self understanding and old Disney music!

BLOCKS 

they happen to everyone, I think.

I would say writer's block, 

but actually, I've been writing nearly every day without fail.

And yet, lately, I feel anxiety when I think about posting anything that anyone might actually read.

So, in a sense, it's not writer's block, but a sort of energy block-- a self-imposed one, even--- and I don't quite understand it myself. 

I'm no psychologist -though I DID play a therapist in a short film--

(If you happen to be interested, I'll paste the link below!)

But anyway, I feel that I've been trying to understand my own strange-self more lately.

When I was younger, I didn't think it was super important to try to figure on what was going on in my head and heart on a daily basis, but as I've gotten older, I feel like it's one of the important parts of self-care...(as much as getting enough exercise each day, and drinking a LOT of water.)

Understanding ones' own self is somewhat deceptively difficult, however. . . 

and at the same time, this kind of inner-self-work is one of the keys which I've found to growing as a person. 

And as my work is in the acting realm, I feel that this personal work helps me immensely on a professional level as well---- which is a bonus for me I suppose! 

-----

Anyway, here's the thing...

just when I start to feel super blocked

the universe sends some kind of weird coincidence my way

that makes me question everything.

-------------

I often frequent this one cafe in Shimokitazawa to meet up with people--

It's actually a place which specializes in ojiya (rice porridge with various toppings) 

but I've never actually eaten there--- I've only had various hot drinks 

(they make a really nice kinako -roasted soy bean powder- latte)

It's a super cozy spot that sort of feels like being in someone's living room, 

toasty warm, and always smelling of delicious home-cooking. 

After going there a handful of times, I also realized that they play pretty interesting music.  

One day, they played a CD for a second time of a Japanese band which sounded 

much like the super obscure folky-rock bands that I listen to... 

and then the next time when I went there, 

they were playing a CD of really old Disney music, the songs that were in the movies of my childhood, but I'd forgotten about long long ago...

And in mid-conversation, when Candle on the Water from the film "Pete's Dragon" came on, I suddenly found myself totally lost in a personal reverie of sorts. 

I think I may have tuned out of the convo for a minute or so-- sorry, friend!

The next couple of times, I went back, they happened to be playing a similar CD--- and I recognized song Someone's Waiting For You from "The Rescuers", and suddenly--

 my mind was in a world full of magic 

soft around the edges like climbing into the most comfortable bed on a chilly night.

I love when music has this effect.

P.S. 

Here are a couple of links...

First, the aforementioned songs-- in reverse order-- 

which will (hopefully) make your heart a little lighter today!

-and here's the full film, by writer/ director Steve Poole, in which I play a therapist-

zombie run

I had a really bizarre dream last night. It felt very real and vivid at the time, but so totally wacky— and the strangest part was that from start to finish it was like watching a short film and right when it ended, I woke up.

In the dream, my friend S and I signed up to do a sort of race. (Already this is far from reality, as I am terrible at running and I pretty much avoid it at all costs). And this wasn’t like a normal half marathon or regular race— it was themed like a Halloween spooky race… so it was like running through a haunted house except it was all outside in the dark— and it was about the same level of “scary” as the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland (which is to say not very scary at all). So we were running the race, and then at around the halfway point, there was this zombie that emerged and you had to follow him and not lose sight of him, which was not easy because dang, this zombie was super fast, but somehow S and I both managed to do it, so we passed that part of the race and the zombie disappeared after that. Then, there was this “test” sort of part of the race which was a short course which you had to run through twice and there was some kind of sensor or machine that showed you all kinds of data (like your heart rate, speed, things about your muscles, etc)—it was really amazing! Then, after that, there was one last stretch where you had to run to the end of the pumpkin patch where there were all of these scarecrows and then loop around a track, and it was a straight-away to the finish line. Now, what no one told you (it was intended to be a surprise) was that after you got to the end of the pumpkin patch, just when you thought he was gone for good, the zombie would appear from out of nowhere and this time, he chased YOU! And you had to make it to the finish line before he caught you. It was terrifying, and this zombie was so fast that I thought, there’s no way I’m going to make it— and S was yelling “Run, Kellie, run!” and somehow my adrenaline kicked in and I was running faster than I had ever run in my life and S and I both made it to the finish line! I got a piece of paper saying “You did it!” and the paper also had a print-out of all of my health data from the test part of the race, so that was cool, too. And overall, it was so exciting and exhilarating— I didn’t know that I could run that fast. S was taking selfies of us at the end in like a “Whoa, did we really do this?” pose. Then I woke up.

I lay awake in bed thinking about the dream was so vivid, and why did I dream that? And after about a half an hour, I remembered I had put yomogi (mugwort) patches on the bottom of my feet last night, and yomogi is a known dream stimulant. 

A very Scooby-Doo (original series) kind of dream, 

if you know what I mean. 

turning into dust. . .

So much to say. . . 

In a season of change--- 

all feels strange

looking down at my hands

my body

Is it truly

ME

?

I feel so lucky

So incredibly blessed 

To have the opportunities presented to me

Really really lucky

In everyday life, in the grind of work— and work is BUSY

too busy at times to sink into the rhythms of life, or feel like I can just sit back and relax

But 

Truly

We all have the power to rise above

Rise above 

those silly obstacles 

which truth be told 

are

all in the mind

Truly.

Come with me

On your personal, beautiful

journey 

bizarre convo of the day

I get to work exactly on time, breathless, having run (literally) from a voice acting gig for a game which ran late. 

At work, in the back office is a supervisor I’ve never met.

Me: Oh, hello!

Supervisor: Oh, hey! I think it’s our first time meeting?

Me: Yeah! I think so.

(we shake hands) 

I’m Kellie!

Supervisor: Oh! Kellie. . . .  Holway?

Me: Um, yes. . . 

Supervisor: Wow! I was just talking about you yesterday!

Me: (thoroughly confused) Wait. . . what do you mean??

A longish conversation ensued, inevitably turning to Black Mirror. But in the end, it turns out, we have a mutual friend who happened to mention me in conversation (possibly also having some Black Mirror connection) the day before.

I felt cool for a nano-second.

Tokyo with all it’s big city bravado, is truly the smallest world after all. 

Which way is up?*

What a strange year you were, 2017.

It was a year that found me in a delusional state.

1. I thought I had my love life figured out (in more ways than one) -

nope!

2.  So much work was coming my way that I became somewhat desensitized to it all. Also, NG.

3. I knew that something was up with me internally, and knew that I needed to make a change, and the end of the year was spent mostly prepping for that. A LOT of work, mostly packing to move to a new place and all that came with it, but I did it all of it solo. At the time, I just had to get the things done. . . but looking back on it now, I realize that it was a huge transition time for me, and I'm still in that time now. . . but I'm at the end of the tunnel now and able to see the light.

and on a positive note:

4. I realized JUST how much I love writing!

*Let's find the light together 2018!

Portland + Thai = Pai ?

We are meant for:

beauty 

in the great outdoors

(see. . . bug spray)

fault lines

(mine and yours')

thunder 

and 

lightning

and 

blue skies

Pai is outstanding 

for 

all 

living beings

mirth

I had the strangest experience today...

On the train from Shimo-kita to Kichijoji— the slow train— a very normal-looking Japanese child of maybe 8 years old at some point came and sat next to me. I didn’t think much of it at first, but he was staring and me without give; at some point, he went and sat across from me to only come back and sit next to me, scooting closely toward me.

Who on earth does he think I am?

I thought to myself

in Tokyo, a white person isn’t an anomaly

— but having no clue— I went back to emailing my agent—and pretending to look at my email

All the time, the tiny person peering over my shoulder

If it had been an adult, I would have certainly been uncomfortable...

but it was a child— looking at me, eyes as big as pure-silver

When we finally disembarked, he stayed behind me for a spell

And then broke into a run

Like the child he was

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. 

See yourself in a virtual mirror

for who you are 

and what has brought you to where you are now.

It's spring, peeps!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7CnGsKTHtNw

I saw an exhibition in Nakano Broadway

with my bestie..

and had he not reminded me of it today, it might have slipped my mind.

And that's what friends are for... 

this work is breathtaking

a love from another world

http://www.emptykingdom.com/featured/jun-kumaori/

some days, unexpected. . .

Boss: Kellie-sensei, we haven't taken your official company photo yet. Can I take it now?

Me: Now?!!!

Boss: Yeah, why not?

Me: You have to warn me about these things! I'm not looking my best today---also not adhering to the dress code at the moment.

Boss: That's alright.

Me: I'M NOT EVEN WEARING MAKEUP!

Boss: You don't need makeup.

Me: Can we take it tomorrow?

Boss: Yeah, of course.

nature- of the human kind included-

I've had bizarre dreams for at least a week now...
like a waking half-nightmare, half lucid...

a shock to my system, but no surprise.

A friend of a very good friend, a kindred spirit, Brian Benson wrote about an experience which today affected me:

Two years ago, while taking a riverboat down the Mississippi with two white friends, I got trapped at a party in a house owned by one of the more racist, sexist, violent men I've ever met. How my friends and I arrived at his house is a long story. The details aren't so important. What's important is that this man, who knew only our faces, invited us. This man who, over the course of our few hours together, went on to compare women to dogs and call black people everything besides people and describe in detail his fantasies of killing other men—this man very much wanted us in his house. He gave us fresh towels and soap and shampoo. He told us a story about every one of his guns. He introduced us to his friends, so many friends, all of them drinking heavily, spewing hateful language, assuming we agreed with them because of our faces—and insisting, over and over, that we sit, stay, enjoy the party.
We were scared. Scared, and disgusted with ourselves for being there and being too scared to challenge what was being said. So we just bided our time, and when an opening appeared, we fled to our boat. We stayed up for hours that night, talking and staring and drinking whiskey with shaking hands. And what we kept coming back to was the feeling that our escape had provided nothing like relief. Because far worse than that momentary flicker of fear—worse, even, than our scared silence—was the knowledge that we, by simple virtue of being white men, had been invited.
Today, I'm thinking a lot about that party. About being invited, always. That, for me, feels like both the hardest and most important thing to take from this moment: even (especially) now, as a monster steps into the presidency, I am being invited. I'm an able-bodied straight white cis male with metric tons of class privilege. Trump's policies won't personally threaten me. They are written for me. Or, at least, for who this country so often tells me to be.
And so even though I'm devastated, I can't think about any of this as something that’s happening to me. Can't say “it’s not my fault,” or “this isn’t my country,” or anything else that distances me from what is and has forever been happening in America. Because no matter how much I loathe Trump and all he stands for, the fact remains that his presidency is just another invitation, to me, to have a drink, to take the soap and shampoo, to enjoy the party.
To every POC, LGBTQ, Muslim, immigrant, trans- and female-identified person I do and don't know: I'm hurting for you. I'm angry for you. I'm disappointed in myself for not doing and being more. And I'm pledging, here, to not forget what I'm being invited into, and why, and why I've got a responsibility to keep finding ways to show up and stand at the door and say, “no.

I'm not afraid.

cold nights, warm heart

While sitting in a hot bath on a chilly night after meeting a friend at the station--- coincidentally living pretty close to each other in western Tokyo after becoming friends in Kitakyushu five years or so ago---  it came as a flash. I hadn't thought about M in a long time, nor had I thought of W. A positive and a negative force in reverse chronological order that had left me in the middle, hopelessly neutral.

It also occurred to me suddenly that for now at least, writer's block was also a thing of the past.

Love, love, and more. . .

I still can't believe I'm back in Japan.

I should clarify. . . I'm back in the best place that I've ever lived, a place that I never thought I'd be able to come back to ---

I found an apartment close to the station where I used to live, but this time a 15 minute walk from other side of the station--- in a wonderfully quiet neighborhood, so quiet in fact that I feel like I'm camping. But not due to being rural (this is Tokyo!)

There is an aesthetic in Japan that I'd somehow forgotten. Small gardens and plots of land with various small trees -- there are chestnut trees outside my window--

even one of the little farm stands that leaves their produce out ("We trust you to pay")

And more than that, there is a respect for quietness and peace.

Not to say that Japanese people are always quiet--- go out to any bar in Shinjuku at any hour of the night and you'll find the rowdiest scene imaginable--- but in their homes, people like to feel at peace; it's more conducive to resting well--- and my way of thinking also fits this paradigm.

AND some of my best friends are right down the street.

Nothing is perfect, but this comes pretty darn close.

Taiwan!

I just want to take a quick second to express my feelings for what might be the coolest friendliest country, Taiwan. Every single time I find myself in this country I'm dazzled by the people I encounter.

This time, I booked a flight with Tiger Air from Singapore to Tokyo, with a layover in Taipei. Unexpectedly, thunderstorms rocked Singapore before take-off, and we were about 2 hours late getting off the ground. I expressed my worry to one of the flight attendants, and she was genuinely concerned whether or not I'd make the connection. Halfway through the 4 1/2 hour flight, she asked me if I wanted to move up to the front row so I'd be the first getting off the plane. At that point, I thought that, damn, I had really troubled her unneccessarily, and I thanked her profusely, but I told her I was sure it would be fine. Getting off the plane and realizing that the walk to transfer was a lot longer than I'd expected, I started feeling like, "Shoot, I might actually miss my flight. . . " and as I have an appointment with the apartment rental company in Tokyo to get my keys tomorrow. . . But in these situations, I always feel it's best to play it cool. I saw the long queue at the transfer counter and took my place. There was an elderly clerk standing near me, and not sure if I were in the right line, I asked him which line I should be in. "Your flight's in the morning?" he asked. "No, tonight," I said casually. "At 11." Immediately, he directed me to come with him over to another counter where he explained the situation to some young colleagues--- they looked confused and a bit resigned -- and this guy who was probably about 70, with a great sense of urgency but without the slightest trace of annoyance, went behind the counter and took over at the computer for the younger folks and printed out my boarding pass for me. I couldn't believe it. I was so humbled and grateful. 

And on the way to the gate, starving, I even had time to pick up a little something. . . . 

smoked tofu!

no wifi, but the best connection

I just spent four days getting reacquainted with real life on Nipah Beach--- a unique little part of Tioman island in Malaysia.

 There is no cell service or wifi anywhere on Nipah, and at first, it was so strange to be totally disconnected from everyone and everything. Truly though, I had been longing to get away from the commercial and material world. Living in Singapore, though it has its good points, has weighed heavily on me with it's need for speed and drive to get more things. And, I will be leaving Singapore very soon in fact--- but before I return to Japan, I wanted to come once again to Tioman-- the place that is perhaps the origin of my love for all that is Malaysian.

Being at Nipah was a 'trip' in all senses of the word. I spent three of the four days going on adventures --everything way out of my comfort zone-- jungle trekking that was beyond any sort of trekking I've ever done-- ocean swimming for a mile against the current to get out to a particular spot that was good for snorkeling-- where I saw three big sharks and a stingray-- and then, the following day, snorkeling in the middle of a formidable tempest (which was super interesting-- all was calm underwater, while above the surface was like something out of the movie 

"A Perfect Storm". 

I remembered what it is to be really brave and that I am capable of more than I think I am. But more than that, I felt a connection to the natural world that I'd forgotten about--- I can't speak for other human beings, but for me, that connection is necessary to fully experience life.

And (with the exception of missing people I talk to regularly) I didn't miss the internet one bit!

opposite of fate

embark

!

old 

new 

dream 

in 

reality 

memory

temporarily lost

friends

gather 

talk

eat

hyotan

island

vac (or candy) pot 

drip 

chasing

my imagination

under

a place of the earth

remembering

the

cheesecake 

house

on the tracks

sweet and stringent 

in one form

----

music
base for shape 

-----

diving with eyes open

into the fiction in my head

swimming 

in

 jazz 

(and in love)

19 August 2016

"You're returning home, to the sea."
- a close friend, when I said I was going back to Japan.

five is the magic number

It was the first day back after the school holidays, and I wasn't super stoked about going back to work, but..

sometimes in the days of malaise, 

the little people surprise me.

My phonics class chock full of 5 year olds tumble in like excited rabbits.

"I went to Taiwan!" 

The happy-go-lucky child in the class today is decked out in rainbows from head to toe.

One of the younger boys in the class rushes to my side. "I also went to a different country!"

"Oh? Which country?"

"Disneyland."

"Disneyland is not a country."

"It's a country!"

 "I used to work there you know... It's a cool place, but it's not a country. Did you go to Hong Kong Disneyland or Tokyo Disneyland?"

"Hong Kong! They had fireworks."

"Oh great!"

(now that I have his attention)

So.... What's the first sound in fish?"

"fff"

"Good! Now, what's the last sound in fish?"

"shhh"

"Exactly! Ok, what's the first sound in.. . "

(under his breath)

"Shhh is a diagraph."

". the first sound in . . Wait. What??"

"Shhh is a diagraph."

"How do you know. . . who told you that?"

He shrugs offhandedly.

"Umm. . . what's the last sound in . .. wait. Ok, can you tell me in your own words. . ..what is a diagraph?"

"A diagraph is when two letters come together to make a different sound."

Whoa.

"Alright. I wasn't going to put you in the next class yet, because I wasn't sure about your ability to share, but you've just demonstrated that you're on an entirely different plane."

Rainbow Brite skips by.

"Let me ask you about your trip! What did you do in Taiwan?" I ask.

"Eat!"

Smart girl.

"What did you eat?"

She thinks for a bit.

"Mmmm. . . Koko Krunch!"

(In case you aren't familiar with Koko Krunch, it's a Singaporean cereal kind of like Frosted Flakes and Coco Puffs combined.)

"That's not Taiwanese food... What else did you eat when you were there?"

"Ummm. . . bread?"

"Now, take a second and think about it. Did you eat anything special when you were there, I mean like special Taiwanese food?"

She thinks again for a while.

"Oh, I know... 

PIZZA!!!"

*sigh*

A girl after my own heart.

on Anomalisa* and creativity

*I wrote the following letter as a response to someone who asked me for my thoughts about the film. It may give a little away, so if you don't like spoilers, watch the film first!

My good friend with whom I saw the film commented during the credits that he liked it and that it was darker than he expected. I agree wholeheartedly; on reflection, I wouldn’t say that it was 'dark-dark' — it just wasn’t a fairy tale movie. 

I enjoyed it for the creative risks taken. It explored the themes of human lonliness and isolation, as well as the very complicated theme of relationships in let’s be honest— this bizarre contemporary culture. And there was no clear resolution at the end— you as the viewer were left to determine what you thought would happen for the characters in the future. . .  really, I felt like the world of the film was a telling depiction of the modern (though I dare to venture, Western) subconsious mindset.

I suppose I liked the film most as it mirrored my own writing style. I’ve been trying to reconcile with the fact that what comes out when I write (whether a screenplay, prose, or poetry) may not be to everyone’s tastes, or worse, to very few people’s tastes. But, why should I care? I am grateful that  A. I found a way to write SOMETHING and B. It’s a pretty sharp life lesson that as much as we want to give to a larger audience, sometimes art has its own plans. And I think looking at it from that angle allows a person a great deal of freedom. 

All that I really need to do is be present, come to the page, and pick up the pen. 

The winds blow and the work is done. 

I - you - w(e)ings

 The things that we think and the things that we say occupy left brain and right brain respectfully (or conversely), 

and whereas once their was any number of bridges across that chasm— 

a grand canyon to the n’th degree-

now we see only one option. . . a rickedy, dangerous bridge at best.

We seek a super-human who strides fearlessly onto that blasted man-made contraption, and after a bullet-sweating eternity meets us in the middle.

At the precise moment we meet, the monsoon hits, million mile an hour winds, raindrops like missiles. We wait for the bridge to crumble beneath our feet, squeezing our eyes shut, tears flowing shamelessly while the other holds us as tightly as we've ever been held before. 

 Minutes pass, turning into hours turning into 

time 

disappearing 

completely. 

Only then...  the winds are finally quiet. We open our eyes, and see the other's face for the first time. Suddenly we remember and look down only to squeal an astonished squeal. 

The bridge was an illusion.

The embrace of soft feathers
suspended in the air,
 we are joined to each other 
and

an other

These photos were taken in 2006 on a tiny digital camera in Takachiho, Japan, 

one of the most stunning places I've seen in the world.