Um… This is me as a rat running errands today on 18th street, wondering if my mother knows… YEP.
Does your mother know?
So I’ve had a gift certificate for a thai massage sitting in my inbox for about 6 months. Yes, yes, that’s sad. I know. Today I redeemed it. I just had to. About a week and a half ago I really hurt my neck by sleeping funny, and things hadn’t improved even with yoga. It was bad, like wake up in pain and can’t lift your torso, so you have to exit the bed horizontally, and then flop out.
You know you’re in bad shape when you actually impress your masseuse with how messed up your body is. “Wooooooow. SO TIGHT!” she exclaimed, then she proceeded to work on my shoulders and neck for the majority of the 90 min session. After about an hour in she asked me what I did for a living, how I’d worked myself up into this sorry state. “Computer stuff,” I said.  “Yes, we have lots of clients that are always on the computer. Then they come here and we help them. But you are very very tense. It’s incredible!” 🙁
This is probably what I looked like *facedown* on the mat, getting my bum leg pulled behind me in an assisted yoga stretch. Sigh…
Today I finally dug my Wacom tablet out of my closet. Lately I’ve been feeling more and more ridiculous for owning a pricey tablet but never touching it. What can I say? I don’t draw much anymore. I go through cycles of art and craft. Drawing has always been a part of my life, but after I’d been doing comics in the school paper for a while I totally burnt out. The same thing happened to me and knitting after I worked in a yarn shop for a while. I just had to step away. Then I got into food. I cooked, ate out, then started a blog about cooking and eating. Then I burnt out. I sense a pattern here 🙂
While learning new crafts is great, the excitement and the fizzle I experience every time makes me wonder. One of my deeper insecurities is that I’ll always be a bit of a dabbler in life, good enough at quite a few things but never particularly excelling in anything. I know that this fear is far from true (I mean, I can make SOCKS, and if that isn’t success, I don’t know what is), but hey insecurities are rarely grounded in reality, right?
Anyways, back to drawing. In the past I’ve used my tablet primarily for editing and coloring hand drawn stuff, so my freehand isn’t so great. As a bit of an experiment, I thought it would be fun to do a sketch a day on my tablet. It should improve my hand eye coordination. Or is it hand-eye-laptop-tablet coordination? >_< I’ll try to post something everyday for the short term future, but no promises.
Here’s day one: I quickly scribbled myself, then went to town  with the impressionist brush feature. I need more definition around the neck and my proportions are a bit off, but besides that I think I look very peaceful! I really look like my dad, sheesh.
After a few weeks of seeing teasers for this documentary all over the internet, I finally caved and caught a showing. Surprisingly, it was only playing at one theater! Kind of weird for San Francisco, a food-obsessed town.
If you watch the trailer above, you get the idea. The movie is only 80+ minutes long, but drags a little, and is a bit heavy on the slow motion shots and the Philip Glass. Throughout the movie, I was like “Here we go again, I’m gonna see another fish set to classical music.” I love fish, documentaries and Philip Glass very much, so that’s saying a lot.
Still, I was fascinated. The title character is considered by many to be the best sushi chef in the world and runs a tiny and unassuming restaurant located in a subway station. He’s been making sushi for 75+ years. <—SAY WHAT NOW??? Yes, 75 years! Add on top of that, he’s a workaholic and a perfectionist. Any hint at a personal life is minimal, although he has groomed his two sons to take over his legacy, and there are mentions of a vey painful childhood.
I found many similarities between my own family and the family portrayed in the movie. Most notably, my own father was also forced into the restaurant business from a young age due to troubles with an unreliable and alcoholic father. Jiro was told that he could never come back home at the age of 9, which is when he started in sushi. My dad quit school when he was 8 or 9 to start working.
Another thing that I could relate to was the workaholic spirit created by the struggle to survive. Never taking vacations, never not thinking about the restaurant, not having a personal life, living the same day over and over for decades, only closing the restaurant for funerals- Mom, I’m looking at you! I’ve always felt kind of sad about that part of my parents’ life, but this movie presented Jiro’s dedication and single-mindedness as something of a virtue, which is another way to look at it. I suppose if it is all tied to a passion, I can get behind that. I console myself by reminding myself that my mother loves working, and has chosen this path. It’s just her being… her.
Beyond the food bits, I enjoyed the movie as a meditation on work, passion and perfectionism. You’ve gotta admire an 85 (86?) year old at the top of his game, who is still curious and taking risks.
Basically Jiro’s philosophy is whatever your job is, don’t complain. Do your best. Do it over and over and over again. Â Do your best everyday. Always look forward to the next thing, dream big and push yourself. There’s always room for improvement, even if you’re the best sushi chef in the world. I left the movie feeling inspired, yet it’s still unlikely that I will one day find one magic path that will keep me captivated for seventy-five years.
Outside of the salon down the block from my house there are some really excellent stencils of Divine. There are some newer works further down the sidewalk, in the same style. Whenever I take BART to work, I always make sure to read each one as I pass by.
“Only two kinds of folks intrigue the public: women with pasts, and men with futures”
(Also, is that a John Waters stencil? Hard to tell because no mustache…)
“A fool and his money make a great date”
“We are here now. Now is the only time that really exists.” Â Yup.