Chapter 23, Verse 1: Party Like it's Twenty-Zero-Nine

May I clarify something Space Travelers? When Prince so famously sang the iconic "party like it's 1999" he set a really high bar for festivities in the closing days of the last millennium. I mean, don't get me wrong, I did some great things in 99, but I think 2002 ended up being the year I give the bouquet to.


I don't know what adventures Twenty-zero-nine has in wait for me, but here's best wishes to big ones. Currently, I'm working on trips to Chicago, England, and a river adventure down the Mississippi River. Other projects include another blog (to be revealed in the future) and learning guitar so that come summer, I can sit in my apartment's window and play into the alley.

I can't say I have any new year's resolutions. I had so many things I wanted to work on that I recognized last year, so I didn't wait for 2009.

We put such a high premium on new year resolutions as if they have a greater chance of fruition or mean more than any other self motivated change made on any other date. By this logic a resolution made on leap year would be even more special and guaranteed to be successful. Something similar happens on birthdays. We take one day to celebrate the lives of those we care for when we could be celebrating each other's lives any day (or every day for that matter).

Well, here's to 2009 anyways I suppose. May it be better than 2008, let it be worse than 2010. Let me be better now, but never my best (I'll always need something to be working toward right?). Here's to new love, new friends, brothers, sisters, and the first time I write the date and forget to write "09."

Here's to adventure.
Here's to Space Travelers.
Here's to heroes both sung and unsung.

Here we go.

Ice your heads and I hope all Space Travelers had a great night. End transmission.

LOST Chapter 18, Verse 10: What's in a Name?

As I leave 2008 behind Space Travelers, I leave behind the era that was college. After 7 years in my undergraduate, I find myself now here in Northern Virginia. I shed my skin, and a new me is present.

countdown: (post grad) 3 days 15 hours 15 minutes

MEMORY 10: What's in a name?

When I was young I didn't know my proper name. Not at least until I was 15. The circumstances of this revolve around my parents having a spelling discrepancy on my birth certificate and my social security card.

One read: Alias Seichi Tagami
The other: Alai Seiichi Tagami

The day that I went to get my driver's learner permit, I saw my birth certificate for the first time. I immediately notices the spelling of my names. Needless to say, that evening, I had words with my parents...

I decided on a hybrid of those two names: Alias Seiichi Tagami

I went by this for years. But mostly, my friends and family just called me "Seich" for short.

When I first arrived at my school, I decided to change my name. Or at least change the name I go by. I had some weird fixation on the idea that my identity was bound to my name and that Seiichi was someone who let others walk on him, and that I needed to reinvent myself.

The first attempt at a new identity was to take my first name Alias, and shorten it to just "Ali." I didn't work. I just couldn't do it naturally. It was too forced. I was simply trying too hard to do the whole reinvention thing.

One of my early college friends I met had a really hard time pronouncing my name. I told her that "Seiichi" is just like "Say Chi". So she just started calling me Chi. I liked it. I kept it.

What I didn't realize then, that is so clear to me now, was that my desire to be somebody new was not something I needed to try so hard for. It was inevitable. The acquisition of a new name was just ironic.

I was named by my Great Grandfather Ikeda. He came from Japan at the turn of the 20th century at the tender age of 16. His ship came into the San Fransisco Bay on April 18th 1906, the day of the great quake. I like to joke that as the fog cleared and he saw a city in flames that he quickly pulled out his brochure and began to complain. The ship would be leave the bay. It landed and My grandfather began to farm in the Salinas Valley.

His family grew and he eventually even bought land. It was a great success for an immigrant.

He gave me my middle name; the primary name I would go by. The name means "Sincerest first born."

Sei - Sincerity
Ichi - 1 (yes, like the number.)

Number names are not uncommon in Asian cultures, and usually symbolize some statue in the family. For me, it was that I am the bearer of name. Only I can carry on the family name, and culture.

(I imagine your wondering how I plan to tie this back into college. I would too. I'm trying to figure it out. Be patient with me. I know where I'm going... I think)

My first name Alias/Alai was a creation by my parents from the word "ally." This was largely due to the fact that racial tension between my families was ended when I was born. My birth granted both sides of my family the perspective needed to come to terms. Hence, I was the bridge; the "ally." I guess they didn't like the spelling or something... Wither way that's the etymology behind those two.

So here I was at college looking for a new identity, a new purpose, a new creed. I think then that it is interesting my new identity was to become a community builder, mentor and student advocate. Interesting because there in the name was the "sincere friend."

I chose my Mentor in my job as an Resident Assistant. We are very close. She challenged me to make a legacy. Every year, at the closing banquet she would close with...

"Live, love, leave a legacy."

I slowly began to understand what a legacy really was. I was not people remembering what your name was, and what you did. It was instead making long lasting changes around you that went beyond your time.

In my weekly lunches with my Mentor, she told me that she was proud of the legacy I had left at the school. I asked her what she thought my legacy was, and she said that her department would fail without the students leading each other. She thanked me for staying involved, and explained how many students I had introduced to student advocacy. She thanked me for being passionate about what I did. She acknowledged the struggle I had through college, and told me that I had I not chosen to engage face first many of those challenges I that I would not have grown into the man I was.

I arrived at graduation an hour before the ceremony. I looked around at the sea of graduates. We were handed a card with our name on it. We were supposed to write out the pronunciation of our name.

Oh brother.

I wrote: Aa-lie-us Say-ee-chee Taa-gaa-mee

I knew it would get butchered. I knew this because of every class and every teacher I have ever had in my entire academic life. I held my card and thought about that fact. That on the first day of every class, I had to speak up and say more than just "here."

As I walked up to the stage, I handed the speaker the card. There was a long pause... then a awkward attempt at my name, then a apologetic shrug. I shrugged back and made my way across the stage. As I shook the hand of the Chancellor, he said "close enough?"

I replied "It's not my name that should be remembered."

I don't believe that because my Great Grandfather gave me my name that I fulfilled any sort of duty, or calling. I don't believe that my name defines me at all. I am proud to be defined by my actions.

No longer addressed by the same name, no longer clothed in the uniform of my youth, I am starting a new life for myself. However you know me...

Seich
Sei
Seiichi
Chi
Alias

...I hope you know me.

LOST Chapter 18, Verse 9: Hero no Maru

There is something a bit recursive about this memory Space Travelers. This memory is about the trip which inspired this blog to even exist in the first place. Like some trips, we now end back up where we began.

countdown: 8 hours 44 minutes

MEMORY #9: Hero no Maru

In my second year in college I began becoming more professionally oriented. I began to care about having a career and I started working on my resume. I remember how my environment made me feel like having an internship was important. More than than important, it felt like it was necessary.

I felt weird that I didn't have a summer internship. I decided to work harder in my junior year.

I began early by attending some programs put on by the career center at my campus. They made it seem easy. The entire thing was odd because in the engineering community, we are constantly being told this line about how important we are and how jobs come to us. To me it was all odd and I didn't really realize what was happening to me.

By second semester I had not had an interview and I was becoming very depressed. I had really applied myself and been extremely disciplined. So by April, it was obvious I would not have an internship.

I needed something to feel that void. So I left. I just got into my car, and I drove. My road trip in total was 7,000 miles over two months. There is something very liberating about being on your own. I had lots of time to think. Heal.

I was in San Diego. A friend had invited me to a birthday party. I didn't really know anybody. I remember being approached by some very...

uh...

Californian people. Californian youth at least. Out of high school, but still younger than me. Beautiful people. Nicely tan. They seemed interested in me. I was a new person in their circle, so I stood out. I was dressed a lot nicer than normal that night. I could almost blend in.

They were very interested in what I did. Not in Engineering though, just about how much money I would make. They very very certain that I belonged on the west coast, and that I'd need to find a job out there. I said how much I liked the area and mentioned that I had family in the area. However I followed that with how I liked some companies for the projects they worked on. When I told then the cites I'd be in they seemed to turn their nose up at the thought of living in the midwest.

a "fly-over" state

I replied, "Yeah I guess our job is to just make the food. I guess I'm out of place."

I thanked my friend for inviting me, and left. As I left, I was still disgusted by these superficial plastic materialist people.

Then I remembered how I had become so obsessed with some job goal. A goal I didn't even set for myself. It was set for me. I did want a job, but for the experience, the skills. The casualty of this obsession was that I became sadly aware of two truths.

1) I didn't have a single goal in my like that didn't have something to do a with a career.

2) I had stopped doing the things I loved to become a professional.

I spent the second half of my trip just soaking in the beauty of the Pacific northwest. As I drove back east, I remember sleeping on the side of the road in Montana, only to wake up to the most majestic sunrise. It was just for me.

No cars.
No people.

I think the sunset gets all the glory, but sometimes a sunrise can be breathtaking.

It's honestly a shame I'm not a morning person, and it's too common that if I see the sunrise, I'm stuck i a building.

Now I make new goals for myself. I let myself wander. I dream again of new adventures.

Being professional is the just a hobby now. My real occupation is being spectacular.

When I wrote this, I guess I didn't know how true the part about the hobby was. The spectacular part is still a work in progress though.

LOST Chapter 18, Verse 8: Late Nights

Konnichiwa Supesu no hitotachi! Ikeyo ne?

countdown: 1 day 6 hours 28 minutes

MEMORY #8: Late nights

I've had many late nights in my college career. However, too few due to late night liaisons. No. Instead I have spent a many nights up late compiling computer code while posting on forums such as A2K and my community blog. I've probably had more sit down meals at restaurants at 3:00 AM than I have had during the hours of civilized society.

However some nights, I'm not awake for any real reason. I sit, and wait. Wait for something amazing to happen. I will wander outside and listen to the silence. No cars, no people. I hope to be the only person to see or experience something special. It rarely happens, but that's fine. If it happened every time, it wouldn't be special.

When the birds start singing, I know it's bedtime. For the sake of pride, I often dive under the covers if I sense a sunrise coming.

Does it really matter what burns the midnight oil?