berkeley

i was worried about chuchki. she was understandably terrified on the plane, keeping up a steady yowl while staring into my eyes through the black mesh of the cat carrier, the darkness below the seat inducing eye-shine that looked all too similar to tears of betrayal. on the flight from the delta hub in atlanta to san francisco, i would occasionally squeeze a hand through a small opening in the zipped door and stroke her head to reassure her, and this would always put her to peace for the time being. but on the whole, the affair was quite stressful and, i was worrying, perhaps traumatic. but my fear was abated each time she leaned into my strokes and closed her eyes: a definite sign of unchanging affection and lasting trust.

when we first arrived into the new apartment, chuchki began wildly searching all the rooms, but i made an effort to restrict her to mine, as my roommates had been painting and paint chips were scattered here and there across the carpet of the living room. this room was an odd shape and was afflicted that night, and the following morning, by a group of black men having boisterous conversations right outside my window in the parking lot. throughout the day chuchki remained camped in the corner of the open closet, unsleeping. even when i finally fed her and made her a new litterbox out of a cardboard box and some plastic wrap, she did not budge. i eventually moved to a different room, one with a larger window and a more uniform square shape. this room did not overlook the parking lot, so i was not at the complete mercy of the parking lot revelers. chuchki immediately took to the corner of the room behind my big luggage bag and stared out at me. i figured she was simply uneasy with the new surroundings and left her be, sometimes going over and petting her, which she responded to warmly.

i then had the idea of creating for her a hiding place, somewhere dark and warm in case she felt the need to be hidden and safe. i cut a small hole out from another cardboard box, just big enough for her to enter, and laid out her orange air france blanket inside. chuchki had officially acquired this blanket after she had coated its surface with another of her fur. i had always laid it beside my computer in grandma's house, and she would often sprawl out upon it and fall asleep as i clacked away on the keyboard. this i brought with me because it had her fur and smell upon it; i also brought an owl finger puppet named fukurou-chan that was her favorite toy. i kept fukurou-chan in her carrier for the duration of the trip - this most certainly added to her cute factor, and i had to politely deflect more than one advance by a middle-aged woman whose aim it was to demonstrate their love for my "kitty".

chuchki took to her little house almost immediately, and slept in there the remainder of the day, often waking up and gazing out lazily at me, who sat upon a mattress on the floor facing my laptop. this morning i opened the blinds for her and she is now perched upon the windowsill, viewing the side of another apartment building and the distant street with its subtropical trees and unfamiliar avian life, its large reddish squirrels and passing students on bikes. i cannot wait until the living room is clear so i can give chuchki free reign of the apartment while i am gone, but for now she will be locked in my room to prevent any ingestion of poisons. i am lenient while in the apartment with her, to let her get a feel for the place.

today i shall drop off some resumes at cafes and send off more to other local businesses. i really need some income. and furniture.

fifteenth of october

this is when i depart. my feelings will be mixed until i finally arrive in my new apartment. once there they will congeal and offer an image from which something may be able to be divined. i hope chuchki likes her new home.

moving

eating some day-and-a-half old udon and katsuo soup with leeks. it smells slightly fermented, as if something pleasantly pungent has been happily culturing in it for a short period of time, and i believe this only serves to enhance the flavor. mai and i made it two days ago, along with some tofu soup, which we ate with some korean appetizer foods from hanareum in k-town.

man found a suitable apartment for our dwelling needs in berkeley, only a short walk from aparna's abode. this is most fortunate. it would have been extremely difficult for me to find a place by myself, given my distance from the location and my recent inability to concentrate on nearly anything. i will be arranging my flight shortly, and then i'll be off to the west coast to begin a new life.

is this exciting? i would say this is beyond something as base and simple as excitement. it's very much like floating down a widening river that is quickly picking up speed, and making out just ahead the violent aquatic turbulence of the head of a massive waterfall.

chuchki saved

when i got home today i couldn't find chuchki. it was 11.30 at night and usually she comes romping to the door when i enter. but even five minutes after i filled chloe's bowl, which also gets chuchki's attention, i turned on the light to find only the ghostly chloe crouching silent above her food dish. as usual, she stared at me with an uncertain significance, which came across this time as urgent concern, accurately reflecting my inner thoughts. perhaps that is what chloe's stare does: it simply throws back what i am revolving around in my mind.

it was then i heard the yowl. it seemed to come from the closet containing the trap door leading to the basement through which clothes are dropped down to the laundry machines. i opened the closet door and found only the familiar trap door and bottles of preserved food, packages of pancake mix, the hanging light switch. i then opened the basement door: entryway to a darkness so impenetrable it takes on a life of its own, a lingering smell of musk and old linoleum, the descending staircase down into the graveyard for all the house's unneededs, the tight spaces that lead to my grandpa's old laboratory, still decorated with cloudy beakers, piles and piles of screws and nails, unmarked glass bottles filled with mysterious liquids, hanging light bulbs activated only by screwing them in by hand.

as soon as i opened the door, the instant the musk hit me, my cat's bright orange silhouette struck my eyes against the darkness. she was cowered, unsure of the light from the kitchen that stung her eyes, staring at my feet in disbelief. i scooped her up and cradled her, and she loosened up considerably, refraining from pulling her escape moves or enacting an annoyed struggle. i carried her upstairs and fed her some seafood-flavored pellets, which she gobbled at briefly before wandering out of my room mysteriously to stare into the void galyna left in the next room after leaving this evening. she returned in intervals to finish her meal, and once done hopped up onto my desk to receive some affection and stare out into the black night from my window overlooking the backyard. she made a few rounds around my computer before settling down, lowering her head familiarly when she reached mine, whereupon i gave her the familiar toothless bite and kiss between her ears. sitting with her face practically pressing upon the window screen, her tail twitched as i played amnesiac by radiohead, complemented by the scratchy chirps from the insects outside.

feelin' fine

o mood of moods.

the miracle of the natural high. or it could be the strong tea i've been drinking all day. or it could be the nine hours of work i put in at my volunteer job. all worthwhile, all relevant, all well-spent. we finally mailed away our second grant application -- that makes two in two days! the deadline day for a grant is ironically, or actually quite unsurprisingly, the busiest. or it could be the mug of coffee and chocolate chip cookie i just bought at think coffee. possibly the best drip coffee i've had in the city.

the atmosphere heavy with academic weight, the lights dim, the air nearly palpable, the collective self-consciousness almost pungent.

the faces lit eerily with monitor glow gazing up longingly, hoping to catch each other's gazes, the quiet desperation, the nervous attention to everything but the screen.

the wine bottles stacked on wood behind the bar, the barista in tee-shirt, baseball cap, and thick-framed glasses slamming the portafilter into place, hitting the "single cup" button with his thumb, the swish of steam and burning black beans, the harmonica-driven americana blasting from the wall speakers saturating everything with warmth.

how can anyone ever be bored for any extended length of time?

feeling playful

in the mental sense.

there are times when i forcibly shut out the coaxes of humanity and simply observe everything: the people, the cars, the birds, the sky. and all the motion that envelops them and sends them on their ways. and being silent, intentionally close-mouthed and attentive, purposefully distant: all this makes me smile. it gives me a kind of happiness that faces inward, is crouched and tight, hardly able to contain itself, bubbling and effervescent.

i am happy because, when this particular feeling comes over me, i like to think of myself as separate, as unique. and i do not believe this is solely an effect of my american upbringing. for as american culture is primarily defined by its leaning to reward individuality and self-expression, us humans have not yet evolved out of our propensity towards societal mimicry for the self-defense and safety of our egos. and what is the ego but an advanced extension of survival instinct?

but there are some of us who intentionally distance ourselves, and actually gain pleasure from this remove. those for whom this feeling occupies much of their time will become hermits, outcasts, exiles. i don't believe i have yet reached the point where i will desire to flee to the woods. and the roots of my pleasure are not so simple. i require others to surround me in order to feel its highest order of jubilation. at the risk of sounding like an extraterrestrial, or perhaps simply an anthropologist, i enjoy observing humans just doing what they do, operating in a natural way. i am by no means documenting any of this meticulously; it is a transient pleasure, a fleeting joy that requires no record, to study these behaviors that i may be guilty of performing in a new light, in the light of the observer.

in other news, i currently harbor two distinct and mostly valid worries: one, that i have wasted an entire year, and two, that i may waste still more. but flanking these worries is that force which demands strict definition. what does "waste" mean?

many people i have known have expressed to me their dissatisfaction with their jobs, their relationships, their lives in general. they spend not just one, but often two, three, or more years in regret, in silent suffering, in helplessness. however, they may be making significant career-related progress, or they may buy a house, or they may get married, or they may do any number of things that are on the checklist for "progress in life". i believe that my use of "waste" may well fall under the definition set in this checklist. i suffer because i am careerless. i suffer because i am alone. i suffer because i have no 401k plan. but please. this is not real suffering.

additionally, to lend support to the argument that i am still somehow mentally sound and optimistic despite innumerable odds, i still know how to be happy. some people may never learn this skill, and they will be forever tormented with the question of how to pass the time. i am thankful for this skill, and it shall ultimately lead to my salvation from my present condition. and i may be dramatizing.

indecision

choices are what ruin a man.

1. stay in nyc and find a relatively mediocre job in an organization related to environmentalism that provides some promise of mobility. buy a new monthly unlimited metrocard.

2. move to california, where exists the promise of jobs more related to my degree. enjoy the nice weather and eat some fresh produce. lament the lack of good public transportation.

3. move to japan and possibly stay in the spare room of a colleague from grad school in tokyo. possibly get a job with his japanese environmental consulting firm. teach english for cold hard cash. possibly recognize my dream of achieving something close to fluency. eat lots of soba.

4. move into an abandoned train car out in a meadow and sleep with a family of raccoons. train the small ones to groom my body and catch me river fish. enjoy the good life.