Bytes of Silver Life

A new way to say, "Thank you"

noreply@blogger.com (Sterling) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 16:40:00 +0000

Earlier in the summer I was hired to make a few YouTube videos for a public affairs agency here in Portland. The two videos were designed to show appreciation to Senator Ron Wyden and Representative Earl Blumenauer (who is famous for his amazingly awesome bow-ties) for their support. I was very excited about building these two videos, as it was my first time using iMovie. All video was created using the iSight on a MacBookPro 17in, all editing was performed using iMovie and Audacity:

Dear client...

noreply@blogger.com (Sterling) — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 06:51:00 +0000

Well, it has been a few days since the last time I have put something on here. Recently, I have had quite a bit of fun working with several clients freelancing marketing consulting. However, with new clients comes new experiences, and I have had a few that did not understand how billing works, or the value of what they were receiving versus what they were paying (after they paid for it, of course)...

...Regarding this, I have often mused back to a former boss, who explained the concept of billing large amounts of money for what may seem like a small result, albeit the best result possible:

A very rich man loved roosters, and sought out the the best artist in the world to draw him the perfect rooster.

"I would love to draw for you," said the artist. "It will cost you one million dollars and will take me exactly one year."

"For the best rendition of a rooster?" replied the rich man. "I will gladly pay the cost!"

The rich man waited for one year, apprehensively crossing off each day on his leather-bound desk calendar. When the final day arrived, he went to the artist and asked about the drawing.

"Ah! I am so glad you are here," said the artist, and he pulled up his easel. In 20 minutes he had completed an amazing drawing of the most beautiful and perfect rooster the rich man had ever seen.

The rich man loved the drawing, but was deeply concerned with the artist. "This is truly the greatest drawing of a rooster in the world, but - my friend - it took you only 20 minutes! Why in God's name am I paying you a million dollars for 20 minutes?"

"Follow me," replied the artist, and the rich man followed him to a giant room, the size of a gym. Every square foot of every wall was covered with different renditions of roosters in every shape, size and color.

Though the end result may seem small sometimes, the journey to get there is one of blood, sweat and tears. That, my fine clients, is what you're paying for.

...And to drive home another fantastic point that seems to be going on right now:

Yes, we can.

noreply@blogger.com (Sterling) — Wed, 19 Mar 2008 04:32:00 +0000

Even though I don't know who I will vote for yet, I am amazed at Obama's ability to mobilize millennials and others to publicize him. Although will.i.am doesn't qualify as a millennial, he has created an incredibly moving work of art, completely independent of the Obama campaign machine.

Life Lessons at Richmond

noreply@blogger.com (Sterling) — Mon, 14 Jan 2008 06:23:00 +0000

Friday was my last day working at OHSU Richmond’s clinic. I began working with the idea that the temporary assignment would last six to eight weeks. Here I am three-and-a-half months later.

I truly enjoyed my experience there. I took it to help pay the bills and let me search for a communications/marketing job, but what I did was so intense and emotionally exhausting that I came home and had little to no creativity left. It was all used in dealing with the widest array of humans I have ever encountered while sitting in one chair.

The Richmond clinic is a federally funded, sliding-scale clinic. What this means is, while they incorporate the average families, they also have provisions to assist extremely poor and often homeless people as well. I spoke to heroine addicts, single pregnant teenagers, and high-level business professionals.

While it is not what I want to pursue as a career, I did enjoy it. I didn’t necessarily enjoy what I did, and I had quite a hard time working with some patients. There were times when I had to leave the front and calm down. Just from one “problem” patient. The thing was that for every one of these, I saw a beautiful person, struggling against life, against everything, but still beautiful. While I could fill pages and pages with examples, I want to describe two that choke me up. Even now.

The first is a duo. They are hard to describe because I don't know much about them. They were a sister team, the oldest at 24, the younger at around 8-years-old. The older sister was bound to a wheelchair, and one knew by the way she sat in it that she would be there for a very long time. Her younger sister always came in with her, always pushing the wheelchair and tending to the every need and desire of her older sister. What crushed me inside was the brilliance and love they had maintained, for each other, for those lucky enough to interact with them, and for life itself. They were always in a great mood, always caring and always reaching out and helping others where they could. I have often wondered how I would cope with losing the ability to walk, run, climb and jump. I don’t know how I would live, but if I could live with half the grace and joy that these two girls bring to this world, I would consider it a grand success.

This last example is amazing. We all hear about druggies. We all hear about people who cut their addiction, but how many of us actually get to see it happen? When I first began working at Richmond, B (omission of her name is obvious) was a brand new patient. I think I actually did her paperwork for her first appointment. She was addicted to Percocet® at a rate of 300 per month. Prescribed by a doctor. She was taking them to help her get off another addictive drug, and the addiction of the Percocet took over. One day a voice inside her told her it was ridiculous, and she went for help and was referred to the clinic. She was lucky enough to be paired up with the most hard-assed doctor at Richmond. He broke her pattern, and she came in once a week for a bloodtest and pills. It was so bad that she would come in the day before her appointment with mathematical equations showing (down to the hour) how he had shorted her meds. Her findings were obviously flawed – she was having a hard time cutting down. It got so bad that she had to come in every two days for pills because she couldn't be trusted with a week’s worth. Last Friday she came in and told me that she had just got back from seeing her brother in Chicago for two weeks, and that she kept clean the entire time. She said it was hard, and stressful, but this was the first time she felt healthy enough to travel for years. She is so much stronger now, and she loves it. She came in here and fought the fight, struggled, was knocked down and got right back up. She had a lot of help from the clinic, but she walked the dark paths by herself, and she won. I will remember her (and the hardships I watched her go through) for the rest of my life.

This is a bit lengthy, but it is so important. I hold everyone who works at that clinic in the absolute highest regard for what they do and the lives they impact on a daily basis.

noreply@blogger.com (Sterling) — Tue, 31 Jul 2007 23:42:00 +0000

Well, I am proud to say that I am now offically a podcaster. This is technically the first recording I did with the mp3 recorder loaned to me by the Pearl District Neighborhood Association. (Loaned to record a workshop for PRSA for the development of the Spotlight Awards blog).

I would also like to say that I love my sister very much, and even more so that she puts up with my brilliance.

Father/Son Bonding (Thanks Mom!)

noreply@blogger.com (Sterling) — Mon, 30 Jul 2007 23:21:00 +0000

My family has always given useful gifts – boxes of joy with everyday purpose. It has been like that my whole life (Except the three Christmases in a row when I received a flashlight. It was like giving a Cub Scout a pocketknife…I mean, come on, he already has eight!). Although the ‘rents are divorced, they came together in an extraordinary way to make my 25th birthday one fifty-seconds-and-five-minutes I will never forget.

Secrets have no longevity among my family, especially when they find their way somehow to my mother’s lips. Her “mysterious” hints had the subtly of the 800 naked bicyclists who rode past me last month here in Portland. Saturday morning, at 8:30 a.m., I was going to be hurtling back to Earth at 120 mph.

Now, the great thing about skydiving is supposed to be the thrill of the jump, and it was unbelievable! 13,000 feet straight down. The fall was definitely one my favorite parts, although it as much smoother and calmer than I thought it would be. No, I think the best was watching my 64-year-old father sit down with his feet dangling out of the plane, then see his face zip away behind the plane. That’s right! My father and I have quite a shared resume: four major mountains tackled, snow caves camped in, countries explored together, buildings remodeled, and even herding lambs just separated from their mothers (by far the most physically and mentally exerting activity on the list). We even both put up with me in middle school.

My mother funded the expedition, and my father and I now share a bond few father-son duos have: Both of us jumped head first out of an airplane flying 80 mph, fell the entire height of Mt. Hood at 120 mph and both lived to do it again.

Web Designers Look Out!

noreply@blogger.com (Sterling) — Sun, 15 Apr 2007 01:07:00 +0000

So I’m learning how to design Web sites. I made a deal with a company in that if they paid for my schooling and books to take a HTML class, I would create a site for them. So far I have had two classes, and have managed to put something online. I’m learning tons about how annoying and tedious writing HTML code is (we aren’t allowed to use GUI’s for this class). It is going to be a guide to the brewpubs and breweries of Portland. Feel free to give me input and advice as well as watch it grow. Hops, I have just found out, grow up to a foot a day in Oregon. It is my hope that my Web site will grow at a comparable rate.

Here is the link to the practice site: Beer! (free site, free practice, and yes, I will get my own domain if I choose to pursue this).

Wish me luck, give me advice, and keep drinking great brews.

NOTE: Because of client development, soccer and moving, this project has taken a temporary backseat.

My Ghetto Mac Adaptor

noreply@blogger.com (Sterling) — Mon, 19 Feb 2007 21:46:00 +0000

There I was, pretending to do something useful and my entire world came crashing down.
Suddenly, my Mac screen went black, mid-email, mid-conversation and mid-"Sinnerman" by Nina Simone. From within the catastrophic confusion I concluded that my AC cord was catatonic.
"Well, at least it isn't my computer," I mumbled as I stomped downstairs to see how much it would cost to get a new one. I went catatonic when I found that it was $80, and began researching alternative means of powering my little silver box. Deep in geek territory (where I feel most at home) I discerned that the weakest link to Macs was in the idiotic design of their laptop adapters, more specifically where the cord comes out of the AC on its journey to the motherboard...

My electronic umbilical cord had short-circuited.

As I looked to the heavens in frustration at the piece of machinery I had bragged so much about, the clouds parted and divine intervention came to me. I can fix my own adapter. If the cord really is severed, I can reconnect it. Sure, I have spliced brake lights (and reconnected them) and power cords. I grabbed my lucky charm (Totoro) and went to town.

My first order of business was opening up the casing. Closer examination revealed that these were not supposed to be fixed, only replaced. Supposed...I supposed I would have to use a hammer and a screwdriver. A few minutes of light cursing and grunting produced the same sound and emotions as when you pull the shell off your first crab.

My next step was to cut the cord in front and behind where I hoped the short was, stripping the wires, reconnecting them and finally covering them in electrical tape.

The wad of tape secure with no crossed or loose wires, I was on the home stretch. All I needed to do was put the box back together. No problem. The casing was cracked, the cat was playing with the extra pieces, and I still had tape in my hand.

Throughout the entire ordeal just two thoughts were running through my head: "What the hell am I doing?" and "Gee I hope this is what is causing the problem..."
I cautiously plugged just the cord into the wall (to make sure it wouldn't explode), then attached my computer to the cord. GREEN LIGHT!

I am proud to say that I was able to not only save myself $80, but also have the coolest adapter ever. It is raised (off itself) and a giant black cross quartering it (to keep it from further raising).

In closing, I now consider myself a professional Mac AC repairman so feel free to let me know when yours breaks down. Oh, and later that night I unclogged the sink in the bathroom.

Prelude to my coming home.

noreply@blogger.com (Sterling) — Wed, 26 Apr 2006 01:25:00 +0000

Tuesday, April 4th was horrific and surreal. I had to go to the Auslanderbehöre, or immigration office, for the third time. I was there at 8 a.m. ready to submit my: tax number, bank account information, photo I.D. (from the passport photo machine provided by these people, which incidentally cost me €4 twice), proof of insurance, proof of residence, letters of intent to hire and proof that I was studying German. Oh, and €50. As this was my third attempt I was completely prepared, and had done everything that they had told me to do before hand. I was fairly confident that I would be able to give them my information, smile real big, and be on my way to camps with my nifty working visa.

HA

I walked in there expecting to have them give me my visa, as when I left all this the second time around they said everything was in order. Much to my astonishment this was not the case. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I had been warned by several people that the Auslanderbullsh** (my affectionate nickname on leaving the premises) always comes back to bite you. I was told that my letter of recommendation was not sufficient (though it was a template for all people working for my company applying to get visas) my bank account proof was not sufficient (though it clearly was an official document from Sparkasse Bank showing that I had an account) and that my insurance was not valid because it was called “Student Collection” and was mostly targeted towards students (it was not important that I had great insurance that had already accepted me, which was all they should have cared about). Oh. And my photo was invalid because (and I don’t have the energy to make this crap up) my head was ONE MILLIMETER too big. Get down and take it again (another €4, now €8 for two times). After the second time they told me that the machine was wasn’t “professional” enough and that I would have to go to a photographer to have them done (another €8.50). So I walked a half kilometer to the nearest “professional” photographer, had my photo taken, then came back only to hear that my insurance, bank account information and letters of intent were not good enough. I told them that as far as they were concerned (more diplomatically of course) that I am insured, and my documents prove it, I have a bank account, and my documents prove it, and I have my letters of intent, which shows all the necessary information. They told me to get another bank statement, along with a letter from the Dresden Berlitz training center so they could see that I would be working between camps.

I left laughing at the bureaucracy, walked to the Dresden center feeling confident that I would soon take care of this and it was of little importance. Oh, how naïve was I. I receive the template letter that Berlitz sends to all their people, got the bank statement, and the guy told me that what I had received was “rubbish.” “95% blah and the rest rubbish” were his exact words. What followed was a ballet between us, with me trying to explain that this was a standard letter that all employees used at Berlitz, and since Berlitz is full of non-Germans who received visas, it must have worked, and I was failing to understand why it didn’t work for me. Rubbish. He told me to wait outside as he called his supervisor, and all I heard was Scheiser, Scheiser, Scheiser. I had a distinct feeling that he was just telling his supervisor that my letters were a waste of both of their time.
He told me to come back on Thursday, and that I could do nothing more.

This might be a tiny problem, because I could get more information somehow, have letters rewritten somehow, but the main problem is that I have to have my visa in by Thursday or I can not do the camps beginning on Saturday, which means I will not have the income to stay here any longer. This is the important paragraph.

The other guy I was with was in the same position I was in, had the same information, and was being given the same problems. It boggles my mind because all I hear from Dresdeners is that all the educated people are leaving Dresden. If this is the case, why would the government want to (to put it extremely lightly) want to give people trying to better Dresdeners a hard time? I mean, I dressed nice, had all the information deemed necessary by my bosses and others who went through the same process, and showed up promptly and maintained a professional and amicable atmosphere throughout.

The day was just starting to go bad.

Next up was catching the train, which I missed already because of the hold up at the foreigner’s bureau, which was no problem, we would just catch the next one. Our tickets were good for the whole day, any train. Problem was that the next train was delayed, first 15 minutes, then 30, then another 30, and finally an hour and a half. Since the trains ran every two hours we decided to call it a day and grab a bite to eat and catch the one coming at the regular time. Well, that one was an hour late, and at the last second they changed tracks, announced it, and when we heard it we asked an a person in charge of giving out information, the said no, there was no change. Well, there was, and we missed the train. In one day we managed to miss three trains. Consecutive trains, by the way. So now I am here in Berlin for Berlitz center training. Which I may never partake in.

Wednesday was normal in training and fine until I got back to the hostel and checked my email. I had received an email from the Auslanderböhore stating that my insurance (which I remind you was the exact same as my friend’s who went threw fine) would not work, and that they wanted a resume. At this point I knew it was impossible to get my working visa, as it would take more than one day to get insurance, and I had to get back to Dresden, buy another kind of insurance for another €80 (forget my current insurance at €50), print out my resume (which meant going back to my apartment, emailing my resume to myself, going to an internet center and printing it out), and deal with the jerks again, all before around 5 p.m., when my boss was leaving her office.
It was at that point that I decided I would drop it.

This had immediate repercussions. Mainly, I could not go to the camps that weekend and for the next two weeks, costing me about $2000, not to mention I would have to pay for April’s rent and all other bills. I also would not be able to work at the Dresden teaching center, though even if I had started working there I would not get paid until mid-May.

This left me with one option: head to my friends in Berlin and stay there while I found a way home. The week I spent in Berlin was by far the best week I have had in Germany. My “family” (we know each other through a friendship created at Oregon Episcopal School) took care of me, gave me incredible food and drink and took me to some cool places, including where Stalin, Truman and Churchill met to decide how to split up Germany.

I also met up with some sweet people I made friends with in Berlin earlier, one from Malta, and one from Canada. I am sad that I left Germany because I kind of had to, and not because I wanted to. Even so, I am so happy to be home. I weighed myself and found that I had lost 20 pounds in Germany eating meat and potatoes, so I must not have been happy.

Anyway, this is LONG enough, and if you have got this far you deserve a medal. Or coffee, at least. I now have a cell here, and am looking for work in Portland. And finally, I am caught up with this.

21 Feet and Rising...

noreply@blogger.com (Sterling) — Sun, 02 Apr 2006 19:31:00 +0000

Well, Dresden is flooding. All those tourists will have to wait to take a boat tour until a later day. I guess this is usual for the Elba River, and it does this every year. Every year they pull out the sandbag, and every year thousands of tourists flock to see the rising water. Apparently a few years ago they had a 500 year flood which was twice as high as it is now. Huge parts of the city were completely submerged in water, including the Neustadt, or new city, where I live.

On another note, I am heading back to Berlin this week to complete my seminars to become an English trainer. Not teacher, but trainer. I have felt slightly apprehensive about it, but now that I am in the midst of it, I think I might manage. I can always look elsewhere, right?

On Thursday I come back to Dresden for a few days and then I am off again to Southern Germany. The good news is that I will be in warmer areas, near the Black Forrest (yes, I plan to get some ham) as well as near the Mercedes HQ. I will be a counselor at a horse camp, which means nearly all girls (7-16) and a lot of free time. My director is from New Zealand and sounds like a lot of fun.

It looks like I will have Internet there, which means I can keep this updated!

Schliemann Straße 35, Berlin, Videotek Bad Boyz

noreply@blogger.com (Sterling) — Sun, 19 Mar 2006 21:07:00 +0000

I have a confession to make. I apparently am a typical male. Though I do this consciously with the knowledge that I will surely get lost and stay lost, I really don’t like to ask for directions. The really comical part of this is that the more I know I am lost, the more reluctant I am to approach someone for help. This caused severe problems with trying to find the above address in a city I have never really been to, at night, without the ability to speak more than five words in coherent succession. To paint you a picture of the environment (for those of you who have never wandered the back streets of Berlin), on the U-Bahn subway I sat across from three Berliner punks, one of which took way too much punk-juice and was totally incapacitated. His buddy was fantastic as well, as although I have seen mohawks and dreadlocks, I have never seen a mohawk of dreadlocks.

As I left the train I decided quite randomly that my address was most definitely in a certain direction. I set off looking for the neighborhood video store or Schliemann Straße. After about six blocks and two video stores I threw my manly pride to the wind and asked a kind man, who quickly answered in German that it was the way that I was walking (I knew from the direction of his finger). I thanked him and set off, but was quickly called back as he had just asked another man who pointed in the opposite direction. These two men quickly grew to three, then to four! They continued to argue about my illusive and apparently mobile destination for sometime until the all had the exact same epiphany and pointed in the direction I had come. So I set off. Every block I got I asked for Videotek Bad Boyz, thinking that someone must know where their local video store would be. Everyone watches movies, right? Well, not in Berlin. No one knew where to find the Bad Boyz.

About 45 minutes later, without map and nearly without hope, I asked a girl about my age who had been walking the same direction I had for a few blocks. She definitely was sent to me by someone up above, because she was walking PAST Schliemann Straße and would take me to my doorstep! She didn’t know where Bad Boyz was. I was beginning to doubt it existed. Well, it does, and I was quite embarrassed when she dropped me off at number 35, Bad Boyz.

Videotek Bad Boyz is a gay pornographic video store (complete with accessories), and while I didn’t notice the videos I did notice the string of beads which methodically grew in size to an outstanding six inches in diameter. If you don’t know what I am talking about, it is OK. Believe me.

Never-the-less, I was quite content to pick up my keys, watch the guy working there pretend not to know English while he surfed an English web site, and secure my golden price – my keys to my flat-for-the-week. Success was mine!

Dynamo Days in Dresden and the €10,000 Experience

noreply@blogger.com (Sterling) — Sun, 26 Feb 2006 20:06:00 +0000

You know, the title to this really looks hypocritical. The name “Dresden” just looks depressing, or dismal, or any other negative work starting with D. Dreary? Contrary to the mood of the name, Dresden is very much an exciting place to live. For you engineers out there, the University of Dresden is one of the best in the world. It is 30km from the Czech Republic, and very much a fun place to be…If only it weren’t so freaking cold. All. The. Time.
Right now it is snowing lazily, and I am sitting in my room with my feet on the radiator to keep them warm. Although this is the first snow for about four or five days, the temperature has been moving adventurously back and forth across the mighty gap between, oh, 25 degrees F and 30 degrees F. In this invigorating temperature there isn’t really that much to do outside, but I managed to find something, along with 23,000 Germans. The Dresden soccer game against their rivals, Harsa Rostock. Dresden won 1-0.
The game was great to watch, the Bratwursts were phenomenal, and the beer would have been great had there been any. Apparently there is a history of violence between the fans of these two teams and the governing bodies feel for some reason that alchol consumed during the game compounds it. If anything caused me to believe that this was true, it was the 1500 police in riot suits and body armor sitting between the Dresden fans and the Harsa fans.
Towards the middle of the second half, someone shot a rocket firework into the Harsa fans, causing their seats and whatever else to catch on fire, which then prompted rockets to fly out of the Harsa fans back across the field towards the Dresden fans. I thought it was hilarious, although I felt fairly safe from all this in the calmer section of the stands. Looking around, I also made a stunning discovery…No one was surprised, only slightly irritated because the game was stopped, and the older men complained that every time this happens Dresden gets charged €10,000.
I feel bad about that, but I am still glad it happened so I could experience it.

Things dont always work out as they should...

noreply@blogger.com (Sterling) — Tue, 14 Feb 2006 01:56:00 +0000

Well, I am here in Dresden, about as east as you can get in Germany. The city was completely leveled during WWII on account of the high concentration of Nazis living here then. It is quite different now, as Germany has been pouring money into it to restore it to the image it was before - a beautiful and majestic city. To you give you all an idea, much of the city was modeled after Florence, Italy. This photo is of the Church of our Lady and Old Dresden.

Life here is pretty good after a few days, with one TINY problem. Caleb (see top 8) was let go from Berlitz for political reasons, and now is looking for work elsewhere, even out of Stockholm. This is kind of a bummer for me as I was looking forward to working with him down in Stuttgart, which is now impossible. I will still be working down there, but he will have to work here in Dresden. Setback? Not yet. The bigger problem is that it throws off our financial situation, and as he doesn't know what he will be doing for a main source of income yet, hiking for two months looks kind of dismal.

What does this mean? Well, it means that I might be doing some of my own adventures, like hiking from the toe of Italy to Lake Como, or down the Dalmatian Coast. I am not worried about that.

In brighter terms, I cooked my first German meal today, consisting of homemade brats and red sauerkraut, cheese bread and orange water that cost 35 cents a liter. It looks like I will be in Dresden for a month or so, which means Sterling is signing up for German lessons and looking for some interesting work to do. Ideas?

Cheers!

This is the LIFE!

noreply@blogger.com (Sterling) — Fri, 30 Dec 2005 13:43:00 +0000

Well, I am in Japan and still alive. Not just alive, but staying in a wonderful hotel in Kyoto. We arrived here at 4p.m., promptly threw down our bags and went out into downtown area. We had already explored the temples and buddhas to our heart's content. After getting a bit of ramen with a friend of Naoko we returned back to the hotel. I could live here.
First: We changed into our traditional Kimonos. They are very comfortable and simple.
Second: We had a five-course dinner consisting of sushi, a brothy soup with crap legs waiting to be cracked, a sort of egg/shrimp tempura, veggie tempura and more sushi. I didnt want to touch any of it because it was layed out beautifully.
Third: After laying out our futons for the night we sampled some of the sweets left among the gifts from the hotel, and left for massages. Naoko chatted away with an old man while my mind wandered away with the smell of the cedar walls and steam from the...
Fourth: Public baths. The water in these is fed in from a natural hot spring and smells like any other hot spring. Naoko and I parted ways and received another massage -this time from a chair- while Naoko enjoyed the mineral waters.
Fifth: We were both summoned by a hotel staff member to remind us that our personal bath was ready, and we followed her up to another floor where we we enjoyed the relaxing privacy where a man and woman could share a bath together. This is extremely rare in Japan. After some time we realized that we were both sufficiently wrinkly and tired and came down to the lobby where I have jumped on the net while she is in the massage chair.
My body is tingling, my mind is clear, and I think i might just open up my own little Japanese hotel like this if only I could enjoy this more often.
Complete bliss, and I am exhausted. I think we walked about 10 miles between all the temples.
Sweet dreams all.

7:52am

noreply@blogger.com (Sterling) — Tue, 27 Dec 2005 15:51:00 +0000

WELCOME to my blog...For those of you who don't know me, my name is Sterling. I graduated from University of Oregon in June '05 from the School of Journalism and Communications. After that I took an excruciating job installing tracks for high schools and universities all up and down the west coast. Seven days a week, ten hours a day is not my idea of a post-college job, but it did what I expected it to do…Financially prepare me for my traveling. Not just a few weeks or a month or a term (for those of you still in school) but for at least a year or two.

Right now I am sitting on my father’s computer because mine is packed and excited to come with me to Japan. I leave in 45 minutes for the airport via my mother’s house. Most of you who read this know why, but I am going mainly to visit a very good friend, Naoko in Osaka.

In order to get to her I am flying directly from Portland to Tokyo and then taking bullet train down to Osaka. Yes, I could have flown to Osaka, but how many times do we get to ride a bullet train? I am going to see if they will let me sit on top.

Well, it is perfect traveling weather: Rain, wind and more rain. I can’t wait to go and I can’t wait to tell you more about it through stories and photos. I will miss all of you (even you E) and I look forward to scrambling to see as many of you as I can on my few days back.

IT’S STARTING!!!