So this morning I'm walking to my car and I see that the windows are fogged up. I figure it's no big deal, I mean I've seen foggy windows before. I get into my car, start her up and turn on the windshield wipers to clear it up but after the blades sweep across the window, the "fog" is still there. That's when I notice the tiny crystalline webs in the corners of the window.
And then it hits me.
It's not fog.
My windows are frosted over.
As if the cold weekend (lows in the 30's, highs in the mid 40's!) wasn't enough of a hint, this certainly drove home the point that I wasn't in Hawaii anymore.
I guess I need to buy an ice scraper. Also, my mom was telling me to buy tire chains. I thought she was nuts but now I'm wondering if maybe I should keep them in the car just in case.
Frosted windows aren't the only problem though.
To state the obvious, Hawaii is warm. Temperatures range from the low 60's to the mid 90's and it's always humid. Just about the only people I can think of who own any sizable collection of warm clothes are warehouse people who work in chill boxes or the astronomers who work up on Mauna Kea. I'm neither so until a few weeks before I moved to Seattle, my entire cold weather wardrobe included a grand total of two jackets, no sweaters, no long-sleeve shirts, and only a few long-sleeve dress shirts (that I rarely wore).
In contrast, the yearly average high in Seattle is freaking 62 degrees (source, Wikipedia). In the six months between October and April, the average high is 52 degrees and the average low is 40 degrees. Clearly, a new wardrobe is in order.
But.
But I don't know how to put it together. Shortly after moving here, I noticed there's a different way to dress. For lack of a better term, I'll call it the layered look.
It's frustrating because back in Hawaii, I felt like I had finally found a "look" I was comfortable with. When shopping for clothes, I had a pretty good grasp on what looked good on me and what I liked. This wasn’t something that developed overnight. It took YEARS of frustrating trial and error.
And now I feel like I have to start the process all over again because I don't get the short-sleeve t-shirt over long-sleeve t-shirt look or the sweater over dress shirt look or the vest over shirt look. And don't get me started on accessories like scarves and beanies.
I suppose a Seattle girlfriend (or just a female friend) would really help here. See, I've come to learn that a fresh pair of eyes (especially female ones) can lead you try on things that you wouldn't try if you were shopping by yourself and sometimes it's precisely these unexpected things that end up looking the best on you thereby helping you find or develop your own personal style.
Now I suppose I could just do that by myself, but the layered look has far too many options. In Hawaii all I had to worry about was matching the shirt to the pants but the layered look is just that - layered. All the options are kind of freaking me out.
If I had to describe the look I'm going for, I'd say it's smart but not preppy, conservative but not boring, hip but not too trendy. I want to have basic pieces that I can mix around to create different looks but I don't even know what the basic elements are. I mean do I get bold colored shirts and more muted sweaters or is it the other way around? If I'm buying a sweater to wear over shirts does that mean I should buy a size larger than I would if I were just wearing the sweater by itself? Is it okay to wear a sweater by itself or does it depend on the kind of sweater I'm wearing and if so then which are the ones I wear over other things and which are the ones I can wear on their own? Which styles of sweater are considered more formal and which are more casual?
Ugh!
Normally I enjoy shopping for clothes but trying to learn a whole new look is far too stressful.
Since I have to go it alone, my plan of attack is to go somewhere relatively inexpensive like the Gap or Old Navy and buy some solid colored, long-sleeved t-shirts and maybe some basic sweaters. I'll take them home and try mixing and matching between what I bought and what I already have in my wardrobe.
Sounds like a good plan, but again, the problem is that I won't be a very good judge because I'm trying on a look that's unfamiliar to me so I don't have any reference points.
Anybody have a female friend in Seattle I can borrow - one with good style sense?
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Friday, October 27, 2006
234. big week
This has been a pretty monumental week for me. I finally got my car on Monday (see here) - a Scion Xb which I absolutely LOVE. It's tiny on the outside but freaking HUGE on the inside. I know lots of people hate the boxy look, but I like it. It's practical and efficient and quirky. So far, only two things I don't like about it. One, it has no power and two, it only has one interior light which means if I have to look at my map at night (something that happens a lot since I've only been here for about three weeks), I have to reach up behind me and turn on the light in the middle of the ceiling.
To remedy this second bit, I'm going to keep my eye out for some kind of clip-on, suction cup light that I can attach to my windshield.
Another (unexpected) benefit about having a car is that I have access to NPR. I've written before that I love not having a TV, but it's hard to keep up on the news without it. I mean I suppose I could subscribe to the local paper, but it's so much easier to get caught up on the main events of the day by tuning in to those thirty minute updates on CNN or FOX News. NPR is a nice replacement. I always feel smarter after tuning in.
I have a job (well, technically I have to pass their background check first, but I can't think of any red flags that would cause any problems). I'm going to be working for a warehouse that houses records. As I understand it, my basic job will be to either place boxes full of files on their designated shelf or to find a specific box on some other designated shelf and retrieve it. Now I'm sure there's more to the job than that, but those are the basic duties that were outlined to me during the interview.
Now to some, that job probably sounds like grunt work, but to me it sounds like the perfect breeding ground for unleashing latent creativity. Here's why.
Most of you know I used to do temp work (before I got hired by the temp company), and on one of these temp jobs, I was working for a law firm. On my first day on the job they gave me a sheet full of tiny stickers. On each of these stickers was a number like, "000001" and "000002" and "000003" and so on. They gave me a whole stack of these sheets and each of them had more sequential numbers on them. Next, they showed me a room full of banker boxes - those cardboard ones with a lid and two holes on the front and back that act as handles. Inside each of these boxes were a bunch of huge three-ring binders and within each of these binders was reams and reams of legal paperwork.
Can you guess what my job entailed?
My job was to open up these boxes, take out a folder and affix one numerical sticker on each of the sheets I found inside. One by one, folder by folder, box by box.
I can't remember exactly how many labels I ended up using, but I know I was well into the tens of thousands before I was done.
For that job, I basically went in to work, shut down most of my brain and started sticking stickers. Once lunch time came around, I powered up my brain again and went to eat. And that's where the magic happened. I got some of my most creative writing done during those lunch breaks because after all that repetitive work, my noodle was just itching to stretch itself out - to break free from the numbing, numbering repetition.
I know my new job won't be as brain dead as the sticker job at the law office, but I know it won't be as high-stress as my last job. I remember coming home from working at the temp company and my brain would feel like tofu. The last thing it wanted to do was work some more even if it was something fun and creative like a new story or a blog.
My hope is that once I get over the initial learning curve, the job will be somewhat repetitive such that my brain will be fresh enough to do more heavy lifting after work (like the NaNoWriMo).
Oh, and I also bought a desk, a chair, and a lamp (all from IKEA). I haven't picked up a bed yet, but that's probably the next big purchase. For me, a table was far more important than a bed because while the floor has been serving me just fine for sleeping, it was no good for writing. And I hope to be doing a lot of it (1,700 words per day to stay on track for the NaNo) in the next few weeks.
Prior to this, I had been doing a lot of my writing on our dining room table which worked well enough but for me, writing is a solitary affair. My roommates left me alone when writing but still, it felt strange to be pecking away on my laptop with other people in the same room.
See, I write in fits and starts. I laugh out loud when the juices are flowing and words are falling from the sky. I look at the ceiling, the wall, out the window. I wave my fingers over the keyboard. I spin circles with my hands in midair. I furrow my brow and put my hand in front of my mouth. I've developed a whole range of unconscious, animated behaviors to coax and conjure the muse. These devices are best practiced away from watchful eyes if only to assure people I'm not suffering from schizophrenia.
And now I have a desk, and this is the first blog written on it.
Last miscellaneous bits.
I'm attending a Christian arts conference this weekend. I found out about it through Mars Hill church, where I've been going for the last few Sundays.
I'll be seeing Shawn Colvin in concert on Monday.
Miles, the guitar player for my band will be arriving in Seattle on Saturday morning. Let the Harrison global musical domination project commence!
Last night I had the spiciest rahmen EVER. My roommates brought it home from this Korean grocery store called H-Mart (I guess because the name, K-Mart, was already taken). They said the store gave them a whole box-full of the stuff because their total bill passed a certain price point. I suspect they're giving the stuff away because it's burrowing holes through peoples' stomaches. After finishing my bowl, I had to eat two slices of bread to put the fire out in my mouth. (In case you didn't know, water doesn't work to cool a spiced out mouth because the chemical that makes spicy food hot, capsaicin, doesn't blend with water. Bread works as does beer and milk, but I wouldn't drink them together. See what you can learn by spending inordinate amounts of time on the internet?)
To remedy this second bit, I'm going to keep my eye out for some kind of clip-on, suction cup light that I can attach to my windshield.
Another (unexpected) benefit about having a car is that I have access to NPR. I've written before that I love not having a TV, but it's hard to keep up on the news without it. I mean I suppose I could subscribe to the local paper, but it's so much easier to get caught up on the main events of the day by tuning in to those thirty minute updates on CNN or FOX News. NPR is a nice replacement. I always feel smarter after tuning in.
I have a job (well, technically I have to pass their background check first, but I can't think of any red flags that would cause any problems). I'm going to be working for a warehouse that houses records. As I understand it, my basic job will be to either place boxes full of files on their designated shelf or to find a specific box on some other designated shelf and retrieve it. Now I'm sure there's more to the job than that, but those are the basic duties that were outlined to me during the interview.
Now to some, that job probably sounds like grunt work, but to me it sounds like the perfect breeding ground for unleashing latent creativity. Here's why.
Most of you know I used to do temp work (before I got hired by the temp company), and on one of these temp jobs, I was working for a law firm. On my first day on the job they gave me a sheet full of tiny stickers. On each of these stickers was a number like, "000001" and "000002" and "000003" and so on. They gave me a whole stack of these sheets and each of them had more sequential numbers on them. Next, they showed me a room full of banker boxes - those cardboard ones with a lid and two holes on the front and back that act as handles. Inside each of these boxes were a bunch of huge three-ring binders and within each of these binders was reams and reams of legal paperwork.
Can you guess what my job entailed?
My job was to open up these boxes, take out a folder and affix one numerical sticker on each of the sheets I found inside. One by one, folder by folder, box by box.
I can't remember exactly how many labels I ended up using, but I know I was well into the tens of thousands before I was done.
For that job, I basically went in to work, shut down most of my brain and started sticking stickers. Once lunch time came around, I powered up my brain again and went to eat. And that's where the magic happened. I got some of my most creative writing done during those lunch breaks because after all that repetitive work, my noodle was just itching to stretch itself out - to break free from the numbing, numbering repetition.
I know my new job won't be as brain dead as the sticker job at the law office, but I know it won't be as high-stress as my last job. I remember coming home from working at the temp company and my brain would feel like tofu. The last thing it wanted to do was work some more even if it was something fun and creative like a new story or a blog.
My hope is that once I get over the initial learning curve, the job will be somewhat repetitive such that my brain will be fresh enough to do more heavy lifting after work (like the NaNoWriMo).
Oh, and I also bought a desk, a chair, and a lamp (all from IKEA). I haven't picked up a bed yet, but that's probably the next big purchase. For me, a table was far more important than a bed because while the floor has been serving me just fine for sleeping, it was no good for writing. And I hope to be doing a lot of it (1,700 words per day to stay on track for the NaNo) in the next few weeks.
Prior to this, I had been doing a lot of my writing on our dining room table which worked well enough but for me, writing is a solitary affair. My roommates left me alone when writing but still, it felt strange to be pecking away on my laptop with other people in the same room.
See, I write in fits and starts. I laugh out loud when the juices are flowing and words are falling from the sky. I look at the ceiling, the wall, out the window. I wave my fingers over the keyboard. I spin circles with my hands in midair. I furrow my brow and put my hand in front of my mouth. I've developed a whole range of unconscious, animated behaviors to coax and conjure the muse. These devices are best practiced away from watchful eyes if only to assure people I'm not suffering from schizophrenia.
And now I have a desk, and this is the first blog written on it.
Last miscellaneous bits.
I'm attending a Christian arts conference this weekend. I found out about it through Mars Hill church, where I've been going for the last few Sundays.
I'll be seeing Shawn Colvin in concert on Monday.
Miles, the guitar player for my band will be arriving in Seattle on Saturday morning. Let the Harrison global musical domination project commence!
Last night I had the spiciest rahmen EVER. My roommates brought it home from this Korean grocery store called H-Mart (I guess because the name, K-Mart, was already taken). They said the store gave them a whole box-full of the stuff because their total bill passed a certain price point. I suspect they're giving the stuff away because it's burrowing holes through peoples' stomaches. After finishing my bowl, I had to eat two slices of bread to put the fire out in my mouth. (In case you didn't know, water doesn't work to cool a spiced out mouth because the chemical that makes spicy food hot, capsaicin, doesn't blend with water. Bread works as does beer and milk, but I wouldn't drink them together. See what you can learn by spending inordinate amounts of time on the internet?)
Friday, October 20, 2006
233. grocery and identity
My first trip to the grocery store to stock up on food stuffs was an interesting experience. Living at home with my parents for the past 34 years, I never really had to think about what I wanted to have in the pantry to eat - I just ate whatever was on hand whether it was something I wanted to eat or not. So walking through the grocery store trying to figure out what it was that I wanted to get was...was...
I'm not sure what the word is for how I was feeling. An example from a movie then. In the Julia Roberts, Richard Gere film, Runaway Bride, there's a scene where Julia's character is sitting in front of a table full of plates. Each plate has eggs on it but they all are prepared differently. One has eggs benedict, one has over easy, one has scrambled, etc.
Now I haven't seen the entire movie, but I do remember this scene from watching parts of it on cable, and the idea is that she's not really sure who she is. She doesn't even know how she likes her eggs because she's always had them the way her boyfriends/fiances had them. After her last wedding goes down in flames (again), we come to this scene with the plates and the eggs. In the scene, she's trying a bite from each plate to figure out which preparation she likes absent the opinion of any significant other.
Um...I just realized that this example has Oedipal overtones but all I mean to say is that my aimless walk through the grocery store was very much like Roberts at the table of eggs, only I wasn't just choosing between egg dishes - I had the whole store to choose from.
I think the only thing I went home with was a box of microwavable popcorn and a loaf of bread.
"Just bread?"
Well, in retrospect that was kind of a random choice but I thought (assumed) we had butter at home and that I could at least make toast. Turns out we didn't have anything to put on or between slices of bread so on my next trip out, I made sure to buy butter and cheese because I am the grilled cheese guru...which is another reason why shopping for groceries was an odd experience.
"Because you're the grilled cheese guru?"
No, because I don't cook.
"At all?"
Well, nothing fancy. I mean I can usually follow a recipe (yeah right) if one is put in front of me (just don't ask me to dice any onions or anything that requires finesse with a knife) but my cooking skills are usually limited to grilling spam or boiling up some rahmen (with egg), so you can see how a trip to the grocery store wouldn't exactly be an inspiring experience for me.
"That's pretty pathetic, dude."
There is one notable exception to my culinary ignorance. I can make cheesecake, and not just any cheesecake. I make a (from what I've been told) very good banana cheesecake.
"Sounds like there's a story behind this."
Well, yeah. But it's not a very good story.
"Aw, come on, don't be modest. Spill."
Okay, so there was this girl I liked and I found out she liked cheesecake and so I found a recipe and made her some.
"And...?"
And that's the end of the story.
"What about the girl?"
Well, let me put it this way. If she had liked me half as much as she liked the cheesecake things might have turned out better between us.
So ANYWAY, back to the reason I brought up the whole grocery shopping experience in the first place. I think that was the first in a long list of experiences that will help me figure out who I am. I mean, I really do feel like I have the opportunity to recreate myself up here...but I think "recreate" is the wrong word. It might be more accurate to say that I have the opportunity to discover who I am, but that's not it either. Maybe the best way to put it is that I can become the person I'm supposed to be.
"Yeah, and while you're at it, learn how to cook."
Hey, one thing at a time.
I'm not sure what the word is for how I was feeling. An example from a movie then. In the Julia Roberts, Richard Gere film, Runaway Bride, there's a scene where Julia's character is sitting in front of a table full of plates. Each plate has eggs on it but they all are prepared differently. One has eggs benedict, one has over easy, one has scrambled, etc.
Now I haven't seen the entire movie, but I do remember this scene from watching parts of it on cable, and the idea is that she's not really sure who she is. She doesn't even know how she likes her eggs because she's always had them the way her boyfriends/fiances had them. After her last wedding goes down in flames (again), we come to this scene with the plates and the eggs. In the scene, she's trying a bite from each plate to figure out which preparation she likes absent the opinion of any significant other.
Um...I just realized that this example has Oedipal overtones but all I mean to say is that my aimless walk through the grocery store was very much like Roberts at the table of eggs, only I wasn't just choosing between egg dishes - I had the whole store to choose from.
I think the only thing I went home with was a box of microwavable popcorn and a loaf of bread.
"Just bread?"
Well, in retrospect that was kind of a random choice but I thought (assumed) we had butter at home and that I could at least make toast. Turns out we didn't have anything to put on or between slices of bread so on my next trip out, I made sure to buy butter and cheese because I am the grilled cheese guru...which is another reason why shopping for groceries was an odd experience.
"Because you're the grilled cheese guru?"
No, because I don't cook.
"At all?"
Well, nothing fancy. I mean I can usually follow a recipe (yeah right) if one is put in front of me (just don't ask me to dice any onions or anything that requires finesse with a knife) but my cooking skills are usually limited to grilling spam or boiling up some rahmen (with egg), so you can see how a trip to the grocery store wouldn't exactly be an inspiring experience for me.
"That's pretty pathetic, dude."
There is one notable exception to my culinary ignorance. I can make cheesecake, and not just any cheesecake. I make a (from what I've been told) very good banana cheesecake.
"Sounds like there's a story behind this."
Well, yeah. But it's not a very good story.
"Aw, come on, don't be modest. Spill."
Okay, so there was this girl I liked and I found out she liked cheesecake and so I found a recipe and made her some.
"And...?"
And that's the end of the story.
"What about the girl?"
Well, let me put it this way. If she had liked me half as much as she liked the cheesecake things might have turned out better between us.
So ANYWAY, back to the reason I brought up the whole grocery shopping experience in the first place. I think that was the first in a long list of experiences that will help me figure out who I am. I mean, I really do feel like I have the opportunity to recreate myself up here...but I think "recreate" is the wrong word. It might be more accurate to say that I have the opportunity to discover who I am, but that's not it either. Maybe the best way to put it is that I can become the person I'm supposed to be.
"Yeah, and while you're at it, learn how to cook."
Hey, one thing at a time.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
232. likes and dislikes
Things I like and don't like about life in Seattle (in no particular order).
Like my roommates. Jenn's cooking is excellent, Martin buys beer, and we all get along swimmingly.
I like all the culture and art and music here. Last week I attended a book reading and last night I bought tickets to see Shawn Colvin at the Moore Theatre. Lots to see and hear around here.
I don't like not having my drum set. I finally went out and bought some drum sticks and a practice pad so I can try and keep my chops up, but nothing compares to the sheer physical joy of banging away on actual drums and cymbals.
I LOVE not having a television. I've gotten so much reading done since I've been here (and it should also be a big help next month while I work on my NaNo - see blog 231).
One thing I don't like about not having a TV is not knowing what's happening on Project Runway...can anybody fill me in? I'm so bummed I missed the reunion episode and I can't believe I'm going to miss the season finale! (And for the record, I want Laura to win but I think Michael will take it.)
I don't love not having a car. Even though I like the Seattle bus system, it's still a pain to be tethered to its routes.
I actually like the weather. From what I hear, it's been unusually sunny these past couple weeks. This past weekend was the first time I actually saw rain.
I don't mind the cold. It's been swinging from the 40s to the 60s and I see myself buying some new jackets soon, but if I had to choose between being too cold or too hot, I prefer too cold.
I don't like not knowing where everything is. I always feel lost. I had a job interview today and (stupid me) I only checked on the busses I needed to take to get there. I forgot to plan for the ride back. I suppose I could have just taken the same busses going back the other way, but one of them was an express route and they don't come as often. So I started walking in the general direction that I guessed home was but I soon had to admit that I had no idea where I was. Luckily I walked right by a public library where I was able to get on-line and get the bus route back home.
I love that Seattle is a bicycle-friendly town. Don't tell my parents, but if I get the job I just interviewed for today (the job I really want), I'm going to buy a bike because the job is only three or four miles away. I already know which bike I want to get. It's going to be so cool to be on the road again...I forgot how much I loved riding bikes until I rode down to the store with Blake one afternoon before house church. Even though the bikes were just cruisers (and one of them had a badly warped tire), I had a blast.
Overall, I'm having a ball. No regrets whatsoever...so far.
Like my roommates. Jenn's cooking is excellent, Martin buys beer, and we all get along swimmingly.
I like all the culture and art and music here. Last week I attended a book reading and last night I bought tickets to see Shawn Colvin at the Moore Theatre. Lots to see and hear around here.
I don't like not having my drum set. I finally went out and bought some drum sticks and a practice pad so I can try and keep my chops up, but nothing compares to the sheer physical joy of banging away on actual drums and cymbals.
I LOVE not having a television. I've gotten so much reading done since I've been here (and it should also be a big help next month while I work on my NaNo - see blog 231).
One thing I don't like about not having a TV is not knowing what's happening on Project Runway...can anybody fill me in? I'm so bummed I missed the reunion episode and I can't believe I'm going to miss the season finale! (And for the record, I want Laura to win but I think Michael will take it.)
I don't love not having a car. Even though I like the Seattle bus system, it's still a pain to be tethered to its routes.
I actually like the weather. From what I hear, it's been unusually sunny these past couple weeks. This past weekend was the first time I actually saw rain.
I don't mind the cold. It's been swinging from the 40s to the 60s and I see myself buying some new jackets soon, but if I had to choose between being too cold or too hot, I prefer too cold.
I don't like not knowing where everything is. I always feel lost. I had a job interview today and (stupid me) I only checked on the busses I needed to take to get there. I forgot to plan for the ride back. I suppose I could have just taken the same busses going back the other way, but one of them was an express route and they don't come as often. So I started walking in the general direction that I guessed home was but I soon had to admit that I had no idea where I was. Luckily I walked right by a public library where I was able to get on-line and get the bus route back home.
I love that Seattle is a bicycle-friendly town. Don't tell my parents, but if I get the job I just interviewed for today (the job I really want), I'm going to buy a bike because the job is only three or four miles away. I already know which bike I want to get. It's going to be so cool to be on the road again...I forgot how much I loved riding bikes until I rode down to the store with Blake one afternoon before house church. Even though the bikes were just cruisers (and one of them had a badly warped tire), I had a blast.
Overall, I'm having a ball. No regrets whatsoever...so far.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
231. oops, I'm going to do it again
So November is coming around and I'm having mad thoughts of doing the National Novel Writing Month again. If you were around reading my blog last November, you might remember that my first crack at the title was about as much fun as riding the Tour de France with hemorrhoids (see blog 117 for an example...caution, potty mouth).
I suppose that's part of the genius of the event. It happens once-per-year, just enough time so that you forget how much you hated participating the year before.
I'm hoping this year will be more of a success for a bunch of reasons. One, I'm in the heart of a very creative city. There's a lot of amazing art and lots of culture to experience and I'm hoping that will serve as a rich source of inspiration. Two, I've read that Seattle has a lot of writers in residence (maybe because of all the rain?) and I'm hoping the NaNoWriMo will be a way for me to tap into this community. A quick visit to their bulletin board told me that there are a couple meeting/writing places already set up for the event in the Seattle area. One near West Seattle, where I live. Three, I'm hoping this will be a way for me to get even more serious about my writing and to further my dreams of publication (see blog 229).
Four, I'm going into the event knowing I'm going to be breaking one of the "rules." Sort of.
From the FAQs section of the NaNoWriMo website:
How do you define "novel?" Does fan fiction count? What if I want to write interconnected short stories rather than a novel? What if my story is largely autobiographical, or is based on a real person? Can I still write it in November?
We define a novel as "a lengthy work of fiction." Beyond that, we let you decide whether what you're writing falls under the heading of "novel." In short: If you believe you're writing a novel, we believe you're writing a novel too.
Well, I know I won't be writing a novel and I won't even pretend to call it that. At best it will be a collection of short stories that might be interconnected, but just as likely will not be. What I mean is, I'm going into this year's NaNo knowing that I'm not writing a novel. I'm writing a collection of short stories.
Part of what killed me last year was the ridiculous notion that I had to be writing a NOVEL to participate. I spent way too much time trying to construct these large narrative arcs when that's just not how I write. I mean, the very word, "novel," scares the crap out of me. Writing something that big sounds too much like work. Looking back now, I see that I was being far too anal retentive about the rules. I mean for crying out loud, it's a free event and if I "won," all they'd give me is a web icon and some kind of certificate.
So this year, I'm not going to even pretend that I'm writing a novel. I am writing a collection of short stories and there's nothing anybody at NaNoWriMo can do about it. I mean even if they "disqualify" me for not writing an actual novel (which they won't do because they only verify word count - they don't actually read the submissions), I'll still be left with a mountain of raw story material that I can sift through later for refining.
Now a bit of bad news for my readers. I'm not planning on posting the stories as I write them. Since I'm hoping to end up with material I can send out to publishers (maybe journals or magazines), I want to keep it out of the public eye. Call it hubris, call it paranoia, call it selfish, call it a greedy capitalist mindset, call it whatever you want but I see it as the first tentative step towards a more professional writer's ethic.
Sorry.
Well, wish me luck and pray that I get these stories published so you can read them!
PS. For now, I'm still leaving up the stories I have posted at LoneTomato Sauce, but I might be axing that site as well. Read them while you can.
I suppose that's part of the genius of the event. It happens once-per-year, just enough time so that you forget how much you hated participating the year before.
I'm hoping this year will be more of a success for a bunch of reasons. One, I'm in the heart of a very creative city. There's a lot of amazing art and lots of culture to experience and I'm hoping that will serve as a rich source of inspiration. Two, I've read that Seattle has a lot of writers in residence (maybe because of all the rain?) and I'm hoping the NaNoWriMo will be a way for me to tap into this community. A quick visit to their bulletin board told me that there are a couple meeting/writing places already set up for the event in the Seattle area. One near West Seattle, where I live. Three, I'm hoping this will be a way for me to get even more serious about my writing and to further my dreams of publication (see blog 229).
Four, I'm going into the event knowing I'm going to be breaking one of the "rules." Sort of.
From the FAQs section of the NaNoWriMo website:
How do you define "novel?" Does fan fiction count? What if I want to write interconnected short stories rather than a novel? What if my story is largely autobiographical, or is based on a real person? Can I still write it in November?
We define a novel as "a lengthy work of fiction." Beyond that, we let you decide whether what you're writing falls under the heading of "novel." In short: If you believe you're writing a novel, we believe you're writing a novel too.
Well, I know I won't be writing a novel and I won't even pretend to call it that. At best it will be a collection of short stories that might be interconnected, but just as likely will not be. What I mean is, I'm going into this year's NaNo knowing that I'm not writing a novel. I'm writing a collection of short stories.
Part of what killed me last year was the ridiculous notion that I had to be writing a NOVEL to participate. I spent way too much time trying to construct these large narrative arcs when that's just not how I write. I mean, the very word, "novel," scares the crap out of me. Writing something that big sounds too much like work. Looking back now, I see that I was being far too anal retentive about the rules. I mean for crying out loud, it's a free event and if I "won," all they'd give me is a web icon and some kind of certificate.
So this year, I'm not going to even pretend that I'm writing a novel. I am writing a collection of short stories and there's nothing anybody at NaNoWriMo can do about it. I mean even if they "disqualify" me for not writing an actual novel (which they won't do because they only verify word count - they don't actually read the submissions), I'll still be left with a mountain of raw story material that I can sift through later for refining.
Now a bit of bad news for my readers. I'm not planning on posting the stories as I write them. Since I'm hoping to end up with material I can send out to publishers (maybe journals or magazines), I want to keep it out of the public eye. Call it hubris, call it paranoia, call it selfish, call it a greedy capitalist mindset, call it whatever you want but I see it as the first tentative step towards a more professional writer's ethic.
Sorry.
Well, wish me luck and pray that I get these stories published so you can read them!
PS. For now, I'm still leaving up the stories I have posted at LoneTomato Sauce, but I might be axing that site as well. Read them while you can.
Monday, October 09, 2006
230. ...like a church for books
OMG, today I visited the most breathtaking library I have ever seen. Now ordinarily the words, "breathtaking" and "library" don't go together, but the Seattle Library's Central Library is no ordinary library. First of all, the building itself is an architectural wonder (see images here). It seems far to beautiful for something as utilitarian as a library, and maybe that's the point.
Airports terminals are known as places where the architecture makes a grand, sweeping statement about the aesthetics of a place (see Kansai International, for example), because for visitors, it's the first thing they see upon arrival. However, I think an argument could be made for the idea that a city's main library can (and should) also make a statement.
Anyway, back to the Seattle Central Library. This thing must be experienced to be understood. It's not just a building with books, it's a carefully thought through, purposefully designed space where form closely follows function.
For example, the dewey decimal system numbers that correspond to the books on the shelves are printed in large block text on the floor tiles adjacent to the shelves themselves (see here). These numbers ramp up (literally...I'll get to that in a second) sequentially, so there's no hunting around trying to find the 700s or the 200s. The floors are linked by a ramp that winds its way around the library so you're never at a loss as to how to find the book you're looking for. This is quite unlike most libraries I've been to where at the end of one shelf you find books in the 300s but the 400s are in another wing entirely. Genius.
There are lots of tables and very comfortable chairs. There's also free wi-fi, a feature that no library should be without. Also, the tables have power strips conveniently located on the table top - no more searching for outlets on the floor.
I know it'll sound like I'm resorting to hyperbole here, but it really does feel like sacred space. Information is one of God's great gifts to us and this library certainly highlights that fact (intentionally or not).
Oh, and behind the scenes is an amazing automated system of conveyer belts that mechanically sorts books through the use of RFID tags (basically tiny transmitters). There's a little kiosk near the desk where you sign up for a library card that tells you all about it. They're justifiably proud of their system because it's kick-ass, geek-out technology.
One last bit about the library, it's not a place for acrophobia (fear of heights) sufferers. The exterior walls are made of glass (the steel, load bearing beams are on the interior) and because the library has been designed with lots of open space, it's just about impossible to not be aware of how high up you are. I don't think I'm afraid of heights (never had that problem before) but there were parts of the library that left me feeling a bit woozy.
All that to say, if you visit Seattle, make it a point to check out the library. Now to most, that probably sounds as stupid as saying, be sure to visit the dentist, but this is not just a library. It's an experience. Even if you don't like to read, it's fascinating to walk through an architectural space quite unlike any other.
Airports terminals are known as places where the architecture makes a grand, sweeping statement about the aesthetics of a place (see Kansai International, for example), because for visitors, it's the first thing they see upon arrival. However, I think an argument could be made for the idea that a city's main library can (and should) also make a statement.
Anyway, back to the Seattle Central Library. This thing must be experienced to be understood. It's not just a building with books, it's a carefully thought through, purposefully designed space where form closely follows function.
For example, the dewey decimal system numbers that correspond to the books on the shelves are printed in large block text on the floor tiles adjacent to the shelves themselves (see here). These numbers ramp up (literally...I'll get to that in a second) sequentially, so there's no hunting around trying to find the 700s or the 200s. The floors are linked by a ramp that winds its way around the library so you're never at a loss as to how to find the book you're looking for. This is quite unlike most libraries I've been to where at the end of one shelf you find books in the 300s but the 400s are in another wing entirely. Genius.
There are lots of tables and very comfortable chairs. There's also free wi-fi, a feature that no library should be without. Also, the tables have power strips conveniently located on the table top - no more searching for outlets on the floor.
I know it'll sound like I'm resorting to hyperbole here, but it really does feel like sacred space. Information is one of God's great gifts to us and this library certainly highlights that fact (intentionally or not).
Oh, and behind the scenes is an amazing automated system of conveyer belts that mechanically sorts books through the use of RFID tags (basically tiny transmitters). There's a little kiosk near the desk where you sign up for a library card that tells you all about it. They're justifiably proud of their system because it's kick-ass, geek-out technology.
One last bit about the library, it's not a place for acrophobia (fear of heights) sufferers. The exterior walls are made of glass (the steel, load bearing beams are on the interior) and because the library has been designed with lots of open space, it's just about impossible to not be aware of how high up you are. I don't think I'm afraid of heights (never had that problem before) but there were parts of the library that left me feeling a bit woozy.
All that to say, if you visit Seattle, make it a point to check out the library. Now to most, that probably sounds as stupid as saying, be sure to visit the dentist, but this is not just a library. It's an experience. Even if you don't like to read, it's fascinating to walk through an architectural space quite unlike any other.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
229. these dreams
Call it the unbridled optimism of one who finds himself in a new land (I imagine the gold rush settlers felt the same), but as I look to begin my job search in earnest next week, I feel like I'm embarking on an adventure where the outcome is as limitless as it is unknown. A part of me sees this as an opportunity to reinvent myself, to take on the grand challenges that God has created me to tackle, to become who I was always meant to be.
I just wish I knew what that looked like.
"What would you want it to look like?"
Well first of all, I'd like my band to be a success and to me that means, at the very least, the ability to support ourselves through playing music alone. Basically, that means making enough through the band that I don't need to have a "regular" job to pay the bills. At the extreme end of the dream is global musical domination where we get to tour the world playing for sold out audiences.
This dream, in its most sublime expression, would include an episode where I go out on a date with Paris Hilton. On this date, I would point out how sad and shallow her public persona is. She is so taken by this critique that she renounces her Hilton inheritance, moves to Calcutta and takes up where Mother Theresa left off.
"Uh huh. Anything else?"
Yeah, I'd also like to be a bestselling short story writer.
I've actually taken my first baby steps in this direction (see blog 221), and to add to this, I just purchased a very simple book about how to break into the publishing industry. It's just a primer on the very basics (like those ____ for Dummies books) but since I have absolutely no knowledge of the industry whatsoever, I'm finding it fascinating. Once I make it through this book, I plan on picking up the 2007 Novel and Short Story Writer's Market (if it's out).
"So you picked up a book on publishing. Big deal."
Yeah, maybe, but there's more to it than that. See, I'm not big on confidence. I was talking with an artist friend of mine recently and he talked about how on the surface he's full of bravado and daring when it comes to his work but deep down inside, there's a part of him that wonders if he has what it takes to follow through.
I told him I was the complete opposite of that.
On the surface, I think my writing is only worth reading for free on blogs like this one (see blog 206). Why would anyone pay to read my prosaic rants or my meandering short stories? But buried deep beneath this self-effacement is a tiny brain cell that thinks I actually have something to say - that the powerful play goes on, and I will contribute a verse (apologies to Walt Whitman).
Normally, buying even a simple book on publishing would be impossible for me because the surface insecurity would tell me it was futile. But today, that tiny brain cell asserted itself and I brought that book home with me.
Funny thing about the brain. It's always making new connections. Computer engineers working in the field of artificial intelligence might say that the neural networks in our brains are massively parallel - that we process things simultaneously rather than sequentially. Our brain can operate this way because of the new connections that are created (and which multiply geometrically) when we learn something new.
Now that my little brain cell of literary belief is firing away, who knows where that will take me.
Another case in point. Today I made my final shopping decisions at IKEA. Turns out I'm going to be spending almost twice as much on my desk and my chair (where I plan to do most of my writing) as I will on my bed frame and mattress. This was a deliberate move on my part - a way to tell myself that I'm serious about giving this writing thing a go.
There are some people out there who compensate for their insecurities by talking themselves up, by overselling themselves. These are the kinds of people who end up as incompetent upper management types. In contrast, I acquiesce to my insecurities by not putting myself out there.
But not any more.
I'm not saying that I'm going to turn into Jack Nicholas' character in the (excellent) movie "As Good As It Gets," but I am dipping my little toe into the pool of possibilities. And the water seems nice and warm.
"Yeah, and teeming with sharks."
Well then I'll be sure to bring along some tartar sauce.
I just wish I knew what that looked like.
"What would you want it to look like?"
Well first of all, I'd like my band to be a success and to me that means, at the very least, the ability to support ourselves through playing music alone. Basically, that means making enough through the band that I don't need to have a "regular" job to pay the bills. At the extreme end of the dream is global musical domination where we get to tour the world playing for sold out audiences.
This dream, in its most sublime expression, would include an episode where I go out on a date with Paris Hilton. On this date, I would point out how sad and shallow her public persona is. She is so taken by this critique that she renounces her Hilton inheritance, moves to Calcutta and takes up where Mother Theresa left off.
"Uh huh. Anything else?"
Yeah, I'd also like to be a bestselling short story writer.
I've actually taken my first baby steps in this direction (see blog 221), and to add to this, I just purchased a very simple book about how to break into the publishing industry. It's just a primer on the very basics (like those ____ for Dummies books) but since I have absolutely no knowledge of the industry whatsoever, I'm finding it fascinating. Once I make it through this book, I plan on picking up the 2007 Novel and Short Story Writer's Market (if it's out).
"So you picked up a book on publishing. Big deal."
Yeah, maybe, but there's more to it than that. See, I'm not big on confidence. I was talking with an artist friend of mine recently and he talked about how on the surface he's full of bravado and daring when it comes to his work but deep down inside, there's a part of him that wonders if he has what it takes to follow through.
I told him I was the complete opposite of that.
On the surface, I think my writing is only worth reading for free on blogs like this one (see blog 206). Why would anyone pay to read my prosaic rants or my meandering short stories? But buried deep beneath this self-effacement is a tiny brain cell that thinks I actually have something to say - that the powerful play goes on, and I will contribute a verse (apologies to Walt Whitman).
Normally, buying even a simple book on publishing would be impossible for me because the surface insecurity would tell me it was futile. But today, that tiny brain cell asserted itself and I brought that book home with me.
Funny thing about the brain. It's always making new connections. Computer engineers working in the field of artificial intelligence might say that the neural networks in our brains are massively parallel - that we process things simultaneously rather than sequentially. Our brain can operate this way because of the new connections that are created (and which multiply geometrically) when we learn something new.
Now that my little brain cell of literary belief is firing away, who knows where that will take me.
Another case in point. Today I made my final shopping decisions at IKEA. Turns out I'm going to be spending almost twice as much on my desk and my chair (where I plan to do most of my writing) as I will on my bed frame and mattress. This was a deliberate move on my part - a way to tell myself that I'm serious about giving this writing thing a go.
There are some people out there who compensate for their insecurities by talking themselves up, by overselling themselves. These are the kinds of people who end up as incompetent upper management types. In contrast, I acquiesce to my insecurities by not putting myself out there.
But not any more.
I'm not saying that I'm going to turn into Jack Nicholas' character in the (excellent) movie "As Good As It Gets," but I am dipping my little toe into the pool of possibilities. And the water seems nice and warm.
"Yeah, and teeming with sharks."
Well then I'll be sure to bring along some tartar sauce.
Friday, October 06, 2006
228. first impressions of Seattle
So I'm finally settled in my new place in Seattle. It's a cool little place. My room is a bit smaller than what I'm used to but with some creative choices from IKEA, I'll make it work.
It's strange waking up here. Apart from the fact that I'm still sleeping on the floor (haven't made my final IKEA decisions yet), the thought that the place is HOME for me hasn't quite sunk in yet. Of course I've only slept there one night so far, so I suppose it's no surprise that things still feel new and unfamiliar, but I've been in the mainland for a week now and the idea that I'm not going to be going back to Hawaii (for at least a couple years) hasn't sunk in yet.
It's just too soon to tell, but overall I'm still very much in excited-to-be-here mode.
I've also unofficially taken this first week to not worry about finding work. I'm going to try and soak up what I can of the city without a car. I actually have enough in the bank to buy the car outright, but because I opened up the account with such a large check (from money I cashed out from utilities stock that my parents were putting away for me), they're not going to clear it for a couple weeks.
First impressions of living here:
1. It's BIG.
I don't mean that the city is big, I mean just being on the mainland itself makes me feel like I'm in a place where the roads never end. It's a trip (no pun) to see freeway signs that point the way to cities a whole state (or country) away, like Portland or Vancouver B.C. And to know that one could hit the road and end up in New York or Miami or even (conceptually) the southern tip of South America is pretty amazing.
I can't wait to get my car so I can go exploring. Not that I'm planning a trip to Peru, but I would like to strike out and see more of the state (time and financing providing).
2. Moving out on one's own is expensive.
Big lesson learned first day shopping for necessities: blankets are freaking expensive! And what the hell is the difference between a comforter and a blanket? How can you tell which blankets will keep you warm and which will leave your feet shivering?
It's amazing to see how much small stuff you need to make life work and how quickly all the minutia adds up. I mean I expected to pay a bunch for furniture but I didn't expect to see how quickly little things like waste baskets, towels, laundry bin, shower curtain, etc. can put a dent in your budget.
And speaking of shower curtains, did you know that shower curtains DO NOT come with the little hooks you need to hang them up? What's up with that? I got home from our first big supply shopping trip and was looking forward to a warm shower when I made this discovery. DOH! (Oh and there's a matte side and a smooth side to the curtain...does it matter which side faces in towards the shower?)
3. The divide between the powerful, the hip (the powerfully hip?) and everyone else seems a lot wider here.
In Hawaii, maybe it's because of the laid back attitude when it comes to wardrobe and attitude, it's sometimes difficult to tell the power players from the wannabes. 'Round Seattle, people exude raw power and confidence like it's perfume or cologne. I mean it's not done in an obvious way, but there's just something about the way some people carry themselves here - you just know they're in command of some heavy responsibilities and that they're compensated handsomely for it.
Likewise, the "in" crowd is unmistakable. They're down and they know it. You can just tell by the way they use their walk (and that paint can they're carrying) they're planning an incredibly hip night in impossibly hip (and secret) places with flawlessly hip people. And you're not invited.
These two factors can be a bit intimidating until I remember that I'm not here to start a career. I'm here in pursuit of a dream (global musical domination) so the powerful and the hip do not scare me. They're somewhat irrelevant because they're a means to an end. Not that I'm discounting their need for love and for Jesus, but keeping that in mind helps me to not be afraid of this new place.
4. I love IKEA.
I'm not saying IKEA is the end all and be all of furniture (I hear their stuff doesn't last), but for a person on a tight budget, their stuff looks a helluva lot nicer than 2 x 10s and cinder blocks.
One item that I'm particularly excited about is a TROMSO twin loft bed set with accessory table and shelf unit. Basically it's a bunk bed, but instead of a bottom bed, there's a desk underneath. Unfortunately, I guess the bed was designed for a room with higher ceilings than what I'm living in because the estimated space between the top of the mattress and the ceiling is a mere 20". Getting in to sleep isn't going to be fun but if submariners can do it. . .
"But you're not a submariner."
Hey, worst case scenario, I can get a hacksaw and cut two or three inches off the legs. In any case, I think the benefits far outweigh the costs. I don't think there's any other way to fit a bed and a desk in the room and both are necessities for me so if I need to mimic a Chinese contortionist to get into bed, so be it.
"But you're neither Chinese nor a contortionist."
Ahem.
Yeah, so the other thing that surprised me about the store is that basically everything is on sale. You know how in most furniture stores there's art on the walls and little sculpture things on the tables to give the display a homey feel? Well at IKEA, all the window dressing is for sale. Just about every item in the room displays has a little price tag attached to it - everything from the rug to the lighting to the bookends to the little cup holding pens and pencils (which are probably also on sale).
Lastly, there's an IKEA cafeteria-style restaurant inside the store and the food there is really good. I had the herb crusted salmon while Marty and Jen shared a plate of Swedish meatballs. We sampled each other's dishes and rave reviews abounded.
5. Marty and Jennifer are hella-cool roomates.
Mega kudos to them for finding the place. It's in West Seattle which, from what I've seen of it, is a relatively nice neighborhood. There are some areas that look a bit shady (and I'm not referring to the tree cover), but overall I feel safe walking or jogging around the area. The place itself is a lot nicer that I thought. It's a new development and we're the first ones to reside in the unit so everything is brand new.
Jen is a great cook and Marty is a great driver (until I get my own car). This is my first time living with roommates but so far it's been smooth sailing.
"You're not just saying this because they read your blog?"
Nope, I really mean it.
"They're not going to lower your rent you know."
I still mean it.
It's strange waking up here. Apart from the fact that I'm still sleeping on the floor (haven't made my final IKEA decisions yet), the thought that the place is HOME for me hasn't quite sunk in yet. Of course I've only slept there one night so far, so I suppose it's no surprise that things still feel new and unfamiliar, but I've been in the mainland for a week now and the idea that I'm not going to be going back to Hawaii (for at least a couple years) hasn't sunk in yet.
It's just too soon to tell, but overall I'm still very much in excited-to-be-here mode.
I've also unofficially taken this first week to not worry about finding work. I'm going to try and soak up what I can of the city without a car. I actually have enough in the bank to buy the car outright, but because I opened up the account with such a large check (from money I cashed out from utilities stock that my parents were putting away for me), they're not going to clear it for a couple weeks.
First impressions of living here:
1. It's BIG.
I don't mean that the city is big, I mean just being on the mainland itself makes me feel like I'm in a place where the roads never end. It's a trip (no pun) to see freeway signs that point the way to cities a whole state (or country) away, like Portland or Vancouver B.C. And to know that one could hit the road and end up in New York or Miami or even (conceptually) the southern tip of South America is pretty amazing.
I can't wait to get my car so I can go exploring. Not that I'm planning a trip to Peru, but I would like to strike out and see more of the state (time and financing providing).
2. Moving out on one's own is expensive.
Big lesson learned first day shopping for necessities: blankets are freaking expensive! And what the hell is the difference between a comforter and a blanket? How can you tell which blankets will keep you warm and which will leave your feet shivering?
It's amazing to see how much small stuff you need to make life work and how quickly all the minutia adds up. I mean I expected to pay a bunch for furniture but I didn't expect to see how quickly little things like waste baskets, towels, laundry bin, shower curtain, etc. can put a dent in your budget.
And speaking of shower curtains, did you know that shower curtains DO NOT come with the little hooks you need to hang them up? What's up with that? I got home from our first big supply shopping trip and was looking forward to a warm shower when I made this discovery. DOH! (Oh and there's a matte side and a smooth side to the curtain...does it matter which side faces in towards the shower?)
3. The divide between the powerful, the hip (the powerfully hip?) and everyone else seems a lot wider here.
In Hawaii, maybe it's because of the laid back attitude when it comes to wardrobe and attitude, it's sometimes difficult to tell the power players from the wannabes. 'Round Seattle, people exude raw power and confidence like it's perfume or cologne. I mean it's not done in an obvious way, but there's just something about the way some people carry themselves here - you just know they're in command of some heavy responsibilities and that they're compensated handsomely for it.
Likewise, the "in" crowd is unmistakable. They're down and they know it. You can just tell by the way they use their walk (and that paint can they're carrying) they're planning an incredibly hip night in impossibly hip (and secret) places with flawlessly hip people. And you're not invited.
These two factors can be a bit intimidating until I remember that I'm not here to start a career. I'm here in pursuit of a dream (global musical domination) so the powerful and the hip do not scare me. They're somewhat irrelevant because they're a means to an end. Not that I'm discounting their need for love and for Jesus, but keeping that in mind helps me to not be afraid of this new place.
4. I love IKEA.
I'm not saying IKEA is the end all and be all of furniture (I hear their stuff doesn't last), but for a person on a tight budget, their stuff looks a helluva lot nicer than 2 x 10s and cinder blocks.
One item that I'm particularly excited about is a TROMSO twin loft bed set with accessory table and shelf unit. Basically it's a bunk bed, but instead of a bottom bed, there's a desk underneath. Unfortunately, I guess the bed was designed for a room with higher ceilings than what I'm living in because the estimated space between the top of the mattress and the ceiling is a mere 20". Getting in to sleep isn't going to be fun but if submariners can do it. . .
"But you're not a submariner."
Hey, worst case scenario, I can get a hacksaw and cut two or three inches off the legs. In any case, I think the benefits far outweigh the costs. I don't think there's any other way to fit a bed and a desk in the room and both are necessities for me so if I need to mimic a Chinese contortionist to get into bed, so be it.
"But you're neither Chinese nor a contortionist."
Ahem.
Yeah, so the other thing that surprised me about the store is that basically everything is on sale. You know how in most furniture stores there's art on the walls and little sculpture things on the tables to give the display a homey feel? Well at IKEA, all the window dressing is for sale. Just about every item in the room displays has a little price tag attached to it - everything from the rug to the lighting to the bookends to the little cup holding pens and pencils (which are probably also on sale).
Lastly, there's an IKEA cafeteria-style restaurant inside the store and the food there is really good. I had the herb crusted salmon while Marty and Jen shared a plate of Swedish meatballs. We sampled each other's dishes and rave reviews abounded.
5. Marty and Jennifer are hella-cool roomates.
Mega kudos to them for finding the place. It's in West Seattle which, from what I've seen of it, is a relatively nice neighborhood. There are some areas that look a bit shady (and I'm not referring to the tree cover), but overall I feel safe walking or jogging around the area. The place itself is a lot nicer that I thought. It's a new development and we're the first ones to reside in the unit so everything is brand new.
Jen is a great cook and Marty is a great driver (until I get my own car). This is my first time living with roommates but so far it's been smooth sailing.
"You're not just saying this because they read your blog?"
Nope, I really mean it.
"They're not going to lower your rent you know."
I still mean it.
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