The interview downtown went very smoothly. I decided to risk it and drove, then got 2 hour metered parking directly in front of the building. The air on 1st and King smelled delightfully of the ocean (I guess the tide was in). I was on time, even though I left only ten minutes before the interview started. Everyone I talked to seemed to make personal connections with me (very important in an 18 person company). When I got asked logic questions, they weren't stupid puzzlers, but actual programmy/algebra kinds of things, and I not only got the answers right, but displayed the right kinds of personality characteristics the interviewers wanted to see (tries hard, knows when to let go, can accept help without getting defensive). It wrapped at a good time, and I decided to chance driving to Bakemans, and lo, I got a parking spot at a 2 hour meter that was only three cars away from the door AND there was no line when I walked in. I'm not even wearing my Ganesh pendant. What did I do right today? I even got to hear Gary Numan on KEXP on the drive in.
Ikiru last night was fabulous, much more uplifting than I would ever have expected for a movie about a guy dying of cancer. It was an incredible film, which I enjoyed both as a story, as a filmed story, as a depiction of a very different society, and as a captured moment of Japanese cultural history (like the scene with the girls in the '50s skirts and makeup singing "Come-up-a my house" in transliterated English). Some things never change, though: I was certainly relating to the bureaucratic hurdles he faced in trying to get a park built! But one moment I was sitting there laughing at the drunk Japanese bureaucrats talking untranslated boozy garble to each other at a wake, then I was crying over how beautiful and tragic his life was ... or I was just crying over how tense things have been lately and not having a safe outlet for my misery. I will always remember the scene of the lead character singing a sad song to himself as he sat on a swing in the park that he got built as his last (and only) positive act on earth, with the snow falling around him. I was reminded that this is how I want to live, to make every minute count, to remember that life is short and if you don't try to make "now" meaningful that there may never be a time to take that opportunity. And I feel like generally I've achieved that goal, but it's good to be reminded from time to time that cherishing the ability to experience joy is a thing of value in and of itself.