IMR: Entries: 2001: November: 07 — Wednesday, November 07, 2001

Another Orbit Twenty-seven years and one day I've been on this blue-green planet. So far, not a bad run.   Katie and her cousins prepare for Halloween. Katie the chef does the neighborhood rounds. The last stop on the trick o' treat trip. Breaking into the evening's take of sweets. A spontaneous trip to Chuck E. Cheese Katie takes a few trips down the slide. Tossing ping-pong balls for little tickets. Riding a little merry-go-round. Whee? Taking a break from the fun and games. Fifty tickets equals one little foam toy. Interns celebrate with a "wheatgrass shot" toast. The staff pulls together some birthday fun. Yesterday was my birthday, quietly as I tried to let it pass, and it brought me past the halfway point between 25 and 30 ... meaning, essentially, that I'm "almost 30." I'm having some of the typical mixed feelings about getting older, but this year, at least, I'm okay with it. Hell, I'm almost happy. Twenty seven just sounds like a good age. Without question beyond the realm of youth, but still as far away from middle-age as one can get at the same time. And this year, I'm done with school, and closing in on my fourth year of gainful professional employment. I have a sweet, gooey family — a beautiful wife and daughter, and another little person on the way. I'm still in debt, of course, and still a bit lacking in real direction, but I'd grade life this November with a strong B-plus. I'm hopeful about the year to come. With or without good reason, I am able for brief periods to suppress my innate cynicism and pessimism and just look forward to The Great Whatever. I don't know why, but I've been more reflective this year than most. It almost feels as if this is my first birthday since Katie was born, even though I passed through 24, 25 and 26. Is it because I finally finished my degree? (Note to self: Pick up diploma!) Is it because we're having another child, but this time free of most of the terror and uncertainty of the first? Is it because everyone thoroughly reevaluated their lives and their perspectives after Sept. 11? Whatever the reason, I've been losing myself in thought a lot. Unfortunately, this means not a lot gets done, and it means Jen is constantly worried about whether I'm mad about something. I'm not. I'm content. And unlike in the past, when the feeling would actually unnerve me and my high-strung, anal-retentive self, I'm perfectly fine with it. And yes, I know that it's during periods like this that the Fates like to come down and vigorously shake our little ant-farm worlds, but I'm not going to worry about it. For now. My first birthday wish came right at midnight from the incredibly cool Jolene, who couldn't have possibly forgotten since she was counting down to Nov. 6 on her website. Other fun and warm messages from Hawaii and beyond were waiting when I woke up, making for a great start to the day (despite a developing cold). I got to the office, hoping to lay low, but first my mom came over to deliver a birthday balloon, and then the FedEx guy wandered noisily around to deliver my first present (also from Jolene): a bound, comprehensive, premium, customized astrology chart. A week's worth of reading, and from what I've skimmed, most of it dead-on. More cynic than idealist, yes. Out of place, insecure, talkative, yes. Tempramental, absolutely. (Well-liked by others, maybe not.) After that, the secret was out. Vincent, a Jamba Juice employee and evangelist, decided to use the occasion to introduce me and the other interns to the infamous "wheatgrass shot." (I'm already a bit of a Jamba fan, as their "Vibrant C" smoothie has boosted my mood far better than any cold pill.) We all sucked it down, we all made funny faces and scrambled for the orange slice chasers, but we all thanked him for it anyway. Dad called, and treated me to lunch at "Pomodoro's Cafe" (?) on Bishop Street. By the time I got back, my boss had picked up a lei, Roderick had bought and decorated a cake, and the ever-crafty Bernice had found a little palm tree and had built a little me (out of paper and straws) to sit under it. Everyone gathered in the conference room to sing, blow bubbles, eat, and chat. Not surprisingly, no one would tolerate my whimpering about getting old. Finally, after work, mom treated me, Jen and Katie to dinner at The Old Spaghetti Factory. I got completely stuffed — more stuffed than in recent memory. I even went for dessert: a delicious ice cream mud pie which — thanks to Jen's big mouth — came with a staff serenade and a candle (which Katie blew out). Whew. Next Wednesday, Jen and I will see Peter Schickele (a.k.a. "P.D.Q. Bach") at the Hawaii Theatre — another treat from mom, and the one outstanding bit of birthday fun. A good birthday all around. We're going to be at Hawaii Theater tomorrow night, too, to see "Bear in the Big Blue House Live" with Katie. I think it'll be her first such experience, as usually "Ice Capades" and "Sesame Street" and other traveling family shows usually come and go without us even hearing about them — if they come at all. Mom's coming too, and while it's not Macbeth, I'm sure we'll all enjoy it. Of the kid's programs out there, "Bear" is one I can tolerate. It's out of Jim Henson's shops, and it's musically oriented. There were fears this weekend that they'd have to cancel, as — awful as it is — someone stole some of the puppets used in the show from the trunk of a car in Waikiki. Police doubt the crooks were after the puppets, but still... what a "Hawaii welcome" for the production company. Halloween worked out pretty good this year. Even though Katie is sick — "walking pneumonia" plus an ear infection — and Jen had her doubts, she still managed to enjoy herself. Katie had been getting in the spirit all week, taking particular pride in helping her gramma decorate the outside of the house with skeletons, ghosts, and pumpkins. Unlike last year, we made Katie's costume on our own: a chef. (It was her only consistent answer to the question of what she wanted to be.) I made her a chef's hat and a chef's apron, both using simple cardstock and felt pens, and she was given a curly mustache and a mixing spoon as extra touches. And, unlike last year, she (eventually) warmed up to trick-or-treating, collecting candy and marveling at other kids' costumes. There were worries that no one would be out and about this year, but if anything, the streets seemed more crowded than ever. It was somewhat heartening. The only problem was, the street on which mom's house sits suffered from three burnt-out street lights, making it unwelcomingly dark and leaving her and her neighbors with boxes of unopened sweets. Just as it started to rain, we headed back, and Katie didn't skip a beat — once inside, she dropped and pulled off all her Halloween accessories, and got right to picking through her bucket of candy. Katie almost never eats candy. (We almost never have any around.) So that night, she was in heaven. She ate entire Reese's Pieces cups, relentlessly popped mini M&Ms in her mouth, and carefully examined and sorted every crinkly package she collected during her rounds. I was afraid she'd be up all night, wired with sugar, but instead the treats seemed to balance against her unusually potent antibiotics, and she just got mellow and gently passed out during the drive back into town. On Sunday — after breakfasting with William and dropping Jen off at work — Katie and I headed out to Hawaii Kai to check out Chuck E. Cheese's. There was no particular reason, and no special occasion. The idea had just struck me the night before when I noticed we still had a handful of tokens lying around the apartment. I figured, why not use them? Katie had a blast. And thankfully, she spent most of her time in the ball pit and in the climby-tubey-slidey thing, neither of which consumed any tokens. When she did play games, she did okay, although those involving balls usually left me chasing them across the room or under tables (she's got quite a throwing arm). She carefully studied all the different little rides, and finally settled on the classic Merry-go-round. (She didn't seem to impressed with the ride, however.) She followed other kids at random, and often seemed almost overwhelmed by the smorgasbord of fun surrounding her. The place was filled with families, noise, and blinking lights, and of all things, Katie actually retired briefly to a table to rest. Eventually, we ran out of tokens, and she was hungry for a cheesburger. Having converted about ten dollars worth of tokens into fifty little paper tickets, I led Katie to the prize counter to choose her reward. Her fifty tickets was only enough to get a tiny green foam plane, which made me frown but somehow still thrilled her. She kept it close by for the rest of the day. Not a bad way to spend our weekly day together. And we'll probably be back, as our options will be pretty limited now that winter — rather, "the rainy season" — is upon us. I shouldn't be writing this, of course. November should just be one blank, undocumented gap. Like at least one hundred other journalers, diarists, and bloggers, I am supposed to be one of 5,000 other lunatics around the world committed to writing a 50,000-word novel this month. It's the third-annual National Novel Writing Month, brainchild of San Francisco 'zine editor Chris Baty, and the idea is to just write. Quantity over quality, even knowing in advance that "you will be writing a lot of crap." I figured, I could do that. I figured, I've had 50,000-word months before, albeit centered entirely around my little life. For NaNoWriMo, I could completely fabricate half a dozen lives, and endless, convoluted plot twists and rambling dialogue. I figured, I can write crap. But, I'm stalled. I did heaps of research, I even built my entire plot outline, and somehow — miraculously — came up with how it all ends. I sat down a couple of times, and plunked down a couple thousand words each, easy. When it comes, it flows. It doesn't come often, however. To make 50,000 words, I need 1,667 words a day, and as of today, I'm about four days behind the pace. I don't know why, but I'm procrastinating. I'm doing other things, like long-neglected freelance web design, sending out resumés, trying to find my characters in the faces of people on the street, researching story elements way too deeply, and keeping this page updated. And while that last one prompted Chris Baty himself to e-mail me to say "you rock!" — it still ain't writing. I think I'm more of a fan of the idea than I am a qualified participant. I think I'm afraid to discover that the writer I fancied myself to be since I was a kid actually died long ago. Urk. I really want to do this, though. I'm even looking into taking the last stretch of November off, just to plunk away, nonstop. I've never thought this much about fiction for years... and I've never drawn out a completed story for even longer. If I can't do it now, maybe I should just scratch "writer" off the top of my own imagined biography. In any case, I admire those out there who are already on their way, or even most of the way, to the finish line. (Only four other NaNos, it appears, are from Hawaii: Donna, Lori Kozey, Angela Salgy, and T.L. Therone.) And however things turn out for me in December, I will be incredibly happy for Chris Baty. Just to see all this... creating going on is just awesome.

Comments Six, seven pages a night for 30 some odd nights. That's all you need to do. That's roughly 1,500-1,700 words. It's possible -- very, very possible. Just remember just work on putting those 50,000 words on hard disk space first. You're going to have to rewrite anyway. —NemesisVex (November 7, 2001 6:04 PM) More novel-writing tips. A self-link, but eh -- this ain't Metafilter. http://www.musicwhore.org/journal/entry.php?entry=10/31/2001 —NemesisVex (November 7, 2001 6:20 PM) A belated but very HAU`OLI LA HANAU, Ryan!!! And, mahalo nui loa for allowing me to be one of the recipients of your long neglected, freelance web design jobs!!! Have you ever tried the pumpkin smoothie at Jamba Juice? Ooooh...soooo ono!!! —Tutu Sue (November 9, 2001 6:52 PM) HAPPY BIRTHDAY RYAN!!! Sorry so late with the wishes. I, too am procrastinating and getting all kinds of other things done, rather than the nanowrimo! At the moment, this entails catching up on my journal reading! Ah, I miss Jamba Juice!! Can't seem to find one anywhere in Seattle, where there is a Starbucks on every corner. Pumpkin smoothie sounds oh-so-ono right now!!! —julia (November 12, 2001 10:26 AM) Happy Belated!! I too am a big procrastinator in just about everything. Trying to catch up, but having a hard time. Keep on writing!! —Samantha Ling (November 19, 2001 12:31 AM) Happy belated, Ryan! I am fascinated by Bear in the Big Blue House. My husband often questions my sanity when he finds me watching it, glassy-eyed and slack-jawed. How do they do it all?! The singing, the eyebrows and facial expressions, the dancing, the arms -- all in that big heavy fur costume! Ah, well, I tell Pete, I'm just practicing being a parent. That's one show our child will be allowed to watch, mom right beside her. —Denise (November 20, 2001 6:05 AM) E kala mai! Comments have been disabled due to overwhelming abuse by spammers. Please click through to any of the video hosting services linked above to leave a public response, or feel free to send an e-mail. Mahalo! < October 28 · November · November 21 > © 1997-2008 Ryan Kawailani Ozawa · E-Mail: imr@lightfantastic.org · Created: 13 November 1997 · Last Modified: 14 January 2008