AriKoinuma.com

Tonight I was watching a Star Trek Deep Space Nine episode with my wife.  In this particular episode, the main character, Captain Sisko, receives a vision from this alien-spiritual entities and makes some seemingly crazy decisions, ones that go against his role as a military officer and a father.

It was a ultra-dramatic episode and my wife and I chuckled at how overblown it felt to us, but I also have to admit, I was distinctly uncomfortable watching the episode.

Then I realized that this notion of following “a vision” is rather similar to some of the things I’ve done.

I’m an intuitive and spiritual person and very much believe in the notions like faith and vision, and I’ve made some big decisions based on them.  But the really uncomfortable thing about such notions is that it’s awfully hard to explain to others, at least in our current “science” based climate, why you’re doing it.  Compared to more logical, concrete reasons, they seem so frail and possibly delusional.  Think about it.  When someone says s/he is doing something because “God told me so” — especially if it’s something that seems completely against common sense — wouldn’t you have a hard time buying into that?  I certainly would.

Yet, that’s what I did earlier this year and my wife supported me on my decision, and as a result, we turned thousands of dollars of savings into a debt of about the same size.  And what do I have to show for it, so far?  Not nothing, but pretty little.  Well, actually there were many good things that came out of that decision, but it also seems like I could have produced the same results without spending that much money, too.

It all comes down to results, it seems.  If your crazy leap of faith results in some tangible outcome, then you can claim the title of a Visionary.  But if you don’t, then you’re a Lunatic, a naïve romantic who should learn the lesson and grow up.

Money isn’t everything in life, and really, the journey since then has brought me to a rather good place.  But I am still stuck with this sense that what I came here to do, I haven’t accomplished yet.  I think I know what my mission is, but I can’t be even certain of that.  And I keep making decisions trying to put me in a place where I can do it (now I realize that the whole notion of first having to “put me in a place where I can do it” may have been the problem, but that’s beside the point) but since I haven’t produced the result, I feel like a complete lunatic.  And I hear a whisper in my head going “what the hell are you doing, Ari?  Grow up.  Stop dreaming.”  Perhaps my mission is to live to see a day when I no longer hear that whisper of doubt.

Interestingly, it is the last night of 2009.  Another year has gone by.  I produced some results, I hope they are getting me closer to accomplishing My Mission…. but I can’t tell yet.  But one thing is for sure:

I have less time than I did a year ago.

Whatever it is that I need to do, it’s urgent.  I will have to wonder about whether I’m a Visionary or a Lunatic, later.

2009 was an eventful year.  Every year is, but this one had its share of some amazing stuff.

Here are some of my highlights of the year:

Developing a Business Plan and Then Going off Without It

I spent the second half of 2008 developing an elaborate business plan that detailed my online blog ventures, with the hopes of landing a small business loan.  When I learned about small business financing, I was like, that’s great — I can take that out and have it support myself while I develop my own music/online business.  Because I felt that the only thing separating me from where I was and where I want to be is time.  If I had an abundance of time to invest in my own thing, then I can build it up.  (I still feel that way.)

Well, but in reality, it doesn’t quite work out nicely like that.  My vision was basically a borderline self-employment/micro-business and an online one at that, and so banks didn’t want to deal with such a nebulous entity, and a complete start-up with no track record, too.  Venture capitalists may be more open to something like that, but again, my business vision was too small in scale to be on their radar.  I was just trying to set up a business where I can make money off of music I create and blogs.  I wasn’t trying to start the next Netflix or eBay.

So I abandoned my business plan, but still took some time to explore my options, when I ran out of my previous web development contract.  I called it “intuitive entrepreneurship.”  I rented a rehearsal space and set up my music equipment, so I had a place dedicated to make music.   I also stopped updating the personal development blog I was building in 2008, so I can focus more on my original love of musicmaking.

Producing Marc Gunn’s Happy Songs of Death and Scoring America’s Next Felon

And some work did come in.  I spent a month producing my frequent collaborator Marc Gunn’s Celtic folk record, and then spent another few weeks making the score for Ron Johnson’s almost-feature (56 minutes) mockumentary.  Both were great projects with great clients, though not enough money to really sustain our household.  We’re one-income family, so when I’m not making money the income stops.  I networked a lot and explored the options of getting myself going as a freelance producer and film composer, but really couldn’t get traction.  A saving of $11k quickly turned into $9k in debt, and I had to go back to doing web work.

Landing a Great Web Gig and Embracing My Demands

Well, the web contract I landed initially looked like just another boring web job, and I felt somewhat discouraged.  I vowed to stay a contractor, so that I can just hop from job to job, finding time to make music in-between.  But my job grew on me and when they said that I could telecommute 80% of time (because my employer was located farther than I’d like to commute to and the bus to get there was getting discontinued) I really saw that this actually could be a solution and not a problem.

Re-Discovering My Passion and Developing a New Vision

After several months of being immersed back in the web work, I felt very lost and wasn’t sure what or why I wanted to be a musician.  But then, one day I listened to my own album and it all came back to me.  I want to make music.  I love realizing my songs’ potential.

And from there, things started flowing inside me again.  Although my time is extremely limited, I now have a situation where my family has a steady income and I have a setup where I can create music.   This is a sustainable situation in which I can build my own artistry.  Of course, I realize that things can change on a dime — I’m still just a contractor (though my employer wants to hire me full-time, so we’re negotiating that as I write this).  But working a telecommuting job and finding little pockets of time to make music is, actually, remarkably similar to the situation I sought to create by taking on a small business loan.  It’s just that the time I can devote to music is much less than what I had originally hoped for, but everything else is in the picture, from a stable income to a place in which I can make music.

I sure wish if I didn’t have to go from savings to debt in the process — but I also don’t regret what I’ve done, either, because I feel like by reaffirming and continuing to pursue/explore my own visions, I am now on the way, headed for somewhere that I don’t even know.  I started with a vision, I got lost, and now I’m back with a refined form of the original vision.

Now I’m really excited about 2010, which I will discuss in my next post.

Like most other Japanese of my generation and younger, I grew up watching Hayao Miyazaki’s anime films.  I haven’t watched all of them, actually, but Kiki and Totoro are my favorite family fares.  Over the Christmas, I had a chance to watch it twice, once in Japanese and once in English.  It was an interesting observation on how to adapt a film to two completely different cultures by subtly (and not so subtly) adjusting the sound track.

Naturalism vs. Hype

In the US version, they hired additional composer (they chose not to hire the original composer, Joe Hisaishi, to compose) to create cues where there was none in the original.   One such scene is a pizzicato arrangement of Sorcerer’s Apprentice, used where Kiki goes up and down the stairs to go to the bathroom.

Going to the bathroom!  Not the most dramatic of the scenes, obviously, but compared to no music, having a cue there forces a certain comedic tone to the scene.

There are also subtle synth patches playing when Kiki is performing magic — like the flying sequences during the climax.  It being a synth, it comes across as modern and artificial — it’s pretty subtle, though.

Meeting the Cultural Expectations

Perhaps the biggest difference is the casting of the Jiji, the black cat sidekick.  In Japanese, it’s voiced by a cutesy female voice, while the English version gets a more pronounced smartass treatment by late Phil Hartman.  Not only that, the English Jiji talks a heck of a lot of more, once again spoon-feeding the comedic episodes.  Mr. Hartman’s delivery is most excellent here, but in the wrong hands (voices) this could have easily backfired.  That said, I have to say, the young girl vs. old man dynamics creates a much better contrast than the Japanese cuteness.

The Need to Explain Thyself

In general, the Disney version does a lot more explaining than the Japanese version.  But the additional material is very tastefully inserted, so while the overall film comes across as a lot more rollicking than the quieter Japanese version, it really doesn’t taint the sweetness of the film.  The good and bad, the hope and heartaches are much more clearly delineated, though, so the US version is slightly shallower film, leaving less to discover upon repeated viewings.  But, really, it’s not bad — and perhaps because the film is set in a more Western settings, some changes actually come across more naturally and fitting.  When I was watching the Japanese version, there were spots where I felt like I was watching a Japanese dub of a Western film!

My Verdict

Generally speaking I think a film is to be viewed in the original language, but this film may be an exception where the modified sound track has just as much to offer, in a slightly different way, than the original.  And above all, this is such a superb film — it’s truly a gem for all ages.  I only hope to be involved in a film such as this in my life.

Today I felt frustrated.   Frustration comes when things are not what they Should Be.  I feel indignant because of that gap between Should Be and Are.

Then I had to stop.  Things Are the way they Are for a reason.  One of those reasons is that the present situation is an Opportunity to Learn a Lesson I Have Not Learned Yet.

Think about it.  If you had figured out how to solve a problem, then you will not have that problem any more.  The situation will not contain that problem, because you can solve it even if it comes up — and chances are, you’re probably even preventing it from coming up.

For example, when I first came to US I had a communication problem.  People could not understand my odd and accented English, and I couldn’t understand slang-filled American English.  But now I’ve been here 17 years.  I don’t have that problem any more.

The problems I do have are the ones I haven’t figured out yet.  And they just stay in my reality, waiting for me to figure them out.  I try one solution after another, and they keep coming back, because I really haven’t nailed yet.  Stuff like cleanliness and organization, I still struggle with.  So I keep finding myself in messes, most of which, I create myself.

Life just doesn’t give up on me.  It patiently waits and repeats itself, until I really figure it out for good.  It’s up to me to interpret that as either frustrating, or thankful.  Thankful for the Nth chances it gives me.

Things aren’t what they should be, for a good reason.  Thanks for giving me another try.

…is not at the end of the day.

Whenever you push anything live, you have to assume that something’s going to go wrong.

So then, when is the worst time to launch?  At the end of a work day, after your brain’s been well-cooked.

First thing in the morning is better, though for those of us slow starters, I’d say around 1 hour after the start may be the best.  You’re warmed up then, and ready to go.

I often think of why it’s taken me so long to realize my dream.  I’ve been wanting to be a musician virtually all my adult life, yet I seem to be everything but.

Now, notice the last sentence: “I’ve been wanting to be a musician.”

What does that mean, to BE a musician.  Are you a musician when you have a degree in it?   When you publish a song or a composition?  When you earn money from performing music?  When you don’t have a day job?

Well, I know what my definition was, but now I see that there is a problem here.  I’ve been just focusing on a status, a certain condition I wanted to create.  Which takes the focus away from the very essence of what I’ve always wanted to do.

Why did I want what I wanted, to begin with?

It’s because music meant to much to me.  In my darkest times, music reached out and filled me.  It was an outlet, one faucet attached to the ever-growing tank of rotting muck.  Through its exorcism, I found strength to go on.

And because it gripped me so powerfully, I felt passionate about giving back.  To create music that would offer the same kind of healing catharsis. To create music that finally articulate all the hurt, insecurities, shame, guilt and despair we carry hidden deep inside.  To make music that really channel the depth and the complexity of our darkest emotions — an expression that’s thoroughly realistic and authentic, without a shred of caricaturing or over-simplifying.

That’s what I want to do.

See?  That vision has nothing, really nothing to do with being a musician.  I mean, I already am a musician.  I do not need to change or achieve anything in order for me to start doing the above.  Today, this very moment, I have what it takes to do what I want to do and give it everything I got.  There is now waiting, no need for approval permission.

Yet, for so many years, it was really not about music.  It was about status, about proving something.  I wanted to validate myself, make my desire to make music legitimate by turning it into a recognizable success.

And I’ve been wondering why I make so much more money as a web developer, and doors and opportunities open so easily for me in that avenue, with people clamoring, asking me to do that.  Well, the following lines from The Deeper Secret by Annemarie Postma really articulates what’s going on here:

You are given the things to which you do not attach your ego.  When you free yourself of neediness, then you are ready to receive.

My true vision has nothing to do with achieving anything.  It’s about creating to give.  Yes, it will be nice if it somehow turned into a situation where I don’t have to work other jobs, so I can devote more time to it.  But that’s really not the point.  And yes, it’ll be nice if I get recognized for the excellence in creating music.  But that’s really not the point, either.  The more I focus on the essence of my heart’s desire, the more I lose interest in these accessorial benefits.  And the more I feel amazed that I actually have everything I need to start living my dream today, this very moment.

For such a long, long time, I kept myself from doing it, thinking I needed to meet other conditions.

All I needed, all along, was simply to tear down the wall I had put up myself.

The wait is now over.  My time has arrived.

I feel that I have finally honed in on the essence of what I love to do as a musician.  But being both a goal-oriented (or I should say deadline-oriented, as I never get anything done without those) and See-the-Need-Meet-the-Need person, I am feeling the need to frame my artistic pursuit as a set of specific goals, complete with deadlines and priorities assigned.  Maybe I am treading back to the familiar terrain where I got stuck, but really — I just can’t seem to spend any time doing anything unless it is meeting a specific need (of someone else’s) or making some kind of deadline.

But what should my goal be?  What I need to do is to make music.  I can further define that as writing, recording and releasing music.

So — my goals should be set so that I do those things, right?  It sounds simple enough.  To release music, I need to have a finished recording.  To have a finished recording, I need to record, mix and master a recording.  To start recording a song, the songwriting should be finished.  No problem — I have a whole bucket full of unreleased songs.

But my mind quickly wonders into areas outside of that.  Like how I want an audience for my songs.  Like how I want a nice-looking web site as a platform for my songs.  How I’d love to test new mics or mic preamps to record my songs.  Are any of these things necessary for me to write, record and release songs?  NO.

My time is extremely limited.  If I clatter it up with unnecessary things, the precious little I have will be gone — forever.  So I feel that I have to be disciplined about this.

It’s funny to say that I have to be disciplined about spending time doing what it is that I love the most, but I think that’s true for many of us.  We just don’t allow ourselves to do the thing that feeds us the most, because we get used to starving ourselves.

So, I’m going to try and set the right goals this time.  To actually do what I love to do.  This is not about business or promotion or proving anything to anybody.  I need to make myself do what I love.

Guitarists can be very obsessive and their gear, and I am no exception.

That said, I’ve been playing the same Strat for the last 13 years.

A lot of times I look at it myself and go “why a Stratocastor?”  A Strat is the most generic of electric guitars.

Yet, I feel so comfortable with it, that there’s virtually been no occasion where I pick up another guitar and go “wow, I want this guitar.”  Over the years, other pieces of gear have come and gone.  Yet, my Strat stayed.  I have tweaked just about every parts on it now, it’s so personalized — that it’s hard for me to imagine that I’ll ever part with it.

Now, one of those other pieces that have come and gone are overdrive/distortion pedals.

To electric guitarists, overdrive/distortion tone is perhaps like brushes for painters.  Some use many, others just stick to one, but it’s all very personal.

I’ve been looking for my own sound.  Like my guitar, I don’t feel all that attracted to having many choices.  Choices overwhelm me.  I was hoping to find one, where everything is just right, so that it can allow me to cover the range of what I do with just one sound.  I don’t want to change like a chameleon from song to song, really.  I always thought that there’s one sound that manages to sound right in all my songs.

This week, I may have finally found it.  It’s called Lovepedal Gold Dragon.  A cheesy name,  yes, but this thing is just about the closest thing I’ve heard to that sound in my head.  I somehow feel so connected to it — I’ve only spent a couple of days with it, yet it feels differently from others that have come before.  They all have ranges, these tools.  And players have ranges.  Other pedals, their ranges didn’t really match mine — so even if they were good, and some I hang to for a while, eventually I start looking for others because my tool felt limiting to me.  It’s like drawing with a brush that’s either too thick or too thin.  I wanted the right width, right feel, right texture — a tool that allows me to express myself as I am, instead of making me adjust myself to it.

This one, I threw all the stuff I do at it, and it just seems to fit.  It’s like, it’s made for me.  Playing it feels somehow spiritual… and I came away thinking, Thank God I play an electric guitar.

I don’t know if this is going to be another marriage.  But wow, it’s fun right now.

There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a honeymoon, is there?

I love guitar gear as much as the next guitarist, and every so often I go through this upgrade phase — trying out new pieces to see if it improves my rig.

But experimenting takes time and money, and it seems that every time I get a bit overzealous — in search of improvements, I lose sight of things that are actually working well.

This last week, I made a mistake of trying 3 new things at once.  I changed to a different brand of strings, swapped all 3 pickups of my main Strat, and bought a new (to me) overdrive pedal.  The latter of which isn’t a problem, but switching both strings and pickups at the same time was a mistake.  It obviously changed my tone but I couldn’t tell which contributed to what!  To make the matter worse I don’t have any left of my old brand of strings.

Once again, my current lesson pops into my mind.  If you are in a hurry, go take the long way.  I should have changed one thing at a time, so I could evaluate accurately what I think of them.

Life keeps hammering this point in me, because I’m just not learning the lesson.  Sigh. How much of a stonehead am I?

I am a father and that is a very, very big piece of my life right now, probably the biggest.  So I’ve been wondering to myself, why don’t I write songs about fatherhood? If nothing else, it’s a niche or a social group I relate to and belong to — won’t that be an honest and genuine self expression?

Well, no matter how much sense it makes, I haven’t been able to really bring myself to write songs about fatherhood. I’m simply uninterested and unmotivated.  There are several reasons:

• The person who writes my songs is the same young man who I was when I was between 18-22, somewhere before marriage and parenthood and all that, wrestling with the more fundamental issues of who I am and why I live.   I am older now, yes, but that young man really hasn’t aged.
• Rock, to me, is the sound of existential angst.   In the modern times, as we discover that there’s more to life than merely surviving, we noticed this gap between the life that we live and what we could be.  That schism is the sound of rock n roll.
• Parenthood, on the other hand, is ultimately  joyful to me.  Yes, it’s challenging and yes, it’s very difficult, but this joy, I can readily express and experience everyday.  So I have really no great need to channel that aspect of me into my music.
• I am not a comedian.

In short, making music is an impulse born out of somewhere very deep, below the apparent but temporary roles I take on, like being a son, husband, and a father.  (Of course, I don’t consider being a husband as really a temporary occupation — it’s just that it’s not lost on me that ultimately most of us die alone)  Now, there are many fundamental and universal layers contained within those roles — need for love, acceptance, forgiveness, tenderness.  Or more to my realm, the angst, the longing, the injustice, the frustration — those, I am very interested in expressing.  And I may even use some of the roles to frame the situation.

For example, as a father I feel that I have a song in me that express my dedication to “be there” for my children.  But when that song comes out, I’m sure it’ll probably be obscured so that it’s applicable to more than parenthood.

It’s funny because there’s universality in being very specific — but yet, if it’s about specificity, you lose the universality.  It’s a fine line.  I am a father and it definitely informs my writing.  But in distilling some essences, the framework often gets left behind.