Zen and the Art of Laundry

Shhhhhhhh! Don’t tell anyone, but I love going to the Laundromat. A bit weird, huh? I know most people find it an annoying chore, but for me it’s a bit like a trip to a spa. It’s one of the few indoor places that I can truly relax. Why? I don’t have to do anything there other than laundry. See I’m a hardcore, fidgety multitasker. I run on caffeine and it shows. I took up knitting simply so I could sit through an entire movie. Otherwise I would be pausing the DVD and popping up to do something every 20 minutes or so. I would get to the part in Last Life in the Universe where Kenji is cleaning blood off the wall and realize there was a spot on my work shirt that I had to treat where I bled after cutting myself on a rosebush. (Pause.) During the part in 6ixtynin9 where she’s buying a wicker trunk large enough to hide a body, I’d think about how I need sort through that stack of books on my trunk and get the donations ready for Goodwill. (Pause.) The kids in Nobody Knows will be watering the seeds they just planted and I think, “I wonder if my vegetable garden is dry?” (Pause.) You get the picture.

Things aren’t any better when I’m working here. During the course of this blog I will have checked the weather for SLO, (rain today, clearing tomorrow.) Rearranged the songs for the CD I’m about to burn (Cancion Del Mariachi needs to come after Farewell, not before.) Checked out the headlines on Google Desktop (“Charlie Sheen ordered away from Denise Richards.” Duh! “Rising gas prices hurt poor Americans most.” Double Duh!) Damn I need more coffee.

So when it’s off to the Laundromat I go with only a book or a magazine, it’s like a mini vacation from myself. Once I’ve tossed the clothes in the washer I can sit back and read. Just read. Those 20 minutes from wash to spin are a bit like a lazy afternoon on a warm summer’s day with not a care in the world. I read. I breathe. I read some more. Ahhhhh… Sure feels good. When it’s time to toss things in the dryer, I completely forgo the reading to simply watch the clothes tumble over each other creating an almost perfect Yin-Yang design. The hum of the machines makes me slightly sleepy. The furrow in my brow relaxes, my shoulders droop slightly as I lean against the running washer and relax. It’s just the laundry and me now. For the next 17 minutes all my frustrations, obsessions, complications vanish. Only the hum of the washer exists. Only the dull thud of the clothes in the dryer exists. Only my breath in and out exists. We have become one, my laundry and me. And until that dryer buzzer sounds, I have found my bliss.

Movin' on over

I'm finally getting around to transferring the blog I've been keeping on MySpace to here. Prior to this message is some of the stuff I've ranted about on MySpace for the past two months.

Karmic Competition--March 20, 2006 repost

Somehow working outside on rainy days isn't as much of a joy as it is on sunny days. But, hey… I need to get paid. So work outside, I did. What I don't understand are the people that choose to be outside in the rain. Those odd customers that insist on shopping at a nursery in the middle of a downpour. And what is it about the rain that seems to bring out the most unpleasant of customers? We certainly had our share today. One woman felt she was truly special. Not only did she sport a mullet, but she had the personality to go along with it. She "worked a lot," did we know that? A home healthcare specialist no less. Oh and did she mention that she "lived over the Grade?" Hmmmmmmmm OK. Another man simply insisted on barking orders in a cryptic fashion. To top things off Rude-Beckia was in. So named because as a landscape designer, she envisions herself a kindred spirit and chats cheerfully with us as she makes us pull down pot after heavy pot because, "They all seem to have some flaw." (Hey… they all have some flaw. Wow.). Well today I just wasn't having any of Rude-Beckia's demands. I did what any self-possessed, confident woman would do. I hid. While I was hiding at the back of the nursery with a friend I casually mentioned that since we were in the middle of a storm, maybe one of the large trees would fall on this insane woman. I pictured her little legs sticking out from under the tree with one pant leg still stuck in her boots as it always was. If it could work for Dorothy, it could work for me. My friend practically gasped and proceeded to knock on the nearest wood surface she could find. (Had she been Catholic, she would have crossed herself.) Surely that was bad Karma she remarked. "I think Karma understands sarcasm," I replied feeling a little insulted. (After all she was the one who commented on the previous woman's mullet.) As the rain came down harder, we decided to retreat further into the nursery office where we could watch for Rude-Beckia from a distance and disappear at a moments notice should she creep our way. Another coworker was not so fortunate. My friend laughed and pointed out his misfortune of being caught in the middle of a downpour pulling down pot after pot for this crazy woman. "Hah!" I said proudly, "Surely making fun of one's actual misfortune is worse Karma than speculating on the amusement that would be caused by one's potential misfortune?" Satisfied with my little Karmic coup, I went to lunch.

We have a triple play!!!--March 17, 2006 repost

In the past three days there have been three bizarre unrelated shootings at California Denny's restaurants. The first occurred here on the Central Coast at the Pismo Beach Denny's. A transient walked in and opened fire on three men before killing himself. On Thursday a group got into an altercation in the parking lot of an Ontario Denny's and a man was fatally shot. And now a shooting at the Denny's near Angel Stadium in Anaheim. Three shootings in three days. I can't help but wonder if we are working on a Grand Slam.

The Information Age is 16--March 12, 2006 repost

It's no secret to anyone that reads my profile that I've developed a new obsession with Japanese cinema. It all started with Godzilla as a kid and then got kicked into high gear after picking up Ichi the Killer on a whim. Who knew? As with any obsession I must now know any and everything about these films. As I search the internet, I have come across some great movie databases and such. The only problem was they were American sites and were seriously lacking in information about films only released in Japan. This, therefore, meant I needed to search sites written in Japanese. Now Google does a fair job of translating websites and I've been a Babel fish fan for years, but it is still difficult to search for something when you aren't sure what you are looking for or what words to use. I needed a better search engine. Well, I've found it. Bulletin boards run by teenage fans of hot Japanese actors. Sure, they focus on the more attractive and youthful members of the cinema community, but that's not a problem. The Japanese film community is pretty small and the same actors and directors will work together again and again. Here it's six degrees of Kevin Bacon. There it's only three degrees of Tadanobu Asano. And talk about thorough! There is no stone these girls leave unturned in their search for information about their favorite actor. Why I know that Tadanobu wears a size 10 shoe, the Matsuda family home was recently robbed (Ryuhei had fortunately moved out long ago so was unharmed) and have seen some pretty hot pictures of Narimiya's ass. If these girls had access to GPS equipment, I would know the exact location of Tetsuji Tamayama this very moment. In addition to that I've found links to newspapers and entertainment sites with director interviews and movie production information. And talk about speed? These girls are fast. Through a well connected network of teen spirit it takes only hours for information to leave Japan, make a stop in Hong Kong, pause in Great Britain where is gets translated into English and sent to the States. Reuters and AP have nothing on this network.
I think our government should take a look at this. Al Gore may claim he invented the internet, but these girls own it. Hormonally driven girls could be our secret weapon against the war on terrorism. They just need to be motivated. Why I'm convinced that if Osama bin Laden were hot, these girls would have found him years ago. Of course as girls do they would still be arguing about whether or not he looks better with or without the beard.

Trader Joe's Zombie--March 10, 2006 repost

I feel like I just spent the last 45 minutes in a George A Romero film. Why does it seem like when I walk into Trader Joe's, I've stepped onto the set of Night of the Living Dead? From the second I get in until I'm out the door I feel like I'm trapped inside Zombieville. Could these people move any slower? Could they move at all? I think I noticed one woman standing in the same spot when I left that she was in when I arrived. Am I missing something? I know I heard moaning. I think I saw drooling. Was I supposed to check my brain at the door?

Trying to maneuver through the sea of stalled shopping carts and shoppers is a nightmare. Excuse me doesn't work. They just turn and stare at you with glazed over eyes for a few moments and then go back to fondling their package of three cheese potato gnocchi with basil garlic sauce. I reached in front of a young woman to grab a box of the lemon grass chicken sticks and tossed them in my cart. She immediately picked up the same item and turned the box over and over again as if she couldn't even determine if it was food or not. I half expected her to start sniffing and licking the package. Is it really that difficult to decide if you want the pork, vegetable or chicken potstickers? Does it take an advanced degree to decide between soy or rice milk? Lets not even go down the wine ailse; we will be there all day.
Could it be that people are so stressed out by their daily lives that making simple purchasing decisions at Trader Joe's pushes them over their mental limit? When did food get so complicated? C'mon 4 basic food groups. You know what you like to eat. You probably had the same crap last week. Just buy some more. It's not like you are even cooking the stuff. You just shove most of it in the microwave. It's not rocket science. It's a meal. Just put it in your cart and get the hell out of my way.

Full disclosure policies-- March 10, 2006 repost

Full disclosure policies
Why is it that some people feel the need to share way too personal information way too early? I do believe that it is important to be honest in our friendships, but some things are better left for a more appropriate time. There are also those things that should simply never be mentioned. Sharing them serves no purpose, makes no difference, but can totally ruin a relationship if blurted out in a moment of full disclosure weakness. I was chatting with a friend and she confided that her new boyfriend had dropped a little bombshell on her over dinner. Obviously knowing a bit about ones former relationships is important but there is one thing that men always feel the need to share and women don't really want to hear. It's when guys brag, "My ex was a gymnast, yoga instructor, trapeze artist, contortionist, etc." Guys, WE DON"T WANT TO HEAR IT. Sure, it earns you major points with your guy friends. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink and all that. But with women? Can't you see that little bubble above our heads with a Kama Sutra type image in it followed by an image of us visiting the chiropractor? Sure we like to try new things as well as the next gal, but for most of us, the feet are never going to be tucked behind the head. Got it? It's too much work, we don't have time, we have real lives. That's just the way it is. You've had your moment in the sun. That's great. Just leave us out of it.

You love me, you really love me--repost

Strange Karma day yesterday. Several of my least favorite customers (needy, labor intensive, slightly insane) decided to shop. I'm not sure why. I didn't so much as toss a snail into the street that morning. I decided that this was more of a Karmic test and I should just go with it. Apparently I did alright. The day started with a hug from the woman that has alienated almost every other member of the staff. She's decided that I am the next best thing to sliced bread. Next customer decided that I was an "answer to her prayers" and had to shake my hand (I backed away from the hug). Add this to the delivery drivers who had to pat me on the back and it was a pretty touchy feely day. I'm not a touchy feely person. I swear I don't give off that vibe. Oh sure it's fine with friends. I know and love them. But I'm not paid to give you your warm fuzzy for the day. I'm usually trying to project the appearance of a spiny lobster. Hey... better stay away. Watch the claws! But for some reason yesterday I must have appeared more like Hello Kitty. A friend mused later that perhaps I shouldn't wear the pink fuzzy sweater (I swear, I'd never). Whatever is was, I hope it goes away today. Flattery will get you everywhere, but remember "spiny lobster. stay away."

Vital-- worth watching--Feb 11th, repost

I've been on a Japanese cinema kick lately so when Vital arrived at my local Blockbuster I snapped it up pronto. The last Tsukamoto film I saw was Tetsuo. Althought I thought it was a good movie, I can't really say I "enjoyed" it. It was tough to watch. Vital is also a bit hard to watch, but well worth it. In brief Hiroshi loses his memory in an accident. Despite this he enrolls in medical school and starts his dissection class. As he works on the cadaver on the table, he starts having memories of his past life, including his girlfriend who died in the accident. As a strange twist of fate would have it, he soon realizes he is actually dissecting the body of his deceased girlfriend. A bit gross? Yes, but it's more. Vital takes an interesting look at who we really are and where the spark of our existence lies. Is it in the head, the heart or the body at all? Where do we go when we die? Tadanobu Asano is excellent as always. Nami Tsukamoto is beautiful and compelling to watch. Shinya Tsukamoto seemed to work hard to keep the gore at a minimum as to not distract from the message of the movie which is who are we really?

What Women Want--Feb 10, 2006 repost

While having a beer with a gal pal last night the subject quickly turned to men. Since we are both single and Valentine's Day is coming up, we were naturally inclined to compile our lists of what we want in a man. Now I know you guys think this list is long and complicated because you can never figure us out. Fact of the matter is sometimes we can't figure ourselves out. After much debate about physical attributes (there is just so much to choose from) and a bit of discussion on personality types, we were actually able to come up with a consensus. Maybe it's because we've matured a bit and after much experience we better know what we want. Or maybe we've just lowered our standards. When we finished, we were able to some up our life's desires in one simple sentence. Are ya ready?
We want a guy who is passionate enough to carry us across the threshold into the bedroom but smart enough to tuck us in head first and not slam our head on the door frame.
It's a great move guys, but please, watch the head (or feet). :)

Sucks to be him--Feb. 6, 2006 repost

You know how you go along having one of those days where everything that was right in your life yesterday seems to be wrong today? Or maybe it's just a day when you really dislike the human filler in the world? Today was one of those days. Can't quite put my finger on what was wrong, but I really don't need to pinpoint a reason to be mad at the world. Sometimes it's just fun! Sometimes I like walking down the middle of a busy sidewalk and making everyone else get out of my way. Or responding in a slightly vulgar way when some guy tells me to "smile." But then the Universe has to step in and remind me that I'm not being a very good Buddhist. Just when I was reaching my peak of daily annoyances, I saw this guy struggling to hold a bag of stuff and ride his bike at the same time. (Sucks to be him... at least I have a car.) Then he dropped the bag, I'm sure I heard something break (sucks to be him, I wonder if that was expensive). Then I noticed the reason he had so much trouble holding the bag. He had a broken wrist (really sucks to be him). I could see the cast sticking out of his ugly gold jacket. And that's when I noticed the clincher...strapped to his bike was a pair of bongos.

Don't you love Google--Feb, 2006 repost

I've been using Google's desktop programs for a while now and really love the web clip functions. By tracking the pages I visit with RSS feeds, it posts a link whenever a page has been updated. Since I've been obsessing over Asian cinema lately, Google is constantly hooking me up with the latest contributions to Asian cinema blogs. Imagine my surprise, however, when my own blog popped up on a link. It's strange to see your own name and a blurb about giant jellyfish appear. It also made me feel a little important because Google had found me. It served as a validation to the importance of my ranting and raving in cyberspace. And then, just like that, the notification had changed to the next update. My 15 seconds of website fame was over.