vanorder-san

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Sun, 04 Mar 2007 13:19:00 +0000

New weblog is at http://www.jakeadelphia.com

Sayanora Vanorder-San

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Sun, 04 Mar 2007 04:26:00 +0000

Well, I'm here! I went up the Art Museum steps today to take a photo and I began my search for an apartment.

And such ends a chapter in my life and begins another one. For the past 3 years, I have written to this weblog and it's been interesting to go back and see the direction my life has taken. Really, to be honest, it hasn't been a good 3 years. I went to Japan, I got sick, I came back, I got depressed, I got dumped, and it got topped off with the death of my father. Really, it wasn't the best time in my life and it was well-documented in this weblog. To be blunt, it's been a crappy 3 years.

It strongly resembles the second act of a play where everything goes to hell after the introduction of the characters.

But it wasn't all bad. I met new people and forged relationships with old friends. I learned quite a bit about myself, other people, and the world in general. Clearly, these were really important times that will teach me to weather the storm in the future.

Will I miss Kalamazoo? Certainly yes. I already do to an extent. Things like Rocket Star in the morning, walking around the student ghetto, going to South Haven, Dan's singing, Franta's deadpan delivery, Upson's laugh, riding a moped in the summer night, seeing friendly faces, and a thousand other things I can't think of right this moment but will for a very long time.

But the time had come for me to move on and find something else as it felt like my potential wouldn't be met in a city with two small graphic design firms and not many local businesses that see the benefit of some style in their print advertisements.

It was time because I found myself waking up, going to work, and coming home to wait to fall asleep. There was no exploration, no excitement, and no growth. Just waiting for my life to pass me by. Friends were moving on and strangers seemed to all resemble the same uninteresting people who fit the mold as it's a small college town with a rotating population.

Don't get me wrong. Kalamazoo is a great place filled with phenomenal people and maybe it will be right for me once again, but for the moment, it wasn't right for me.
And so I chose to move on.

And so you should view the new chapter of my life at my new weblog. It's titled "Jakeadelphia" and it documents my adventures in Philadelphia. See you over there and wish me luck

Quote - Unquote Minister

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Thu, 01 Mar 2007 14:23:00 +0000

This is my grandmother looking, well, sassy. Today was the memorial service in Binghamton, New York. I spent some good time with the side of the family I haven't seen in 13 years.

disquietude drive

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Wed, 28 Feb 2007 04:19:00 +0000

I've never gotten a hotel room by myself. For some reason, this one came with two beds.

Goodbye

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Sun, 25 Feb 2007 21:54:00 +0000

Smell You Later

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Sat, 24 Feb 2007 15:09:00 +0000

Thanks to everyone who came out last night. I had a glorious time and 2 quarts of beer too many.

From Sand to Snow

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Mon, 19 Feb 2007 16:52:00 +0000

Well, that was an adventure. Now for the next one...

Los Angeles Breakfast

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Sun, 18 Feb 2007 17:30:00 +0000

I really wish I could have spent more time with Allen. Something about being with your best friend, of course, is really comforting but this time was just so much more so. We had breakfast and went to a new moped shop in Los Angeles before I had to get on my jet plane back to Michigan.

I don't know. I could see a California trip coming up in the future to spend more time with Allen as well as visit with my father's friends who I enjoyed meeting so such a high degree.

Withdrawl

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Sat, 17 Feb 2007 13:30:00 +0000

This is Carol. Without her and Lee, I would not have accomplished all that I did this week. I will admit that I could see why my father lived in Santa Barbara with it's nice weather, parade of people, and stunning geography. When I was asked whether I liked Santa Barbara, I replied that, yes, I did this time around but that I would feel as though I didn't deserve to live in such a nice place. It's almost too nice.

The day was spend just crossing t's and dotting i's. I shipped a lot of belongings back east and reaffirmed my hatred towards the United States Postal Service. It was dark by the time Allen showed up and we went out to have a massive sushi feast accompanied by sake and beer before we went back to Los Angeles.

My time in Santa Barbara was exactly what I needed. It allowed me to mourn in a complete way, it allowed me to complete the business at task, and it allowed me to visit with my father's friends and reminisce about his life. I can't imagine doing it any other way.

For my final memory, it's really a collection of them concerning our numerous phone calls that we'd exchange once a month.

Usually, he'd ask how I'm doing and I'd do the same but there were times when I knew that he wanted to be there to help out more but he didn't know what to say. Still, he left with me a slew of nuggets of invaluable information that I'll probably never forget. Things about life, women, and society.

It might seem so impersonal but in a way, it was one of the closest relationships I'll ever have.

5 pillars vs. 10 commandments

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Fri, 16 Feb 2007 15:07:00 +0000

Today was the final day of cleaning his apartment. I also got done much of the miscellaneous estate dealings. All the ducks are in a row concerning everything that I could get done in the state of California with the exception of probate court for the banks to determine that I deserve the money in his accounts.

At night, I was treated to dinner with my father's friends. We talked a bit about my father and had some nice memories about him. Overall, it was a nice moment and I can see why my father chose to live here so many years. Santa Barbara definitely is a show filled with characters.

The last time I saw my father, I was 21. I came to California mainly to hangout with Allen but I figured that I should see my dad while I was so close.

Allen drove me up and is actually the only one of my friends to ever meet my dad. We all hung out and had a meal and then Allen left for L.A. again. This left my father and I. We went out and had a beer together at a bar and talked about various things that were on my mind. I got to here his side of the story of the situation with my mother and him. We talked about life and where I was heading. He said I was approaching the most difficult time in my life because it was the time where I needed to decide what I was going to be doing and how I was going to be doing it.

The next day I left. It wasn't that I didn't want to spend time with him but at the time, it seemed more appealing to spend time with my friend instead of my father. Plus, Allen and I had some unfinished business concerning the "Price is Right" and Bob Barker.

We never did get on "Price is Right" but I am glad I got to see my father one more time.

You Were Right

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 16:05:00 +0000

Crazy day. It mainly consisted of finding a storage locker that my dad had for no good reason. We go there to find a 5 ft by 10 ft locker filled with nothing but junk. My father's friend, Carol, looks at my face with my jaw agape and says "We'll get this done in an hour." And with that she tears in like some sort of tornado. She's tossing things into bins for me to take down to her truck and put into the bed for the trip to the dump. One crazy hour later, the truck is loaded and we're on our way to the county dump. Despite the whirlwind, I still find things like his high school diploma, his honorable discharge papers, and, most impressive, photos from Vietnam.

Afterwards was a birthday party for his best friend, Richard. It was a relaxing end to the crazy day. Other highlights include eating sushi on the beach (my first time visiting this trip), driving around the orange groves, and getting some serious business taken care of.

Okay, for today's memory:

When I was 17, I came to visit Santa Barbara once again. During this time, I was in the midst of my radio show at WIDR. I walked around with a kinko's folder with a bunch of posters for the radio show for some reason. I remember having a greater sense of independence with myself and walking around the city on my own.

When I met Richard for the first time, he asked "So what do you think of California?" I quickly replied, "I don't like it very much. The people here are assholes." Now, I laugh at the absolute blunt vulgarity of the response but both my father and Richard took a look at each other an laughed while I was a little ashamed once I realized what I had said.

My father was gracious to take me to "Ska Against Racism" tour. He sat there, probably not enjoying the loud music but enjoyed seeing me enjoy myself in the crowd. Throughout it all, he had an open mind and we talked about which bands he liked.

Near the end of my trip, I was stuck at my father's apartment with nothing to do as he laid snoring so, so, so loudly. I decided that my posters needed a better container than the now ratty Kinko's folder and went to work with the roll of duct tape in his room. By the end of the night, I came up with what was described as a briefcase but it was more like a huge version of my wallet but with side pockets. When he woke up, my father was so impressed by that thing.

It was because of that briefcase, I received a roll of duct tape for my birthday as recently as last year.

Sea Legs

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Wed, 14 Feb 2007 05:31:00 +0000

Today was much better. Well, in a way it was. I spent most of it driving around Santa Barbara trying to figure out how to deal with banks and unions. It turns out that a death certificate is the key to pretty much everything. The problem is that it doesn't come for 10 business days but we'll see. They might hustle it up.

My father's friends continued to clean his place while I assisted in taking apart some furniture and dealing with little things around the place.

The day ended with meeting his friends at a local coffee shop in a ritual they call "the office." Together, they talk about their day and do the daily jumble from the newspaper. It was during this time that I nearly lost my cool.

I have all my important information in a little moleskin notebook. Phone numbers, account numbers, people's names, etc... For a moment, I thought I had lost it and started looking around. Simultaneously, a teacher's union starts marching down the street complete with marching band. So, I'm looking around frantically for this small book while people are yelling in support for these 200 or so teachers who are marching on the sidewalk where I am while blowing whistles. It was right at the apex of that when a distant cousin who I've never talked to decides to call me on the cell phone. It was a tough moment to describe over the phone.

Needless to say, I found the notebook and all went well. Still, it's hard to deny that Santa Barbara is one large circus show.

During the summer after my 6th grade, my dad and I took a road trip from Rochester, Michigan to Binghamton, New York, where he grew up. It was a nice experience for the 2 weeks or so we were on the road. I learned many things about him and from him. I guess that his nickname growing up was "fuzz" because of his shaved head but he always hated hearing it, even as an adult.

The funny thing about this trip is that I can't remember anything specific about this trip, just general feelings. There's no specific story that I can recall other than my refusing to go into a Veteran's hall and deciding to stay in a sweltering car while he took his sweet, good time. I guess we were both stubborn in our own respect. The trip itself was very important, though, as I got to meet my other side of the family and spent a lot of good time with him as I was coming into my own.

State Street Show

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Tue, 13 Feb 2007 13:04:00 +0000

Imagine running a marathon. Imagine it being emotional.

Today I felt that way after going into my father's apartment and going through his belongings. The day started with me going to the funeral home and signing all the legal documents needed to start the wheels in motion in order to have him cremated and shipped to New York for his burial.

After that I met with one of his many friends, Carol, who is wonderful. We talked at the cafe where my father took me when I was 11 to have a croissant while he had his coffee. We then went to his place where, while Carol cleaned the kitchen, I sifted through all of his papers and documentation so that tomorrow, when it's not a bank holiday, I'm ready to tackle all the bureaucracy starting with a death certificate. Although this sounds very business-like, I did find notebooks and journals that were filled letters and notes to people that were probably never supposed to be read by another human being. This blew open my impression of a man who I'd talk to once a month unless there was a holiday or birthday.

The defining moment came when I found his cell phone and listened to the messages people who loved him enough to call his cell phone after he died called to leave some very emotional messages.

After meeting some more of his friends, I went back to his apartment and had a conversation of my own.

I was 11 years old when I was lucky enough to be able to go to Disney World for the second year in a row with my parents. It was a pretty sweet deal for me, though. My mother was there for one week while my father was there for the other while I stayed for both. By the end of the two weeks, I was some sort of pro at Disney World.

There was a time where both my parents were together in Florida and my mother had gotten a rental car. Being new and strange, some things weren't evidently known about how to operate certain things. This includes the high beams. Somehow, they were turned on and my dad, who was driving, couldn't figure out how to turn them off. With each person who drove by flashing their brights to let us know ours were on, he got more and more agitated that he couldn't figure out how to turn off those high beams.

Eventually we figured it out but I still get a kick out of thinking about him getting so agitated about such a thing.

I hope he's proud of me.

Define "Cold"

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Mon, 12 Feb 2007 12:38:00 +0000

Tonight, Allen drove me from L.A. to Santa Barbara where I met one of my father's friend, Lee, who is generous and gracious enough to have me not only stay at her place but allow me to drive around a vehicle as well. It's amazing the level of kindness people have shown me. It's amazing. One of the perks: Avocado Tree. It's weird because while buying avocados at Meijer a couple weeks ago, I thought about the logistics of having an avocado tree for myself.

One of my earlier memories involve Santa Barbara and the ocean. I got on a plane when I was 8 and flew to see my dad for the first time that I really remember. I was so nervous about the airplane after a recent crash in Detroit killed everyone on board except for one young girl. Still, I made it to hang out with my father. We rode around the scenic California countryside, through the mountains, and alongside the ocean on his motorcycle.

Speaking of the ocean, one of my distinct memories involves not only the ocean but a boogie board. It was my first time being to the ocean and, after only being in the great lakes, was freaked out about the salt water but I loved the waves. I spent all day out in the surf with a boogie board that my dad had for some reason. I messed around with that board all day until it happened: I crept up to the edge of the water while laying on the boogie board when suddenly a wave grabbed me and pushed me into the ground with the boogie board right between. The foam boogie board snapped in two pieces and I carried the pieces up to my father.

He, for some reason, was instantly mad but he got even more mad when I insisted that it wasn't I who broke the boogie board but instead the wave. In fact, I had nothing to do with it. Now, being 8, I probably didn't explain the situation that well so I understand that the idea of the wave magically grabbing the board and snapping it in two was so fantastically ridiculous that it probably seemed like I was being dishonest.

Eventually we got over it but for many years he brought up that damn boogie board. Really, I should have gotten him one as an adult for his birthday.

Golden State

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Sun, 11 Feb 2007 15:22:00 +0000

I made it to Los Angeles after a layover in Denver. I can't really describe the sensation I get from being here. It's almost a feeling of knowing that this is the last time I'll be coming to California unless it's for business or some really unforeseen reason. Maybe Allen will get married here, I don't know. Regardless, California is associated with all the different times I came here to visit with my dad and this will be the last time I do that.

I was thinking that what I might do during my visit is tell a story associated with my dad. I know I'll be thinking about them constantly during this visit so I might as well write about them. Before that, I should explain our relationship.

I would see my dad once every 4 years or so. We'd talk once a month, on the 17th. For the most part, we got along and we mostly reported how we were doing. He tell me that he wanted to move out of Santa Barbara and I'd laugh to myself as he's been saying that since I remember talking to him. Sometimes, he'd give me advice and sometimes I'd take it. Sometimes the conversations would be short, sometimes they'd be long. It all depended.

I don't really have a clear first memory of my dad. He came to visit when I was maybe 3 or 4. I know this through photos but not from memory. Really, what I distinctly remember are the arbitrarily random Christmas and birthday gifts I'd get when I was young. One of the more memorable was a 50-in-1 kit from Radio Shack.

These 50-in-1 kits were circuit boards that had common electronic components on them. It'd come with a book and a large group of wires. You'd look in the book for a project to work on, say a simple circuit that would produce an alarm when enough ambient light was around, and make it connecting the wires to the various components. At first, I was perplexed why he would get me something like this but eventually I made just about every project there was to and even experimenting with new ones. I can not begin to count the numerous hours I messed around with that kit. I kept that around for a many years until I moved to Kalamazoo but still it planted a seed that would later come back with my interest in fixing arcade games. The basic understanding of electronics came from that kit and I have him to thank for that.

Unexpected

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Thu, 08 Feb 2007 01:54:00 +0000

Last night I was jarred awake by my telephone. It was my mother calling to inform me that my father had died.

This is quite the shock as during the last conversation I had with him a couple weeks ago, he seemed to be doing well and having no problems. He was making plans on visiting his family in New York as well as me in Kalamazoo (or Philadelphia). At no point did he mention any ill health or difficulties. It's just unbelievable for me right now.

Currently, I'm moving from shock to mourning all while dealing with the logistics of handling all the bureaucratic dealings associated with death. Friday, I will fly out to Santa Barbara, California to sift through his belonging and deciding what to bring back and what to let go.

There are so many questions that I'm begging to be answered but I know they will be resolved in time.

mesmerized by clip art

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Sat, 03 Feb 2007 05:33:00 +0000

Oh so slowly but surely, I am trying so desperately to learn Flash. Today, it's a custom video player.

Kick, Push

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Thu, 25 Jan 2007 04:28:00 +0000

After reading this post from Make Magazine's weblog, I wanted to attempt it so bad that I instantly checked craig's list for any broken iBooks. When Kelly G. told me that her iBook was having the same problem, I got very excited. Needless to say, starting a small fire over a graphics chip on a laptop ended up working like a charm.

How cool.

Wind vs. Brotherly Love

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Tue, 23 Jan 2007 04:28:00 +0000

Why are monumental life-altering decisions always the hardest ones to make?

Red Camera ~ 2003-2006 ~ R.I.P.

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Fri, 05 Jan 2007 14:34:00 +0000

After having the best birthday ever, I summarily dropped my camera in puddle. Farewell red camera.

Seriously, thanks to everyone who came out. I really enjoyed myself.

cool.

A Very Mel Gibson Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Tue, 26 Dec 2006 05:22:00 +0000

How better to finish out Christmas than a trip to the Mel Gibson tree with Kelly Ginger? Inset: picture of plaque for Mel Gibson.

Built Ikea Tough

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Wed, 06 Dec 2006 02:44:00 +0000

Those who know what this is about will agree that it's crazy.

Ace of Fades

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Tue, 05 Dec 2006 02:37:00 +0000

Epilogue:

Cost of backing into car: higher insurance rate
Cost of fixing truck: $215.45

Everything's coming up jake.

Best. Day. Ever.

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Mon, 04 Dec 2006 02:07:00 +0000

What's better than backing into a car with your truck in the morning? Having your truck break down in Gary, Indiana on your way back from a wedding at night. That's what.

Great.

Cold Burrito

noreply@blogger.com (jake) — Fri, 01 Dec 2006 05:16:00 +0000

Thanks to those who came out. I enjoyed myself very much.