I recently did something funny to my jaw.  My mom is convinced it has to do with this levitation picture:

I actually just went back to my camera roll to see how many of these I took -- and I took about 20 of these shots, so she might be right.  I think it has more to do with how I chew my steak a little too vigorously.  Or something.  In any case, I can't open my mouth very wide these days without some pain.  This makes eating things like burgers very uncomfortable.  Or large sushi rolls.  I can barely open my mouth to allow space for a PBJ sandwich...and even then it looks extremely peculiar since engineering the maximum coverage of the sandwich requires some careful manipulation.

My mom's worried that I'll get something analogous to lockjaw, so she looked it up and told me not to do the following things:

1).  Yawn.
2).  Sing really loudly.
3).  Eat tough things like steak.

Which, you know, sums up my existence.

The website my mother looked up also suggested that two times a day, I should go through a heat/icing regimen with my jaw wherein I first put a hot pad on my jaw and then alternate it with an ice pack a few times.

Two times a day is a bit much, but I did try it the other night.  For a hot pad, I ran a towel under boiling water.  Unfortunately, the ice pack I have barely felt frigid so...I used a slab of frozen meat.  Consequently, while I was watching a Buster Keaton movie on Netflix (that man was a genius), I kept switching back and forth between a hot towel and some frozen pork.  

Which I can't eat right now because it would require me to chew forcefully.  (the pork, not the towel).

Plus I need it to act as my ice pack.

I hope it gets better soon though because I miss munching on chips with no thought of consequence (oh those happy days).

This time last year, I was working three jobs -- teaching music, working as a jack-of-all-trades at a UX Design company, and working at a movie theater.  The movie theater was a lot of fun, but it was a bit much juggling three jobs, especially on days I had to do all three.  It was a bit of a relief when I got an hour and pay upgrade at my second (UX) job so I could cut back and just do the first two jobs.

This month, my hours at the UX job have been cut in half for an indefinite amount of time...so I picked up a third job again...but I'll leave that for another post. Tomorrow, I work all three jobs.  And conquer the world if I feel so motivated.

When it comes to rehearsals or performances, I hate being late.  I'm the kind of person that races around feeling extra anxious, only to arrive to practice before the front doors are unlocked.  Last month, I arrived to all of my rehearsals about 30 minutes early.

Unfortunately, this habit doesn't necessarily apply to other areas of my life.

I seem to have no concept of calculating distance when something music-related isn't my final destination.  Some of this is due to the fact that I rely on public transportation, which can be a bit erratic at times.  Some of this I blame on Google maps.  I have no idea how they calculate walking time, but they should make an option available for people that have shorter legs...because I have never been able to measure up to their standards.  It doesn't help that I have the worst sense of direction ever non-gifted to a human being.  Whenever I'm traveling to somewhere new (and by travel, I mean a combination of walking/taking the bus), I usually give myself a half hour leeway time, which I call "inevitable getting lost time."

I was going to say it's a good thing I don't mind getting lost, but I think the truth is I've just gotten used to it.

I cut it close the most when it comes to catching the Greyhound/BoltBus, the Amtrak, or a plane.  I feel a good portion of my life has been spent running through the airport terminal or stumbling around after a bus whilst hoisting a duffel bag over my shoulder.  I have a strange inner daredevil that derives the most pleasure from seeing how crazy I can be when it comes to departure times.

"You COULD leave now and get to the Amtrak station a half hour early, just to be safe...or hey, how about we live life a little on the edge and arrive there RIGHT on time?  Yeahh, you adrenaline junkie you."

Back when I was in high school, getting to the bus early was crucial.  If I raced out of my last class, swept out my locker in record time, and booked it, I could get a coveted window spot in the bus.  If I was a bit late, I'd more likely have to cram into a seat with two other disgruntled kids.  I really despised riding the bus back then.  Getting in and out is like moving yourself across a crowded movie aisle, only with half the amount of space.  High school kids (at least those that ride the bus) have no concept of their bodies yet, so you're either smothered in copious amounts of body odor or noxious fumes of cologne.

Getting a seat on the Greyhound or BoltBus is no different, really.  If you get there early, you can get a nice window spot so you can sleep.  If you get there late, it's really a question of which seat partner seems the least shady.  I actually won't ride Greyhound anymore.  I used the restroom in the Seattle Greyhound Station once this past year and it was honestly a harrowing experience I don't wish to repeat.

Getting to the BoltBus from my house is a bit convoluted though and arriving at the time I want to is a Russian Roulette based on how the public transit gods feel that day.  I played it a bit fast and loose on my most recent foray.

To get you up to speed, in order to get to the Seattle Boltbus station, I walk to the bus stop and catch a bus to take me to the downtown bus tunnel.  Then I transfer onto another bus there, which takes me right under the Boltbus.  It's a bit cumbersome when you're lugging around a suitcase, so I should have left early...but as I've already made clear to you, that's not how I roll.  Plus, I woke up a little late.

After running around willy-nilly in my apartment and then out to the bus stop, I caught a bus downtown.  I arrived at the bus tunnel about 15 minutes before my Boltbus was scheduled to depart.

The nice thing about the bus tunnel is that there are always several buses going through it every few minutes.  I felt somewhat confident (forcefully optimistic) about catching one.  There are three different kinds of buses that go through the tunnel.  The first is a regular metro bus, which I had a transfer ticket for.  The second is a sound transit bus, which I prepared the extra fare for.  The third is the Link train, so to be safe, I tagged my bus card to prepay for my fare.  I wasn't taking any chances.  I had to catch the first bus that came through the tunnel, come hell or high water.

Of course, a beeping noise loud enough for everyone to hear (including a Metro employee standing five feet away) announced that my card's funds were insufficient to pay for the Link ride.

And then an announcement came on overhead to inform everyone that the Link train was coming through in two minutes.

I flew like the wind back up the escalator up to the Metro Card machine to reload my card (WHY don't they just have the machines downstairs next to the buses?) and ran back down just in time to race into the Link train and collapsed on a seat as the doors slid close after me.

Now, I've always wanted to have a soundtrack playing in my life.  Some kind of musical Morgan Freeman narration as I stride around the streets of Seattle or some accompanying violin strains for life's heartbreaks.  Usually I wake up with a random song playing in my head, but it never extended past that until this day.  My ipod was on shuffle this whole time, and while I was running, this song was playing:

And as I sat there, nervously checking the time at every single bus stop with my palms perspiring, the next song that came on was Lykke Li's "Unrequited Love"...which starts out with her plaintive voice singing:

"Once again, it's happening..."

I'm happy to say that I arrived at the BoltBus exactly one minute before it departed.  I found a seat next to a nice gentleman who had a Zelda screensaver on his phone.  I'm not sure I want to repeat this endeavor though.  Seeing as how this is my first post of the new year, perhaps I should make an effort to not to make every travel departure a cardio exercise.

But I don't really believe in making New Year's resolutions.

When I first started my adventures as a levitationist (outlined here), I planned it as a month-long project.  Lo and behold, seven months later I'm still at it.  Statistically put, I've posted 202 daily levitation pictures on instagram as of today!  

What most people don't realize is that I have people staring at me or giving me weird looks in 80% of my levitation pictures.  They're just not always shown in my instagram crops.  I actually have a whole folder full of pictures that have captured weirded out and startled expressions of those that witness my levitation.  I've been saving them for a rainy day, but I thought I'd share a few in this post.

To give a recap of the process behind these levitation pictures, what I do first is set up a self-timer on my digital camera (which I prop up on a yellow stool I carry around, since I don't have a tripod).  Then I run into place and jump at just the right moment when the beeping timer counts down and/or the blinding flash goes off.

So I think people have a pretty good reason to stare.  Even if you know what I'm doing, it's a spectacle.  And if you don't have any context...well it looks kind of insane.  People sometimes ask me if I'm exercising.  I guess I am...indirectly.  I generally take 20-30 shots per location...so I think the 20-30 jumps plus the running back and forth keeps me fit.

When I take pictures on stairs, this involves a lot of climbing stairs in a hurry before jumping at just the right spot.

There's a reason why I don't do pictures on the stairs anymore.

And for pictures like the following, I know it looks like I'm teeny-tiny and very far away...and that's because I am.  I run as far as I can in the allotted 10-second self-timer.

I'm pretty sure it's hilarious to watch me do this.

Some people ask if I need any help in taking the pictures, and while I appreciate the thought I usually turn them down.  Once I was taking pictures next to the road and a guy stopped at the light asked me if he wanted me to take the picture.  I had this sudden vision of him grabbing my camera and driving off into the sunset while laughing maniacally, so I declined.  I'm sure he had the purest of intentions though.  Maybe.

My initial goal was to showcase Seattle in my levitation shots -- meaning that I took pictures at usual famous locales from Pike Place Market to the Fremont Troll...But as I continued, I also wanted to have pictures of Seattle that would be familiar to locals, but not necessarily recognizable to tourists.

What has become a big part of this, of course, are the cafés of Seattle.  I've taken levitation pictures at over 30 different cafés in the Pacific Northwest so far.  I feel like coffee and cafés are integral to the Seattle culture.  Plus, I love coffee...so it's natural to combine them with my hovering adventures.

However, taking pictures in cafés is more challenging than an average levitation shot.  I don't have control over lighting or space, there are people constantly bustling about, and a lot of people are in intimate conversations or studying and don't appreciate someone jumping around them to take pictures.  Understandably.

The biggest difficulty though is that I'm actually painfully shy (as I discussed in more length in this blog post), and sometimes the thought of taking these pictures in public makes me shrivel up on the inside.  When I'm taking pictures outside, I can experiment more with jumps or how to twist my body.  But more importantly, I can always choose my timing to wait until people aren't around.  Sometimes I'm about to jump for a picture and then someone walks by...so I immediately assume nonchalance and pretend I have nothing to do with that conveniently set up camera three feet away.

In stores or cafés, it's impossible to pretend I have nothing to do with the blatantly beeping camera.  I try to get a good shot as quickly as possible before I annoy too many people.  I hate the thought of being in someone's way and I'm not the naturally graceful type that has a good concept of space.  I was trying to work with cramped quarters at a café once and I accidentally kicked over a chair when I jumped up.   Oops.  (I assure you though that since then, I have been very conscientious about my space when I'm levitating).

This might be part of the reason why I have a bit of a guilty conscience when I attempt pictures in shops.  Yesterday while I was taking pictures at Neptune Coffee, one of the baristas came over to ask what I was doing.  I flinched and immediately blurted out:  "Oh I can stop right away!"  ...but she was just curious about what I was doing right in front of the counter.

Consequently, I always buy coffee in the cafés I patronize since I feel like I'm bothering them.  Once I start my floating shenanigans, I'm sure it dawns on the baristas why I tipped a little extra.

I used to ask people around me if they minded while I took pictures.  But I felt like it turned the actual taking of the pictures into some sort of an event.  I don't fly very well under pressure (ha ha).  Plus, explaining what I do doesn't always illuminate the matter.  Sometimes people will be totally fine when I ask them and then when they actually see what I do, they look a bit scandalized and ask me to stop.  I've had people get a bit upset and tell me to leave quite a few times.

This is always a bit disappointing (especially since by this point I've already embarrassed myself), but it's completely within their prerogative and 100% justified, especially since I'm worried I scare away customers for cafés sometimes.  Once I was taking pictures on the second floor of Bauhaus Books and Coffee and while the place is usually bustling, a few times I heard/saw customers come up and take one long look at me jumping...before turning around to clamber back down the stairs.  When I was finally packing up after finishing the pictures, I heard a couple come up the stairs with a startled exclamation of "Wow!  This place is usually so busy!  What happened?"  I looked around the room and gave them a puzzled shrug.

I console myself by thinking that sometimes I provide conversation starters for people that might be running out of things to talk about.

I am of course incredibly grateful and indebted to café patrons and employees that put up with my crazy antics.  I've even had some baristas apologize for getting in the way of my camera, which is completely backwards.  I'm the one that feels bad for getting in your way.  I hope some of you will endure my hijinks for a little while longer.  I promise not to terrorize your customers.

In all seriousness though, a thousand thanks to you beautiful baristas and coffee shops of the northwest.  I've met and gotten to know so many interesting and wonderful people through this project.  As always, I'm most appreciative of any suggestions on where to levitate next in the great Pacific Northwest.  And if you're a Seattle café owner who is reading this and most certainly does NOT want me to take levitation pictures at your place, feel free to let me know that as well.

In the meantime, you can find me on instagram @bungeejumpwithme.

The following (all fantastic) cafés were levitated at and pictured in this blog post.  In order, they are:

Café Solstice - 4116 University Way NE, Seattle
Stumptown Coffee Roasters - 1115 12th Ave, Seattle
Ristretto Roasters - 2181 NW Nicolai St, Portland
Kaladi Brothers Coffee - 517 E Pike St, Seattle
Neptune Coffee - 8415 Greenwood Ave N, Seattle
Coava Coffee Roasters - 1300 SE Grand Ave, Portland
Bauhaus Books & Coffee - 301 E Pine Street (currently moved)
Heart Roasters - 2211 E Burnside St, Portland
Bakery Nouveau - 137 15th Ave E, Seattle
Zoka Coffee Roaster & Tea Co - 2200 56th St, Seattle

When I was 6 or 7 years old, I remember going with my dad to get a nintendo console.  Most of my memories about my dad involve making a sojourn to Toys 'R' Us to pick up the latest video game.  

On a side note, I blame Toys 'R' Us for stalling my childhood education.  For the longest time, I would write my "R" backwards because I had been taught by our neighborhood toy store that this was the correct way.  I was convinced that any attempt to correct me was some sort of twisted conspiracy by parents and teachers alike to mess me up.

Even though I grew up playing nintendo, the old school big-as-a-gray-brick gameboy, as well as many happy hours spent at friend's houses on their snes, segas, and later n64s and playstations...I have to say that I really suck at games.  At least, games that require some sort of muscle coordination.  I could never beat Super Mario Bros. without the cheat whistle that you pick up while flying to the top of the screen in the first Bowser castle.  And even though I painstakingly learned the combos in Street Fighter (crescent moon + punch), my performance was always pathetic when it came to the test in arcades.

The only game that I was really good at (and is probably why I love it so much) was Megaman.  I was the Megaman master.  Even if it's been years, when I pick up the console, my finger muscles remember exactly where to jump/slide/shoot in each level because I played it that much.  This is also why it feels so bizarre when I try playing the Megaman reboots on playstation, because my hands can't handle the concept that I'm not holding an nes directional pad + a/b/start/select control.

On another side note, I can remember the exact moment I beat my first Megaman boss.  It was Tomahawk Man from Megaman 6.  When it happened, I crawled over to the couch where my dad had passed out and said in an elated whisper, "I did it!"  He didn't wake up, but that's okay.  That was a turning point in my life (and also the moment that my dad had to start sharing the nintendo with me more and more.  Sucker).

I'm generally much better at loner games...meaning rpg's.  And rpg's (at least back then) don't require too much muscle dexterity.  Just a lot of patience.  Which is probably why I was so good at them.  Can't beat the boss?  No problem, just go level up in a forest somewhere for a couple hours.  What?  There's an ultimate weapon that you have to go on some ridiculous nonsequitur side quest for?  Okay!!!

But because I spent so much time playing rpg's, I think some of the philosophy has inevitably crossed over into my real life.  And I don't mean I suddenly go ransacking stranger's houses to steal money/find potions.

In my life, everything has always been a matter of accruing enough experience points.  When I start a job or a musical piece, or even for things like learning how to ride the bike (which yes, I have not apparently gained enough exp for), I think of things as in gaining levels.  I just have to keep at it to earn more points, get better, go up levels, and master it.

As I mentioned in a previous post, sometimes I even hear a level up noise in my head when it happens.

And this may be silly, but I've only just now realized how nerdy this all sounds.  Oh well.  As a short updation, I've been juggling three jobs for the past couple months.  It's been busy, but very fulfilling.  I just had my birthday a couple weeks ago, and it's been a very happy and wonderful year thus far.

Because I mentioned megaman, you should check out this page on my website (if you haven't already) where I posted a megaman tribute song I created using ChucK.

Ever since I moved to Seattle, my life has been in a constant flux...which isn't necessarily a bad thing.  It's definitely a new stage of my life and one I've been mostly enjoying thus far, even if it's a bit unstable.

The good thing is, I'm becoming much more comfortable at job interviews.  Yesterday however, I was asked the dreaded "so what would you say your weaknesses are?" in an interview and what followed was a very awkward 30 seconds where I just couldn't come up with anything to say.  You'd think by this time, and after having done so many interviews, this answer should be down pat, right?  I couldn't think of anything and I could not for the life of me remember what I had answered when asked this question in the past.

On the one hand, I couldn't think of any weakness that was appropriate to the question (eg my latent fear of the dark, which might be problematic in some jobs, but isn't really what I think they were looking for).  And heaven forbid if I actually could think of a legitimate weakness, I doubt I'd want to share it with a potential employer.  On the other hand, I didn't want to rub it in the interviewer's face with a "Haha!  Foolish mortal!  I don't have any weaknesses!!"

I wonder if the weaknesses we admit to are actually ever legitimate, or if they're just vain holograms we project of ourselves.  Sometimes, I think people wear their weaknesses as a mantle to protect themselves from risking something of themselves.

The other day, it occurred to me that I administer to a certain type of vanity.  Ever since that awkward middle school age, I've never liked being in photographs.  I used to avoid them like the plague and my friends have dozens of photographs of my ponytail because I became so adept at ducking before a camera lens.  Maybe people who constantly take those MySpace shots of themselves/hold up a camera to a mirror shots are vain...but perhaps avoiding the camera so much is a form of vanity too, because it can show that I care too much about how I look.  To be free from vanity is to probably be in a state where it doesn't matter...Kind of like how being truly humble isn't putting yourself down, but it's simply not thinking of yourself at all.  In a similar vein, that's why I don't think I'm a very nice person...because often when I do nice things, there is a small voice inside my head that says "That was a nice thing to do!"...And it's almost like I'm boosting my own self-image by doing it.

I originally started this post to talk about the Chihuly Garden and Glass Museum...but as is wont to do, I got distracted.  To finish up (you can always tell when I'm writing a dry blog post due to the platitudes I use to make transitions -- "on the one hand" "the other day" "on that note")...I am still working on my writing!  Taking it slowly though.  I was really extremely fortunate to start a correspondence with author Marie Lu, who is fantastic.  She first came to my attention through an interview about her book Legend, where she talked about some of the frustrations she had beginning as an author.  She actually had her manuscript accepted by an agent, but after a long time of trying to shop it around with publishing houses, they decided to shelve it...and she put her efforts into another story, which was published last year.  It's a fast-paced, dual narrative dystopian that I read all the way through in one sitting because I couldn't sleep once I started.

Because I've been getting nothing but rejections from all of the queries I've sent out, I asked Marie for her opinion on whether I should shelve my story as well.  There are some aspects of it that I feel may not be entirely marketable, which could be why it isn't being picked up.  She took a look at my query and said my story sounded good...so perhaps the issue lies with my writing.

It's a bit unfortunate to hear that haha.  As much as I enjoy writing, I have received numerous comments in the past about how my writing tends toward the heavy side.  I've edited and read and workshop-ed a ton to convey my words in a clearer and simpler fashion.  In the end though, I like how I write.  I'm actually grateful that my story hasn't been picked up by an agent yet, because I feel it's given me the opportunity to work at every nuance in my story.  I've written, re-written, and edited my book so much...but it's so organic, I almost feel that the edits can always keep going.

The reality of the situation is that my book may never be picked up by an agent.  I want to put every effort I have into it, but there is a certain point where I may realize that this story is not the one meant to be published.  I'd like to keep writing...but first I'd like to finish this trilogy (I've already written two books of the trilogy.  I started the third book, but left off to focus on editing the first book)...and maybe I'll put it up to be read on this blog.  In spite of it all, I'm proud of what I've accomplished with the story.  Even if it's not meant to be published, I feel good enough about it that I crave to share it...and I feel good enough about it in a way that I love the characters and all their little faults and shades, and the words in it are some I'm especially proud of.  This isn't vanity...because clearly this love isn't shared by the agents I've shopped it to haha...so maybe it's delusion.  But since I'm not even sure who reads this blog, and I put up some writing samples here anyway, it wouldn't hurt to share more of my work here.

Please excuse the more introspective nature of today's post.  Good night and good luck!

First off, an announcement -- I've updated the video page of my Media!  :D  And now on to the main course.

I was fortunate enough to be a part of the first Affordable Art Fair in Seattle this past weekend.  I meant to put up a blog post about it earlier to encourage people to check it out...but I was out early every day and exhausted by the time I got back haha.

The Affordable Art Fair was started in the UK by Will Ramsay and has since expanded to Europe, Asia, and the US.  This year's fair at Seattle was the first in the Pacific Northwest.  However, the success of this year's fair pretty much guarantees a return visit and an art director from Vancouver, BC was by for a visit and was encouraged to start the tradition up in Canada as well.  This particular fair included contemporary art from galleries located in New York, Naples, Ecuador, Tokyo, London, and more...as well as several Seattle artists and galleries.

The idea from the get-go has been to feature quality art from emerging contemporary artists as well as those that don't charge up the wazoo for their reputation, in order to promote art appreciation, collection, as well as fostering this fun and very open environment for people to enjoy and talk about art.

The role I had as a Fair Assistant was strictly volunteer, which was kind of a bummer...but also something I highly suspected when I first applied for the job and sent in my cover letter/resume.  All in all though, it was an incredible opportunity.  I enjoyed meeting with and talking to all the people I worked with, met, and all the gallery owners/artists that I got a chance to get to know over the past few days.  The exhibitionists were all extremely open and friendly.

In addition to getting to know my fellow volunteers and talk to the artists, I also got some inside track stuff...such as being able to sit in on a lecture by the legendary Jim Riswold.  I missed the demonstration that Dale Chihuly gave BUT that's okay...because the Chihuly Garden and Glass Museum offered the fair's employees/artists a free private tour on the last morning of the fair.  I was so excited to go...and that deserves a post in and of itself because Chihuly's work was so gorgeous.

Clearly, the art fair's definition of "affordable" isn't the same as mine, but I suppose it's all relative anyway.  By the last day, we had a lot of art being sold and taken away...but on the last day, I thought it was funny to see someone make a return.  Is art like buying clothing to some people?  Kind of like when you're in the dressing room and that t-shirt looks so darn good on you, but then when you try it on again at home, someone it's lost its charm and appeal.  Maybe someone can buy some art, take it home, and lose interest without the same lighting.  Who knows.

It never fails to surprise me to hear that people are actually reading the blog, besides my beloved sister.  This isn't an attempt at modesty, just plain truth.  I'm always gratified to hear it, but sometimes I immediately check back to see what I've recently written and whether it's in any way incriminating.

I recently joined a community arts program called Seattle Music Partners, which tutors music to underserved elementary school students in the Seattle area in a free after-school program.  I've been researching and looking for music programs here in Seattle for a while.  As a kid growing up with some financial difficulties, I'm incredibly indebted to Hochstein Music School, a music/dance program that offered scholarships and financial help, and allowed me not only to take lessons but to love music in the capacity that I do.  

I'm also incredibly indebted in all aspects, but specifically in this one, to my mom for this as well.  I know she worries often about how much my sister and I missed out in our lives due to circumstances...but I've always been grateful and happy with who I am and how we have turned out...and I owe that to her.

But I digress, and really those words deserve a post in themselves, so...

We had an orientation meeting for Seattle Music Partners (SMP) this past Sunday, which turned out to be somewhat surprising for two reasons:

1).  The day consisted of many presentations and other lessons, but also unfortunately consisted of several Icebreakers.

Deep down, I appreciate Icebreakers.  I really do.  And once I get into them, I often enjoy them and relish the fact they help me get to know my fellow compatriots better.  And what other way are you going to get a large group of people involved?

But before that happens, I really detest them.  I resent activities that force me to mingle with other people and to think on my feet.  It's like a group interview for a job.  Back when we did icebreakers for church, I used to show up late on purpose so I wouldn't have to participate.  I only started to show up on time for the icebreakers when I was the one coming up with the icebreakers and making other people do them.  Mwahahaha....ha...

When I heard we had to do icebreakers, I almost escaped out of the side door, never to grace this place or program again.

2).  About 80% of the SMP tutors were...high schoolers.  Later that night, I went back on their site to see if I had missed something in the program description, but nope.  There were a few college students and a few people my age or older.  But mostly...high schoolers.  And yes, you might have guessed this already, but I blended in perfectly.

When we first sat down at tables, one of the kids would invariably start up a conversation and ask around the table "so what instrument do you play?  and what school do you go to?"  The first table I sat at, everyone that answered named some high school in the area.  When they got to me and looked at me expectantly, I said: "Um...I don't go to school.  Not anymore."  I didn't add that it had been 8 years since I had last attended high school.

For the first time in my life, I wondered if I should start dressing more my age.  (What does that mean exactly?)  When you haven't really grown since middle school, you tend to keep the same clothes in your closet.

The funny thing is, I fit in better as a high schooler at the orientation than I probably ever did when I actually was in high school.  I was such an awkward kid then, and I don't actually remember having a normal conversation with a member of the opposite sex until maybe my senior year.

So maybe I'm getting to redo my high school social days, somewhat.  That being said, I did enjoy getting to know the other volunteers and they all seemed a very friendly, outgoing bunch.  And I absolutely adore the student I'm teaching flute to.  My only peeve was that we were all given stickers to give to our kids, and I got colored smileys instead of animal stickers or sparkly stars.  Fortunately, the volunteer next to me was very amiable to the idea of a trade...and I also organized a sticker trading post where we could all get a roulette of all the different sticker types.

Maybe I should go back to school after all.

Seattle summers are beautiful, but the autumn here is my absolute favorite.  Too bad it seemed to last for a total of five days.  

When I first moved to Seattle from upstate New York, I laughed at all the Pacific Northwest weaklings.  I hail from 16 years in Rochester, New York, which was ranked #2 for snowiest city last year.  #1 and #3 (Syracuse and Buffalo, respectively) are within a stone's throw of Rochester as well.  Average yearly snowfall is close to 100 inches and our biggest storm (2002) brought in a whopping 20 inches while the coldest day in the past decade gauged a temp of -11.9 degrees (2004).  You don't really know winter misery until you've lived here - shoveling and scraping ice off of your car every morning, waiting for the bus at 6 AM in the bitter cold and freezing wind/snow, sludging through slush from snow that comes as early as October and sometimes continues on until mid-April.  You're not even guaranteed a good amount of snow days because a town like this comes equipped to handle snow with handy snowplows, salt machines to melt it down on the roads, and a blase attitude toward snow piles that could smother you in an impromptu avalanche.

Whenever I visited my cousins for Christmas in Oregon, I would relish the warm winters here.  When I went to University of Washington, I'd usually wear flip-flops until November.

But...a few years in Seattle ruined me.  When I went back east for school in Ohio, I couldn't stand the winters there even though it wasn't nearly as cold or snowy as New York.  Bowling Green, Ohio, had its share of winter misery though.  It's as flat as a pancake there and there's no wind cover at all, which makes it nearly impossible to walk against the wind.  You can jump up vertically and land somewhere a few feet away without trying just because of the strong winds.  There are days where people are advised not to be outside for more than a few minutes because the wind chill can cause frostbite.  I used to have policemen stop by the side of the road to ask me if I needed a ride when they saw me walking to school.

So you'd think that moving to Seattle would be a piece of cake after all that.  Unfortunately, my years in Ohio and New York to Seattle were buffered by two years in sunny southern California.  And now I find myself shivering at night and cursing the cold.  The days here are still delicious autumn, but it gets downright chilly in the night.

It was so cold that I broke down and went to a local home repair shop to see if there was something I could get to insulate my windows.  The guys there recommended a home insulation kit, which turned out to be double-sided tape and plastic sheeting.  Basically, you tape plastic over your windows and use a blow dryer to shrink-wrap the plastic to fit over the windows.  (I didn't have a blow-dryer so I waved around my mini-heater).  As I was putting the plastic wrap up, a sliver of a doubt came into my mind as I inwardly wondered, "Does putting up this thin plastic wrap actually do anything?"  And that night, I got my answer:  "No...No, it really doesn't."

Luckily, my electric blanket does wonders and I bought an electric heater to help when it gets even colder in the winter.  And when I go outside, I'll just look like this:

I started the post today meaning to talk about how I masqueraded as a highschool student today, but I got a bit sidetracked.  I guess that will have to wait for later.

This next installment of "Adventures of a New Seattle-ite" is expressly to make this announcement.

I HAVE FURNITURE.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen.  I have a bed.  I'm no longer sleeping like a minimalist caveman while hugging the bare floor.  If I roll a little too far, I'll actually have a height to fall from (or I'll squash my nose against the wall).

The bed and mattress are all thanks to my amazing mom, who went to Ikea with me to buy it.  Three months into living in Seattle, I have a nice comfy bed that feels oh so good to fall asleep in.  Sometimes I roll around on it just to feel the luxuriousness.

As someone just moving into a new place without bringing any furniture, I thought I'd give some tips on how to procure furniture for any that might find themselves in the same situation.

1).  Friends -- I have a couch/futon because a friend of mine was moving out.  I also have maybe five pots because various people have hand-me-downed them.  Nothing wrong with having a few extra saucepans to bang around and feel all important in the kitchen.

2).  Yard sales -- Seattle (and probably any neighborhood in general) is rife with these in the summer.  I've taken to bringing around my big canvas bag instead of a small purse whenever I go walking/exploring because I almost always stumble upon a yard sale...and yard sales are my weakness.  They always have books for really cheap...or small knick-knacks...And if you come upon them near the end of the day, sometimes they're desperate and practically giving away things.

3).  Estate sales -- I went to my first Estate sale today...but I think it will be my last.  The upside is that in an estate sale, they're selling everything in the house.  You can usually get a hold of cool furniture or unusual items for very cheap.  The downside is that they sell these things because the person in the house/apartment has died and they either have no close friends or family, or their family isn't able to take care of their affairs for one reason or another.  I found it very sad...I'm sure that when I'm dead, I'll be up in heaven watching a rerun of my greatest hits while lounging on a couch made of clouds.  But I still found it very sad to be at the Estate sale and have people make their assumptions about a person as the summation of what was left behind.

4).  Street corners -- This may sound sketchy, but sometimes people just leave stuff on the side of the street.  I've picked up a few items this way -- a couple chairs, a mug, and my coffee table.  I'm always afraid that someone might leave something at the side of the road because they're coming back in a few minutes to load it into their truck...and so I'm unwittingly stealing something (if that's the case, maybe I'll see that scene in my greatest hits replay as well and we can all have a retrospective laugh about it)...but thus far, I haven't had anyone come running after me with cries of "Thief!!  Asian ninja thief!!!" so I think I'm okay....I think.

A digression on this last point -- it always helps to have big muscles.  I found the coffee table a couple blocks away from where I live, but it's good it wasn't any farther.  The table is almost as tall as I am, and I had to muster all of my puny strength to carry it home (and up three flights of stairs).  On my way home, I must have cut a pathetic figure because a stranger asked me worriedly if I needed any help with that because "that looks awfully heavy".  I replied back (after setting down the table for a quick breather...and also because I didn't think I could hold it and talk at the same time):  "No...it's not heavy, I'm just weak.  But thank you anyway."

Carrying it all the way home gave me a rather fulfilling sense of accomplishment though.  Everyone who sees it now can't believe I carried it home on my own.  I'm stronger than I look!  I'm a strong Asian Ninja Thief!

5).  "As-is" section in Ikea -- Ikea is a pretty magical place.  And you can find Ikea furniture anywhere - when people are moving out for the first time, when new couples are furnishing their first home together, when guys are fixin up their bachelor pads.  Why?  Because it's pretty darn cheap for furniture and not too shabby to the eyes.  And while Ikea usually gives you a pretty good deal anyway, you should always always check out their "as-is" section which has all of their furniture for huge markdowns...sometimes it's because the furniture has some defects (ie scratches or it may be missing a part) or because it was used in the display, or if it was returned with some marks.  In any case, that's where I got both my bedframe and my mattress....both marked down to less than 50% of their original price.

The challenge to this is that sometimes the furniture is already put together and can be rather cumbersome to move (and impossible to fit into certain vehicles).  But if you find a set or many different pieces, you can just get Ikea to deliver for you.  Their base delivery fee is $60, regardless of how much you want them to deliver...and then you can get all the big muscled guys to traipse up and down the three flights of stairs for you instead. 

6).  Craigslist -- oh craigslist...my place to find furniture and post up music lessons and a job hunt all at once.  As mentioned before in my adventures, I've tried numerous times to take advantage of their "free" section (usually to failure).  But sometimes you can get items and furniture for dirt cheap because people need to get rid of stuff in a hurry.  Maybe they're on the run from the law and need to get out of dodge...but usually because they're moving far away and can't take stuff with them.  I got my dining table and a set of five chairs for 10$ from craigslist.  Yup.

7).  The kindness of others -- When I first moved in, I mentioned that my neighbors were kind enough to temporarily lend me a table, an air mattress, and a chair.  I've since returned all of the items except for the one chair.  It's just...so comfy.  And I don't need it...but it was just folded up in the closet of my neighbor, so maybe she doesn't need it either?  Kind neighbor, if you're reading this, you can have the chair back if you want...but if you don't want...can I just keep it?...

Well, that's all the wisdom I have to impart for today.  And always remember, kids: nothing beats the price of free. 

I was walking down the street at around 8 one morning and saw a line that stretched all the way up the block.  It turned out to be for this tiny Patisserie called Crumble & Flake.

The next day, I walked past the same bakery at around 11 am and saw a sign that they had closed for the day because they were sold out.

What!  What is this mysterious and magical place that sells out before noon and just closes up shop??

One thing I didn't mention in my last post is my weakness for bakeries and pastries, which Seattle has a ton of as well.  I haven't been able to try as many as I'd like because of my budget, but I've still been able to sample a few since I've moved here.  I'd never heard of this one before though.

Anyway, I got out of bed ("bed" since I still don't have one yet) at around 5:30 am because I couldn't get back to sleep.  I'd woken up around 4 and had stayed wide awake.  This, by the way, never happens.  I don't usually have a problem sleeping, staying asleep, or going to sleep.  Coffee has no effect on me.  Location and noise don't have an effect on me (well, they can bother me or make it more difficult, but I can usually force my body to fall asleep anyway).  I've fallen asleep standing up, in a car trunk, in a tumbling rickshaw, and in band rehearsal, to name a few.

The last such occurrence of no sleep happened a year ago when I injured my diaphragm from coughing so much (and it kinda hurt) and the night before my first day of high school.

Since I was up today with no helping it, I decided to drop by the bakery and see if I could grab something.

And oh my.  I got a croissant (cheddar/paprika) and kouign amann (because the guy behind the counter recommended it, saying that it usually sells out pretty quickly) and...by the time I was halfway up the street (and halfway through the croissant), I wanted to turn around and buy some more from them.

The shop is tiny.  There's no room to sit down.  Just a few pastries behind the glass counter, the cashier, and then you're on your way.  Can't say anything for the coffee since I didn't try it.  A bit pricey...but the croissant had just the right amount of flake in it (om nom nom!).  And it really hit the spot for a wide-eyed Seattle-ite traipsing around in the morning.

And now that it's 9:30 am, I'm getting sleepy again.