7:30am.

The biological alarm clock has woken me up in time for work. That's sweet of me. Very reliable.

But in fact, I have been telling everyone that I leave for China on Wednesday April 23rd. So far no one has said what I have been thinking. Which is that this is a preposterous and ridiculous idea. China. Mongolia.

The plane takes off in.. seven hours and fifteen minutes. I have no idea what to expect. I'm not even really sure how I'll find Vijay. Somehow though after all the snags I've hit so far, I have a feeling that it will all just come together.

I am in denial. What I do have is a lot of film, three cameras, a blank book for general writing and drawing and a book with songs to play on my sister's ukulele. Not a bad instrument for $20ish dollars. Not bad at all.

If it's true that I'm about to ship myself to a series of countries where I speak none of the languages. Aside from a few off-tone words in Mandarin. I think this will be my bravest adventure yet.

I've heard that Blogger is magically difficult to access within the PRC. I have been advised by various parties to both keep myself to myself and deliver a swift kick to the tenders of the people in charge, but I've been reading up. I haven't decided what I think yet. All I can say for certain is that life in China has been very different from the life I've had here. For better or worse, I haven't ruled out that idea (don't remember whose it was. Freud? he can't have thought of everything..) that most people are trying to do what's right and have the same values at heart, but with very different manifestations of how that should play out in the real world. So, a culture clash. I don't agree with everything they do, but I don't agree with everything almost anyone does. Obv, there are magnitudes of scale to consider, but I'm not going to hate on anyone till I feel like I get it from their point of view.

So this will be a trip about eyes and ears and chance and letting go. An adventure.

Why you may not have seen me at work

Or, The bliss that is staying home sick.

I love being at home when I have fresh flowers. It seems like a waste not to be here while they're still in top form. And I have been home the past few days. Lazing about the apartment, having called in sick.

And I'm my favorite kind of sick: slightly sore of throat with a voice somewhere between pirate and Marge Simpson. I'm a bit congested, but not so much that I can't sleep comfortably, which I've been doing most of the past two days. In a word, blissful. Granted I'm only ever awake about 3 hours at a time, but after working tirelessly for 6ish months, I'm, well, tired.

My goal is to become at the very least, uncongested by time I hop on the long flight to Beijing. Flying at 30,000 ft. with excess sinus pressure = no fun.

All day the intro to Heima where I'm suppose to click Play SetUp or Chapters has been playing its song. Something like record player static with wind chimes and the sound of a baby sleeping. I am in a good mood.

It feels good just to let work things go for a few days and think about me. About China and Iceland and what to do afterward. About how I think I could feel good about spending more time working on green things. Plants, conservation, green energy, organic farming. I want to feel like my days are mine again. Like I am me the whole day, instead of just when I'm at home.

I think I have learned a lot about various things by working. About getting things done, and checking in with yourself to make sure you're doing the stuff you wanted to do. About how there will be points where you just can't do everything and you have to make decisions. And all of that learning is telling me I need some adventure. I will go to Iceland. And maybe to Sweden and islands of the Scottish highlands. Or to France and Spain. I will read and play music and find out what is happening in the world. And how I can make a difference.

And it feels better working knowing that I'm preparing for a next step. Knowing that there is an end in sight. Only it's not an end. It's all kinds of possibility. Even if possibility includes retreat and ending up penniless in Seattle, where I started. I haven't read the Brothers Karamazov, but I imagine it would have something to say about that.

Were you aware of it? vol. 4: Springhaas

Wikipedia has this to say about what may be the world's cutest rodent.

The Springhare (Pedetes capensis), or Springhaas, is not actually a hare, but a member of the order Rodentia.

The Springhare resembles a small kangaroo (though unrelated) with well-developed hind legs, which allows it to leap over 2 meters in a single bound. It is for this ability which it gets its name. This animal grows to be around 35–45 cm in length excluding its long tail, and weighs an average of 3 kg. The colour of this mammal varies from a reddish-brown to a pale grey, with a black tip on the tail.

The Springhare lives only in south-eastern Africa, feeding on plant matter and even occasionally insects. They have four toes on their hind feet with claws that look like small hoofs and a thick muscular neck supporting their short head. They also have large eyes, and their ears have a tragus that prevents sand from entering when they are digging.

The females give birth to a single infant about three times a year. Unlike some other rodents, springhares are born furred, and are active within a very short time of birth. An extended period of parental care helps to mitigate a birth-rate that is, among rodents, remarkably low.

Springhares are mostly nocturnal but are occasionally active in the day. During the daytime, they live in tunnels that they dig. Sometimes they leap out of their burrows when they come out at night.

Startjumpin' Marnie

Did I mention that I won $4.80 at the race track last Thusday?

step one

i appear to have finished tabbing my teacher's version of fireball mail. i have even played it without looking at my paper. slowly. and not always perfectly. but i tabbed it. and i played it. all the way through. all by myself!

i'm not really good enough to be proud of myself. and i wish my banjo sounded more orange and less blue. more twangy and less watery. but i played one version of earl scruggs' fireball mail all the way through, all by myself.

in the end, i didn't really use the vid or the pre-made tabs i found in my 26 favorite banjo songs book since they didn't match what my teacher was playing. somehow doing it by ear and using my scraps of memory was .. i don't know if easier is the right word, but ... easier.

some day i want to be this guy:



i have a banjo. all i need are skills and a porch swing.

Owned by The Man

Big sigh.

These past few weeks have been tough. This is probably one of those times when I should censor myself, but I'm too tired and have let my guard down. My mouth has been running all over the place.

Basically I've been working too much. The series of 9, 10, 11, 12 hour days in too rapid succession is taking its toll and I'm teetering. It has gotten to the point where gathering breakfast is very difficult and confusing. ...even on weekends when the only option is a bowl of grapenuts. Walking through the hall feels like I'm towing a cart of bricks. The brain, my source of constant entertainment, has been eerily quiet.

Something needs to be done about it. I need to do something about it. I've probably been a little Too open with the "feedback" to my manager about how they need to start fixing stuff or we're (read: I'm) going to burn out. I seem to be the farthest along on that front. Silly me decided at some point that I wanted to be promoted before my retirement, which is threatening to come sooner and sooner.

All I know is, watching Heima, the thought of my hands buried in Icelandic dirt is absolutely blissful and right-feeling.

Vampire Weekend / A-Punk

As my floorboards are rumbling to Vampire Weekend / A-Punk, I'm glad that my neighbors at least have good taste in music. Or, maybe I'm just pleased with myself for being able to recognize the song from just the base line.

Speaking of music though, I MAY have just finished tabbing out Fireball Mail, that herculean task assigned by my banjo teacher. The end might be a little off, but it's pretty close, I think. It helped that I took the day off from work. Man, did I ever need it. I probably won't look super convincing tomorrow, but I can't work with that fuzzy-brain feeling that comes just before a shut down.

Tea party coming up this Sunday. Looks like there should be a good turnout, so I'm excited about that. I've been itching to break out the croquet set for weeks now. Saturday also promises une nuit française. It's been too long since we've had one of those.

I can't believe China is coming up so fast. I keep having to turn down invitations explaining I'll be in across the Pacific, but I'm always surprised to hear the words coming out of my mouth. China. I've been reading up, but it still doesn't seem quite real, which could be due in part to the fact that I've done next to zero planning for it, but I feel like this needs to be one of those vacations that you just let happen however they happen. I would like to at least get train tickets to Mongolia and back hammered out though..

Friday I wandered into this vintage clothing shop in the Lower Haight on my circuitous way to Aaron's opening, and there were these two girls dressed like.. one was dressed sort of like a Japanese elf and the other girl looked like maybe like a gypsy. And they were singing. improv. singing about celebrate celebrate celebrate. be happy. meow meow meow. and somehow it was perfect. It was like some kind of easy magic. Aaron's show a couple of doors down was impressive. He got a good turnout. There was a bar and a dj and maybe ten of his new paintings. Seeing those hanging on the wall, I realized I'd never seen his stuff in person before. I was struck again by how talented he is. I always find myself wondering what the world must look like to him with those images floating in his head. I made sure to say hello and congratulations before ducking out.

I walked in the wind down the hill to BART thinking about footsteps.