can't sleep.
there was a surreal moment, i'm not certain what time it was, but it was dead of the night late, when i definitely heard a whole household break out in laughter somewhere in the neighborhood. i just thought it so odd that a bunch of people would break out in one loud and abrupt peal of laughter so late in the night. i was almost tempted to go and see if it was a real household holding a late party or something...
had strange dreams, and the sensation of things shifting. we have a lot of our windows open, so it is not unusual to feel light winds or temperature drops, but there are times when it seems as though there isn't a legitimate wind per se, and it just gets a bit cool anyway. also, sometimes the clicks that occur in the house when, i suppose, the wood just expands or contracts, sometimes they occur in greater frequency, or even in patterns. at one point, i was drifting in light sleep, and i heard three distinct clicks (almost like someone knocking). when i stirred myself awake, i could hear birds murmuring in sleep nearby (there is always a particular bird stirring in our bottle-brush tree). as i tried to fall back asleep, i heard some bag shift, again with three distinct sounds.
in the yard, or out in back, on occasion, i hear a crisp stirring in the grass. i strain my ears to hear more sounds. there is an odd "clip-clopping" and an "eating" sound that accompanies pigs. cats are, generally, a bit stealthier and silent. i rise to the window to search out shapes in the darkness. tonight, i haven't been successful in seeing anything.
i went to my son's room to meditate. i often wander into his room when i am restless. a lot of the time, i find him tossing and turning in his sleep. i wish i could enter his dreams and help him with whatever problems he might be having there. i wish i could make his dreams peaceful and happy...
***
my own dreams, now fading... something about a tenrikyo party. oh, and yes. something about how i had to go home alone in my car from a party held somewhere in the countryside, but also at a house near renton road (in dream geography, a place can actually be a composite of several "real places," occupying two regions at once). i was driving on a road through sugar cane (which no longer exists out in the ewa side), and started to come upon little statues of odd little men. i realized that these were "kagutaba" (after a disturbing japanese film, "noroi," that i happened to come across in youtube). when i came upon the turn to the next town, i saw a huge kagutaba statue. i thought it strange how something so horrible was being used as a tourist marker.
i recall having a thought about out of the way towns, near the sunset. wondering how they could appear so forlorn, and yet how each place was also, to those who lived there, a warm and welcoming home. i thought about how the places that seemed so dead and forgotten could also come alive and be filled with residents rejoicing and "hanging out," how a nothing place could turn into something close to heavenly.
but then i thought about how nobody celebrates in the dead of night. other things wander the earth when most eyes are closed in sleep and dreams...
for some reason, as i mentioned, there was this tenrikyo party. it was held at a mansion. the only thing i recall about the layout of the mansion was that we were either in the basement or the first floor, a very spacious deal, done up in a very homey style. to me, it resembled a vast dorm common room, where people (i pictured college age, all reproductively viable and active) would come down from studying to just hang out. anyway, there were supposed to be stairs leading up to the ground floor/second floor. there were stairs, but for some reason, i couldn't find the appropriate stairs. some were tiny spiral staircases, so narrow that one had to practically contort one's body to enter a tiny manhole into the room above. it seemed as though these were like "crow's nest" rooms, designed for one person (i recall having an aside thought about how such rooms were probably fire code violations). another staircase turned at such strange angles that, again, one would have to violently contort in order to fit through the passage...
(i'm thinking these staircases could have been an artifact from watching that disturbing "noroi" video: one individual in that film died when he stuffed himself and got stuck in a ventilation shaft).
i recall seeing this guy koji whom i knew briefly when i was in japan, and in los angeles. apparently, in my dream, he was head of the young men's association (or whatever), and they were going to start their meeting. even though i had known him in the past, he didn't really acknowledge my presence. not a big deal, really, as i am not/was not really a figure of note...
and that's that, i suppose. a convoluted tangle of a dream, signifying nothing in particular, and leaving me with a vague feeling of dissatisfaction and overall dread.
***
it is raining quite heavily now. in some ways, i love the rain because it is very egalitarian. it falls down on everything equally, like a curtain. in this, it probably unites the world, and gives peace to it. at least, that's my aesthetic impression of the rain, sitting here in this pitch black room in doors...
it beats the silence, anyway.
***
it's a difficult transitional time for me, i suppose. i graduated from uh, but my job prospects seem very uncertain. i have interviewed at five schools so far. i was offered a job at one, but turned it down (perhaps foolishly), because it appeared to be a bit out of my league, and i was counting on the other four (which were more my field). got turned down by another. there are three prospects left. my mother pointed out that, in an article in the newspaper, due to budget concerns, several positions are to be cut, many of them in sped. i wonder if the positions i interviewed for still exist...
well, that just means that i have to continue to work hard on my patient load. possible, doable. i've actually been thinking more about adjuncts, like craniosacral therapy (partially in relation to, ironically, learning disabilities, notably the tie between sphenobasilar joint dysfunctions and certain forms of dyslexia). not that i'm sure it works, or anything, but it is very noninvasive, and at the least, it is a calming method that can accompany a lot of acupuncture treatments. i've also been practicing more body-reading, to better address some of the global aspects and problems of posture... all of this in my own pedantic way.
this afternoon, i worked pretty hard on the "planter box" on the left side of our house. i have been wanting to plant something there, if only to keep the weeds from setting in. i worked hard to clear a section of weeds, broke the hard soil, mixed in some compost. i drew a sketchy plan using different varieties of portulaca and two types of alyssum, and planted two of the portulaca that i bought this morning. i hope that the plants will start to take, and grow well in their new home...
a brief reflection occured to me as i worked the planter box. it is not enough to remove weeds and clear ground. if you want to claim ground, you must plant something new in its place. if you don't, weeds will set in immediately after. what was that saying? from where? "nature abhors a vacuum." it is true. i was thinking of this with regards to working with children in education. it is not enough to "remove weeds" via corrective statements, etc. you also have to fill them up with something good, i.e. things to support their self-esteem. if you don't "follow through" on this next step, then the weeds will only set in once again...
***
well, i'm going to reattempt sleep. hopefully, i'll have no more disturbing dreams (and neither will my son).
tomorrow is another day.
Monday, June 28, 2010
it is a hard thing to be five years old.
it is particularly hard when you have a father who is ostensibly loving, but who shows his love through an unpredictable alternation of doting and cruelty...
***
i love my son deeply. but the love of a father for a son is, by necessity, complex. it is important for a boy, even a very young boy, to learn how to be independent and tough. i say this not only because there are benefits in and of themselves to these qualities, but more because it is the social expectation that boys should be independent and tough early on. if they are not, then they face a very difficult road ahead.
i should know, because i was not particularly tough, and i earned the disgust of many, and multiplied it in my own self-perceptions as if to show the world that i could hate myself far better and with more vicious subtlety than anyone else could. it is the demon that i created, as an abreaction (or perhaps my one act of competitiveness?) to the repugnance people felt in my presence as a child. and it is this demon that i hope my own son will avoid.
i tell and show my son that i love him, and am very proud of him. i am, truly. he is by nature very kind and gentle. he never treats people unfairly, or looks down upon anyone. he never intentionally hurts anyone. many of his peers have already "developed" to the point where they make distinctions and judgments about people, and choose those who are "worthy of attention" and consciously ignore or insult those who are not. i am proud that my son remains "naive" and undeveloped in this regard. if it is a sign of immaturity that he remains this way, then so be it.
even at five years old, many children will refuse to listen to a boy who is not as articulate as they are. even at five years old, many children will "know" who stands out, and laugh. this is perfectly understandable, as their adult models do it all the time, and probably even urge their children to be this way. competition is inbred, and in the blood from a very early age. we all want the best for our kids, don't we?
sometimes i think that you have to be born with a gentle soul to appreciate and remain gentle, despite all the conditioning of our modern-day competitive environment. sometimes i think that you have to already know, deep down in your bones, that the competitive way of the world is not the true or only way of the world, that it is possible (and wonderful) to find friends anywhere and everywhere, and not just in some vaunted "in crowd." sometimes i think that you have to already be born with a heart that knows this freedom and simplicity, to walk the world without carrying so many judgments.
i think i knew this once as strongly as my son (fragile though he is) knows it. i think i, at one point, truly believed it, and held it as the only truth of the world. i think it is this that allows me to relate to children and animals so easily (they are far less judgmental about the universe). but i also think that time and experience have conditioned me, and made me, at the same time, bitter and cynical about the meanness of people. this, even after i've come to realize that "mean people" are hardly to blame, that there are compulsions and "necessities" to be that way...
i want to find a way for my son to retain this gentle heart, even as the world ignores or insults him. i want to teach him how to be "tough," so that the world does not hurt him. i want him to respect himself, to see his gentleness as a special strength, and not as a weakness or liability (as the world would have him think). but it is a hard thing to do...
***
well, enough negative ruminations... last night, we performed in ryusei taiko's biannual recital. it was an awesome experience. willow and aiden did a great job. i had to tell myself (and them) that they managed to perform on a stage under bright lights before 500 or so people at five and seven years old. me at that age? i could never have done what they'd done, and with such composure. very very proud.
i got to play in "kaizen" and "iwai." with regards to "iwai," i think i did well. however, there is a tendency for me to "space out" when i am confronting the fear and nervousness (the "reality") of performing before a live audience. it just feels like a part of myself tunes out, kinda like a lesser form of an out-of-body experience. perhaps it is a defense mechanism to prevent myself from getting overwhelmed with nervousness; problem is that it also makes me prone to losing focus and "spirit." i did manage to kinda get back into gear, cheering on my classmates, and pushing all i had into my solo (which i did well on, even if i didn't stick my landing).
taiko is so-o-o great. i'm so happy my kids have had the rare opportunity to join a taiko group at so young an age. it's all about spirit and expression, as well as keeping in time with your group (teamwork, camaraderie, or something in between); things that i wish i had experienced when i was young...
***
well, it's getting late. i've got treatments and a class to teach tomorrow. tonight i will sit with my son as he sleeps, watching over him, and cradling his head, to feel the unwinding of his sphenoid as he dreams deep and fathomless dreams... and perhaps my hands will keep all of his dreams from turning sour and sad. i would keep all of his tears and all of his demons for myself...
it is particularly hard when you have a father who is ostensibly loving, but who shows his love through an unpredictable alternation of doting and cruelty...
***
i love my son deeply. but the love of a father for a son is, by necessity, complex. it is important for a boy, even a very young boy, to learn how to be independent and tough. i say this not only because there are benefits in and of themselves to these qualities, but more because it is the social expectation that boys should be independent and tough early on. if they are not, then they face a very difficult road ahead.
i should know, because i was not particularly tough, and i earned the disgust of many, and multiplied it in my own self-perceptions as if to show the world that i could hate myself far better and with more vicious subtlety than anyone else could. it is the demon that i created, as an abreaction (or perhaps my one act of competitiveness?) to the repugnance people felt in my presence as a child. and it is this demon that i hope my own son will avoid.
i tell and show my son that i love him, and am very proud of him. i am, truly. he is by nature very kind and gentle. he never treats people unfairly, or looks down upon anyone. he never intentionally hurts anyone. many of his peers have already "developed" to the point where they make distinctions and judgments about people, and choose those who are "worthy of attention" and consciously ignore or insult those who are not. i am proud that my son remains "naive" and undeveloped in this regard. if it is a sign of immaturity that he remains this way, then so be it.
even at five years old, many children will refuse to listen to a boy who is not as articulate as they are. even at five years old, many children will "know" who stands out, and laugh. this is perfectly understandable, as their adult models do it all the time, and probably even urge their children to be this way. competition is inbred, and in the blood from a very early age. we all want the best for our kids, don't we?
sometimes i think that you have to be born with a gentle soul to appreciate and remain gentle, despite all the conditioning of our modern-day competitive environment. sometimes i think that you have to already know, deep down in your bones, that the competitive way of the world is not the true or only way of the world, that it is possible (and wonderful) to find friends anywhere and everywhere, and not just in some vaunted "in crowd." sometimes i think that you have to already be born with a heart that knows this freedom and simplicity, to walk the world without carrying so many judgments.
i think i knew this once as strongly as my son (fragile though he is) knows it. i think i, at one point, truly believed it, and held it as the only truth of the world. i think it is this that allows me to relate to children and animals so easily (they are far less judgmental about the universe). but i also think that time and experience have conditioned me, and made me, at the same time, bitter and cynical about the meanness of people. this, even after i've come to realize that "mean people" are hardly to blame, that there are compulsions and "necessities" to be that way...
i want to find a way for my son to retain this gentle heart, even as the world ignores or insults him. i want to teach him how to be "tough," so that the world does not hurt him. i want him to respect himself, to see his gentleness as a special strength, and not as a weakness or liability (as the world would have him think). but it is a hard thing to do...
***
well, enough negative ruminations... last night, we performed in ryusei taiko's biannual recital. it was an awesome experience. willow and aiden did a great job. i had to tell myself (and them) that they managed to perform on a stage under bright lights before 500 or so people at five and seven years old. me at that age? i could never have done what they'd done, and with such composure. very very proud.
i got to play in "kaizen" and "iwai." with regards to "iwai," i think i did well. however, there is a tendency for me to "space out" when i am confronting the fear and nervousness (the "reality") of performing before a live audience. it just feels like a part of myself tunes out, kinda like a lesser form of an out-of-body experience. perhaps it is a defense mechanism to prevent myself from getting overwhelmed with nervousness; problem is that it also makes me prone to losing focus and "spirit." i did manage to kinda get back into gear, cheering on my classmates, and pushing all i had into my solo (which i did well on, even if i didn't stick my landing).
taiko is so-o-o great. i'm so happy my kids have had the rare opportunity to join a taiko group at so young an age. it's all about spirit and expression, as well as keeping in time with your group (teamwork, camaraderie, or something in between); things that i wish i had experienced when i was young...
***
well, it's getting late. i've got treatments and a class to teach tomorrow. tonight i will sit with my son as he sleeps, watching over him, and cradling his head, to feel the unwinding of his sphenoid as he dreams deep and fathomless dreams... and perhaps my hands will keep all of his dreams from turning sour and sad. i would keep all of his tears and all of his demons for myself...
Saturday, June 26, 2010
seventeen,
if you find me again at forty
don't be so quick to judge me
give me the benefit of the doubt.
behind the practiced expressions
are a few that are still raw and true
and from the detritus of old phrases,
i've strung together odd words
into something that you might still find cool.
seventeen,
so selfish without knowing it,
don't horde all the promises and verve
save a little for me
you'll never know when you'll need a hope
to pull you from the rut of your own
footsteps.
seventeen and forty
may not seem to have a thing in common
but a thread runs constant
through changing tapestries.
forty knows it well:
tethered to memory.
seventeen,
so arrogant
and clean
if you find me again at forty
don't be so quick to judge me
give me the benefit of the doubt.
behind the practiced expressions
are a few that are still raw and true
and from the detritus of old phrases,
i've strung together odd words
into something that you might still find cool.
seventeen,
so selfish without knowing it,
don't horde all the promises and verve
save a little for me
you'll never know when you'll need a hope
to pull you from the rut of your own
footsteps.
seventeen and forty
may not seem to have a thing in common
but a thread runs constant
through changing tapestries.
forty knows it well:
tethered to memory.
seventeen,
so arrogant
and clean
Friday, June 25, 2010
at the moment, it is 3 am and raining quite steadily. i've awoken, carrying remnants of a dream of an aquarium of monstrosities, impossible sea creatures, in my head, and the song "speed of sound" (coldplay) playing in a nauseatingly stuck soundtrack.
there is a feeling of sadness and frustration hanging within me.
freud once said that there are only two things that can cure a patient: love and work. i think this is true. love is a source and an end; it is the yin aspect of everything that i do, the "cellular bath" that nourishes and sustains me. work is the alignment with the principles of efficacy and worth; it is the yang aspect, and the ability to stand upright and (literally) "make a difference."
***
there are many symptoms, shifting and disguising themselves repeatedly, but there is a commonality to them, recognizable only over time. for myself, there has always been the positing of a hidden figure sabotaging the clear way before me, a "secret and self-directed hatred" that has continually baffled and confounded me. to know that it originates from within me is little consolation or cure, just as knowing that lupus is an autoimmune condition does not help patients live with the pain of their disease. i have fought this shadow in a myriad of ways, but usually through my innate skills at sleight of hand, concealment and distraction. if i am a blocked river, i have always found other ways to flow.
but it is only a matter of time before those waters turn dark and muddy, heavy with the accretions of their frustrated passage. it is always only a matter of time before the shadow returns...
***
the one redeeming factor of possessing an irrational and relentless disease is that it gives a person extra pause before judging others. no, the world is not always the logical place it pretends to be, and quite often, there are eddies and currents that blur circumstances and make everything "not make sense." i know this to be true.
sometimes, it is not our place to judge or solve the world. sometimes the best thing we can do is to meet people where they are, and simply abide with them.
sometimes the best thing, the only thing, we can do is find the point of resistance and stay there.
and wait.
***
i encountered these words of advice somewhere: "try your best, and when you don't know what to do, ask god and the spirits for help. when you still don't know what to do, have a cup of tea."
alternatively: "we do our best work. then we sit back and wait."
there is a feeling of sadness and frustration hanging within me.
freud once said that there are only two things that can cure a patient: love and work. i think this is true. love is a source and an end; it is the yin aspect of everything that i do, the "cellular bath" that nourishes and sustains me. work is the alignment with the principles of efficacy and worth; it is the yang aspect, and the ability to stand upright and (literally) "make a difference."
***
there are many symptoms, shifting and disguising themselves repeatedly, but there is a commonality to them, recognizable only over time. for myself, there has always been the positing of a hidden figure sabotaging the clear way before me, a "secret and self-directed hatred" that has continually baffled and confounded me. to know that it originates from within me is little consolation or cure, just as knowing that lupus is an autoimmune condition does not help patients live with the pain of their disease. i have fought this shadow in a myriad of ways, but usually through my innate skills at sleight of hand, concealment and distraction. if i am a blocked river, i have always found other ways to flow.
but it is only a matter of time before those waters turn dark and muddy, heavy with the accretions of their frustrated passage. it is always only a matter of time before the shadow returns...
***
the one redeeming factor of possessing an irrational and relentless disease is that it gives a person extra pause before judging others. no, the world is not always the logical place it pretends to be, and quite often, there are eddies and currents that blur circumstances and make everything "not make sense." i know this to be true.
sometimes, it is not our place to judge or solve the world. sometimes the best thing we can do is to meet people where they are, and simply abide with them.
sometimes the best thing, the only thing, we can do is find the point of resistance and stay there.
and wait.
***
i encountered these words of advice somewhere: "try your best, and when you don't know what to do, ask god and the spirits for help. when you still don't know what to do, have a cup of tea."
alternatively: "we do our best work. then we sit back and wait."
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
as i was working on a patient, i thought of my role as a teacher and as a "healer." i thought, actually, about my role as a participant in my world...
when i work on soft tissue, there is a point of resistance beyond which it becomes intrusive and invasive to proceed. my job as a "healer" or bodyworker is to approach that point of resistance in as inobtrusive a manner as possible, and just "stay there," and wait for something to happen. yes, there is some degree of intention on my part, because oftentimes i have to move things in certain directions; but the greater part of what i do is what i DON'T do. a greater part of what i do is simply meeting the patient at the point of resistance and doing nothing.
i thought about this with regards to teaching as well. the ideal teacher (which, i realize, i am not, although i strive for this) strives to meet the student where he or she is at (the point of resistance). this place of meeting is articulated in a variety of ways, depending upon theoretical orientation... for example, there is vygotsky's zone of proximity (i think that's what he called it)... and in early childhood educational theory, there is talk about "entering the child's world, in order to interact through it." one might also talk about formative assessment in this regard. the point is that the teacher has to first approach and "know" the student well. this initial approach and understanding of the student is itself "therapeutic" if done properly, because it initiates in the student a feeling of trust and "being known and understood."
the crux and debate of teaching comes when we consider what to do when we meet the student at the point of resistance, and when (or how quickly) to do it. if we are particularly forceful, then we assert our agenda; if we are more aligned with the constructivist orientation, then we only provide minimal guidance, and allow education to take place in its truest sense ("educate" comes from a latin root meaning "to draw out")... i believe it depends on what you are trying to teach, and to whom. younger children require order and structure with regards to instruction in the basics of reading and math. at the same time, they should be given the opportunity to "play," preferably with "toys" that allow them to discover the world. older students, on the other hand, refuse to be "told what to do," and unless they evince or demonstrate a passion for an art to the same degree as the teacher, then it makes little sense to try to "impose" instruction upon them.
when i work on soft tissue, there is a point of resistance beyond which it becomes intrusive and invasive to proceed. my job as a "healer" or bodyworker is to approach that point of resistance in as inobtrusive a manner as possible, and just "stay there," and wait for something to happen. yes, there is some degree of intention on my part, because oftentimes i have to move things in certain directions; but the greater part of what i do is what i DON'T do. a greater part of what i do is simply meeting the patient at the point of resistance and doing nothing.
i thought about this with regards to teaching as well. the ideal teacher (which, i realize, i am not, although i strive for this) strives to meet the student where he or she is at (the point of resistance). this place of meeting is articulated in a variety of ways, depending upon theoretical orientation... for example, there is vygotsky's zone of proximity (i think that's what he called it)... and in early childhood educational theory, there is talk about "entering the child's world, in order to interact through it." one might also talk about formative assessment in this regard. the point is that the teacher has to first approach and "know" the student well. this initial approach and understanding of the student is itself "therapeutic" if done properly, because it initiates in the student a feeling of trust and "being known and understood."
the crux and debate of teaching comes when we consider what to do when we meet the student at the point of resistance, and when (or how quickly) to do it. if we are particularly forceful, then we assert our agenda; if we are more aligned with the constructivist orientation, then we only provide minimal guidance, and allow education to take place in its truest sense ("educate" comes from a latin root meaning "to draw out")... i believe it depends on what you are trying to teach, and to whom. younger children require order and structure with regards to instruction in the basics of reading and math. at the same time, they should be given the opportunity to "play," preferably with "toys" that allow them to discover the world. older students, on the other hand, refuse to be "told what to do," and unless they evince or demonstrate a passion for an art to the same degree as the teacher, then it makes little sense to try to "impose" instruction upon them.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
in honor of father's day...
i am reposting (or, rather, posting links to) a few of the entries that i think best capture some of my thoughts/feelings on fatherhood...
first is "sudoku," a short story in nine segments that was supposed to say something about fatherhood, but (or and?) ended up being about memory and regret and parallel lines and stuff...
http://marsilani.blogspot.com/2008/01/short-story-sudoku_6841.html
next is "bumper car boy," a spontaneously written poem about my feelings regarding my son... something about holding him back and protecting him versus letting him be...
http://marsilani.blogspot.com/2010/02/bumper-car-boy.html
third is "willow weep for me: transplant/transparent," which is actually more about the general theme of new parenthood (the anxieties and hopes), and the ambiguous process of "duty to ancestors" (there's a dirty play on words there...):
http://marsilani.blogspot.com/2008/01/short-story-willow-weep-for-me-side_5886.html
and finally, perhaps the first written thing in this whole lot, a poem called "the one that got away" which takes a somewhat negative view on the absence/distance of fathers:
http://marsilani.blogspot.com/2007/12/poem-one-that-got-away_2022.html
SO HAPPY PAPPY's DAY!!!
first is "sudoku," a short story in nine segments that was supposed to say something about fatherhood, but (or and?) ended up being about memory and regret and parallel lines and stuff...
http://marsilani.blogspot.com/2008/01/short-story-sudoku_6841.html
next is "bumper car boy," a spontaneously written poem about my feelings regarding my son... something about holding him back and protecting him versus letting him be...
http://marsilani.blogspot.com/2010/02/bumper-car-boy.html
third is "willow weep for me: transplant/transparent," which is actually more about the general theme of new parenthood (the anxieties and hopes), and the ambiguous process of "duty to ancestors" (there's a dirty play on words there...):
http://marsilani.blogspot.com/2008/01/short-story-willow-weep-for-me-side_5886.html
and finally, perhaps the first written thing in this whole lot, a poem called "the one that got away" which takes a somewhat negative view on the absence/distance of fathers:
http://marsilani.blogspot.com/2007/12/poem-one-that-got-away_2022.html
SO HAPPY PAPPY's DAY!!!
Saturday, June 19, 2010
shaky videos of minneapolis trip
at fort worth airport during stopover.
at dunwoody institute of technology, on a cold morning prior to taking my praxis tests... went to the basilica in this video. lot of boring walking.
still prior to taking praxis tests. went across the street from dunwoody to sculpture garden (walker art center). cute rabbit at the end.
again, at walker art center, this time with lynn. at a field next to the walker art center were free lessons in how to crack a bullwhip...
a driving tour by wayne takeshita through st. paul...
at dunwoody institute of technology, on a cold morning prior to taking my praxis tests... went to the basilica in this video. lot of boring walking.
still prior to taking praxis tests. went across the street from dunwoody to sculpture garden (walker art center). cute rabbit at the end.
again, at walker art center, this time with lynn. at a field next to the walker art center were free lessons in how to crack a bullwhip...
a driving tour by wayne takeshita through st. paul...
videos from minneapolis
here are some really shaky videos i took during our trip to minneapolis.
1. at fort worth airport, at some sculpture in the middle of the airport.
1. at fort worth airport, at some sculpture in the middle of the airport.
Friday, June 18, 2010
feeling minnesota iii
not much left to report...
there was the pleasant sunday when lynn and i took a trip back to dunwoody technical institute to venture into the sculpture garden once again. we got there at about midday. there were many more people there, and in fact, there were a couple of weddings going on in the park: one looked jewish, while the other looked like an ethiopian wedding. lynn and i sauntered through the park, taking whimsical pictures of the sculptures. for example, there was one picture taken of lynn "holding" the famous spoon with a cherry. and there was another picture that i took (which came out remarkably well) of lynn "wearing a hat" consisting of the floating hare on a bell... there was one sequestered "sculpture" consisting of a series of benches surrounding an empty space. upon each bench was etched some artistic/philosophical/pseudo-intellectual statement... one of them, i recall, was commenting upon how fortunate we are that our stomachs don't eat us up from the inside, or something to that effect. most (hell, all) had a decidedly dark and cynical take on life. frankly, quite depressing. it reaffirms the impression that modern art (which likes to think of itself as post-modern) is created/performed/whatever by poor, starving individuals who struggle to make a name for themselves by twisting logic and convention in idiosyncratic (and fundamentally negativistic) ways... not unlike myself.
we ventured into the walker art museum, which was across the street from the sculpture garden. we really didn't see the exhibits in the museum (although i remember a few things: like how the walls going to the downstairs bathroom were covered in cartoon eyes; and how there was a big bean bag "plug" hanging over a set of stairs; and there was a white hall with a net containing fragments of glass that looked like ice). we (or rather i) just used the bathroom inside, and perused the museum store for gifts. kinda depressing, actually, how we only took advantage of the museum to take a poop and be commercial consumers, looking for some kooky souvenirs. but whatever.
on the field beside the walker art museum, there was a free lesson in "how to crack a bullwhip." a woman explained that this was part of the "walker open field" program, in which anyone could suggest and direct free activities for the community to participate in. apparently, they wanted people to use the field as a gathering place to celebrate art and life and culture. it was such a cool idea, i regretted that i didn't live in minneapolis. anyway, we did participate (although i made snide remarks about how lynn really didn't need any lessons in cracking whips). i tried to look at bullwhipping as a kind of taijiquan thing (the metaphor has actually been used, to describe how the soft motions can deliver incredible force)- but of course, i kinda wasn't too proficient with the whip, and at one point mildly lashed meself on me own buttocks... (symbolic, in a way). but i (and lynn) had fun.
around the field were beautiful apartments, with full glass windows. would be a nice place to live, if i were stuck in minneapolis, for some reason. in the sky, hovering on the winds, was a lone itinerant hawk/falcon.
lynn and i then ventured the other way, past the basilica, looking for more of "minneapolis city life." we passed the metropolitan university (?) of minneapolis, which was abandoned... we glimpsed a vast park full of water and bridges... a bicycle stand full of yellow bikes that you could rent from the city (they were labeled, "nice ride." i was tempted to make some kind of snide remark...). we were going to have a bite to eat in a local cafe, but when we entered, it was dead silent, even though it was pretty full; no doubt a bunch of SERIOUS students working on laptops. reminiscent of a library. we decided not to eat there, because our conversation, NAY, the crunch made by us eating a salad, would disrupt the atmosphere of the place... we passed a more urbane and rude joint next door, where i overheard the following snippet of a conversation:
dude a: "this one" pointing to a tattoo "i got 'bout half a year ago."
dude b: "where'd you get it?"
dude a: "on my arm."
dude b: "haha. clever."
despairing of finding any place to lose ourselves in (everything was red brick and somewhat empty streets), we headed back...
***
i also recall (dimly) going to the mall of america's nickelodeon universe and salty the shark's underwater adventure with the kids on our last full day. with regards to the latter, most of what i saw was pretty standard fare as far as aquariums go: but i did get seriously freaked when i saw how big an alligator snapping turtle was (it is literally as big as a little man, with tremendous jaws; i will never go skinny dipping in a lake EVER)... and i was reminded how disturbing nurse sharks look, even though they are one of the most harmless sharks in the sea.
at nickelodeon universe, i must (with shame) comment on one "ride" that left me humiliated. there is this thing called the "ghostly gangplanks" or something, where (strapped into a harness) you walk up a series of stairs on a kind of metal scaffolding, crossing planks and rope bridges over sheer nothingness and a potential fall... willow wanted to go, so, thinking myself the protecting father, i accompanied her. lo and behold, my daughter is fearless!!! she kept going up and up and up, crossing over bridges and planks that progressively required more and more courage over greater and greater heights... now, i have an innate fear of heights, which i thought i could conquer. but by the time we were on the next to the last level, about five stories up, staring at rope bridges with no supports, i clung to the scaffolding, and told willow that i had enough: "daddy is scared," i admitted, "and i think we have to go down now." seriously, my hands and feet were sweating, and the only thing that kept me going was this steady focus on my breath and this refusal to stray into a dizzying spiral of panic. so we went down the stairs, and i went down a few pegs in the eyes of my child... shameful. i like to tell myself that i was protecting willow from potential trauma, but to be honest, i was only protecting myself... oh well. if i had time and the inclination, i'd work on that. but honestly, when am i ever going to NEED to stand sixty feet over a brink, without a firm footing??? (just watch, i WILL need to, and likely repeatedly, in the next week or so).
***
there was the pleasant sunday when lynn and i took a trip back to dunwoody technical institute to venture into the sculpture garden once again. we got there at about midday. there were many more people there, and in fact, there were a couple of weddings going on in the park: one looked jewish, while the other looked like an ethiopian wedding. lynn and i sauntered through the park, taking whimsical pictures of the sculptures. for example, there was one picture taken of lynn "holding" the famous spoon with a cherry. and there was another picture that i took (which came out remarkably well) of lynn "wearing a hat" consisting of the floating hare on a bell... there was one sequestered "sculpture" consisting of a series of benches surrounding an empty space. upon each bench was etched some artistic/philosophical/pseudo-intellectual statement... one of them, i recall, was commenting upon how fortunate we are that our stomachs don't eat us up from the inside, or something to that effect. most (hell, all) had a decidedly dark and cynical take on life. frankly, quite depressing. it reaffirms the impression that modern art (which likes to think of itself as post-modern) is created/performed/whatever by poor, starving individuals who struggle to make a name for themselves by twisting logic and convention in idiosyncratic (and fundamentally negativistic) ways... not unlike myself.
we ventured into the walker art museum, which was across the street from the sculpture garden. we really didn't see the exhibits in the museum (although i remember a few things: like how the walls going to the downstairs bathroom were covered in cartoon eyes; and how there was a big bean bag "plug" hanging over a set of stairs; and there was a white hall with a net containing fragments of glass that looked like ice). we (or rather i) just used the bathroom inside, and perused the museum store for gifts. kinda depressing, actually, how we only took advantage of the museum to take a poop and be commercial consumers, looking for some kooky souvenirs. but whatever.
on the field beside the walker art museum, there was a free lesson in "how to crack a bullwhip." a woman explained that this was part of the "walker open field" program, in which anyone could suggest and direct free activities for the community to participate in. apparently, they wanted people to use the field as a gathering place to celebrate art and life and culture. it was such a cool idea, i regretted that i didn't live in minneapolis. anyway, we did participate (although i made snide remarks about how lynn really didn't need any lessons in cracking whips). i tried to look at bullwhipping as a kind of taijiquan thing (the metaphor has actually been used, to describe how the soft motions can deliver incredible force)- but of course, i kinda wasn't too proficient with the whip, and at one point mildly lashed meself on me own buttocks... (symbolic, in a way). but i (and lynn) had fun.
around the field were beautiful apartments, with full glass windows. would be a nice place to live, if i were stuck in minneapolis, for some reason. in the sky, hovering on the winds, was a lone itinerant hawk/falcon.
lynn and i then ventured the other way, past the basilica, looking for more of "minneapolis city life." we passed the metropolitan university (?) of minneapolis, which was abandoned... we glimpsed a vast park full of water and bridges... a bicycle stand full of yellow bikes that you could rent from the city (they were labeled, "nice ride." i was tempted to make some kind of snide remark...). we were going to have a bite to eat in a local cafe, but when we entered, it was dead silent, even though it was pretty full; no doubt a bunch of SERIOUS students working on laptops. reminiscent of a library. we decided not to eat there, because our conversation, NAY, the crunch made by us eating a salad, would disrupt the atmosphere of the place... we passed a more urbane and rude joint next door, where i overheard the following snippet of a conversation:
dude a: "this one" pointing to a tattoo "i got 'bout half a year ago."
dude b: "where'd you get it?"
dude a: "on my arm."
dude b: "haha. clever."
despairing of finding any place to lose ourselves in (everything was red brick and somewhat empty streets), we headed back...
***
i also recall (dimly) going to the mall of america's nickelodeon universe and salty the shark's underwater adventure with the kids on our last full day. with regards to the latter, most of what i saw was pretty standard fare as far as aquariums go: but i did get seriously freaked when i saw how big an alligator snapping turtle was (it is literally as big as a little man, with tremendous jaws; i will never go skinny dipping in a lake EVER)... and i was reminded how disturbing nurse sharks look, even though they are one of the most harmless sharks in the sea.
at nickelodeon universe, i must (with shame) comment on one "ride" that left me humiliated. there is this thing called the "ghostly gangplanks" or something, where (strapped into a harness) you walk up a series of stairs on a kind of metal scaffolding, crossing planks and rope bridges over sheer nothingness and a potential fall... willow wanted to go, so, thinking myself the protecting father, i accompanied her. lo and behold, my daughter is fearless!!! she kept going up and up and up, crossing over bridges and planks that progressively required more and more courage over greater and greater heights... now, i have an innate fear of heights, which i thought i could conquer. but by the time we were on the next to the last level, about five stories up, staring at rope bridges with no supports, i clung to the scaffolding, and told willow that i had enough: "daddy is scared," i admitted, "and i think we have to go down now." seriously, my hands and feet were sweating, and the only thing that kept me going was this steady focus on my breath and this refusal to stray into a dizzying spiral of panic. so we went down the stairs, and i went down a few pegs in the eyes of my child... shameful. i like to tell myself that i was protecting willow from potential trauma, but to be honest, i was only protecting myself... oh well. if i had time and the inclination, i'd work on that. but honestly, when am i ever going to NEED to stand sixty feet over a brink, without a firm footing??? (just watch, i WILL need to, and likely repeatedly, in the next week or so).
***
Thursday, June 17, 2010
i am a water spirit
i have a natural flow
but life (or me?) sequesters
it in thousand bowls all in a row
within each bowl a flavor
and a poison and a cure
but after time and many bowls
which one's which: i'm not so sure
at heart i'm very simple
and at times i want to flow
but life (or me?) sequesters
me in thousand bowls all in a row.
i have a natural flow
but life (or me?) sequesters
it in thousand bowls all in a row
within each bowl a flavor
and a poison and a cure
but after time and many bowls
which one's which: i'm not so sure
at heart i'm very simple
and at times i want to flow
but life (or me?) sequesters
me in thousand bowls all in a row.
feeling minnesota ii
after finishing my praxis (is the plural praxi? or praxises?), i gpsed my way over to debbie's house. a lot of people were there, getting ready for the wedding, which was to take place at a local hall. there was a lot of laotian food made up. i ate some of the eggrolls (awesome) and the sticky rice (awesome) and the ground up fish with the special sauce that you were supposed to roll up in the lettuce leaves (a little messy but awesome), but passed on the dish with the minced up tripe (it's a consistency thing. something about chewing up some animal's rubbery guts...). didn't really get a chance to rest, as the praxis had seriously delayed my schedule, so i got dressed, and got the kids dressed too, and it was off to the hall for the wedding...
the hall was a large room hung up with christmas lights. it had a stage, and when we arrived, some local thai/laotian band called "blue sky" was doing a mike check. btw, the sound was super loud. cranked up to 11, as they'd say in spinal tap. there was actual concern about the placement of the cake too close to the speakers, as this would collapse it, or perhaps spray icing into the crowd (no such concern was given for irreversible damage to ear follicles).
lynn and i were given the duty of watching the reception table. we kind of got a late start to that duty, as we were on again off again participants in the ceremony itself. how can i describe the laotian ceremony? well, first of all, the bride and groom were dressed in beautiful laotian attire. for soukan, the groom, this consisted of a white silken suit, with a blue sash running from one shoulder to the contralateral hip. debbie was dressed similarly, with a white dress and an ornate blue sash. there was a large mat laid out in the center of the hall, and on that mat were two- i don't really know how to describe them- little mountain monuments made out of green leaves and flowers, with dollar bills folded around toothpicks stabbed into it all, and offerings of fruit and chicken and eggs around the base, and white streamers hanging all around... the couple knelt before these "monuments", and the family knelt all around the couple. a "priest" (dressed quite ordinarily, in a suit) began a long and intricate chant in laotian, punctuated periodically by the crowd shouting "oooh!" at certain points, members of the family laid hands upon the bride/groom, or used their hands to support the arms of the bride/groom, symbolizing how the family would provide support for the bride/groom in their new life together. and then, towards the end, the bride and groom tied white bracelets around each other's wrists; i was told that these white bracelets contained the best wishes of people, and were not be removed. individual family members also tied the bracelets around the wrists of the bride and groom and also got bracelets themselves. after that, the bride and groom blew out candles/incense at the tops of the monuments, exchanged rings (actually a very minor, almost hidden part of the ceremony), and had a kiss...
oddly enough, after this laotian ceremony, there was also another "ceremony," conducted by a largish man dressed in something akin to what an informal catholic priest would wear. he also conducted a very brief ceremony in english, and using the language of catholicism: "by the power of the father, the son, and the holy ghost..." it was this man who had and officiated over the formal and legally binding papers (i remember there was some question about whether the bride and groom really needed to sign them or not)... this, to me, was interesting. i wanted to know about the relationship between catholicism and laotian culture; was it similar to the situation in certain lands, like haiti for instance, where christianity/catholicism mixed with the indigenous religion and rituals to form a kind of hybrid religion? or was it more the case that the two operated on different levels, with one being the "blood" religion of the people, and the other being the "raiment" or white clothed "voice" religion?
after the ceremony, well, it was a big long party. people streamed in, decked out in nice suits and dresses. formal, but not in the typical wedding style. in some cases, it seemed as though people were dressed up for prom. and this seemed appropriate, as it did feel like a dance party, with the band playing full blast, and the alcohol being poured and imbibed to abandon (the favors, which lynn and i passed out at the door, were shot glasses with the character for love printed across the front). as i said, lynn and i were responsible for greeting guests, receiving gifts, having people sign in, and giving guests the shot glass. we were admonished at times for being too demanding (apparently signing in, or receiving the shot glasses was voluntary), and at times for not being demanding enough (apparently signing in and receiving the shot glass was obligatory). lynn and i both learned the standard greeting, "sabaidi" (which our translating assistant, kai ? said meant, basically, "how are you?"). we started out saying it awkwardly, and then began to flourish it with hands held together in prayer formation as a greeting. at first, guests mirrored our awkwardness, seeing we were clearly foreigners, but as the night progressed, we seemed to get more into it. at some points, guests actually thought i was lao, and would engage in conversation with me (usually about the hennesy, which, i gathered, they wanted me to pour into their shot glass)...
laotian music has a simple square beat. the singing can be very intricate and passionate, especially when women sing it (the female singer was exquisite, her voice was like that of a beautiful bird, straining at the constraints of her cage). the dancing was very simple, and in certain respects resembled a bon dance, with people forming lines that spun slowly around the floor in clockwise direction. the women would do this flipping movement with their hands, reminiscent of (to me) awa odori. some of them could be surprisingly suggestive with this simple movement (of course, their fitted dresses helped). the men, on the other hand, would do a more palms down pushing motion, kinda like they were saying, "hey, it's cool, it's cool."
lynn got a chance to dance with kai during the laotian "la bamba" cover. i also cut the rug for a bit, and thankfully didn't injure any nearby bystanders.
it was a long but fun night. we left the wedding party as it was beginning to wind down, at about 10:30 or 11:00...
okay, enough for tonight.
the hall was a large room hung up with christmas lights. it had a stage, and when we arrived, some local thai/laotian band called "blue sky" was doing a mike check. btw, the sound was super loud. cranked up to 11, as they'd say in spinal tap. there was actual concern about the placement of the cake too close to the speakers, as this would collapse it, or perhaps spray icing into the crowd (no such concern was given for irreversible damage to ear follicles).
lynn and i were given the duty of watching the reception table. we kind of got a late start to that duty, as we were on again off again participants in the ceremony itself. how can i describe the laotian ceremony? well, first of all, the bride and groom were dressed in beautiful laotian attire. for soukan, the groom, this consisted of a white silken suit, with a blue sash running from one shoulder to the contralateral hip. debbie was dressed similarly, with a white dress and an ornate blue sash. there was a large mat laid out in the center of the hall, and on that mat were two- i don't really know how to describe them- little mountain monuments made out of green leaves and flowers, with dollar bills folded around toothpicks stabbed into it all, and offerings of fruit and chicken and eggs around the base, and white streamers hanging all around... the couple knelt before these "monuments", and the family knelt all around the couple. a "priest" (dressed quite ordinarily, in a suit) began a long and intricate chant in laotian, punctuated periodically by the crowd shouting "oooh!" at certain points, members of the family laid hands upon the bride/groom, or used their hands to support the arms of the bride/groom, symbolizing how the family would provide support for the bride/groom in their new life together. and then, towards the end, the bride and groom tied white bracelets around each other's wrists; i was told that these white bracelets contained the best wishes of people, and were not be removed. individual family members also tied the bracelets around the wrists of the bride and groom and also got bracelets themselves. after that, the bride and groom blew out candles/incense at the tops of the monuments, exchanged rings (actually a very minor, almost hidden part of the ceremony), and had a kiss...
oddly enough, after this laotian ceremony, there was also another "ceremony," conducted by a largish man dressed in something akin to what an informal catholic priest would wear. he also conducted a very brief ceremony in english, and using the language of catholicism: "by the power of the father, the son, and the holy ghost..." it was this man who had and officiated over the formal and legally binding papers (i remember there was some question about whether the bride and groom really needed to sign them or not)... this, to me, was interesting. i wanted to know about the relationship between catholicism and laotian culture; was it similar to the situation in certain lands, like haiti for instance, where christianity/catholicism mixed with the indigenous religion and rituals to form a kind of hybrid religion? or was it more the case that the two operated on different levels, with one being the "blood" religion of the people, and the other being the "raiment" or white clothed "voice" religion?
after the ceremony, well, it was a big long party. people streamed in, decked out in nice suits and dresses. formal, but not in the typical wedding style. in some cases, it seemed as though people were dressed up for prom. and this seemed appropriate, as it did feel like a dance party, with the band playing full blast, and the alcohol being poured and imbibed to abandon (the favors, which lynn and i passed out at the door, were shot glasses with the character for love printed across the front). as i said, lynn and i were responsible for greeting guests, receiving gifts, having people sign in, and giving guests the shot glass. we were admonished at times for being too demanding (apparently signing in, or receiving the shot glasses was voluntary), and at times for not being demanding enough (apparently signing in and receiving the shot glass was obligatory). lynn and i both learned the standard greeting, "sabaidi" (which our translating assistant, kai ? said meant, basically, "how are you?"). we started out saying it awkwardly, and then began to flourish it with hands held together in prayer formation as a greeting. at first, guests mirrored our awkwardness, seeing we were clearly foreigners, but as the night progressed, we seemed to get more into it. at some points, guests actually thought i was lao, and would engage in conversation with me (usually about the hennesy, which, i gathered, they wanted me to pour into their shot glass)...
laotian music has a simple square beat. the singing can be very intricate and passionate, especially when women sing it (the female singer was exquisite, her voice was like that of a beautiful bird, straining at the constraints of her cage). the dancing was very simple, and in certain respects resembled a bon dance, with people forming lines that spun slowly around the floor in clockwise direction. the women would do this flipping movement with their hands, reminiscent of (to me) awa odori. some of them could be surprisingly suggestive with this simple movement (of course, their fitted dresses helped). the men, on the other hand, would do a more palms down pushing motion, kinda like they were saying, "hey, it's cool, it's cool."
lynn got a chance to dance with kai during the laotian "la bamba" cover. i also cut the rug for a bit, and thankfully didn't injure any nearby bystanders.
it was a long but fun night. we left the wedding party as it was beginning to wind down, at about 10:30 or 11:00...
okay, enough for tonight.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
feeling minnesota
we returned from our minnesota trip this afternoon.
we went up to "the land of 10,000 lakes" to attend debbie's (lynn's sister) wedding. we left for minnesota on thursday afternoon, immediately after the kids' violin lesson. so: thursday afternoon to tuesday afternoon, with commutes averaging 12 hours apiece... you can do the math. it was a whirlwind of a stay, with our circadian clocks severely misaligned and "off." add to that the fact that i had to take my praxis exam during the trip (as the praxis is only offered on specific weekends throughout the year, and one of the dates just happened to coincide with my time in minnesota), and the general chaos surrounding weddings in general (particularly this one, in a fascinating new culture), and you may understand why i'm not quite in my skin yet...
one of the reasons things did NOT completely degenerate into chaos was the wonderful planning and hospitality of wayne and jean takeshita. jean is irene's (my mother-in-law) sister. (oddly enough, wayne and jean are well-acquainted with a friend of mine, shari, who attended macalaster college during her undergraduate years- the world is a very small, tightly circumscribed circle). jean and wayne allowed me to borrow their car and their GPS (THANK GOD FOR TECHNOLOGY), and also opened up their home for my children and i. wayne and jean also planned several of the activities for us during our stay, including the wonderful day when our family "split up," with aiden going to a train museum, willow making new friends with wayne's nieces, and lynn and i exploring minneapolis by foot. wayne also gave us one of his famous tours of st. paul, making the place come alive with his unique historical perspective...
***
let me try to recount some of my memories... first of all, i recall jean and wayne's beautiful home in roseville (one of the older subdivisions in st. paul), with a spacious backyard (with no fences separating yards! symbolic) opening out into the woods. the trees- they were magnificent. many maples, cypresses, oaks, all in the full spectrum of verdancy, various shades of green, some almost looking blue in the grey light, and others "blushing emeralds." on that first night, with the sky only beginning to darken significantly at 9:30 pm (!!!), i recall studying in the quiet, fueled by jet lag and coke (and a healthy dose of fear), and taking breaks to breathe in the peacefulness of the place and peruse some of the books on the shelf of the room i was staying in. among other things, i found a lot of "island heritage" books i'd read as a child. one of them stood out; it was called "the old man and the astronauts," and it was about the reaction of an old man in papua, new guinea to the news of the first man walking on the moon... never quite understood it as a child, because i couldn't discern what was really happening from imagination ("alligators" on the moon, eating moon rocks...) in any case, i experienced a small surge of nostalgia at that...
i didn't get much sleep. i studied until about 2, and set the alarm for 5:30. i woke up before the alarm, largely because at 4:30, all of the birds began to sing. each individual bird in that freaking forest... no, i'm not complaining. in a way, it was fascinating to hear each voice announcing itself, with its own melody and rhythm. still invisible in that darkness and blue-grey haze, but singing, like the initial tune up of a symphony of hidden jewels... woke up, had some breakfast, received some encouragement from wayne (did he ever sleep?), and drove off...
first time i ever used a gps. it was actually quite easy. maybe it's because i'm used to women telling me what to do (hope lynn doesn't read this!!! :P). every time i made a mistake, the gps would utter (with some annoyance???) "recalculating." i think i will adopt that as a catch phrase whenever my kids do something wrong... "recalculating..."
i got to dunwoody institute of technology, where the test was to be held, at around 6:20. check-in was supposed to start at 7:30, so i had some time to kill. i walked around the area, notably to the basilica (can't recall the specific name, but it was advertised as the first basilica in the united states; will post pics later) and the "sculpture garden." the latter was a beautiful "park" filled with a variety of modern sculptures. at 6:30 am, in the early morning chill, i was almost the only soul in the place. i did spy a guy doing some "ancestral qigong" in some out-of-the-way corner, but all in all, the place was my own to stroll through and appreciate. i think that quiet time alone really grounded me for the ordeal that was to come...
okay. let me just say at the outset that the praxis tests i took were the worst administered tests i have ever experienced. first of all, we were supposed to check-in at 7:30, with the test starting (at the latest) at 8:00. remember that i was perhaps the first person there. i was waiting inside the building, and then at around 7:00, with no one making any announcement, i discover that there is a whole line that i was supposed to get into. so i go out the building, and find this long line going all the way out into the parking lot. i get to the back of the line, and, get this, i end up waiting there for OVER AN HOUR. it was pretty cold, and although i had dressed to be comfortable in an air conditioned room, i did not anticipate having to stand outside beneath semi-rainy weather for hours on end... so, we ended up actually starting the test at about 9:00. a whole hour late. the test administrators, the proctors, whatever, were very unprepared. they didn't have extra pencils, they were uncertain about some of the rules, etc. during the test, they held mini-conferences in our presence, whispering about what they were supposed to do... very disturbing.
the first test, the plt (principles of learning and teaching) was a ridiculously long test. it had 12 "short" answer questions, in which we had to write responses to different case studies, along with about 40 (?) multiple choice questions. the short answer questions were killer, not only because i tend to write lengthy responses, but also because the questions were very open-ended. "name two ways that you would improve this lesson." "name two things that were good about this lesson." etc.
the second test (which i had to wait in ANOTHER line for, for an additional 40 minutes or so) was the SPED core contest test, and that one was relatively easy. 60 multiple choice questions, 1 hour. again, there were administration issues. i was still copying down the "honor statement" ("i certify that i am the person taking this test...") when the proctor (honestly, she seemed a high school student; she couldn't read some of the words in the instructions correctly) said to begin the test...
... so that was the praxis. my feeling is, if i did well, then that's that. if i didn't, then i'm sure i and the 300 or so other test-takers will have sufficient grounds to complain about the invalidity of this so-called standardized test...
***
whew! well, i do have a lot of other things to talk about, but jet lag exhaustion is starting to hit me again. i will continue later...
we went up to "the land of 10,000 lakes" to attend debbie's (lynn's sister) wedding. we left for minnesota on thursday afternoon, immediately after the kids' violin lesson. so: thursday afternoon to tuesday afternoon, with commutes averaging 12 hours apiece... you can do the math. it was a whirlwind of a stay, with our circadian clocks severely misaligned and "off." add to that the fact that i had to take my praxis exam during the trip (as the praxis is only offered on specific weekends throughout the year, and one of the dates just happened to coincide with my time in minnesota), and the general chaos surrounding weddings in general (particularly this one, in a fascinating new culture), and you may understand why i'm not quite in my skin yet...
one of the reasons things did NOT completely degenerate into chaos was the wonderful planning and hospitality of wayne and jean takeshita. jean is irene's (my mother-in-law) sister. (oddly enough, wayne and jean are well-acquainted with a friend of mine, shari, who attended macalaster college during her undergraduate years- the world is a very small, tightly circumscribed circle). jean and wayne allowed me to borrow their car and their GPS (THANK GOD FOR TECHNOLOGY), and also opened up their home for my children and i. wayne and jean also planned several of the activities for us during our stay, including the wonderful day when our family "split up," with aiden going to a train museum, willow making new friends with wayne's nieces, and lynn and i exploring minneapolis by foot. wayne also gave us one of his famous tours of st. paul, making the place come alive with his unique historical perspective...
***
let me try to recount some of my memories... first of all, i recall jean and wayne's beautiful home in roseville (one of the older subdivisions in st. paul), with a spacious backyard (with no fences separating yards! symbolic) opening out into the woods. the trees- they were magnificent. many maples, cypresses, oaks, all in the full spectrum of verdancy, various shades of green, some almost looking blue in the grey light, and others "blushing emeralds." on that first night, with the sky only beginning to darken significantly at 9:30 pm (!!!), i recall studying in the quiet, fueled by jet lag and coke (and a healthy dose of fear), and taking breaks to breathe in the peacefulness of the place and peruse some of the books on the shelf of the room i was staying in. among other things, i found a lot of "island heritage" books i'd read as a child. one of them stood out; it was called "the old man and the astronauts," and it was about the reaction of an old man in papua, new guinea to the news of the first man walking on the moon... never quite understood it as a child, because i couldn't discern what was really happening from imagination ("alligators" on the moon, eating moon rocks...) in any case, i experienced a small surge of nostalgia at that...
i didn't get much sleep. i studied until about 2, and set the alarm for 5:30. i woke up before the alarm, largely because at 4:30, all of the birds began to sing. each individual bird in that freaking forest... no, i'm not complaining. in a way, it was fascinating to hear each voice announcing itself, with its own melody and rhythm. still invisible in that darkness and blue-grey haze, but singing, like the initial tune up of a symphony of hidden jewels... woke up, had some breakfast, received some encouragement from wayne (did he ever sleep?), and drove off...
first time i ever used a gps. it was actually quite easy. maybe it's because i'm used to women telling me what to do (hope lynn doesn't read this!!! :P). every time i made a mistake, the gps would utter (with some annoyance???) "recalculating." i think i will adopt that as a catch phrase whenever my kids do something wrong... "recalculating..."
i got to dunwoody institute of technology, where the test was to be held, at around 6:20. check-in was supposed to start at 7:30, so i had some time to kill. i walked around the area, notably to the basilica (can't recall the specific name, but it was advertised as the first basilica in the united states; will post pics later) and the "sculpture garden." the latter was a beautiful "park" filled with a variety of modern sculptures. at 6:30 am, in the early morning chill, i was almost the only soul in the place. i did spy a guy doing some "ancestral qigong" in some out-of-the-way corner, but all in all, the place was my own to stroll through and appreciate. i think that quiet time alone really grounded me for the ordeal that was to come...
okay. let me just say at the outset that the praxis tests i took were the worst administered tests i have ever experienced. first of all, we were supposed to check-in at 7:30, with the test starting (at the latest) at 8:00. remember that i was perhaps the first person there. i was waiting inside the building, and then at around 7:00, with no one making any announcement, i discover that there is a whole line that i was supposed to get into. so i go out the building, and find this long line going all the way out into the parking lot. i get to the back of the line, and, get this, i end up waiting there for OVER AN HOUR. it was pretty cold, and although i had dressed to be comfortable in an air conditioned room, i did not anticipate having to stand outside beneath semi-rainy weather for hours on end... so, we ended up actually starting the test at about 9:00. a whole hour late. the test administrators, the proctors, whatever, were very unprepared. they didn't have extra pencils, they were uncertain about some of the rules, etc. during the test, they held mini-conferences in our presence, whispering about what they were supposed to do... very disturbing.
the first test, the plt (principles of learning and teaching) was a ridiculously long test. it had 12 "short" answer questions, in which we had to write responses to different case studies, along with about 40 (?) multiple choice questions. the short answer questions were killer, not only because i tend to write lengthy responses, but also because the questions were very open-ended. "name two ways that you would improve this lesson." "name two things that were good about this lesson." etc.
the second test (which i had to wait in ANOTHER line for, for an additional 40 minutes or so) was the SPED core contest test, and that one was relatively easy. 60 multiple choice questions, 1 hour. again, there were administration issues. i was still copying down the "honor statement" ("i certify that i am the person taking this test...") when the proctor (honestly, she seemed a high school student; she couldn't read some of the words in the instructions correctly) said to begin the test...
... so that was the praxis. my feeling is, if i did well, then that's that. if i didn't, then i'm sure i and the 300 or so other test-takers will have sufficient grounds to complain about the invalidity of this so-called standardized test...
***
whew! well, i do have a lot of other things to talk about, but jet lag exhaustion is starting to hit me again. i will continue later...
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
some old vids of me and chiu style taijiquan
'bout 3 years ago, at kaka'ako park. lots of restarts, btw.
end of 2nd (or 1st) form, whole of 3rd (or 2nd) form:
sword and sabre forms:
end of 2nd (or 1st) form, whole of 3rd (or 2nd) form:
sword and sabre forms:
Friday, June 4, 2010
tonight, lynn and i dropped the kids off at ko'olina to stay with aunty joan and uncle ferman. afterwards, we swam in the nighttime pool together, drifting under the manmade waterfalls, and soaking for a time in the high-chlorinated jacuzzi. the coolest thing was swimming underwater with the strange glow of the pool lights illuminating our skin. oh yeah, that and repeatedly practicing handstands underwater (to the chagrin of lynn... as usual, i'm such a goofball).
in the quiet drive back, the city lights looked different. the windows of houses that we passed looked inviting, like a thousand versions of "welcome home." i liked this feeling, as though the world were settling into its own skin, warm in its shell...
***
i have been trying to transfer old video recorded minitapes into dvd format, so i can give my friend min our old videorecorder. it is strange to see videos from only two or three years ago, to see our children from not so long ago. it makes me realize how quickly time passes. how quickly children change and become, well, themselves (as if they weren't always that)... what a strange thing videotape is... what a strange game it plays with time. it engenders an illusion that we could somehow hold onto moments, to people, to places...
***
in the quiet drive back, the city lights looked different. the windows of houses that we passed looked inviting, like a thousand versions of "welcome home." i liked this feeling, as though the world were settling into its own skin, warm in its shell...
***
i have been trying to transfer old video recorded minitapes into dvd format, so i can give my friend min our old videorecorder. it is strange to see videos from only two or three years ago, to see our children from not so long ago. it makes me realize how quickly time passes. how quickly children change and become, well, themselves (as if they weren't always that)... what a strange thing videotape is... what a strange game it plays with time. it engenders an illusion that we could somehow hold onto moments, to people, to places...
***
the sun was going down like the lit wick of a lamp slowly drowning in oil.
we walked slowly towards the shore of the river. at first our faces faded to secret shadows with the dying light of the sun; and then, as we approached the torch lights on the drifting fishing boats, the contours of our expressions were gilded in orange and gold.
i glanced at her briefly in that light, saw the fire of the still distant torches arc through the horizon of her pupils like the sun behind glass marbles. her lips, so pale and anemic in the dead daylight, looked dark and full and glossy, parted slightly as though building up secrets to whisper to me.
on the water, the fishing boats drifted closer. the black-clad fishermen held torches and the gathered nooses around the necks of cormorants. the slick-feathered birds dove into the shimmering water to feed the hunger of their bellies, only to choke with their wriggling meals bare inches in their throats; a fisherman pulled a noose tight, and deftly snatched the prey from gasping beak, leaving but a taste of a promise of satisfaction. and then, the bird was released, left to play the game of catch and release once again.
we walked slowly towards the shore of the river. at first our faces faded to secret shadows with the dying light of the sun; and then, as we approached the torch lights on the drifting fishing boats, the contours of our expressions were gilded in orange and gold.
i glanced at her briefly in that light, saw the fire of the still distant torches arc through the horizon of her pupils like the sun behind glass marbles. her lips, so pale and anemic in the dead daylight, looked dark and full and glossy, parted slightly as though building up secrets to whisper to me.
on the water, the fishing boats drifted closer. the black-clad fishermen held torches and the gathered nooses around the necks of cormorants. the slick-feathered birds dove into the shimmering water to feed the hunger of their bellies, only to choke with their wriggling meals bare inches in their throats; a fisherman pulled a noose tight, and deftly snatched the prey from gasping beak, leaving but a taste of a promise of satisfaction. and then, the bird was released, left to play the game of catch and release once again.
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