Music Scene

Ridiculously wonderful progressive bluegrass is coming out of Kyoto, Japan, folks! I am digging very much a band called Pirates Canoe. I also happen to know the lead singer, Reika.

I have never reviewed a band before, but I figure why not give it a try.

Reika Hunt (first mate) has a sweet whispy voice that harmonized beautifully with all voices out of their canoe. And the woman can write a song!

Sara Kohno (Captain) and Mandolin player has this amazing tone to her voice. I think it's like chocolate. Rich and creamy, which mixes nicely with the sweetness of Reika's voice. And um, the Mandolin. Seriously!? Crisp rhythms and a sound that makes your eyebrows go up and down as it hits its range of notes.

The fiddle player, Kanako Keyaki (quartermaster) shreds. Agile. Her playing reminds me why violins (yes, violins are fiddles) and the human voice are most alike but also what makes them different. They can be shrill, smooth and rich, strings vibrating like our own vocal chords (cool!); but violins can harmonize with themselves, unlike our own voices!

The drummer, Takashi Yoshioka (boatswain) has sense. That's all you can say of a man who plays in a top hat, makes noises with god knows what and makes it just plain fun to watch him play. His personality shines from the back and his harmonies add a nice touch when he sings.

The bassist looks like a terribly laid back but fun looking dude, who keeps the core vibrating nicely. Bass is perhaps my favorite instrument to hear. It strikes my core and I find it terribly sexy. Jun Taniguchi (rum master) doesn't disappoint with his plucking, slapping, tapping and thumping.

And finally, Kazuhiko Iwaki (sailing master), plays the resophonic guitar and makes no sense to me... how does he not live in Appalachia or Nashville? Really impressive to me and I want to hear more! He slides and picks the strings up and down on his knee, left fingers steel wrapped and right wrapped in plucking picks. A natural.

Pirate's Canoe use silence as well as they use melodic, dissonant and harmonic sound and it feels good to hear them. They can be etherial, strange, silly, frank and just darn pretty. Their new CD has been on repeat here a lot lately and I have plans to see quite a bit of them live in the future. Come join me!

Oh, and they have a great look, too. Retro. Casual. Cool.

(Pirates Canoe)

PS- I am planning to go see another band I learned about at the last Pirates' live called (I think) Yoshida Shonen and Mikazuki Soup. Guitar, drums, upright bass, piano, vocals and a horn! The horn player is very pretty. I love how she holds her horn when she is not playing it and her mouth is pretty (I know that sounds weird, but she has a pretty mouth). Yoshida Shonen is a nutter and I loved watching him rock out! They are funky, experimental and funny! Not rock, but they Rock! Rock! July 8th around Shijo!

(Pirates Canoe with Yoshida Shonen and Mikazuki Soup)

The Newest Addition...

On a lighter note, I would like to introduce you to our first blossom of the year. This hibiscus is probably our 4th one, but also the one we have managed to keep alive the longest. We love her.

After snapping this lovely, we headed out to spend the day walking in Gion. We ventured into a little hole in the wall for lunch where we had cold yuba and a lovely teishoku (set) lunch. It tasted like grandma's cookin', so you know we were alright!

I bought a gorgeous clothe at RAAK, which I can tie into various style bags. Can't wait to bust it out with a black dress on girl's night. Perhaps next Saturday!?

We walked to Sanjo and meandered into a plant shop, where we met the newest addition to our decor. She is perfect and I will love her as long as she will have us!

My heart was slightly broken when I found out this beauty was sold...

We'll be back to check for more like her. Her shape is perfect for our window wall nook. Fingers crossed we find one like her before too long.

Part 2: No shame!

It took me a while to just come out with it here. I tried last post, but I couldn't do it yet. Ah well, I am finally ready to say that in 4 weeks, I heard both "Congratulations" and "Well, humans are terrible breeders."

Yes, the weekend I was to run my first 5K as an adult was the weekend that I miscarried my first pregnancy. A goal and dream deferred.

That is how I describe it, or perhaps I should say, how my friend R stated it. With such a resounding "Uh-huh" in fact, that I came to realize it was the dream that I was mourning. We had tried before to no avail and then it happened, and then, it didn't. It is like when you listen to a song and you think, "Here. Here it is going to break open and split my head and heart in half," but instead it just keeps building until you dance by the radio and accidentally unplug it as you trip forward on the chord. No resolve to the crescendo! Or... maybe it is more like sitting in the front car of a roller coaster and after the long climb up the massive peak, just as you reach the top, the cars roll backwards and you never fall into the oblivion of recklessly abandoned screams and the rush of what is one hell of a drop into the unknown! Yeah, more like that, I think.

At first, I was just so fucking disappointed and sad. I spent days feeling the life run out of me. I cried when I talked about it and was, for the first time in my life, leery to actually speak about something personal. It felt like a secret I had to keep. I stayed inside, drank a lot of fluids, mostly tea and water and then I got a pain in my side.

I called the doctor who had done my ultrasounds and told me that I would likely miscarry when I showed up for a weekly check with spotting. She suspected not only because of the spotting but also because upon looking, the gestational sac was small for what should have been 7 weeks and there was no heartbeat. The latter was so sad to not see flicker on the screen. I had been counting down, asking friends, keeping track of its development on the umteen websites with 3D images and descriptions of what was happening inside me.

I'll pause here, like I often did in the few weeks that I knew, to say that I knew there was a chance it wouldn't go to term. I kept telling myself not to get too excited. But I guess that is like telling a 5 year old kid not to get too excited about Disney World for Spring Break. A very difficult sale.

Doctor T told me to go to the hospital. I went and my new Doc, a woman from China, said she would do a DNC the next morning because she suspected that I had an infection. We went home. I took some antibiotics with some soup and went to bed. The next thing I knew it was 2 a.m. and I was vomiting. We called the hospital and went in.

As soon as we got there I tossed my cookies but also instantly felt better. They put me in a bed and I went to sleep for a little bit. Around 6 a.m. they put a crazy old woman in the bed next to me. They they gave her a "kancho" (supository) with such vividly descriptive commentary at massive volume because of the woman's craziness and age, that all I could do was wince and laugh quietly. What a way to wake up!

Hours past as I slept and listened to things around me. The crazy lady had been moved soon after whatever they put in her bum came out. She called the nurses repeatedly after only 3 minutes of being in her bed, finally she admitted she was lonely and so they put her in a more lively section. In her place came a Chinese woman in labor, accompanied by her mother. I had no clue what they were saying, but listening to a mother and daughter talk is universal and it made me warm. I wished I had my Mom.

Between her contractions my procedure was done, and when I woke, she was in lots of pain and asking them to just cut her open. The nurses just kept saying it would be far worse pain after a cesarian delivery and to just do her best to bare it. It would all be over soon. I was discharged before she started pushing, but I think she was nearly there. I thought of her often in the days following, wondering how she was getting on as a new mom. I wondered how I was going to get on as a new me, who had nothing to show for the inner change she went through. I started doing inventory.

One of the things that really helped me were the messages and gestures of love from those around me. I felt so loved, that I was overflowing and wondered how I could think something had been lost. And yet, I also felt like the biggest god damned failure! I had failed at something I was supposedly biologically hardwired to do! Not only that, but I failed, something I just don't do well. Bring on the shame.

Entering the shame cycle is like walking into traffic with a blindfold. You have no clue where anything is coming from, though you kind of hear it coming, as the voice gets a bit louder in your head and then BOOM! What made it worse is that the more people knew, the more people knew. I felt completely out of control. Until I owned it.

I realized that by thinking I could control who knew and not talking about it like I would normally with something that happened to me, I was digging myself into a hole. A very lonely hole. And once I started to open up, the stories came a floodin' in. Many prefaced with, "I wouldn't normally talk about this, but since you are being so open about it..." And that is when I realize how utterly not alone I was and how shame is self-inflicted when one assumes that others would think of a miscarriage as a failure and not a very human experience. For every woman who experiences a miscarriage, which is 25%, there is a man who experienced it with her. Which means, something like 50% of all people who try to have a baby get it. And yet, it is not something people talk about? Couples suffer the loss all the time. Anyone else wonder WTF?

I think TV shows need to explore miscarriage with their characters more. It's always about having babies and deciding to keep them or not. Or it's about kidnapping. What about dealing with something that happens far more than kidnapping and is such an emotional treasure trove you could write half a seasons about it!? I wouldn't base a show on it, but come on, no one gets over it like they do a cold. Give the process some respect and knock some socks off. Get an Emmy or whatever the TV award is. Seriously! NBC, ABC, whateverBC, make this happen!

To wrap up here, first, and most importantly, I learned how much love I have in my life. I realized just how much of an amazing support network I have. I have owned my experience and will talk about it anytime. I am not a failure nor am I a shameful loser. And to reiterate, I don't need a nose job. Finally, TV writers need to do a better job at handling the topic. They just do. Because too many women suffer shame, not realizing how common and un-alone they are.

Part 1: You need a nose job, Loser.

Like everyone, I have been told a lot of things in my life. "You need a nose job" was certainly one that stuck with me, but I gave no weight. My nose is what girls with "a deviated septum" ask for. Period. On the other hand, I have also been given sage advice. Before getting married, I received lovely tidbits like, "You will mature at different rates. Be patient while the other catches up." Or, "Give without expectation." As a married woman, these words have carried me from time to time. And, I pass them on to those who are stepping across their wedded threshold.

I can site examples of such times; like our first 3 years of marriage. It was a prolonged adjustment but also a time of exceptional growth. We went through several jobs, earned a higher degree, moved 3 times and finally found some peace. For almost 3 years we have enjoyed a pretty copacetic existence in our Kyoto home. The turmoil led us here and we feel triumphant every time we think back to those first few years. It has made up realize how ready we are for new things in our life and drives home the fact that you can't always be a winner. I came to firmly believe it is more about how you handle the times when you think you are the "loser" than being a winner (try telling Charlie Sheen that!).

And this word, "Loser". Rather a funny term. A mainstream term, perhaps engrained in my generation's psyche by the 90's Beck song of the same title. "Soy, una perdidor. I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me." While Beck never meant for this song to crown him king of the twenty-something "slackers" movement of that time, it did; and funnily it was the antithesis of what he even stood for. He worked hard for little pay for years, was even homeless for a while. So it's ironic that a song called "Loser" made him anything but in the eyes of the world. When he sang those lyrics, he just meant he couldn't rap very well. Go figure his self proclaimed lack of talent would catapult his art into the mainstream, making him a beloved musician. Ironic, no?

Boy did I digress! Ah well, I like where this is going and will leave it here to be picked up again. I'll certainly go to bed with that song stuck in my head. Good luck not singing it all day/night, too. But just remember, you are as much a loser as I need a nose job.

Long time no write...

OK, so I am back. I have a whopping post to write. It explains my absence. I look forward to it being read. I look forward to writing it.

Stuff and bits

Only 3 days left of work and one is a voluntary day in so I can meet with a Prof I adore for his help! We are finally coding the videos from last year's second grader interviews! Yes, it has been 8 months. Stuff happened.

Anyhow, I leave in 4 days! Time for lots of Christmas cheer. Shopping, aka, "ef me, there are too many people in the damn mall and I want to get in and out ASAP". Lists will be made for efficiency purposes. Yes, lists will be made.

Hiro had 3 days off in a row. Glorious! I really enjoyed having him here when I left and came home. We did a lot of silly joking, some planned meals, spontaneous eats out and even took a nap together on Monday. Had we rented DVDs and curled up, I would have thought we were dating again. It's been a pleasure. Thanks, lucky stars! I'll miss him while I am gone. Nice to be leaving feeling really in love. It will make coming back easier.

On the way home today, we stopped at a city look-out. Kyoto is such a packed city when seen from afar. I must say though, having the river and Gosho, you don't feel it as much when you are in it. On to what I really want to say...

When we pulled into the parking lot the guy in the next car was very comfortably reclined looking at a magazine. He was open to the page with lots of vaginas. It was all I could do not to check if he had his man parts out. Convinced that I didn't want to see that, I just pretended not to notice. I was rather shocked at how many vaginas there were on the page, though. He should get tinted windows.

I don't mind seeing them, I mean, Georgia O'Keefe comes to mind. However, this particular situation being in a parking lot made me think of the movie Happiness (1988). And so then I felt a little disturbed. If you've seen the movie you understand. If you haven't, well, it is not something you would watch when you want a laugh. Amazing cast, but dear lord the characters are a tribe of filthy souls. A pedophile father being perhaps the filthiest. Vomit.

Moving on, or not... the parking lot was also filled with adorable fat cats. Yes, folks! I saw even more pussies in the parking lot! Imagine that!? One was super friendly. Came trotting over with a jiggling belly and stayed as long as I continued to rub it (Christ! Could this get any easier?). Back in the car, I lamented not having a pet. Standard for me, until I think of the responsibility, cost, etc and figure I am not yet old enough. Oh, and Hiro is totally allergic. *Sigh*

OK, so I think I should stop now cause this is making me think of even more dirty things I could say. Will spare you! I don't apologize for how I think, only for not warning you at the start. :)

Statistics

I have just hung up with my Mash Collaboration Quantitative Methods Course class. You may remember (because, you know, I have so many readers) when I talked about it here.

Well tonight, as our Prof wallowed in our wonderfulness, I almost cried. Well, I had some mascara in my eye, but still, our teacher was so proud of us! More than that though, I am super duper proud of myself for staying the course. Math was never my forte, but perhaps that was just an excuse after all?

Introductory Stats is really not so much math as it is being willing to read, listen and think. Like any kind of learning you just have to put in some effort. Most importantly, though, you have to be willing to ask and help when others are asking. Yes, yes, I am plugging collaboration here. Because it works.

I couldn't have done the study if my wonderful colleagues hadn't been willing to work with me. I couldn't have done the course without the other students whose ideas, shared on our wiki site, turned on more than one proverbial lightbulb in my head. Nor could I have done it without the inspiring and enthusiastic professor Greg Scholdt or Steven Herder, the collaborator of collaborators.

Yes, the people above made it almost easy. Perhaps only 1 of my grey hairs can be attributed to this course. And that would be considered statistically significant if you got a peek under my bangs, people!

So walking away I am reassured of a few things. First that collaboration is the answer to the common person who needs a little external motivation to kickstart their internal motivation device. Second that you don't have to be a math genius (or to have ever gotten above a B-, or was it a C?, in math) to tackle Stats. Third that I may not be as brain dead after 9 p.m. as I thought. And finally, I am reassured that mistakes are what learning is made of, and that seeing shortcomings just shows you that there is more to learn and room to grow.

So go. Go sign up for something that scares you. Seriously. Do it. You may find out you are more of a force to be reckoned with than the thing you were scared of to begin with!