Long time no blog.

I know, I've been derelict: mea culpa.

First of all, James is fine. We were both pretty shook by the whole ordeal, but no one is dead, only two parts fell off the bike (which we retrieved, one from a nice homeless guy that James gave all his money* to) which starts. James himself had a badly-sprained hand and some scrapes and a rude** awakening. I had awful anxiety for the next few days and James had his first-ever panic attack. I should bake him a cake or something.

I actually got so anxious that my neck, shoulders, and upper back broke out in hives. No shit. They're fading now. Also, I've been fighting an eye infection. I'm not too worried; I used to get them all the time (stress! graduation!), so I can deal fine.

Since then, I have had a streak of good luck. Who knew?

Go Team Me:

I felt able to audition for the first time since That Whole Thing Where I Got Screwed Over by My Theater***. It was for a Macbeth and I have a callback tomorrow.

I got a commission through Etsy. The client is awesome and will give me dollars. In return I will give her hours of my time spent poring over yarn and button samples. Oh, and knitting. Can't forget the knitting.

I got blogged about re: Etsy and how awesome I am and why haven't you bought something from me? Just kidding. I know that only dudes read my blog. Not that I couldn't make you something nice too, you know.

Kidding!

I actually got a freakin' interview for a day gig. An e-mail interview, but "there's a good chance for a fit". And they wanted writing samples (copy and client communication stuff). This was my first interview, literally, since the last time that I needed to interview for a job that I got, which was...oh...three years ago? And since December I've sent out my resume out dozens of times. Lordy, lordy.

In other creative news that may or may not happen:

I'm thinking of writing a novel. Hm.

[Male friend's name redacted] and I are seriously considering a podcast. Hey, we're both smart, we're both wonks/geeks, we're both kind of cranks (him more than me), and we both think that we could do it better. Some of the topics we're considering: geekery& women (so...much...material...), geekery and knitters (I'm also forming a blog on this!), Israel and the Middle East in general (yeah, we'll narrow that down for you), and fact that BSG is clearly a product of the Bush era while Babylon 5 is clearly a product of the Clinton era****. Oh, and [redacted]'s name is redacted because he doesn't want to use his real name, for various reasons. If you know me well, you probably know him, too, or could at least hazard a guess. He does not, for some reason, read my blog (and/or keeps forgetting that it exists), so it's probably not you.


*A dollar.

**Read: terrifying.

***There may be an satisfying coda to this in the next year or so. That's all I can really say right now. No, I am not going to blow up the theater, even though I have thought about it. Repeatedly.

****This is a real coversation that [redacted] and I have had, which may, in fact, count as the nerdiest thing I have ever in my life considered in this here my brain. Additionally, please do not talk to me about the series finale of BSG. I have not yet seen it for reasons and reasons and don't want it ruined for me any more than it already has been by virtue of spoiler-ish posting on Facebook. Curse you all.

"A man is like a deck of cards..."

"...sometimes you get a King, but most of the time they're all Jacks."

James crashed his bike about two hours ago.

Let's start with this: he's fine. Mostly. There's probably nothing broken.

It's his own fault, but that doesn't make me feel any better. He was drinking at his usual, the Twilight, and he rode home, not following the adage "two wheels, two drinks". At some point on Westlake (not far from our place, about a five minute drive away) he got confused by a car driving too close to him, took a turn wrong, and hit a road divider going about 40-50 mph. He flew about 25 feet, so we're lucky that he just had a sprained wrist and a few scrapes. And then he rode home. I got out of a late-night bath to find him wandering around our kitchen with fat, bleeding lips, so I cleaned him up and put him to bed, over his protests that he wasn't good enough for me -- which are usual when he's drunk, now even more so. He's just in a lot of pain* (and minor shock) now but resting.

I'm surprised by how freaked out I am. Also tired and hungry.

Probably more later.


*And he's in bed moaning, so I'm trying to decide if I go to bed or sleep out here on the couch. Both have tactical advantages.

Fun with dressing warmly.

So, James' bike (casually called Motopsychobaik, a name coined by my lisping toddler nephew) is up and running again, so we took it to Ballard to grab pho at Than Bros. Wheeee! ...it's still pretty cold out.

Also, my plans to get more items up on Etsy have failed, possibly for this weekend. I forgot to turn off James' camera last time I uploaded anything, so the battery ran down. Poop. And I have so much to do!

Death Virus 2009 (Spring Edition)

So...I still suffer from the death virus, which means nothing much has been happening. I'm stuck at home and I'm even beginning to be bored by the internet. It palls after, say, two weeks. Or less.

In good, non-sicky related news, I made some more stuff for Etsy and I'm hoping to get out and do a photo shoot this weekend, if the lovely, lovely sun holds and doesn't turn back into the freak snow we got night before last. Seriously, Winter, what the crap? Anyway, it's not knitted. And I love it so much that I wanna keep one or two pieces for me! Which I think is a good sign. :) Oh, and I wanna get my men's vintage pieces up, too.

James is wanting to get in on the Etsy action with his art pics now. I think we're going to put our heads together over that tomorrow. Oh! And I bought seeds (40% off Lilly Miller Organic seed packets at Fred Meyer yesterday!) and starters so that we can start our garden! I love spending time with this man. Plus he's getting me back into playing music, which has been really good for me since I'm so disgusted with Seattle theater politics anymore.

I may also be doing this awesome project. It looks pretty exciting, and I can see how it will be good preparation for the extended version of Hungry Ghosts (which I've given myself a two-year timeline on). I think it'll be a great way for me to stretch my wings and stuff. And I miss collaborating.

Oh, and...

...James takes all my Etsy pictures. It's handy having an art photographer in the house!

Sicky.

All quiet on my front...because James gave me some flu-like disease. Possibly the flu.

I have major cabin fever to go with my high-temperature-type fever, so I've been on the internetz a bunch, pimping my Etsy page. In the last two days I've been featured in two "Treasuries", which are a big way that you get noticed by other sellers and buyers on Etsy.

The links only stay up for a few days, but the first one is about natural, green items and the second is because I'm a good writer (no, really!). Anyway, that's been the highlight of my week on the couch.

CPSIA Update: someone out there paid attention!

So! A little while ago I posted about the CPSIA. Just thought that you'd all like to know what's the what on that one:

As you may be aware, beginning next month many of America’s small and home businesses will be forced to radically alter their practices and products as prescribed by the burdensome Consumer Products Safety Improvement Act of 2008 (CPSIA). This bill mandates stringent and overreaching federal standards, under the guise of safety requirements that will unfortunately threaten the well-being and further livelihood of thousands of America’s workers and their families. It was my position when the bill was being debated on the Senate floor, as it remains today, that this bill could have -- and should have -- better balanced the need for safety with a common-sense business approach.

You can read the rest on Senator DeMint's blog.

Via The Storque.

Kntting stuff.

I kind of hate knitting blogs. There are so many of them and those who follow them, while typically very nice people, can be utterly rabid about collecting each and every one of them. That being said, I do sometimes post stuff about knitting here.




...aaaaand if anyone wants to get me a birthday present, try this.

Dept. of Inconvenience.

My hard drive died a horrible death yesterday morning, making a sound no hard drive should ever make. I woke up, tried to boot up my machine, and waited. And waited. And finally got an error message: one of the .sys files (which turned out to be a HD driver) was "damaged" and needed to be repaired with the XP setup disc. Fine, except my computer is a custom box that Devon built me for a Christmas present a year ago or so, which means that I don't have a copy of XP. My brother-in-law does, and Ian has a ghetto hacked XP disc (for instance, one can install Windows sans IE if one so chooses...), so my sister and Ian came over and we (mostly Ian) fiddled with the machine for a bit.

After several hours of inspection by Ian, my sister, and myself, we pronounced it DOA. I had feared that James, mystifyed by techmology, had accidentally given my computer the flu...but, actually, my hard drive is just dead of a hardware issue. Kaput. Oh well.

So now I'm on a backup machine; being my father's daughter (and the only one in the family besides my mom that doesn't code) I have three other working computers in the house. This is the one that my bro-in-law gave me that I was going to set up as James' school computer...for now, it will have to be the house CPU.

What this ultimately means is that I may have lost ALL of my notes for the new project for which I am writing a grant. Shit. Ian is going to perform some rudimentary forensics to attempt to recover the files, but they are very likely lost.

Again, blerg.

My work space.

James pointed out that the area surrounding my computer contained, at some point the other night, rice cakes, Midol, and Hennessy VSOP.

This is a fairly accurate assessment of my current mental state.

Update: for the record, it is a (nearly) full bottle of Hennessy and the rice cakes are caramel flavored.

Speaking of arts funding...

...I'm applying for a grant.

I've been a collaborator on grant proposals and non-profit business plans before, but never one for just me. And I've never written a budget all by myself before. I'm feeling a little conflicted about it.

On the one hand, I need just this kind of kick in the pants to get me rolling again, so I see this is an excellent opportunity, even if I do not get awarded.

On the other hand, if I were on a grant panel and I read my biography and resume, I'm not sure that I would think that I could be trusted with the on-average award of 6,000+ American dollars*. But that's probably the currently less-than-stellar self-esteem talking.

Blerg.

*At the moment, this seems like a legendary and unheard of sum to be in my possession. Do these people run a credit check or something? After all, I might foollishly spend it on overdue hospital bills. And it still would not be enough to cover them all.

Save small businesses!

Sorry that I haven't posted for a while. We'll have to save the updates for a while.

In the meantime, here is something important that I got from a dear friend today. I will try to have more links about this up soon.

*****

Hello everyone...

I've never ever sent a wide reaching email to everyone who's on my personal email list before, and I apologize if this is the first email you've received from me in a very long time (or if you don't even remember who I am?)...but this is very important to everyone - as the impact will be great for everyone - business owners and customers alike. Please pass this information along to everyone you know!

As you may or may not know, the CPSIA (Consumer Product Safety Improvement Act) is coming into effect on February 10, 2009. Our soon-to-be-EX-President, GWB already passed it into law and we are now facing an epic battle to save our small businesses!

In a very small nutshell, the CPSIA mandates third-party testing and certification for all toys and goods marketed to children 12 and under. The manufacturer must permanently label each item with a date and batch number. Failure to do so would result in hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of fines for each occurance. (You can read a very good summary of the law at http://www.handmadetoyalliance.org/Home)

Sounds good on the surface, right? Of course! I totally believe in the assurance of safety in the marketplace! However, the wording of the CPSIA is too far-reaching and would result in the removal and destruction of ALL handmade children's goods on market shelves today. You see, when this law takes effect, it will be illegal to sell or even donate inventory manufactured before Feb. 10th without the proper certification in place. It would even be illegal for you to try to sell your used kids clothing on Ebay! As a result, all of these items will be tossed out to fill our landfills - never reaching the hands of even a needy child.

But wait, testing is good, right? Yes! Of course! But consider the impact on your small/micro-business friends who already make handmade toys and kid's clothes responsibly out of known safe materials with standard safety in mind. They are already bound by current laws to create safe products. But, the CPSIA does not distinguish between small/micro businesses and big business. As written, the law encompases each SKU made by the company and requires that each size be tested as well as each color. Add that up and testing will cost hundreds of thousands of dollars - within the reach for huge corporations, but far beyond the capabilities of most small businesses.

As a result of this law, it is speculated that small business funding will be cut, banks will retract loans and businesses will shut their doors since there is no way anyone could run those numbers and come up with a profit! In the Wall Street Journal, Rick Woldenberg was quoted as describing February 10, 2009 as "National Bankruptcy Day" (source: http://www.fashion-incubator.com/archive/national-bankruptcy-day/).

All in all, this will GREATLY impact ALL small companies who make anything for kids under 12 including all handmade clothing, costumes, toys, blankets, diapers and even baby carriers. It will impact parents, grandparents, relatives and friends with kids by, at minimum, ensuring the removal of all unique, handmade items from the shelves of shops, boutiques and stores all across the country.

While I completely believe in product safety and testing to ensure the protection of our children, this act as written will surely force many, if not the majority of small/micro business owners to close their doors and cease the production of the products and further push our economy downward as hundreds of thousands of people flood the already dried-up job market.

We need to ask our Congressmen and Senators to rewrite the CPSIA to support our country's small businesses and exclude all items made in batches of less than 5,000 units per year or manufactured within the USA and trusted countries with established toy safety regimes such as Canada and the European Union and that they all be held exempt from third party testing requirements. If they still feel that testing should be required, then we should ask them to provide free testing services for USA manufacturers and importers from Europe or Canada with revenues less than one million dollars.

I encourage you to read the links below and do your own research before writing to your Congressmen and Senators. After I fully comprehended the impact of such a law, I signed the petitions and emailed my Congressman and Senators right away (using a modified version of the Handmade Toy Alliance letter).

By taking a stand, we can save our country's small businesses. Thank you in advance for your action and support of the handmade community.

Sincerely,

Marlo Miyashiro
Jeweler / Teacher / Mentor
Organizer, EtsyRAIN.com meetupSeattle, WA


marlom.com (jewelry website - day job)
tote2go.com (recycled fabric bags - new line)
imakecutestuff.com (personal blog)
imakecutestuff.etsy.com (etsy shop - crafts)
marlom.etsy.com (etsy shop - jewelry)

"...not like we thought it was!"

Jinny and I went to American Apparel yesterday.

I sort of hate contemporary fashion. I mean, I love fashion and the expression oneself through what one wears, the sociology of fashion, if you will, but...wow. Gold disco leggings.

It's not that AA (ha!) doesn't have quality basics, but their most fashionable pret-a-porter lines are just atrocious. I do see a few people wearing such things around Capitol Hill, men and women, and they are ugly. And tasteless. Blech.

It was amazingly beautiful out yesterday and it still is today. There is unseasonably warm May weather lately, leading to a "Severe Weather Warning" -- use sunblock! drink water! -- and other tips for the perpetually sun-deprived.

It's 88 out right now. And sticky. Unusual heat even for August, let alone May.

The oppressive heat seems appropriate: Big Love closes tonight, and I feel oppressed, heavy. Otherwise, I've had such a spectacular week.

This week I went to a fundraiser for a show that a friend is involved in and barely got in the door before I saw one of my former castmates inside, clearly involved in the same piece. I dashed away in a panic, quickly walking to the nearest bus stop and trying to get my heart rate back down. On my way through Fremont in the warm dusk, I stopped inside a small bookstore. Books are comfy; I understand them and feel at home with them. If I have an attack in public, frequently I manage to get around books to calm down.

I didn't do much besides skim spines as I walked around until I reached the poetry section, where, on impulse, I grabbed a fat, comprehensive Rumi translation and opened the book at random, reading the first lines that I came upon.

I thought, Yes! It isn't like I thought it was!

And I went back to find old friends, make new ones, and network. I felt powerful for the first time in a month.

When you eventually see through the veils to
how things really are, you will keep saying
again and again, "This is certainly not like
we thought it was!"

Empty rings around your heart.

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

I was fired.

I'm not in the show.

It was hard.

It is hard.

Very, very hard.

And I don't know how to talk about it.

And I'm not far enough away from it not to be angry.

But I think it was wrong.

And now we ride the circus wheel
With your dark brother wrapped in white
Says it was good to be alive
But now he rides a comet's flame
And won't be coming back again
The Earth looks better from a star
That's right above from where you are
He didn't mean to make you cry
With sparks that ring and bullets fly
On empty rings around your heart
The world just screams and falls apart

But now we must pick up every piece
Of the life we used to love
Just to keep ourselves
At least enough to carry on

Why does my latte taste like the ocean?

I have wept in more coffee shops in the last year than the rest of my life combined.

Jake and I met at a Starbucks during lunch and talked about the possibility of me leaving the show. Today, a week before Big Love opens.

There isn't anyone to blame: I can barely function in rehearsal and Jake doesn't know how to tell me what I need to do to perform well. We're both at a loss.

It was strange to think, when I got cast, Oh, well, now I have to live until at least halfway through May. I can't let anyone down. But I'm still letting people down. I've never felt like I was doing a bad job before in a show, but I can't seem to get a handle on this character. And not just any character, the pivotal character of the show, the one on whom the entire spine of the play gently balances. I had a moment last night when I just cried out, sobbing in the stairwell of my theater, What am I doing? I must be such an idiot for thinking I could do this at all! Why am I here? Why don't I function properly inside, like other people? Why can't it make sense? Why, why, why?

It's exhausting, this constant crisis.

I'm meeting with Jake and Lou to work on whatever needs to be worked tonight. If I have to, I'll do it every night until we open.

I think I'd like to sleep a little now.

All this talk of love.

Sorry that I haven't posted more lately.

I'm in a show right now. Big Love.

I'm finding that this is the most difficult rehearsal process I've ever been through. My meds have been adjusted -- a higher dose -- and, after three months, I'm still anxious and rage-filled over nothing, shadows. If it doesn't work, I think they're putting me on Lithium, which scares me.

All I do is argue in rehearsal. Mostly with Jake, who is directing. Arguing with your director is one of the most unprofessional things an actor can do and I would have been fired by now if he wasn't my friend and didn't know what I was going through. Still, I have no answers to make it better and neither does he. Last night I cried because I got so frightened of getting hurt during a physical scene that I help things up for ten minutes. Then Jake and I went in the hall and argued more and I suddenly decided that I should never act again. Finally, Lou, our stage manager came back and held me for a bit and said that she understood everything that I was going through.

And then I got my face on and did a run-through for promo photos.

In the middle of all this, I met someone. I'll tell that story in another installment...

I'm feeling mighty lonesome
Haven't slept a wink
I walk the floor and watch that door
And in between I drink
Black coffee
Love's a hand me down brew
I've never know a Sunday
In this weekday room

I'm talking to the shadows
from 1 o'clock til 4
And lord, how slow the moments go
When all I do is pour
Black coffee
Since the blues caught my eye
I'm hanging out on Monday
My Sunday dreams to dry

Now a man is born to go a lovin'
A woman's born to weep and fret
To stay at home and tend her oven
And drown her past regrets
In coffee and cigarettes

I'm moaning all the morning
and mourning all the night
And in between it's nicotine
And not much heart to fight
Black coffee
Feelin' low as the ground
It's driving me crazy just waiting for my baby
To maybe come around... around
I'm waiting for my baby
To maybe come around

My nerves have gone to pieces
My hair is turning gray
All I do is drink black coffee
Since my man's gone away

Chicks before dicks.

Okay, so what I really have to do is spend more time with my girls.

I worked at the theater all this weekend helping Jake get stuff ready for tech week and then I went and hung out with Jinny and her son Storm Saturday night. Jinny and I had drinks in the kitchen and in the morning I came back and made brunch for the three of us. I'm still there right now, just chilling out, Sunday-style.

Life is so much better after having a good long vent with your lady friends. I needed this: I needed to get out of my head, forget about boys, and loosen up a bit. I guess I'm not breaking up with Balagan right now, either. I think we just had a weekend of make-up sex: I made curtains, moved flats, cleaned the Cabaret, put lamps and lumber in storage, stripped wires wearing a hand-knit angora sweater, and got down and dirty and covered in theater filth. And then I had a wonderful night.

The sun has come out today.

I love a good Sunday afternoon.

Re: "Gender Stereotypes Trump Racial Stereotypes in Every Social Science Test."

I'm too sick to comment except, as a professional woman, DUH.

I went home and did just what he said I'd do.

I now have three all-time favorite unforgettable best pieces of theater art and a second most timely for me as a person work.

Single-moment-in-time-stretching-away-into-the-distance performances, in chronological order of my seeing them:

1. My hero Mary Zimmerman's The Secret In The Wings (Seattle Rep). Simply, it was a bridge between two parts of my life and had everything my girl's heart could dream and everything my woman's soul could need.
   
2. Elevator Repair Service's 6+ hour word-for-word performance of F. Scott Fitzgerald's grim tragedy of undying love, The Great Gatsby: Gatz. Set in a banal office, there is silence, then chaos, then silence again and I was fully entranced for the entire length.
3. How Theater Failed America by Mike Daisey.
   

Most Heartbreaking Reflection Of My Life performances:

1. Rent by Jonathan Larson. I was 20, has just had my first psychiatric hospitalization, and was an acting student living in Manhattan.
2. How Theater Failed America by Mike Daisey.
   

Last night I saw Mike Daisey perform his newest show, How Theater Failed America. If you don't know about him you may still have heard or read him, as he is not only an actor, writer, and fat man who sits at a table, he is also a commentator for NPR and writes for several magazines. I had seen him previously in his break-out 21 Dog Years At Amazon.com ten years ago so I knew what to expect: a sweaty fat man sitting at a table that you cannot take your eyes off of. Talking. Just...talking. And drinking water.

The basic premise of the show is the imminent economic failure of regional theater, which is largely uninteresting to anyone outside of theater and a terrifying white elephant to anyone inside of it. It tells nothing new. Most art does not tell a new story.

However, it struck me, and I had, at the end, one of those tunnel vision moments at the end, where he is speaking only to me, looking only at me, as though hundreds of other people were not present and we were alone together in the dark. He had spoken about his suicide attempts and being saved by work, nothing but work. Art, starvation, nothing but ramen for months, but it gave him life. And then he said, Go. Go do this work. Be as luminous as I know you are, as you know you are, because this is not political commentary or a failing industry but the only thing that will give you life. Go, work, and Godspeed.

I have no money. I have ten dollars to live on until the 15th and I have 2/3 of a large container of plain non-fat yoghurt in my fridge, uncooked soba in my cupboard, two large containers of salt, and a jar of honey. No produce, no fruits or veggies or anything unless my wonderful big sister buys me apples and carrots tomorrow at the farmer's market. I barely work and don't know if I can manage more hours. But I can't, literally, live another day like this.

The part of my brain that understands money is fatally broken. Things appear, or they do not. This simply is and is not connected to any other function. (I am not this way when I run a business, however.) I do understand that I am dying, right now, and if do not do something right this very fucking moment that very soon it may be too late for me. I cannot wait, it is an imperative.

So. So I guess that I am going to quit Balagan. They are doing nothing that I want to do; they are the Boston Pops performing an over-produced Copeland and I am Jimi Hendrix. The current season is full of large, ensemble casts of solid, proven works with moderate production values and not enough rehearsal time lead by an already-bloated, squabbling administrative team that I could come back and save (I would be very good at that) but, since it already sent me to the hospital, I feel that would be inadvisable. I want to see a man hang upside down in leather and spikes playing Moliere by candlelight for nine people. I want to have five people in panda suits eat sushi in a five-star sushi restaurant. I want to produce Hamlet in Space and cast rock stars who wear body glitter. I want to make punk rock theater. I want to be happy, not broken-hearted; free, not bound; alive, not dead. I feel cheated and tired and I have only thiiiiiis much left to live for.

So. To work, then.

Kissing disease.

The Kiss show went well, although I wasn't there very long. I stayed through the first set and then Dan drove me home; I'd been feeling under the weather and had to work the next day anyway. But the boys did a great job and I'd love to see the whole set sometime.

Earlier on Halloween, I took my nephew trick-or-treating for the first time. He's three. He was a fire chief! Not just a fireman, a fire chief. We went down to Magnolia Village where all the businesses prep for a big community trick-or-treat. I think we got through about ten places before his eyes started to glaze and Caitlin and I decided that it was dinner time for everyone. On the way home, Roscoe said from the back, "Tired Mama. Tired Auntie." We agreed that, yes, Mama and Auntie were very tired.

The Rock Star promptly got sick the day after Halloween, though, and I came over Saturday to make soup and a pie for him. I'm still working out this recipe for Apple Gruyere Pie. It turned out okay, but it needs more cheese. I did, however, work out a fantastic gluten-free pie crust that tastes like real pie crust and doesn't fall apart if you look at it sideways. Take that, Flying Apron Bakery!

So of course I woke up sick on Sunday after cooking all day Saturday. The Rock Star made me some eggs (I tried to make them myself but he kept me on the couch instead). After he took me home I spent the rest of the day shivering in bed and playing Final Fantasy XII. Fevers always kick my ass; once I'm over them, I'm fine with sniffles and all, but I get awful, hallucinatory fevers. I'm glad I took all kinds of vitamins and supplements this week in preparation of getting sick; things have been so bad that I knew my body would give out at some point. And it did. Hopefully I'll mostly be up and running again by tomorrow or the next day.