kenjisan

Classroom Dreams

I haven't had one of these in a long time. I used to have them all the time. They were usually high school class format (periods throughout a solid day, rather than individual college classes) and inevitably there was a math class that I never went to or never did my homework for. Yeah, I don't know, it's weird, but I always woke up thinking, "Oh, thank God that was a dream and I don't have to go through that anymore."

So now, what does it mean that I haven't had one of those recently? Am I ready for school again? I think I enjoyed that Corcoran class in retrospect, but I'm not so sure at the time. Maybe I've finally distanced myself from school enough that I've stopped having nightmares about it...

My pants sure are on fire

Okay, so I didn't immediately start posting, even after I said I was going to start posting immediately. Um... I've got no excuses. This time is for real, seriously!

In fact, I've decided to start a revamp of kenjisan.com. Since it occurred to me that it's pretty silly for both Cyndi and I to have separate blogs when neither of write enough to fill one on our own, I'm going to convert kenjisan.com into bohlinsan.com, or something like that, and migrate the few entries she's made on various blogs over to this site. I also want to give it a slight facelift and rework the navigation, so if you have any suggestions, please post them in the comments and I'll see what I can do (haha, like anyone reads this or cares). In particular, I think I'd like to rework the side bars.

Pause | Unpause

...this thing on?

I have so much that I've been wanting to say, but haven't. My excuse? Laziness, I suppose. I'd like to say I've been busy, but that would only be partly true. Time for me to make more of an effort. I have some thoughts on March Madness which I may try to post, even though the madness has come and gone. I also have some thoughts on Mactels and Boot Camp.

But for this entry, it's all about my last six months. They have been phenomenal. Cyndi continues to impress me and there are days when I wake up and can't shake the feeling that this is all some kind of wonderful dream. I think that someone said that newly weds were allowed to "disappear" for the first month or two. I feel like we've been out of it for the past six months. I think we're ready to emerge once again.

So I'm unpausing my life once again. Hey guys, we're back.

Still basking (wedding rambling)

I can see myself reflected in my ring. That's so cool!

I can't tell you how wonderful it was to be surrounded by so many awesome people last Friday (two Fridays ago, I suppose). I wanted to hug everyone. I wish I could have spent hours talking to each of you, but that's what we have the many years ahead for, right? I loved seeing the different groups mix and mingle. My London paradigm swirled with Cleveland Street on the dance floor and seeing Father Donahue talk to some of you guys blew my mind. What could you possibly be talking about?

People say that the next time that I'll be surrounded by so many people I know and love will be at my funeral, which isn't exactly true. I mean, Cyndi could die before me. :) Whatever truth may be in that statement, such a negative thought isn't worth dwelling on. Instead, what I'll take away is the great times I had with all of you guys, and how I need to see every single one of you more. Take it as my married life resolution.

I've collected a few links from various posts that mention the wedding (this is more for me than anyone else).

Flickr Wedding Photo Pool (if you have pictures and haven't added to this group, please do... flickr is free and very cool to use)

Davextreme (with Flickr group instructions)
salvaregina
kwc (with pictures)
bluemonday

simplybecca

(If I missed one of your posts, then leave me a comment and I'll edit.)

Don't be a fool, school is cool

Yesterday, we learned about gestalt theory, which adheres to the idea that the whole of things (in this case design) is greater than the sum of its individual parts. For our first assignment, we'll be arranging solid black shapes in ways that practice strong gestalt, emphasizing proximity, similarity, flow (can't remember the precise word here), and closure.

So it's good to be back in school. We get so bogged down with everyday things that we forget that there's sometimes a "higher" part of our brain, one that likes to dilly-dally in theory, argue about concept, and generally waste time talking about things that most people could care less about.

I've always approached design from a very intuitive perspective. I do what looks good to me, and that usually works for others, with only vague ideas about why I did it a certain way. I'm taking this class to learn the why, and I have to trust that theory will lead to it.

I'll try to remember to post my finalized assignments here, for those of you interested.

Back to school

I am once again, officially, a student! Justin and I enrolled at the Corcoran College of Art + Design over the weekend, choosing to finally cash in on the great benefits of our employers and their educational incentive programs.

We're taking Graphic Design II, hilariously abbreviated (GD2). Classes are Wednesday nights, basically all night, and they start tomorrow, so I'll have more to say about life as a student then.

Moving and whatnot

Cyndi and I signed the lease last night. It's official, we're moving into the city! I'm not joking when I say that it was a tough decision between Arlington, Capitol Hill, and Dupont Circle, but when we saw this place and its location, we jumped at it. As of August 1, we have a place on the street circled in red (the blue X marks my work)! While Cyndi's museum isn't quite as close, it's still within walking distance, and that's incredible.

Other updates in my life (sorry I've been quiet recently, things have been a bit overwhelming):
-Miami Beach was fun, albeit hot as hell
-Thanks to Anne, I got a freelance job that will pay for the honeymoon
-Floor hockey season has started once and we're off to an ass-kicking start
-I got a Wacom pad at work (I'll post my impressions later on)
-And the closer the day gets, the more excited I become about sharing my life with her

I'm rich, biotch!

I was just given the best design project ever! You know those giant checks that are given out for things like the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes, designed for photo ops more than convenience? Well, I got to design one of those for NCARB!

While the image below couldn't possibly capture the magnitude of its four feet by two feet size, you get the general idea. Also, the one we printed doesn't actually give me seventy billion dollars.

Funeral thoughts

I want to appreciate everyone for all their strengths and weaknesses, and I want them to know that I'm thinking about them. It's not always an easy thing to do, especially when everything seems to be going to shit and nothing is working out the way it's supposed to. Especially when I'm stubborn enough not to see beyond petty disagreements and lazy enough to sit around when I could be going out and enjoying the company of others.

Because one day, you or me may not be around anymore and I never want to think, "I should have called, one more time. I should have said hello, I was thinking about you."

And in other news...

It's official, Team Ramrod is undefeated in the Barcroft Floor Hockey B League. Yesterday's 4-2 victory over some-team-in-orange sealed it, despite us having to beat them twice before it counted. Now we have two weeks off and the playoffs, which we may or may not be destined to win/lose, depending on how you read the signs.

Results

Why did that guy call my all-in with the 7-4 of hearts? And why did 3 of the next 4 cards have to be hearts? Ah, what a crazy game poker is.

I took fourth and won some more chips. On top of my birthday present chips, I have enough to run a poker tournament without borrowing any. Now I just need to find a space for it.

Life and Death

Last week, one of my co-workers passed away. She would have been 67 years old yesterday. While we mourned at her passing and reminisced funny stories that usually revolved around her grumpy approach to IT, we got ready to throw a baby shower for another one of my co-workers. Birth and death, celebrated and observed one day apart.

I wanted to write something on my thoughts last week, but everything I seemed to come up with had been said before—sometimes by me, sometimes by others far more elegant. So I’ll toss all the “living in the moment” BS to the side and say this: I’m intensely afraid of babies and dying. Babies, because of the responsibility that child-rearing requires and the amount of faith that the world is placing on the parent to nurture another life into a healthy adult. Death, because of the vast unknown that comes at the end of our life, and that scary little voice that suggests maybe it is truly an End.

I’ve been doing quite a bit of thinking about both of these things recently, particularly since my life is in transition right now and these two events mark two of the biggest transitions you can experience. At one point in my life, I didn’t think kids were for me. Everyone told me that I’d “grow into” the idea, and while I’m not ready to have them just yet, the question is really when, not if. Does the same thing happen with the idea of death? As I grow older, will I “grow into” the idea of passing away? Movies always talk about people ready to die. Will that be me?

Updates

Haven't updated in a while. Here are a few things that have been rattling around in my brain:

• I'm looking forward to the lazy Saturday afternoon when I decide to wander over to RFK and take in a home game with my friends.
  
• I still really enjoy poker. I still try to play every other week or so. And I still really appreciate those chips, guys. Thanks.
  
• This photo intrigues me and I don't know why. I don't think I want to learn to tango. Maybe I should go see this film. Maybe I should go to Buenos Aires.
  
  
• Team Ramrod is still undefeated (5-0). Probably has something to do with the winning, but this has been the most fun season of Barcroft floor hockey yet.
  
• I'm starting to get excited about cutlery, dishes, and silverware. God help me.
  
• I hit level 56 last night.
  
• Yes, I'm nervous. Yes, there's lots to do and prepare. Yes, still exhilerated.

She said "yes"

More photos of our trip to London to follow...

Update: My life

I'm running again and I think my body is still trying to figure out how it feels about that. Right now, it's not too happy. In two weeks, hopefully it'll be a different story. I couldn't believe how out of shape I was last Sunday at our first Ramrod victory. It's been a while since my chest has actually burned due to exertion.

Other than that and the influx of video games, my life is the same-old, same-old. *frowns* One of my first posts on here was about finding happiness in contentment (On Being Content. Now, I'm thinking the whole settled thing isn't doing it for me 100%. Robert posted a couple days ago about both hating and loving his current, suburban situation. I began thinking about "the good old days," which I hate doing because it's always an injustice to the present, but I couldn't help it. I decided that I want to be in a place where there are other young people around me. I want to feel the spark of youth before it's gone. You know? Maybe it's time for a move.

Apologies all around

This Halloween weekend was a lot of fun (I think), but from the pieces of the night that I've been able to put together, I think I have a lot to both apologize and be thankful about. Here's my list, since I like making lists.

• Sorry to Justin, Dre, Chris White, Matty T, Dave Ely and Rebecca for showing up late to the Nightmare on M Street event, even though I wasn't the last to arrive.
  
• Sorry to Jon for losing your long sleeve shirt. I feel really bad about that.
  
• Sorry to any of the girls wearing sexy *insert costume name here* for any inappropriate ogling I may have drunkenly done.
  
• Sorry that I got away with the costume discount which consisted of my old Game Room employee badge.
  
• Thank you, Jon, once again, for taking care of me in my weakened state.
  
• Sorry cab driver that took me home, I don't even remember your existence any more.
  
• Sorry Carly and Allison for not chatting with you more. I didn't even say goodbye. I think.
  
• Sorry to Mia for not waiting longer for you so we could Metro in together.
  
• Sorry, Cyndi, for making you buy me that Red Bull & Vodka when the nails had long been driven drunkenly into the coffin.
  
• Sorry to my body. Shrines shouldn't be mistaken for toilets.
  
• But most of all, sorry to that guy on the Metro that I threw up on! That sucks man. Hope you don't remember what I look like.

Weekend plans

Been really, really busy of late, doing things of great importance. Actually, that's not really true, but between baseball and work, I feel like I have two full time jobs. I have a few other things on my plate that I want to try to cram into this weekend, so here goes...

1. Hang out the cool kids at the Maryland Renaissance Festival Jousting Tournament
2. Continue redecorating my room (involves visits to such elitest establishments as Target and Ikea)
3. Finish hanging pictures in the living room before moving on to the dining room
4. Attain at least level 20 druid before the potential open beta reset
5. Get around to finally finishing up 99
6. Begin redesigning this site (mainly a sidebar redesign)
7. Sleep in
8. See Cyndi
9. And watch a little baseball

No big deal there.

Ryan McGinness

"I struggle to produce work with an honest language that is uniquely my own but that resonates a universal truth while coming to terms with the fact that I'm just like everybody else."
—Ryan McGinness, inspiration=ideas: A Creativity Sourcebook for Graphic Designers

McGinness is talking about graphic design, but I think this statement rings true for myself, both in writing and in graphic design. In the one realm (writing), I feel like I'm on the road to developing my own voice. In the other (graphic design), I feel like I'm just starting out.

I interpret his mention of "universal truths" with something along the lines of "universal acceptance." McGinness's designs have a very personal feel to them, yet are also easily accessible. I'd like my own stories to hold this same quality: not art for art's sake, but also not art for the mass's sake. I think there's an attainable balance there, and I think it has something to do with the last part of his statement: coming to terms with the fact that I'm just another reader as well as writer. He writes earlier in the book that he is "a producer and a consumer." It's an important self-awareness to acknowledge because by understanding what things interest me in the stories of others, I can gleam some truth about what should go into my own stories. And yet, being self-aware that this process is going on helps me forge my own voice, rather than simply writing to sell books or be popular.

Autumn at last

This is my favorite time of the year. It's 55 degrees outside and I can once again wear a jacket or a sweater without sweating. It's more than just fashion options, though. There's something about the cripsness in the air that brings to mind renewal.

Talking with my boss last week about certain memory-related smells, she told me that there was a particular smell around this time that always made her sad. For me, I think this smell brings to mind a mix of emotions, some of which are said, most of which are exciting. For me, Fall has always been a time for new things: the beginning of school, the return to Charlottesville, leaving for London, starting my job here, starting a relationship with Cyndi. This past weekend in New York (thanks Gabe!), I kept getting that feeling, like I'm ready for something new. Like maybe I'm done with this whole working thing. It takes up too much precious time.

Maybe it's time to move? Maybe it's time to quit my job and live on the streets? Or maybe I should just keep on doing what I've been doing, enjoy the sensation in the air, and stop thinking so much about it.

Short, boring dream entry

Last night I dreamt that I was a paranoid schizophrenic and I kept hearing voices and seeing things out of the corner of my eye. When I woke up, I spent a long time pondering how much bigger my room would look if I replaced my bed with a sofa, which I slept on.

I'm not sure what it means, but it stirred an interesting conversation with Jon about the meaning of dreams. It's funny how we need to put order into the unordered. A dream could be nothing more than a kaleidescope of the previous day's impressions, and yet they must mean something more. It reminds me of that article about how people think their iPods are smarter than they really are (via kwc.org).

And yet, I think there's something to be said about my opening paragraph. Of all those random images that were speeding through my sleeping brain, I clung to that one image/idea of me being a schizophrenic. Surely there's something to be said for that.

Turning 25

I don't know if it's the whole quarter-century thing, or the gray weather, or the long weekend without Cyndi, but my thoughts have been winding their way back into my past. It occurs to me that in the course of our lives, we touch so many others. Co-workers, classmates, friends, lovers. How is it that we can be so close to someone at one point in our lives, and then be so far away the next?

I've been wondering where many of my close friends of years gone by are now, and what they're doing, and (with a touch of selfishness) whether they're wondering what I'm doing. The internet's a weird place. It allows us to keep in close contact with some of our friends, but not all. Does this mean my childhood friends who e-mail me regularly were/are better friends than those who don't? I don't think so.

Looking at my life now, I can't even imagine drifting away from you guys. What would life be like without you? How can I forget about you? It bums me out. Or it did. I decided that whatever happens will happen, and there's not a whole lot I can do about any of it but enjoy the time now. There's certainly something to be said for ruminating on the past and future, but then again, we're not living in those times.

A wedding to remember

All things considered, I'd say my weekend ranked in at about an "okay." Friday night, I don't even remember what I did. Saturday was full: running, driving, attending a wedding. Sunday wasn't, but was good anyway: hanging with the T-streeters and Gabe, eating at Luna, playing (and losing) hockey.

Mainly, it's been a weekend to really stop and think. Attending that wedding sure helped put an interesting spin on those thoughts. Two observations:

1. After three years, conversations tend to revolve around our jobs. "What do you do?" is that inevitable question, and the inevitable answer is, "I work in DC, I live in Alexandria." Our lives become defined by our jobs, summed up by our careers and the neighborhoods in which we live. As Cyndi pointed out, we don't get to think about the things that make us more interesting: I play poker on Wednesdays, Hockey on Sundays, I'm training for a half-marathon. The little minutae of our lives get lost in the summary.
   
2. I'm amazed at how bad I am with names and people. It had only been three years, why can't I remember the name of someone I hung out with? It gave me a really scary thought: in three years, or five years, or ten years, what am I going to remember about this life I'm living now?
   

Point number two has really resonated with me. At first, I had these visions of running into you guys down the road and playing the, "Hey... [shit, can't remember your name] what's up?" A few months ago, I passed a guy I lived next to for a year, and couldn't remember him. How shitty is that? But I came to the conclusion that I won't forget many of these friends I have now. You guys are so much closer than most of the people I knew then, and those that were as close (or comparable), I remember. And that's comforting.

It's just kind of crazy that this circle that I keep right now can be so large—possibly larger than my college experience—yet so tight. It gives me a lot to be thankful for.

The next two years

Thanks to Verizon's new policies of totally fucking over anyone who doesn't sign anything less than a two-year contract, I have now signed a two-year contract. That means I'll be in the States for at least the next two years (for those of you who haven't heard yet, NZ is off, caput, dead).

A couple nights ago, I had this weird dream where I was training for a half-marathon at Washington & Lee. There were two other runners on the track, training for the same thing, and we were all running around the quarter-mile lap at an amazingly high speed. My trainer (yes, I had a trainer in my dream) was none other than Cyndi's dad, and he was yelling at the other two runners and praising me. Oh, and I was chewing on one of those candy cigarettes you used to be able to buy when we were kids.

I'm not sure what the meaning of this dram is, or why I shared it, but it struck me as relevant here. There was this weird sense of redundancy to the whole dream, even though it appeared (from the verbal feedback I was getting) to be the right thing to do.

Anyway, my number hasn't changed, and suprisingly, Verizon transferred the number within 5 minutes of walking out the doors. My new phone is the ultra-trendy Kyocera SE47 "slider" phone and I've already received a phone call in the metro, which made me stupidly giddy.

Things are looking up, even if they're looking familiar.

Origins

Today is NCARB's annual company picnic. It starts at 11:30. We aren't required to come back afterwards, but we are requred to come in until it begins. Because of this, there are about a half dozen kids running around here, killing time before the running around moves to a park.

Curiously, it's sparked a memory of when I was a young kid at my dad's office. To entertain me as he worked, I played on my first Apple, the Macintosh SE. More specifically, I played with the Paint and Draw programs. I think it's interesting that the programs that entertained me as a kid pay for my rent, sustenance, and entertainment now.

I wonder if any of these kids will make a career out of whatever it is they seem to be doing. Maybe this one kid'll be a short-distance track star.

What's worse than moving?

Being sick and moving. My beautiful singing voice has been hijacked by some kind of terrible chest cold and both rent and the new home will wait for no man. So here I am at last, moved in*.

It's not really that I hate moving, but more the Act of moving. In theory, moving is something that I could love: change of location, change of pace, wiping the slate clean, throwing out all the refuse that had filled in the cracks at the old place. There's a kind of rebirth that emerges from a move, like getting a new job or new computer, and that is something I like. It's really the Act that I hate: so many boxes, so much complete crap that I can't either part with or live without. There's the loading and unloading of the truck/car. There are those stairs upon stairs to climb. Really, pretty much every aspect of the Act is, well, the worst.

Throw a sickness on top of "the worst" and you get the worster. And let me tell you, the worster isn't a happy place to be. Still, here I sit on a (really tall) bed, typing away in a room cluttered with opened and unopened boxes, and I am happy. Maybe that's because the Act is almost over. Why does looking at the Ikea catalog make me wish I was going to stay here longer? Am I becoming domesticated at last? Have we witnessed an evolution of Kenji before our very eyes?

I don't really think so, but let's just say that I'm beginning to see the merits of staying put, and leave it at that. Who knows what will come next? Maybe I'll finally understand all those crazy people who want to raise children...

*And by moved in, I mean I have a bed with sheets on it surrounded by boxes.

I think I may have a gambling problem

In the last two days, I've been in as many poker games. The first organized by myself and Glynn, the second organized by a college friend I haven't seen in years (thanks Lyle, if you happen to stumble upon this site). While both games heavily featured Texas Holdem (Lyle's alternating TH and dealer's choice), the mechanics behind the games were wildly different (limit vs. no-limit, tournmanet vs. non-tournament).

A few quick thoughts on this and then I'm going to bed:

• I enjoy playing no-limit more than limit poker. It's not that I don't like playing with limits, because I seem to enjoy any poker I can get in on. It's just that in no-limit poker, you can make more of a statement with your betting, and thus, I feel there is more strategy in betting. "All in" could be a desperate move, or it could be a stroke of brilliance.
  
• That being said, I can see the merits of limit poker: very small chip swings=prolonged playing time=more (theoretical) fun.
  
• I can see the merits of both tournament style and non-tournament style (i.e. playing until there is one player with all the chips vs. playing until everyone decides to stop). However, like no-limit poker, I think tournament style is more exciting.
  
• A set of written rules are an important thing, even in a "friendly" game. Also, these rules can be overriden if the majority thinks they should be.
  
• Friendly buy-ins can work, even in tournament style play, as long as the system isn't abused. If someone in one of my games is abusing the system, then maybe that person shouldn't be playing in my game.
  

All in all, I think the game is really fun, and I thank Rounders for helping me see this.

This is the dream of...

I had another one of my London Underground dreams last night. These are coming more and more frequently of late. The city’s always the same: some amalgam of DC and London and sometimes Tokyo, and always involving some form of underground public transportation. The train cars are closer to the surface than the DC metro or the London Tube, the train stations sometimes open air, like Tokyo, or maybe New Crobuzon’s Perdido Street Station. And the world is so vivid, so developed and real. It breaths, like a real one, and with each dream, it unfolds anew.

Yesterday, Sunday, was the first day in as long as I can remember that I was actually bored. It felt like one of those summer days back in high school, when I had no job and nothing to do. Nothing seemed particularly appealing to me; no one was doing anything that I was interested in. For the first time in my entire life, I considered going in to work on the weekend just because I knew there were things to do there. The reasoning is such: if everything is going to be boring, might as well do something productive while I’m bored. I even might have gone in, were it not for the fact that my computer was in shambles.

While the details of last night’s dream have been lost to this drizzly day’s realities, I do remember one shining, little epiphany. In it – meaning my dream – I was about to go on a trip far away… let’s say New Zealand. I was going to leave in maybe a month or two, and that inevitable feeling of apathy in the workplace was creeping in. After all, in a month, I would be off to new adventures, and what I do now would be forgotten and out of mind.

The epiphany came when I was in the twilight between sleep and consciousness, and it’s nothing amazing or new. It’s the same old one we all at least know of: life is what you make of it, and work is a means to living that life, not the meaning of it. Blah blah. But in my dream – and for a few minutes while awake – I felt that message in that profound way that you can only get from dreams, and this entry is an attempt to cling to that feeling.

It compels me to do something with my life, something that doesn’t involve toiling away in some office along some heavily trodden path.

New computer/new job

No, I didn't really get a new job, but I did get a new computer, which oddly makes me feel like I got a new job. Normally, I wouldn't notice much of a difference. This time, there are a couple of things that help:

1. My monitor went from a 20 inch CRT to a 23 inch LCD.
   
2. Photoshop and Quark no longer take ten minutes to load (an exaggeration, of course, it only really took about nine-and-a-half minutes before)
   
3. Fonts and font-versions are making my life a living hell
   

I think I hate Quark. Or it hates me. Why must we live like this, Quark? We should either work this problem out like adults, or part ways. Note: this will happen when I get an Apple here at work (for those of you not in the know, this will happen right around the same time that "hell" will "freeze over" or when "George Bush" finds "weapons of mass destruction" in "Iraq."

A more serious entry on I, Robot the movie to follow... someday...

I'm running again

Four miles yesterday. Only two and a half this morning. But it's a start. It's been too long since I consistently ran, and the number of times I've started up and stopped is beginning to piss me off. Even with the little bit of running I've done over the past three days, my legs are aching and sore (and it feels wonderul) and I'm remembering why I enjoyed running so much.

One of these reasons is that the only competition I've got is myself. I'm not racing anyone. At times, I'm not even running with anyone. So all I've got are my previous paces and times, and the knowledge that if I can keep at it, I can improve. Weird motivation, huh?

My current schedule is here for any who are interested, although since I completed this schedule last year, I feel as though maybe I should bump up to the next level.

Beginner Half Marathon Program

Four years

There's not much more to say than "wow." I keep kicking myself; this must be a dream.