a little bear in the forest

When I was a student in NY, some people disregarded me. Now, people (especially artists) are much nicer to me. The difference from now and then about me is that I guess I am working at a gallery. I am the same person by the way. I am not complain about it though, as being nice to people who might be to their advantage would be normal reaction. (I also do.) Plus, what you do is one way of proving who you are. However, however, is that all? The funny thing is that a few of these people who had once disregarded me changed their attitude all of sudden, after I became a bit somebody(?). I was amazed with the fact that they believed that I was completely ignorant about how they treated me before. I smile at them and forgive them, but do not and will not forget. They sadly show who they are in a very apparent way and in a very shallow level. Last night, I hang out with my favorite Italian girls. One of them mentioned about the same experiences that I am writing here. She is babysitting to experience NY life for a short period and she has a dream to be a journalist and loves a fairy. Even though I cannot speak Italian and she cannot speak English much, we can somehow communicate. More importantly, without words, beyond nationalities, I feel her through her strong-willed eyes. I can tell that she has innocent and beautiful mind. She also reveals that she knows about the sad part of life and accepts it, which I believe makes her compassionate, understanding, sensitive and deep. Once she told me that people here were impatient to understand somebody. She showed me her drawing of NYC, which was filled with her own imaginative world. I don't tell her name, but in English, her name means " a little bear in the forest," and she is like that. It is sad but true that people may walk too fast and miss out a small flower that is in bloom quietly on the edge of the street. People have a different pace and various ways to find life. Yes, I was lost before, wandering around. However, I never lost or gave up on a small hope to know who I was. My feeling lost led me to live in many different places like Hawaii, Australia or a remote island in Japan and enables me to see many different types of people. Thus, I learnt more about human beings and life, giving me a broder perspective. An occupation is one aspect of it. There is much to this than that. Like a story of " a little princess," the girl named " a little bear in the forest" softened my heart.

speaking of music,

I once was a music reviewer for a web mag in Japan. The target readers were working women in their thirties. Well, I myself didn’t have knowledge of music or whatsoever, even though I was djing from time to time. Plus, I was too lazy to remember the musicians' name. (These things haven’t been changed by even now.) In addition, I was almost angry at the brief comment of records at record stores. All I see is technical terms there. "The piano sound has a sense of "XX," (someone's name) or the collaborations with "XXX," and "XXXX," blur blur and blur. They just gave me "question mark" in my head. Perhaps, for professional djs or music intellectuals, the info like these will be helpful, but not for someone like me. So, when I shop records, I just listen, listen and listen. Your ears know everything you need. So, what I did for the web mag, I rebelled against those technical comments. Sometime, I wrote the articles that had nothing to do with music, " when you listen to this tune, you may feel like having a lemon iced tea," or " you may feel as if you are caught in summer shower in a jungle." I actually enjoyed it and got good feedbacks. Here in NY, then, I again feel annoyed with art writings. Reading artists' statement or reviews gives me just question marks, headache and confusion. Yes, my English level isn’t so sophisticated enough to understand or articulate myself. Yet, I wonder why people like making things so difficult and complicated. What for? Especially for music and art, which has been created as an alternative form of communication with human beings that should be independent from words, why do we need more than that? Please give me a break, I shall say. The reason why I wrote music was to give some information that people can understand, not to show off some knowledge or to confuse people. Universally understanding is highly important for me. In order to understand something and be understood, simple explanation is enough!? Do you want to be understood or want to be confused? I say out loud that I am not intelectual and I don't want to be. However, I am inteligent enough to know what people need or expect.

I was sad,

so I put on the headphone and played music at the maximum volume. Ecstasy. It takes me to the abyss of the universe and unlocks my locked heart. Freedom. I feel as if I were forgiven for something that I did badly and cleanse my heart and spirit. I feel as if I were caught in the rain shower of music. Purity. When music drops get though my body and bloods, I am no longer myself. I become water and evapolate into the air. Music tells me all about life, a feeling of happiness, sadness, joy, bitterness, struggle, rejection, denial and peace and all. Then I assure that I am not alnoe. At this moment, sombody may listen to the same music that I listen and feel the same way I do. I cannot live without music. Even if I get 50 years old or older, I want to dj to share the music that I like with people at the maximum volume and dance all night. My genuine feeling for music will never change until my last day comes.

the power of snow

I could not sleep much last Saturday, even though I was completely worn out that night. That was because it was snowing! I was too excited. I managed to sleep around 4 in the morning, but woke up every single hour to check if it was still snowing. Finally, I got out of the bed around 10 and got ready for a walk. I myself was surprised with that fact that someone like me who always needs 8 hours sleep could have so much energy! With excitement, I stepped out and I saw that everything was completely and thickly painted with all white. The powdery snows were still falling and sparkling. The scenery was breathtakingly beautiful and peaceful. No one on the street walked without a camera. I could not stop taking a picture. Someone took a picture of me taking a picture of Gramercy Park. She smiled at me, saying, " I am taking a picture of you taking a picture, as it looked cute!" "Thanks!" I smiled at her back. I throw myself into the snow, touched it and felt it. Pepole smiled at each other. The snow and the people looked just happy and beautiful.
It seemed the biggest snow for NYC's long history. (Who cares?) Let a whether forcaster take care of the tiny difference of the snow accumulation, which was 0.2inches or so and let us simply enjoy. I acutually had a little disappointing event the previous night. However, beauty and modesty of the snow tendered my heart. The creations from the sky bring us a sense of innocence and peace. I at least had the most peaceful Sunday for this year. I also realized one thing: when I have passion for something, which is in this case the snow, I would forget about feeling fatigue. Like the snow decorating the trees like blossoms, the wispering sound of the falling snow, snow crystals, what the sky brings us is miracle and powerful, plus can not be better than any creatin that a human can make.

aunt!

Last Saturday, I went to my friends' baby shower party and found out that my name was on a list for their coming baby's name. I was EXCITED! It is always good to be on the list for any reason, but this makes me feel more than just happy. If it happens, then I will feel really close to this baby. Especially I never met anybody who has the same name as mine. Then, next day I spend sometime with my other friends with their kids. The boy, Nowak, is 18 months and the girl, Karla, is almost 4 years old. They are my favorite kids, as they are really like the real kids. My meaning "the real" is that they are wild. They always have a running nose, leave food on their faces and run around. Nowadays, kids are too clean and their parents are too protective. However, my friends let them be really free. When Nowak hit his forehead on a table, while I reacted, the daddy kept calm, saying to me like," Kids are supposed to hit!" When we had a piece of chocolate, Nowak and Karla as usual had chocolate all over their faces. Then I tried to get paper napkins, mom kept calm, saying to me like, " let them clean by their hands!" And, they did it. Isn't it cool? I do think so. We spent the whole day together, dancing, screaming, jumping and it was so much fun. On the way back home, I felt that I’d lived in NYC long enough to be something like an aunt, which assured me that this city was my home. I may not be able to have my own baby, as I am just getting old. Well, life on the earth has been chaotic like the wars and etc. So, if I cannot have it, I can still adapt an orphan, since there are so many orphans in the world. Anyway, this is another issue that I can really talk about on and on. My main point here is that it would be so cool to be an aunt for all my friends' kids!