* b l i s s

*B L I S S*

Found in many forms here and now my new spot of comfort. I usually take up temporary residence by the ceiling to floor windows and let the blur of traffic stream in front of me, anonymously, up and down Broadway.

Today I had my customary caramel latte: the creamiest caffeinated concoction one could ever dream of. If this were a drug, I'd have the IV drip surgically implanted.

On top of their wondrous coffee is their pork and melted brie sandwich. This came layered with slices of moist pork, grilled onions, slices of apple, and melted brie that formed a soft creamy pillow between each bite. If the melding of various textures and beautiful flavors had an artist commissioned, thy name would be Old Soul.

Counter spaces that remind me of my lovely visit to New York and morning spent with my usual latte facing the denizens flush to the window, Madison Avenue has been transformed for this hidden community. I am further amused by the fact that the cute barista here reminds me of a good friend in Boston.

I sit, unnoticed, with my little cup of liquid Elysium

A letter to myself, many years ago...

We had an assignment in my Psychology class today.

We were instructed to think over our own adolescence. "To recall the worries, concerns, fears we had back then. Focus in on the worries, the fears you would have had and how you would have viewed as different with your existing experience. Now, consider what advice you would give yourself, in the form of a letter."

I sat back and tried to reflect back on any of the negative memories that left an indelible mark on my self-esteem and found it came down to two experiences: encountering racism and being called ugly due to my ethnic features.

For a child, I could not fathom the reasons as to why other children would be hurling the "Jap" card at me or make the generic small eyes move with their fingers, pulling the skin taut and upwards. Calling me Bruce Lee or Chuck Norris. What exactly was it about me that prompted these slurs. I felt ugly because kids were continuously pointing out that my eyes were small, nose too flat, and boys never seemed to return any sort of interest. My random crush in Jr. High went no where. Rejection that becomes redundant also becomes acceptance. So soon thereafter, I blamed my looks.

I blamed my looks again in High School.

Sure, I had admirers in my later years, but I always assumed they were there for my piano performances. Not for me, as a girl. Boyfriends? Never. In fact, I felt I was destined to be single and resigned to the fact that I was a tomboy, not feminine enough.

Had to blame my ugliness again in College. Never mind that my gay friends told me I would have been the quintessential gay man.

It wasn't until the last ten years where I've grown slowly to appreciate my classic Japanese features.

I'm still a work in progress, that is for sure, and I'll continue learning as much as I can until I'm dead.


To myself:

I hope that when you read this that you are not enmeshed in a pile of emotional rubbish that seems to acquire itself over time.

I understand, however, if you are staring at those very remnants around your feet, weighing you down.

It is rather complicated given your overall good nature and giving heart. Those types of mental burdens seem to seek you out. Remember the old adage of good things come to those who wait? Well, it is true, but with some consequences that you will be forced to experience. I mean, that is the reason as to why these situations even exist, right? We learn from the good. We learn from the bad.

One? Racism.

Growing up in a racist community did not do anything other than make you stronger. Sure, the consistent slurs thrown your way were not grand, but neither were the lips from hence they were strewn. The absence of diversity and lack of education is just a reflection on the parents of such children. They really did not know what was happening. I am here to tell you that your self-esteem has been left intact despite it accumulating over time. I have already accepted the fact that the parents were to blame for allowing their children to treat others with blatant and cruel disrespect. Your methods in dealing with the numerous incidents have done you well, as I’ve had no problems adjusting to life in the large city where diversity rules, not based on the racist attitudes of a few. So chin up. Life is too short. You will encounter discrimination and not understand where it stems from but you will just have to accept them as a part of societal ignorance. What you do not have to do, is let the sour experiences stall your walk in life. If anything, the experiences with racism will make you stronger to forge ahead on your path of personal growth.

You are not ugly.

I know.

I know the feeling of not being accepted because your eyes were too small or lacking in the general attributes of being Caucasian. That the heavy lidded look did not do well competing with the perky eyed girls on Teen magazine. These were indicators of ethnicity, not about you as a person. I know the pains you are going to experience through the eyes of others. You are going to shape that to your advantage by playing up your personality: being positive, curious, and optimistic. Ignore the boys who make fun of you in English class. They know not what they do. The crush you form on a certain boy who consistently ignores you? It is not because you are ugly. It is because everyone has a preference and it has nothing to do with you. Don’t worry. A year later, you two will forge a friendship in Biology class as lab partners. You may not believe it, but you will be voted two years in a row for being the class clown in High School. You will also be voted as having the best personality. Your humor is what will shine through. Your positivity. So what if no one in High School noticed it. So what if no one recognized you in college. I am here to tell you that whatever you do will be fine. What has been shunted as the ugly kid in the class evolves for you in the future into something brighter. No boys? Fast forward into fantastic dating experiences in your thirties.

Fantastic.

I can assure you that you will not have any problems having a guy fall for you. When you enter the room, they will recognize your smile. Your laugh? A mark in their memory, or so I've been told. Your eyes that you’ve felt all these years were too small are what is deemed attractive by many. I can tell you that. Even during visits to Japan, people have admired the classical form of your eyes.

You are strong. You are beautiful. You are your own person.

This will be many years forthcoming and despite the bad experiences, you will have done well, because I am well now.

I am you.

musical following

I love music.

That is a given.

I've studied and performed classically for a good 20 years of my life.

But when it comes to modern music, I've remained in the dark. A lot, I suppose, had to do with the fact that my piano teacher forbid (especially in my case, Jazz) because it would have tainted my training.

As an adult, I have a fantastic appreciation for all sorts of music. Country, not so much so. I blame the audio receptors as they seem not to take too kindly to the heavy twanging and chordal structures that sound off kilter. I'm still learning, however.

Fast forward to now and my tastes have become eclectic. If music can make me move, then I'm all for it. If the rhythm encourages my foot to tap, I'm into it. Yesterday was a musical day from the start and I loved it all. Am I groupie? Hell no. I don't have the time or effort to keep up. There is another story behind this but I'll save that for another time. Music, for me, has to make that emotional connection. When it moves me, then I know I've heard something great.

The afternoon had me out in the sun listening to The Kelps with the fabulous Melanie and a hot boxed lunch from Hot Italian. Already on the musical roll, I received a message from another friend who wanted me to accompany her to an acoustic evening at Fox & Goose. This I could not pass up. Not only do I enjoy the venue, but I share an affinity for their ciders on tap AND I simply adore acoustic guitar. Love it.





Two fantastic acts: Tony Bataska with David Wallace opening.

The evening had started off on a sour note because my friend, for whom I was playing wingman, showed up on my doorstep at 8. The performance started at 8. I'm a stickler for being on time for a performance. I've been going to classical concerts since I was a wee one and there is nothing more rude than showing up late. Her consistency in lateness was and is continuing to wear down the threads of our friendship.

David popped out. I could see why the admiration existed. He is tall, dark, and handsome. Just her type. I knew that it would exude itself in his music.

David had a nice voice. Music was definitely a bit more emotional but I enjoyed his pieces performed. You could tell they were still in the youth stage so looking forward to that voice maturing would be interesting. Having his band there also added to the experience since they were busy heckling him.

They were performing on Polk this weekend. I knew that neighborhood too well, such is the consequence of having an ex in that part of town. The venue? Perfect for new acts. The people? Thirsty people looking for live music.

Tony Bataska was the final act. I was thoroughly impressed with his acoustic skills. It was apparent he's had several years behind him, as the technique was advanced. On top of that, he had great presence as a performer. Prior to the show, I did a little research and found his FB page. Simple. Pure. And a voice to boot. I found my favorite: Second Rate Song.

Imagine my joy in listening to him playing it live!

The finger picking, strumming, chops...an energetic percussive performance.

In addition to pieces from his current playlist, he also had several covers in store for us. His finale performing Billie Jean was vibrant and fit for the happy crowd.

It was nice to meet him after the performance and of course, no surprise to me that he had trained in piano at an early age. Guitar? Another 14 years. I told him it was evident in his technical skills. A sing/songwriter on the cusp. I hope he gets found soon, talent hidden in the valley of Sacramento.

After a night that started off on the wrong foot, I could not ask for a better finish than listening to acoustic guitar for three hours, a cold glass of cider on tap, and sharing the vibes with other music lovers in the room. In regards to being a groupie? Not so much here, but for Tony Bataska's sublime voice and wizardry on those strings, I'll head to wherever the music is playing.

off

"Some days are like that," my friend told me. He gave me my cup of coffee and settled into the chair next to me.

I remember reading a book about the nonsensical ways in that people seem to interact with either their persona developed internally for affirmation, either on a daily basis or mental backup.... or about the sociopath who is intently bent on seeking emotional suckage and appreciation from others.

Kafka did this brilliantly. The image of a gigantic beetle struggling to adjust and to be adjusted to, has forever stuck in the far crevasse of my brain. Pelevin took this another step further in the form of a mosquito.

Today was reflective of that. I rarely wake up on the wrong side of the bed. I'm usually happy and quite positive when I'm running about. Or if anything, the quick 6 mile bike ride increases the amount of endorphins into the blood stream. A quick fix.


Not so today. So perhaps a little off. As my friend Dan stated, slightly off center. I was not angry. Not moody. Just felt that something was missing from my usual self and when this happens, I feel slightly let down.

Self reliance, it seems, had jumped the ship for a slight detour. Who knows. I just biked home at around 15 mph and even at that speed, I felt nothing. But the cool morning breeze felt wonderful. The pedestrians that smiled and nodded at me as I zipped past them was nice.

I'm just glad Old Soul exists for me when seeking affirmation in the form of a lovely iced latte, drizzled with homemade caramel sauce. And the quick thinking of the barista, who casually mentions that he "accidentally" poured a dollop of that exquisite buttery sweet happiness in.

mission objectives

I am currently on a run.

Not on a path. Or that of gravel variety. More in terms of running with what came across to me on a recent cycling outing.

Every ride results in a find. Be it a new coffee spot, a place for a nibble, or my mission objective, compiling a donut list.







A good friend usually accompanies me on these early morning rides and they have now become a ritual. He drives his bike over and we started with a mere 6 miles to our longest yet, which measured in around 40 miles. The beauty of cycling (for myself, that is) is the feeling of swooshing past objects and the ability to visually take in the beauty of the American River bike trail.

Off the trail, we reserve these more leisurely rides a good 8 mph slower than our usual 15 mph and meander through bits and parts of a town I've failed to explore back when I use to live in the area.

Most recently, came upon Old Soul @ 40 Acres and I've fallen in love. I order my iced latte with a pump of their homemade caramel. It is a dessert........sweet, decadent, and the butter in the caramel infuses each sip I take. In addition, they host a variety of salads, of which I'm currently hooked on the mixed greens. A large tossed salad topped with crunchy slivers of almonds, dried cranberries, and crumbles of feta cheese.

We usually leave, relaxed and satiated, prior to hitting the asphalt again.