examined life

"what do you do?"

if you have it figured out, you're one of the lucky ones. when we start off on independent living, we take a faltering step into the world. how many of us launch into exactly what we want to do? how many of us even know what that is? we grope, searching, spending our days in a grey cube and our nights exploring artistic pursuits. music. photography. painting. but those don't pay the bills, do they?

so to the question, "what do you do?" we are flummoxed, fumbling for an answer. "i...am a legal assistant." "a bank clerk." "construction." "i wait tables."

how can you answer that question without qualifiers? "i'm an admin assistant, but i play music." "right now i'm working in a cafe, but i'm a poet." or we make it into a joke. "a starving artist." or we evade the question altogether with some vague feint designed to distract.

after all, why should you be defined by what you do for money?

i understand. i've been there too. but that question serves a purpose. it should help you expand, not shove you in a box. people will respond to you based on how you answer, that is all. and if you can define yourself, think of this question as an opportunity, a shorthand to explain who you are.

so let the question guide you. at every cocktail party, every awkward pause, every stranger's introduction, let yourself grow into it.

what do you do? anything's possible.

saturday night!

i'm in my pajamas crouched over the keyboard. i'm up to my elbows in HTML and MT and old code left over by someone else. the books i'm supposed to review i left at the office. damn. on the bright side, i have an office.

i keep making to-do lists, losing them, and making new ones. then i get confused about which one is current and what i'm doing.

i'm sorry i'm not at the film shoot with my friends. i hope it's okay that it's raining. i feel for jason. he was going to crash a car today. i wonder how it's going.

i just remember something else to put on the to-do list. book that dealership show! i keep forgetting to check the d-ship email account. right now, i've got tunnel vision. if it doesn't come through MY email box, it might as well not exist!

soon jesse will be home, and we can have a glass of wine. he's been playing a lot of SSX Tricky lately. and before that, he got into Resident Evil 4. me, i have to play Metal Gear Acid for a review i'm writing, and i'm embarrassed to say i am already stuck. yes, in a CARD game. sigh.

well, it's time to take a break. i think we have some ice cream! and that's always good news.

busy is good

the new job is everything it should be. got to take home a PSP for the weekend. i mean that's pretty cool.

also, things are very very busy on other fronts. GameGirlAdvance is starting to take off - slowly, but building momentum. i have to think about ads. how do you sell ads?

i'm working on a new design, new issue for GGA. i'll be working on it most of the weekend.

note to self: i need a more comfortable chair.

also, i'll be moderating a panel at SXSWI, monday morning.

also, i'll be judging the sexiest indie gamer alive contest.

also, i have some freelance work rolling along like a crazy train that won't be stopped.

the houseguests are gone today, and i had a moment to sigh relief before i sat myself down in front of the computer and started churning it all out again.

it never ends... not until death, i suppose. but i guess that's a good thing. for now, at least, it is.

oh, and i'm watching TROY as i work, too. so far it's pretty beautiful.

rundown

sometimes there's nothing as satisfying on a rainy saturday as a good old-fashioned action movie, with liberal dashes of silly humor and the evil droll glare of Christopher Walken. i highly recommend The Rundown. good with a cold, insubstantial beer. oh, and adrienne will be happy to note that Seann William Scott is great in it.

even jesse liked it, and he pretends not to like silly action movies.

lonely in the rain

anxiety creeps up around my shoulders and knots my stomach. do i have any relaxants in the house? my jaw feels wired and sore, and tongue dry, as if i'm coming down from amphetamines. i feel hungry but i know if i eat i'll feel nauseous. i have so much to do but tension paralyzes. i think, maybe a cup of tea. but between that thought and putting the kettle on lie a thousand obstacles - unread emails, IMs, undone pieces, an ocean of waiting to hear if i got the job or not; i don't think i can manage a cup of tea, quite yet.

ryan lent me some movies, some of his favorites. i long to lose myself in one of them for a couple of hours this afternoon. but the tension is too high. i don't think i can.

i snapped at jesse today on the phone.

we have houseguests. they are very sweet, but they transform the house. i didn't realize they'd be here this long. i can't get in to work in the office at times, because that is their bedroom. i am anxious that they will return before i am done. my time slips away. i need to work. but i don't think i can.

i need a cigarette. i'm out. i can't leave the house because i forgot that my keys are with the houseguests.

it's raining. inside and out.

traveling nostalgia

the text is not quite all written but it's high time i published these photos from last year's trip to France. looking at them, i can feel the warm sun on my back and the air thick with bees and clover and the buzzing of cicadas. sitting on the patio from morning till evening... drinking coffee before noon and sipping a bottomless glass of rosé from noon till evening... i feel a palpable ache in my heart seeing how the sun filters through the green leaves...

is it any wonder that i fell in love?

i think he was a good man

my father. sometimes i'm not sure. my sister and i differ over our perceptions of him. but humans are complex, they contain multitudes. it's possible he was both good and bad. like all of us. in balance.

after all, he was a republican. he voted for reagan, for pete wilson. he subscribed to American Spectator and the National Review and Commentary - all of these formed my nest of reading material for several years growing up. until i got to high school, and discovered Marx and socialism. we used to argue about it, over dinner. he made me so mad sometimes. but he was a real conservative, in that he believed in fiscal responsibility and less government interference in people's lives. he didn't have anything against gays, for example. he would have said, let people marry whom they chose, the government shouldn't waste any money on regulating that. he was staunchly atheist, although he joked about choosing to follow Islam because you got the most prophets.

after he died, i remember going through some of his papers. his novels, half-finished, were entertaining and shockingly similar to what *i* was writing, too. his articles. his catalogue notes. and, best of all, a treasure trove of his letters.

in one of them i clearly remember a passage which is the reason i think of him as a good man. this was written to his friend James Cahill, who later went on to become professor of Art History (his specialty being chinese ink paintings) at U.C. Berkeley. Uncle Jim, we called him. Uncle Jim had given us back some of my father's letters, letters he'd written to Jim during the Korean War.

my dad wrote: "Some of the men here have names for the Koreans, like 'gook', which to my mind is analogous to an epiteth for Negros which is so horrible I cannot bring myself to write it down."

i quote from memory, as those papers are lost now, in the fire that burned down the house i grew up in. but that passage made such an impression on me when i read it. i love my father for that.

i wish, of course, that he had lived. i feel cheated out of the rest of his story and his personality, which i never got to know or understand as an adult. all i have left are these echoes of conversations, memories of scraps of paper, a photograph or two. who were you? what did you dream about? i know almost nothing about his childhood, his father and mother, his early adulthood. as a child and a teenager i was too self-involved. i remember only a dry sense of humor, sometimes a severity of demeanor, a patrician aesthetic. a snob. maddening politics with which i could never agree. but also, a man with a sense of justice, fairness, and decency, even in the most indecent of times.

i love you, papa. and i miss you still.

i am a tent fancier

i got this in the mail a few days ago:

To Whom It May Concern,

We have learned from the Internet that you are interested in tents. We have been in the tent manufacturing business for many years and are currently in the process of expanding and our customer base. We are quite excited about contacting you and the potential for establishing friendly business relations with you as well as sharing the mutual benefits.

We specialize in high quality, high performance tents offered to our cutomers at competitive prices. We are able to supply a wide variety of tents manufactured to the specifications and requirements of the customer. We would be interested in receiving more information from you so we could submit a suitable offer to you.

Feel free to view our website: www.jxtrade.cn

If you do not wish to receive any more information, please let us know and we will take you off our mailing list.
We are awaiting your favorable response.

Sincerely,

XXXX

i can't help being taken in by its gentle tone. the writer is interested in tents as well. i am not sure why he thought i was. i wish i could write to him, excitedly - someone who finally can fulfill my dream of making and selling fancy tents!

but alas, the writer has the wrong person. i hope he will someday find that dream collaborator. hope springs endlessly on the internet.

remember memory

i got an email a while ago that referenced a post i made to chanpon a couple years ago about the Japanese holiday, kenkoku kinenbi, "national foundation day". i had completely forgotten about the conversations with my mother that i relate in the essay, and it made me sad and proud to read her words again.

there are definitely times i think about not blogging anymore. i've had an online presence since 1997 or 1998 when i put up my first geocities site. remember geocities? ha. but then a few days later i always find something i'd forgotten about. even a tiny little entry can so vividly call to mind the afternoon sun slanting through the window while i sat eating a sandwich at the keyboard.

and i think, i can't lose this. i don't want to live in a world where these moments are lost to me. i always thought, i'll remember the important things. and that's true.

it's the unimportant details that now seem so sharply, achingly precious to me.

snow land

the rumours say it's the snowiest winter since 1916. the scientists say that's not quite correct, but who's making a direct comparison? it's probably been the snowiest in our lifetimes. driving up to Tahoe the snow was piled up over six feet along the road, at 5,000 feet. several trucks were slumbering in driveways under a thinck fluffy white blanket. the snow was soft, powdery - you could scoop it with your fingers and blow it off. the mountains looked like vanilla ice cream with chocolate chips.

it was my birthday, and adrienne made a cake - delicious chocolate, served with vanilla ice cream, just like my fantasy of the mountains. jesse slept most of the first day but got up for dessert. the first night of hot tubbing was icy. you had to walk across the ice-crusted deck to make it safe to the tub, which was so hot you could sit on the edge with just your legs inside the water and stay warm. we had our wine glasses with us and i was worried they would shatter, as they'd be ice-cold outside the tub, then suddenly warm over the steam.

we had a fire and warmed ourselves. i drank all weekend but it never felt excessive - in fact i only developed the mildest of headaches the last day. a diet of wine, cheese, and pâté seems to help with the hangover symptoms. our last dinner together, the 17 of us, was pasta with pest and chicken, salad, and a potato-leek soup. i fell asleep for the actualy dinner but jesse saved me a plate. the next morning, blueberry waffles, bacon, eggs and chorizo, and toast; and for dinner, fresh wild salmon with baked vegetables. the next morning, french toast with real maple syrup and bacon. for entertainment, episodes of The Avengers, The Village, and Open Water.

i'm really cut out for the leisure life style.

now, to make it happen ... best selling novel? screenplay? television show? do any film makers want to collaborate with me on creating a pilot for comedy central?