conducts Beethoven Symphonies two-CD set several Christmases ago.  Disc one contains a 1952 live recording of the Third Symphony with the Berlin Philharmonic, and a 1947 live recording of the Leonore II Overture with the Hamburg Philharmonic State Orchestra.  Disc two contains BPO performances of the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies, taken from a single concert in 1954.  Other than the annoying two-second pauses that Music and Arts puts between each movement (the third and fourth movements of the Fifth and the third, fourth, and fifth movements of the Sixth are played with no breaks in between), I loved listening to these recordings, especially of the Sixth Symphony, Furtwangler's best recording of the work.  And, I should point out, that without Music and Arts, many great live broadcasts (particularly those filed away in the German radio archives) might never have seen the light of day, and with Furtwangler, his live recordings tended to catch fire more often than his studio recordings did, benefit as the latter did from superior sound.

But, as fate would have it, here is what happened to that second disc, despite the fact that the CD case was undamaged and wrapped in clothing:

At the very edge of this almost 79-minute long CD, part of the data is missing (the little dot to the left shows damage, too, but only of the top layer).  According to my brother, this kind of damage can occur if the top of the CD (which is only coated two times with protective material versus the bottom of the CD being coated six times) is damaged down through the bottom of the disc.  Can't see it?  Here's a closeup:

Now, if this disc had been 74 minutes long, I wouldn't have noticed a thing, but because it's as long as it is, the data goes right up to the edge of the disc, which means that this happens in the final movement of the Sixth Symphony (from the 5:14 mark till the 5:59 mark, getting really bad around the 5:22 mark till 5:59).



I was, however, able to clean it up a bit on iTunes, so that the loss of music doesn't last for as long (starts around 5:23 and lasts until 5:38):



Still, the music is not whole, and is currently not available on Amazon....unless, of course, you feel that paying $80 for a used CD is a good deal.  Even an alternate release of these tracks (included with other great postwar recordings of Furtwangler on the Tahra label, which I believe does not have the annoying two second pauses in between tracks, and may even include better-sounding versions of the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies than the ones I own) is out of my price range.

What to do?  Why, check out used CD stores, of course!

First, I went to Half Price Books on Roosevelt (I should also go to the one in Capitol Hill, but that's for another day).  Half Price Books carries mostly books, but also movies, CDs, and even vinyl.  In fact, they have almost as much vinyl as they do CDs, which is to say, not much.  And their classical music area takes up about as much room as the top of this desk does.  Still, one can find occasional goodies in there.

Unfortunately, I found nothing there on the several occasions that I visited the place, so today I went to a place called Neptune Music Co, which is near the Neptune Theatre.  Better yet, it's down some stairs, and then some more stairs, reminding me of the out-of-the-way music stores in Tokyo.  So I go in there, and the place is packed with DVDs, CDs, vinyl, cassettes, VHS tapes, and boxes upon boxes upon boxes.  Even better, the background music is off of a vinyl record.  Oh yeah, this is a place for a serious music collector.

Their classical music section seemed even smaller than the section in Half Price Books.  Then again, I was only looking at the CDs.  The selection, however, was better, and on two occasions, I found a CD in my hand, only to put it back upon further reflection.  I also found a Tahra CD of Furtwangler's famous Brahms recordings of the Haydn Variations and the First Symphony, which were included in that boxed set that also featured the recordings of the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies whose transfers might have rivaled, ever so slightly, those on the Music and Arts label.

So, until I find a suitable replacement, this blog is to be continued.  Unless you want me to make something up.  This is, after all, a literary blog.  You do?  Okay, here goes:

So I find out that Music and Arts is based in Berkeley, CA.  Even better, their phone number is on the back of the CDs.

So I call them up and say, "What the hell is wrong with your CDs?"

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Yeah, your CDs suck.  Furtwangler knew not to trust his music to recording studios."

"Sir, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that your CDs fall apart at the merest touch."

"Is one of your CDs damaged?"

"Yeah!  What did you guys make it out of, cheap plastic?"

"Well sir, that is how CDs are made."

"So are you saying I'm stuck with a coaster because you guys use cheap plastic?"

"Would you like us to replace the CD?"

"Damn right I would!"

"Well, if you send it back to us, sir, we'll send you one, free of charge.  You just have to pay shipping."

"Well, all right, how much is shipping?"

"Seven dollars per CD."

"Seven dollars?  Fuck that shit!"

So I slammed down the phone and went searching for a used CD store.

I first went to Half Price Books, which was weird in that all of the tags were cut in half.  Not only that, but they sold half CDs, and even half books.  And the people at the counter looked homeless.  I got out of there as soon as I could.

Walking down 45th Street, I came across a sign on a wall: Neptune Music Co: Enter if You Dare!  Oh, I dared, all right.  I walk down several flights of stairs, some twisting, some turning, until I arrived in a subterranean dungeon.  I jumped as an ugly, wrinkled, and tiny man appeared from behind a desk cluttered with stacks of CDs.

"May I help you?" he hissed.

I explained my situation to him.  He nodded his head several times, then said, "I have just the thing for you.  Please, follow me."

We headed into a back room, where he produced a key from his raggedy overcoat and unlocked a door which blended into the wall.

"After you," he said, gesturing into the passageway with his hand.

I entered, then heard him say, "This is the labyrinth.  If you can find the David Bowie CD hidden inside, then what you seek will appear before your eyes."

I turned around, but the shrunken little man had already closed the door behind me.  The door lacked a handle.  The only way to go was forward.

The labyrinth was massive, and filled with all sorts of creatures that wanted to kill me and plants that wanted to destroy me.  I remember thinking, This is an awful lot to do for thirty seconds of missing music, but continued pressing onward.

The ending was anticlimactic.  I found the Bowie CD lying on a table, next to a huge sword.  I grabbed the CD and the sword, at which point a huge minotaur came crashing through the wall.  Before I had time to react, he impaled himself on my sword, and died.  Then the scene around me changed, and I was back in the dungeon, er, store.  The little geezer was clapping from behind the counter.

"Well done," he said.  "My customers are always asking for that CD, but none of them want to get it themselves."

"So, where's the Furtwangler CD?" I asked as I handed over The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust.

"We're currently out.  Come back next week," the man said.

Luckily, I still had the sword with me, so I impaled him with it, and left.

Oh, and I took the Bowie CD, too.  Jerk.

Writers' Meat

Last night marks the first time that I shared any part of my novel with other human beings.  My parents have not seen any part of it.  My friends have not seen any part of it.  My reading of the first two pages of my novel was a world premier event.

It took place at a Writer's Meetup that I belong to, the first meetup for this group I have been able to attend (and that wasn't canceled).  Seven other people shared parts of their stories that night.  All are incredible writers.  I felt my piece did not measure up to their brilliance.  And yet mine was discussed by the others as much as any of the other pieces were.  My child did not falter in his first introduction to the world.  I must not falter in finishing this novel.

The host of this event asked me, since I told them I have been working on it for eight years writing and many more years planning, if I ever worried that I wouldn't finish it.  The answer is "yes."  My other fear is that I thrust it out into the world before it's ready, just to get it out there.  But, at some point past the due date, birth must be induced.  This year the inducing process begins.

The meetup followed a French theme: we ate blood sausage and drank red wine, sampled Israeli cous-cous and indulged in some sort of massive pie with plums in it.  There was also absinthe to try (the legal stuff, not the stuff that'll make you cut off your ear and mail it to a prostitute).  The legal stuff, however, is still quite potent: one of the bottles I picked up was 62% alcohol.  I meant to try some, but the process of drinking it was so complicated that I couldn't be bothered.  It involves gizmos and sugar and cold water and measuring, which should be followed for the full effect, but which can be tiresome to set up.  Also, who knows how powerfully it would affect me.  I mean, 62%!  I often top out at two beers.

Blood sausage is meant to be eaten with horse radish, which I didn't know the first time I tried it.  I ate my second sausage with horse radish, however, and it made it that much better.  Here's what my plate looked like, sans cous-cous, horse radish, and the awesome pie:

I felt energized after last night's meetup, and still do.  I needed that energy, too, as it has been sagging as of late.  Job hunting with a crappy Internet connection will do that to you.  Of course, the view out the host's front window, which encompasses Lake Washington and several mountains (the Cascades?), didn't hurt.  Now I wish I had taken a photo of that view, rather than of this nasty-looking (but rather tasty) blood sausage.

Is this the beginning of the story proper?  Something tells me this is going to be quite a year.

Correction:  Actual absinthe has been legal in the U.S. since 2007 (thanks, desk calendar!), so this was the stuff that, if drunk in sufficient quantities, could cause you to cut off your ear and mail it to a prostitute.

Signs of Spring, and Memories of Japan

Last Saturday, I got to walk among the cherry blossoms.  Over ten magnificent cherry trees stand in the Quad at the University of Washington.  The color of the buds matched those of the trees I saw in Japan, in what nows seems an eternity ago.  The buds on the trees closer to my house are darker, and have mostly fallen.  I imagine that most of the trees on the Quad have dropped their pedals by now, too.  Beauty, like life, is fleeting.  Which is why I carry a camera. :-)

As you can see, I wasn't the only one enjoying the beautiful weather--and the cherry blossoms.  Though there were few hanamatsuris (cherry-viewing parties), there were lots of people taking photos of the blossoms, mostly from Asia or of Asian descent.

Even the trunks were budding.

An Afternoon with Rieko Matsuura

Most of you reading this post have no idea who Rieko Matsuura is.  If I had not gone to Japan, I would have no idea who Rieko Matsuura is.  In fact, even now, I only know that she is a Japanese writer in her early fifties who wrote a scandalous book back in 1993 about a girl whose big toe turns into a penis.  The book in question was a landmark book in terms of dealing with sexuality in Japanese literature, much as Joyce's Ulysses was a landmark book in terms of dealing with all of human experience, including sex.  And, like that book, some people in Japan labeled The Apprenticeship of Big Toe P (its translated title) as little more than pornography, or they tried to categorize it as lesbian literature (which Matsuura-san says she doesn't mind, though it ignores what she was trying to do).  Until I read the book myself, I cannot comment on it (and yes, I will be commenting on it at some point, so look for that review in a few months), though I can comment that Matsuura-san is interested in why sex is always at the center of relationships, and often writes about nonsexual relationships that are just as fulfilling as sexual ones (like masters and their pets in Kenshin, though the dog in question was a woman who wanted to be a dog, and who chose the woman she wanted to be her owner).

Rieko Matsuura looks like a normal Japanese housewife.  In fact, she is probably a normal person.  Like most Japanese women, she looks much younger than she is, and despite being somewhat attractive, would not stand out in a crowd of people.  Also, she either speaks very little English, or (like me with Japanese) is embarrassed to make the attempt beyond a few words.

The lecture consisted of her speaking in Japanese, followed by a translator speaking her words in English.  Then she read from the original book (a real treat, since how many times do you get to hear something not written in English spoken in its original language?), followed by Michael Emmerich reading the same passage from his translation, which came out just last year (and is the first--and, so far, only--of Matsuura-san's novels to be translated into English).  The assembled panel then asked her some questions, followed by an opportunity for the audience to ask questions.  I wanted to ask her about her views of how sex is handled in Japanese literature today, especially among female writers (like Amy Yamada, who has also been denounced for the way she uses sex in her novels and short stories), and what she thinks of this resurgence of female authors in Japan (unlike Western countries, Japan has had a strong tradition of female storytellers, going back to at least the Heian Period, which is when Lady Murasaki wrote The Tale of Genji).  I didn't, even though it would have been a perfect follow-up to an earlier question about sexuality in Edo Period literature.

I also almost won a door prize: a signed copy of the book (Matsuura-san drew number 24; I had number 23).  Instead, I bought a copy and had her sign it.  I should have tried some Japanese with her, but I didn't.  And, when she was trying to find a scrap of paper so that I could write my name down (she couldn't quite catch my pronunciation), I could have just taken a business card out of my wallet.  Stupid.  Or, as the Japanese would say, ばか (baka).

Anyway, I got my book, I will be reading it soon, and I'll let you all know what I think.  I even plan on taking notes.  This event is just another reason why I love this city, and hope that I can continue to support myself living here.  Otherwise, it's back to Connecticut I go, with much less money than when I left.

Here's the book on Amazon, where you can pay a lot less for it than I did, sans signature:http://www.amazon.com/Apprenticeship-Big-Toe-Novel/dp/4770031165/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1267581871&sr=1-1

Greg Sings the Blues (and Its Praises)

Sometimes things happen for a reason.  Sometimes they just happen.  Whether they bring a smile to your face or a tear to your eye, they often catch you unawares, with some of the happiest moments occurring after some of the saddest, some of the most fulfilling moments after the most disappointing.

Such was the case Tuesday for me.  Having come to the end of my probationary period with an NGO (non-governmental organization, for those of you who talk like humans), I had failed to meet my goal of signing up one child sponsor a day.  So, as my thirtieth hour on the street melded into my lunch hour, I was, "let go."  Sounds much better that saying I was fired, canned, or kicked to the curb.  Much better than saying that I failed.

But luckily, failure of this sort is temporary, unless one decides to make it permanent.  I never have.  If I did, I could not wish to have a writing career.  You get to cross the moat of "no" as a writer only after you have enough rejection letters to cover the moat.  This post, however, is neither about failure nor about rejection.  It is, instead, about a movie that includes both, but is, in itself, a triumph.

I wrote about Sita Sings the Blues in regards to copyright law several months back, but I never officially reviewed the movie.  Indeed, I'm not sure that this will be an actual review, either, but more my sharing the experience of seeing this movie in an actual movie theater, with an actual audience, to those of you who read my blog on a weekly, or semi-weekly, or just this one post-ly, basis.

Those who have been fortunate enough to see this wonderful film know that it's a visual feast for the eyes (cliched, but true), which increased my excitement over seeing it in a theater, as opposed to on a computer screen.  Also, the sound system would be much better in a theater than the speaker system I heard it on back in Connecticut.

The main reason I was excited to see this film though, was in the knowledge that very few people would get to experience what I was about to experience.  Current copyright law prevents Sita Sings the Blues from obtaining even a limited two-week run in theaters, so you have to catch it when it appears.  I saw it at a one night showing at Metro Cinemas in the U-District in Seattle (Metro Cinemas is part of the Landmark Theatres chain, which should be applauded for allowing this film to be shown.  Kudos should also go to Scarecrow video, which helped sponsor the event, and to the two guys who show a classic movie there every Wednesday--this being the newest movie they've ever shown).

Because I have seen this movie twice before, during this viewing I could focus more intently on the visuals and on how the three elements (Nina's story, the Ramayana, and the song numbers) intertwine and complement each other.  In fact, the songs sounded even more appropriate to the story, not just to what was happening at the time in the Ramayana, but also what was happening in Nina's love life.  Even better, I didn't have to wait for a new section of the movie to load after ten minutes (ala youtube).

Nina Paley, the director/animator/creative guru behind Sita Sings the Blues, uses several distinct styles of 2-D animation to create a visually alive and beautiful movie.  Some parts of the film look like paintings one might find in Indian art galleries.  The "real life" sequences include squiggly lines and photo cutouts.  The song sequences include more rounded and shapely characters.  And then there are other styles that are hard to define, like the opening flower explosion sequence, or the dance sequence after Nina's primordial scream.

Even better, the more I see this film, the more layers I uncover.  And the fact that she tells these stories with wit and humor--and, near the end, pathos--only adds to the fun factor (even including one of the best recurring bits in the movie, which involves detailed shadow puppets trying to remember how the story in the Ramayana goes and the names of the characters involved).

There is an intermission sequence in this movie, so I waited to see if anyone would leave the theater during the sequence.  No one did, but I did sense confusion at first from some of the audience members (since the lights weren't coming on), which I thought was fantastic.  Even better was that I couldn't be sure if all of the voices I heard during this sequence were coming from the movie or from people in the theater.  Now that's an effect one could not get at home.

The best part of the experience was yet to come.  When the credits started rolling, only one guy left his seat--and he was in charge of the next showing.  No one else left their seat.  No one talked.  No one moved.  Until, the credits ended.  Then, everyone got up, starting fussing with their coats, began talking amongst themselves, and headed out into the night.  The only comparable experience I've had is when I went to see the movie Shine in a small, packed theater.  For that movie, people didn't move because they were emotionally stunned at what they had just seen.  For this movie, people didn't move because they wanted to enjoy the film to its end.  Also, the soundtrack (in addition to the songs by Annette Hanshaw) is gorgeous.

Like Shine and The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, this is one movie-going experience that I shall remember for a long, long time.


To see Sita Sings the Blues, go to:  http://www.sitasingstheblues.com/  (information on this website includes how you can screen the movie yourself)

This image is from the standard DVD version of Sita Sings the Blues, which can be purchased here.

My Updated Computer/Seattle Status

Before I get to the best movies of the decade (which I hope to post this weekend), I thought I should let everyone know what's going on in regards to my computer, this blog, and my life in Seattle.

First off, recently my parents sent my computer to me from Connecticut, as well as my printer.  That's the good news.  The bad news is that, while one of my housemates now has Internet access, he doesn't want to share his connection with anyone else, needing all of the bandwidth for himself.  Of course, I need very little, since I download almost nothing (the occasional Steam update notwithstanding).  You would think that my usage would barely cut into his speed, but whatever.  I should be getting a WiFi adapter for my computer soon, which I can use to search for a signal.  In the meantime, I'll be using library computers for Internet access.  Luckily, I found a different library near where I live with up-to-date Internet browsers (not so the library I was going to before), so now I can post AND leave comments on my blog.  Eventually, though, I hope to go in with several other people in my house to split the cost of Internet, so that I can post from home.  Unfortunately, that means I'll need to buy a router, but I believe there is a mail-in rebate that should cover most or all of its cost.

That brings me to my next point: I have no money coming in right now.  My seasonal job has ended, so, once again, I must search for a job out here in Seattle.  It is, in fact, what I should be doing right now, instead of posting this blog.  I also want to get back into teaching English to foreign students (and tutoring American students that need the help).  For that purpose, I have posted two or three fliers on campus offering my services for one-on-one lessons, and one of my housemates (who also teaches students, though usually in Spanish) has suggested posting in coffee shops, as well.  In addition, I ordered (and received) fifty business cards, so now I can pass them out not only to prospective students, but also to people in my meetup groups, hoping that one of them knows someone who is looking for someone like me to work for them.  I have also given a bunch of the cards to one of my housemates, who is Korean, and might know people looking for private English lessons.

Finally, during my down time I've been watching a lot of old movies and working on a short story--actually, more than one.  Once I finish the rough draft of the one that I'm currently working on, I hope to return to my novel (now that I have my printer, and bought some paper, editing it becomes possible).  The way I see it, I need to simultaneously job hunt and write, and in both cases, I need to put myself out there more and become more well known.  In politics, it's called "building the base."  In the arts, it's called "survival."

So, this coming weekend (the 23rd and 24th), I hope to post my best movies of the decade list on this blog, after which, my posts will have less to do with movies, and more to do with the thoughts inside of my head, my struggles within Seattle, and the people I hope to meet to make my literary dreams--and my permanent residency in Seattle--possible.

I'm Back! (Sort Of)

So, here's the deal: my computer is back in Connecticut.  When I was staying with my brothers' friends, they let me use their computer.  The place I moved to doesn't have Internet (though it may soon).  It also doesn't have a computer.  But, I am able to use the Internet at the library (which is where I am now).  Yet another reason to love libraries. :-)  Since the computers are often taken, however, this greatly limits how much time I can spend on them to check email, write this blog, etc., and in the grand scheme of things, checking my email (and my bills) is more important that reading blogs or writing posts.  My brother and I are working on a solution to this problem, so hopefully we can come to one before the New Year.  I'll let you all know what develops.

Until then, I will be sporadically adding posts and commenting on other people's blogs, though the posts will be less frequent and the comments will be fewer (I may, in fact, not comment much at all).  On the bright side, not being on the Internet all the time allows me to read and write more often.  On the negative side, my novel sits in wait on my flash drive until I can get to a computer to work on it some more (I've already gone through it on paper), which means that most of my writing will be focused on short stories for the short term.

Anyway, I hope to have these issues resolved soon, as I will also need the Internet to job search.  Until next time!

A Slight Interruption in Service

Some of you may have noticed that I did not update my blog last weekend (though I did post on Thursday).  The reason for the interruption was that, on Sunday, I was looking at apartments/duplexes/places to move to (I worked on Saturday), since the people I'm living with now came to an agreement with me about how long I would stay here back when I lived in Connecticut, which recently was amended from six weeks (which would have been to December 3rd) to the end of the year, though preferably before Christmas.  Since this is the first house that they've ever owned, and it'll be the first Christmas that they celebrate here, I was willing to oblige them in this request, if possible.

The search itself I shall leave for another day and another entry, but suffice it to say that I have found another place and will be moving out of here and moving into there over the weekend.  Once I move, I will no longer have use of this computer (it belongs to one of my hosts) nor of the Internet (though I can have it installed and split the cost among any housemates who wish to use it), though my brother said he would try to find a solution to this dilemma in the form of a Christmas gift.  Then, of course, there is the problem of not having a printer, though I can have resumes printed out at Kinko's or Staples, so that's not a big deal.  Printing out my novel is a bigger deal, but it's almost time for me to take a break from writing that and concentrate on shorter pieces for a bit, since I imagine many interruptions between now and when that full time job materializes (or rather, when I make it materialize).  In fact, all of this focus on finding a room, finding a job, networking, procrastinating on the Internet, etc, has left me with very little time to work on my novel.  Since I've arrived in Seattle, most of my writing has occurred on my blog, in my diary, and through responses to people's comments and emails.  Part of this is also due to my making enough time to read, whether in the form of magazine articles or books, leaving less time to write.

I will be sending out one more post before I move, since the subject is relevant to Christmas.  Ideally, I would post it ON CHRISTMAS, but that is impossible without Internet access.  I do have Internet access at work, but who wants to access their blog, or their emails, at work, where website privacy is nonexistent?  I suppose I could use a library computer, too, once I get a library card (which I can get, now that I have a lease, i.e. proof of residency), but they won't be open on Christmas, and probably not Christmas Eve, either.

Anyway, sorry for thinking aloud, but I find that if I write about a problem, I can find the solution easier, since all of my thought processes are revealed on paper (or on a screen).  Of course, I COULD write those posts ahead of time and then come back here on Sunday and hit the "PUBLISH POST" button, but that's a little silly.  Besides, my apartment search will serve as a nice companion piece to my description of my new room and house (it's a shared house), so it would be better to write that post after I've been in my new place for a little while.  In addition, the apartment search has been preserved in my diary, so there's no danger of my forgetting some important detail.  And I do have a notebook, so I can write the post ahead of time and then type it up quickly, once I have access to an Internet-connected computer.

So, to clarify, I may not be posting to my blog for a while, or it may be sporadic, depending on what scheme my brother comes up with.  But, there will be one more post near the end of the week, right before I leave for my new place, so tell your friends, as I'd love for that post to break 100 hits.  Since I've been tracking this blog (in October, soon after Ebert praised it), I've had over 1,000 hits, with "What Happens in Between Sunrise and Sunset" getting 78 hits (that only includes hits to that specific page; it misses anyone who found my blog site and just started reading the entries posted to the home page).

Here's hoping this blog'll be around for 1,000 more hits!

A Tale of Two Theaters

After my orientation on Tuesday for my seasonal job, and my long and boring training on Wednesday, I got to enter my world again on Thursday and Friday--the world of theater, of movies, of art.

Thursday I joined the SRO (Seattle Repertory Organization) annual meeting.  They are a volunteer organization that helps out at the Seattle Repertory Theater.  Mostly composed of older members of society (the youngest members of the SRO are about double my age), they were a fun group to spend a morning with, and I was introduced around by one of its members, who works (volunteers?) in the HR department.  After the meeting, I also got to meet Fran Kao (pronounced "Gao"), the Public Programs Manager, who had mentioned this meeting to me on the phone.  So now we have faces to go with our voices.

At the meeting, I got to sit with some "fellow Italians" (funny how they can pick me out in a crowd).  Most of the agenda covered business as usual, including an introduction of guests brought to the meeting (though I brought myself, I was introduced by the same woman who had personally introduced me to others in the group).  What was different about the meeting was, at times, the humor projected into it.  Nothing so represented this humor as when the Operations Manager, Johnny Mac (John R. McNamara), came into the meeting speaking with a British accent and dressed like someone from Shakespeare's time.  Many references to his codpiece and what was underneath it, as he passed around his "satchel" for donations, which would go to the interns.  These people were whipping out tens and twenties, whereas if I had given money, it would have been a couple ones.  As I didn't know what it was for (until afterwards), and as I hadn't brought much money with me, I did not contribute.  This may also be because I am the most frugal person on the planet, though I always give money to the Salvation Army.

The only other noteworthy thing about the meeting was an announcement that one member of the theater staff (Daniel Sullivan, perhaps, since he's the artistic consultant?) was hoping to implement a program that would allow the theater to work closely with up and coming playwrights.  Oh really?  I'll have to keep my eyes open and my ear close to the ground on that one.

Anyway, once the meeting was adjourned, there was a little break before three actors from the show "Opus" joined us to talk about the play.  They were introduced by one of the interns, who had worked with them on this play, before introducing themselves.  When one of them said he was originally from Connecticut, the ladies to either side of me nudged me with their elbows.

Together, these two actors (and one actress) were a riot.  Very lively, with some very funny stories.  Afterwards, two of them sat amongst us (the third one left), but unfortunately, not at my table.  If I hadn't gone to the bathroom right after they were done, I would've had a chance to introduce myself while they were still sitting at the front of the room.  Oh well.

After waiting a long time, I got to talk to Fran Kao after the meeting was over (this was our first face-to-face, mentioned earlier).  I mainly wanted to ask her about another program I had heard about, called the crew, who had pre- and post-show parties, seeing the play in between.  She told me that the crew was mainly for subscribers, though I could buy individual tickets for each event, too, and directed me to the box office.  The woman there was very helpful and told me what my best options were (too bad I wasn't under 25--monster discounts!).  After thinking it over and checking the website, I decided not to join the crew or get a subscription until I have a more regular job, as I imagine that most of the crew events are on Friday and Saturday nights, when I might be working.  Still, it depends on my hours after Christmas--whether I get hired for regular store hours, or I find a job elsewhere.  Might be best to get in with the fringe theaters, where I can volunteer on stage painting and such, instead of front office monetary issues (though I wouldn't mind working the gift shop).

On Friday, I went to the second theater in this title--a movie theater.  Called the Egyptian Theater, it originally was a Masonic Temple.  Now it shows movies on a large screen in a spacious auditorium (I felt like I was outside--that's how high the ceilings are).  Ever better, the SIFF (Seattle International Film Festival) is shown there (not to be confused with the year-round SIFF cinema).  So, now I can see art films, something I could not easily see at movie theaters near my home in Connecticut (well, I could've seen them in Hartford, but I never felt good about driving through Hartford at night).

Friday night, I saw An Education, which was a very good film, though I wondered, as I left the theater, what the message of the movie was supposed to be.  Maybe there wasn't one.  Maybe it was just a case of the heroine having lived through an experience and grown as a result.  Not that it mattered much, as the acting by Carey Mulligan and Alfred Molina (as her father) were great.  In fact, the acting all around was good, but those two stood out.  You can read a review here.

What impressed me the most, though (besides the beauty of the theater--I wish there were pictures online of its interior!) was the audience reaction.  I saw a matinee, so the crowd was small.  Even so, I noticed that when the previews began, some people were whispering, but I could hardly hear them.  Yes, they were actually whispering so as not to be heard by their neighbors.  Then, when the film began, a smattering of laughter at appropriate moments, but no talking.  Even more impressive, when the film ended and the credits began to role, people didn't pop out of their seats and head for the exits.  They actually sat for a while and watched, and while not everyone stayed until the end, I didn't feel that there was a mad dash to leave the theater.  And, since this movie attracted the young, the old, and those in between, having such a respectful audience bodes well for my future cinematic adventures in this city.

After the movie, as I took the bus home, I saw, for the first time, Seattle lit up at night, and as the bus passed downtown, I observed, with childlike joy, the trees adorned with lights for the upcoming Christmas season.

A Portrait of Seattle By a Young Man

Puget Sound

The past few days have been a mixture of rain, then clouds, then sun, then more rain. At times, the rain has been heavy, matching the strength of the sun's rays which come after. So it is that the city is balanced evenly between hope and despair.

I have not explored all of the city yet. I'm staying in West Seattle, a suburb of Seattle, at the bottom of a road that looks like a steep staircase with few steps. In Downtown Seattle, in the heart of the city proper, the road often drops in waves to the water, some sections of road dropping steeper than others. On clear days, Puget Sound sparkles. On cloudy days, the Sound sits there like a large black beast.

Downtown Streets, Sloping Toward the Sound

Most of the streets in downtown run straight and parallel to each other, jointing at the next neighborhood over (Pioneer Square or Seattle Center). Each section has its own personality, and sometimes certain blocks do, too. Near the water is Pike's Place Market, where Farmer's Market is located.

Farmer's Market in Pike's Place Market

Pioneer Square is south of there, past Columbia Street, and includes the oldest structures in the city--most of them underground. The International District is east of Pioneer Square, and is near Qwest and Safeco Fields.

Chinatown/International District

Qwest and Safeco Fields

Then, on the other side of downtown, heading north, one encounters Seattle Center. I took a monorail to there, from which one can see a great view of downtown as it slides past. The Space Needle is in Seattle Center, as is the Pacific Science Center and--most importantly--The Experience Music Project and Science Fiction Museum.

The Monorail and Part of the Experience Music Project

The Space Needle

I have seen people wearing suits downtown, but not many. When I wore a suit on a mid-morning bus, I got stares. Most people dress casual to semi-casual. Most are Caucasian, with the rest being black, Southeast Asian, or (a few) American Indian. Lots of people smoke at bus stops, but no one smokes inside buildings.

And then there's the food.

A Home Cooked Meal, Courtesy of My Hosts

I haven't eaten out much, but what I've eaten has been delicious--even the food I ate at a buffet. I don't drink beer much, but I've been told that that will change while I'm living out here, since they have so many varieties. While that was being said to me, however, I couldn't help but be reminded of an English major telling me that I would start smoking before I graduated college, due to my major. I still don't smoke (and never will), and while my reasons for rarely drinking have more to do with personal preference than my health, I don't want to develop a beer belly, like the one I saw someone sporting on Halloween, clashing with his Harry Potter costume.

Like most cities, Seattle can be a lonely place, especially when you know few people and not so well, and when your best friends are flung here and there across the globe. I am looking into volunteering at theaters around here, in order to meet more people and return to my theatrical roots, though the big theaters in Seattle tend to draft members of the geriatric society into their volunteer army. Most people who volunteer are in their sixties, probably retired. If that is the case, it means that the youngest of them are older than my parents by at least several years (I take back the geriatric comment and replace it with this one: the volunteers tend to be old). But I shall not meet them for another two weeks. At least the theater people I've met seem friendly. And Seattle Center, where the Seattle Repertory Theater sits, reminded me a little of the Big E, with its open spaces and roller coasters. In essence, it's an asphalt prairie with slabs of grass that seems many miles removed from the shopping district downtown.  And it has a musical fountain.

A View from the Monorail Platform

The International Fountain

Until next time...

Greetings from Seattle!

Greetings from Seattle, everyone!  I landed a little before eleven yesterday morning (PST) after a somewhat turbulent flight from Chicago (though seeing the Cascade Mountains in all their glory made up for it, I think). The flight from Hartford to Chicago was slightly worse in that, after waking up from a nap, I felt nauseous, being slightly dehydrated and having not loosened my sneakers before I dozed off.  Untying them and taking my feet out of my sneakers, while taking deep breaths, prevented me from "fainting upright," which happened once before on a flight.  Of course, lack of sleep the night before was also to blame.

Today I was treated to a typical Seattle day.  In other words, it rained.  Most of the day, the rain was a slight drizzle, to be broken up by sun, which was then covered by clouds, which fell again as rain.  At least it wasn't too cold outside, and I did see the sun twice.  Plus, the foliage here reminds me of Connecticut, though there are more pine trees here than there.  Particularly stunning was the foliage along a boulevard near the University of Washington, which reminded me of that day, almost two years ago, when I took the Japanese Proficiency Test at Tokyo University.  Same trees.  Same color leaves.

As of today, I have yet to explore the city proper (I'm staying in a suburb on the West Side), though I did get to experience city traffic today--again at the University of Washington, which is apparently called "U-Dub" by the locals.  So, I have nothing really exciting to report, except to say that, even though I have seen little of the city, and interacted with few of its inhabitants, I'm already really liking this place.  Maybe it has to do with all those good luck symbols that I saw in the week leading up to my flight--including an influx of lady bugs.  Lady bugs!  Maybe it's the more laid-back attitude I've noticed here.  Maybe it's the landscape.  I know it certainly ain't the 9.5% sales tax, though there is no state income tax, which means that if one were to live and work in Washington, and live near Oregon--where there is no sales tax--then one could, technically, only pay federal taxes.  I wonder if some people do.

I'm not sure if this post will substitute for my Sunday post or not, since I'm not in any sort of job searching routine yet.  I have a feeling my posts will be sporadic and short, but more frequent--for a time--than they have been in the past.  I should be getting into a routine by the time November rolls around, so my posts should become more regular around that time, too.  Now that my mom is reading my posts, however, I'll have to be more careful in what I say. ;-)

FYI: I've now switched over to Pacific Time, which apparently affects every post I've written on this blog.  The dates shouldn't be affected, but the times for all of my previous posts are earlier by three hours.

My Next Adventure

Picture by my brother

Before this week is over, I will be in Seattle.  Not for a vacation, not for a temporary move, but (hopefully) for a permanent stay.  That I am able to do this at all is due to the kindness of semi-strangers (friends of my brother) who are letting me stay in their house while I look for a job.  They aren't asking me for much, other than cleaning up after myself and chipping in to help pay for food, which is why I have offered more than they have asked for.

Sometimes, when I think about the move, the word that comes to mind is "crazy."  I'm moving from the East Coast to the West Coast, from Connecticut to Washington.  How am I going to get my computer there?  How am I going to get most of my stuff there?  I can ship large quantities of items fairly cheaply through Greyhound (yes, they have a shipping service), but not electronics.  Nor my diaries.  They are too precious to me, as are other memories that I plan, at some point, to take with me.

It has been strange going through my old things, to see the drawings I did as a kid, to see the mazes I used to draw.  The mazes usually have a Link or Mario theme, since I played Nintendo games around the time that I drew them.  And these mazes weren't just mazes.  As my friend had shown me, you could put weapons for the hero to grab in the maze, which he would need to pass some of the monsters, or to defeat the boss.  Or a key he would need to unlock a door.  As for the drawings, they were often filled with gore, or scary creatures, or scary people--but they did not scare me.  They may have scared my teachers, but never my parents, and the teachers were wise enough to see my drawings as outlets for my creativity, rather than the first signs of a psychopath.  I might not be so lucky were I to draw such pictures today.

And then there's my PXL 2000.  Before I leave, I wish to convert all of my PXL 2000 tapes to VHS (the PXL 2000 camera, which was made for kids, used audio cassettes to record both audio and a black-and-white picture).  Unfortunately, I've experienced technical difficulties at every step of the way.  And just when my dad and I thought that we had solved every problem, the tapes didn't record, because the VCR wasn't properly connected to the TV.  And now the VCR is all screwed up, so who knows if we'll get that to work again.  In the meantime, I have other things to do, which I am doing while I wait for my dad to figure out what the problem is, one of which is writing this post.

Timing is everything.  I could wait until I had finished the latest draft of my novel before leaving to live on my own, but the timing would have been off.  In the same way, I could have stayed in Japan for longer than three years.  After all, the company I worked for would have hired me back, but I feared that my experiences, no longer being new, would become tedious, and while I would continue to function, I would not thrive.  So I left Japan, and so I leave home.  To thrive.

My older sister left about ten years ago, when she got married.  My younger brother left at various points, but was permanently out of the house at least a couple of years ago.  I am the last one at home now, and while I keep telling people this is a temporary move that will hopefully become permanent, I know that it is permanent, for if I cannot find a job in Seattle, I certainly won't be able to find one in Connecticut.  I might be able to in Boston, but Boston, to a lesser degree than Chicago, is too cold (temperature-wise) for my taste.

In fact, that is why it took me so long to settle on Seattle.  Originally I wanted to live in California, but it would have been too expensive.  Then I wanted to live in Portland, but I didn't get the sense that there's much to do in Portland.  Plus, I know nobody who lives there.  At least in Seattle, I will know the two people whom I live with (and meet a third, since the sister of the woman who lives there is also staying with them).  Also, I discovered that Seattle is as warm (or cold) as New England is, with pleasanter summers and less-harsh winters.

Most importantly for me, Seattle serves to link me back to Japan.  I traveled through the Seattle airport twice on my travels from Tokyo to home and back again.  Both times, I not only saw Japanese people speaking Japanese in the airport, but I also heard some announcements in English and Japanese.  I hope that the cultural mix will be even more diverse than that, since Seattle is a city, but the Asian element is critical in reminding me of those magical days in Japan, which will prove in years to come, and has already proven, to have a tremendous impact on my writing, my outlook on life, and my development as a human being.

I hope to continue updating my blogs from Seattle, as I will have Internet access and use of my hosts' computer.  However, I can't guarantee that I will be as regular in my postings, at least not until I've worked out my weekly routine.

I feel nervous, excited, scared, sad, happy, and adventurous about my move.  I have seen my good luck animal--deer--all throughout last week, in large numbers.  I take that to be a good sign.  I still have much to do, much to go through, much to pack up, but at least things are happening now.  My life, which was put on hold for a time, is now slowly surging forward again.