Yellow house

My appreciation of music has always been deeply egotistical. I don't pay any attention to lyrics because I frankly don't care about the meaning the artist is attempting to convey. I care only about the meaning that I create -- arbitrarily and subjectively, yes, I admit -- as I hear the music.

For me, Belle and Sebastian = my swirling sunny emotions in the summer of 1999. Camper Van Beethoven = driving back from my Dairy Queen job, night-time, humming merrily along to myself, high school 1990. I'm not so interested in the technical facts about these bands.

Unsurprisingly, then, I've long been a fan of music with lyrics difficult to decipher: R.E.M., The Cocteau Twins, and so on. I'm also quite partial to music without any lyrics at all. This is the sort of music I can easily tack my memories to and claim as my own.

Grizzly Bear's critically acclaimed 2006 release, Yellow House, is such an album. Since I first started listening to it a few weeks ago, it has become ever more entertwined with nostalgia nodes deep within my mind. You know that feeling when you hear a song or an album a few times and you realize: I will always associate this music with this particular time in my life? Yes.

A text message I sent a few weeks ago sums up my experience with Yellow House: "Floating down the sidewalk on a grizzlybear-spun cloud."

I mentioned nostalgia. Again, I don't know what Grizzly Bear is singing about in this album, nor do I care to know. The thing is, I grew up in a yellow house -- lived there from 1981 - 1991. So I declare that this album is all about me and my own memories. I'll sign off with a quotidian quote from my journal written exactly twenty years ago, on August 10, 1987:

Today we went to Ruiz's to get some games. Some of the games: Mule, Alley Cat, Pool 400. Katy and I played a game of Farming Game today down here in the basement. Katy won. When the game ended, she had 140 cows, I had 110.

P.S. Go here (warning: music starts playing when you load the page) and download On a Neck, On a Spit right away. It's a very good song.

Tags: nostalgia UW Grizzly Bear Yellow House memories meaning lyrics 1980s 80s The Farming Game

Children of the 70s

Born in '74 (me) and '76 (her), my sister Katy and I are children of the 70s. We wore the funny clothes. Everything was orange and brown and hazy and bellbottom-y.

In honor of the strange decade of our birth, Katy has started writing The RollerBlog. In her words:

This blog chronicles my journey into the decade of my birth, in which I will immerse myself in all things seventies. Movies, books, music, television, pop culture, and more await.

Definitely take a look; her blog is a lot of fun. She's posted reviews of the film Silent Running, the discography of Yes, and a very...interesting...book called Half Past Human.

Katy, I bid you a warm welcome to the world of blogging. :)


A few more photos of us from the 70s:

• On the couch, when Katy was just a baby.
• Christmas! No, we weren't exactly wealthy.
• Halloween, With Grammy and Dad.
• Wheelbarrow ride.

Tags: RollerBlog siblings sister 70s music movies culture seventies photos

June 9: A look back

It's always interesting to look back through the journals I faithfully kept as a kid (I stopped in my mid-20s) and see what I was up to on this day in previous years. Often on this day, I was either just settling into (or about to start) a new chapter in my life.

In 1985, I was getting ready to go pick berries for the summer, as many kids used to do in rural Washington and Oregon:

Today was the last day of school. I wonder who will be my teacher in 6th grade? I am going to pick strawberries at Curt Maberry's this year.

In 1992, I was getting ready to travel to Washington D.C. for the summer, where I worked as a software tester with my uncle.

I packed, bought a road atlas, and our family played Scrabble.

In 1998, I had just moved into a house with roommates in Seattle's Central District, and I was selling flowers and berries down at Pike Place Market:

I like selling raspberries alright -- nothing to wrap, like the tulips. But if I'm not able to get at least four days a week from this job, I'm looking for another. I came home tonight and relaxed and had corn-on-the-cob. Kari inspired me; she always eats this. And it's only 30 cents per cob at the closest Vietnamese market (just blocks away). Decorated my room tonight with some framed Chinese pictures.

Tags: memories nostalgia summer Seattle

The ides of March: a historical perspective

What was I up to on the March 15ths of yesteryear?

Way back on 3/15/84, my sister Bethany was born. Happy 23rd birthday, Bethany! Yes, I feel old.

3/15/88:

Today was Bethany's 4th birthday. She got a stuffed giraffe which she named "Snuffy." She also got a huge stuffed rabbit which she named "Snuggles."

3/15/92:

Bethany had her 8th bday party today. I found a highly enjoyable Seattle station, 107.7, the "End." I listened to a 3-hr program on U2 today. I am getting really into U2.

3/15/94. I was working as a security guard in college, and all the officers (me too) spent much of our time mucking around in old-school online community:

It was Matt's last night at work. Most all the staff officers down there play LambdaMOO.

On 3/15/99, I wrote about how things were much better than they had been over the previous two years (1997 being a nadir), I wrote simply "Ich habe genug" -- I have enough.

Tags: memories LambdaMOO birthday sister

March the first: a historical perspective

There's a mountain of strategy case reading to do tonight, and a meeting agenda to plan out, but first, I shall creak open the musty memory-books.

Fifteen years ago, on 3/1/92, I was working at Dairy Queen, and I used to bring home extra food. And I crowed about my fast-food fortune in my journal:

Tonight I got from DQ: 4 chicken patties, 7 chicken nuggets, a large and small frozen shake, and a medium sundae. All this would have been thrown away.

Sixteen years ago, 3/1/91, I had a crush on a girl, my neighbor Lyndi. And I was a band geek (trombone).

I talked to Lyndi briefly. These past few weeks, I have not been talking to her very much. But after I talked to her today, I started liking her again mass.

That afternoon everyone in the band went to see "The Slience of the Lambs." We went to the mall and I bought the first "They Might be Giants" tape, self-titled, made in 1986.

Back on 3/1/89, I was rolling in the dough:

Dad was in a good mood, and he gave me $10.00! He also gave me $2.25 for lunch, which I used today to buy hot lunch and two pops (one for me, one for Dorj). Today we took the test in Geometry on chapter 9, "Right triangles and the Pythogorean Theorem."

22 years ago, on 2/26/84 (not too far from 3/1), I hope I didn't have a temperature that high:

I had my pajamas on all day today. I have a bad fever. I might sleep on the couch tonight! (I'm writing in the couch). We didn't go swimming last night because I had such a high tempature. Today my temp. was about 202 degrees. The time is: 8:42 PM 45 seconds.

Tags: memories

My mother the cowgirl

Because I'm too busy at moment to write a post, I present this photo of my mother, circa 1959, southeast Washington state:

Tags: mom

I'm an old man

Today is my youngest sister's 16th birthday. She is now half my age. Another sister will be turning 23 soon (an unfortunate year for me, hopefully better for her). And the kicker: my oldest younger sister just turned 30.

All this adds up to me feeling old. It doesn't seem like that long ago when we all looked like this:

January the sixth: a historical perspective

Today I tromped through Seattle's Queen Anne neighborhood with classmates. We visited several businesses and asked if they would like to donate to this year's Challenge for Charity auction. I stopped by Queen Anne Office Supply, where I was a delivery driver ten years ago, and this prompted me to look back through my musty memory-books.

Ten years ago in early 97, I was looking for a job (didn't start at the office supply store until a month later). On 1/6/97, one of the many places I applied was the Starbucks roasting plant, and I wrote down my random observations:

I am in the Starbucks roasting plant lobby. Everything's nice and new here. It's quite a walk down Airport Way S. to get here. The receptionists are talking quietly. But I can still hear what they're saying. The words "vagina ... yeast..." have floated into my ears.

Before I walked down here a paid a visit to a bustling little mart. It has a Vietnamese name, underneath which reads "The Asian Connection." The small store is crowded with noise and people. When I stood in line to buy my noodles and curry, a small old woman cut in front of me. She asked me something in a language I do not know. I just smiled at her. In reply, she let out and a hearty laugh and kept her place in front of me in line.

Fifteen years ago, on 1/7/92, I was a social intermediary 'twixt my sister and a fellow at our high school:

Katy asked a guy named Adam to the tolo. At the game tonight he told me he would say no, and afterwards, she called him, and they both agreed that they were relieved. But Katy told me later that she is actually a little disappointed.

And I recall being stressed about where I would go to college:

I got a letter in the mail today that says I have been accepted to Western. I hope I don't end up going there.

Tags: memories 1997 1992

December the 2nd: a historical perspective

In the Scientific American monthly section "50, 100, and 150 Years Ago," the editors rifle through the musty archives and reprint short articles from yesteryear.

I'm inspired to do something similar with my own life archives (I'm not quite able to go back 150 years yet ... someday). Starting in 1981(!) I began keeping a journal off and on. From 1986 through the mid-90s, I estimate that I wrote an entry every two days, on average.

Out of curiosity (to be truthful: I was seeking distractions from the ongoing Stats project), I looked through the old journals to see what I'd written on Dec. 2 in previous years.

Ten years ago, in 1996, I was a few days away from starting a temp grave shift position as a USPS mail sorter. On 12/2/96, I wrote:

This morning I got a call from the Post Office personnel department. They want me to start early, on Wednesday night. For some strange reason I am very excited.

Fifteen years ago, on 12/2/91, I was apparently in a melancholy mood:

I started to enjoy classical music immensely. I think for the past month I have become more introspective and reading a lot more. I have not had a desire to have a relationship for a couple months.

And 20 years ago, on 12/2/86:

Jonathan Bradley came back to school. I just started teaching him logo.

I started music. That means I just stay in the band room.

Today we had play practice (for church). My part is Paul Evans. I have 13 lines. (By the way, Paul Evans is supposed to be rich.)

Last night my ears were plugged. I slept upstairs.

It is 10:00 PM exactly.

I stuck to the facts back in the day.

Tags: memories journal 1996 1991 1986

The job I never worked

Regarding the poll that I posted last week, the job from that list that I've never held (although it does sound like fun) is "newspaper technology reporter."

Back in the days when kids still did it, I delivered newspapers. The photo shows me in September, 1987, looking rather unexcited to head out on my daily route in Everson, WA. A decade later, I spent a year delivering office supplies in Seattle. And, during my brief healthcare phase, I even spent a few months working as a nurse's assistant in a nursing home.

The duties at the nursing home were...not particularly pleasant, to put it mildly. And the pay was terrible. It didn't take me long to notice that I was the only nurse's assistant there who hadn't recently emigrated from an African or Asian country. One of them expressed surprise when I told her that I had a college degree. "Why are you here?" she asked.

Why, indeed? During my 20s, I was driven by an experimentalist urge. Ever-flickering in the back of my head was the notion that a wide variety of experiences leads to increased wisdom. I also thought that I could distill these tales into a novel someday. That idea may still come to fruition, in a decade or three.

Instead of philosophy, I could have majored in computer science in college (as some folks advised me to) and stayed in the same line of work over the past decade. In that scenario, I'd be in a pretty lucrative position by this point.

But, I don't regret my own multi-faceted employment history. Although it didn't pay much or lead me to a glamorous job, the nursing home experience gave me empathy and respect for the people who do this sort of work for years. As an added bonus, a Kenyan coworker taught Swahili pick-up lines ("na kutaka" translates as "I want your thing" -- she advised me to be judicious about using this one).

Travelling through a unique panoply of jobs, I’ve hammered out a deep sense of identity, vocation, and compassion. I doubt I would have developed this outlook (which I'd like to think is an initial step towards wisdom) in a more traditional career track. Now, ten years out of college, I'm ready to explore career options that involve more responsibility and allow me to make a positive net impact. It's the ideal time to get an MBA, and I'm looking forward to starting the program at UW next month.

Tags: career employment history MBA