The next photo, I promise.

There is a band today: the streets are bare, there is no honking, no coughing, no yelling, the cows have plenty of space, it's nice. Basically, no body went to work today to protest something or another. It's so hard to keep track of all the protests here; with the formation of a new constitution for Nepal on the horizon, everyone is acting out to get their voice heard: the bar owners, the festival coordinators, the schools, everyone; and as nice as it is that they get their opinions noticed, with no vehicles on the road I was a little bored. Yesterday I finally mastered bicycling in traffic, and man is it fun. I spent four hours with close calls, sudden stops, passing cars, narrow passages between vehicles and weaving in and out of open spaces, (it's a lot like a puzzle, in fact I think it is my favorite puzzle) all while following a van through Kathmandu, giving food to the needy. But now no one is on the streets and it's just like at home. But any way, I should probably finish this blog before the power cuts out. For those who might not know, power is not as readily available or plentiful throughout the world as we westerners have come to rely on it. Case in point, here in Kathmandu there are scheduled power cuts in which parts of the city's power is turned off for three to five hours at a time. Thus the city puts out a week long schedule to which you can count on having power; and you plan around this schedule until all of a sudden somebody comes up and asks you, "Did you get the new power schedule?" But you are confused, not knowing if your schedule is the new one or the old one; because even though there is a schedule, the word schedule in Nepal is very loosely based, (there is a two hour window here in which one can still be called, "on time"). It may be your side of towns turn, or it may not, they may decide to go an hour early, they may not and they may change the schedule or they may not, it is all at the whim of the power company. But as much as I complain it is nice just to sit with the family around a candle and talk, I enjoy it quite a bit actually. Also, I think my Nepali might be getting better but I'm not certain. For instance I will say a sentence to my family and they will nod and say correct, but then I go out to use this knowledge in public and no one knows what the hell I'm saying, and then I look like a fool. The other day I got caught out in the rain on my walk home, normally this wouldn't bother me but it was raining hard and I still had a mile to go before I got home, so I stop at this bench under a tarp and ordered some fried bred and some sort of potato dumpling. While I'm waiting for the rain to stop I meet this Nepali actress, Harisha, and she begins to teach me Nepali, but she is laughing at everything I'm saying as if I don't understand what I am meaning. So I walk her to her office, she introduces me to all of her coworkers and friends, she shows me her movie posters and then she says that she'll teach me better Nepali, but she never called back...women. Any way, I know I promised one of you to put some pictures of me in Kathmandu up, but I don't have any yet. But know that I have all intentions of doing such. I love you and will talk to you later, and thanks for the messages. Seth.

Love you to zombies.

Another restless night for me. Still waking up at 2:00 am and falling asleep at 5:00 till 8:00. This cannot continue or it will mean my end. The other night I woke up as expected between 2:00 and 3:00 to hear the neighbor dog barking at something pounding at our gate and moaning. Maybe it was the fact that I had just woken up and it was around 3:00 am, but I swear it was the day of the dead. So as I lay in my bead certain of the zombie outside my window, I began to think about how Kathmandu is ideal for zombie infestation. First off: a good percentage of the people of Kathmandu live in fairly congested circumstances, some people already stumble around the streets looking blankly into space, there isn't a single gun store in all of Nepal, and even though pirated western films are very popular here, no one has seen a zombie movie; they wouldn't even know what to do. I was giving a talk with this seventh grade class yesterday and none of them had even heard of a zombie! The only thing this place has going for it is that they cremate their dead.
I am sorry if this subject may seem like rambling, but something has happened here. I don't quite understand but I feel like I could write a million things about a hundred subjects and never run out of ink or enthusiasm. I see everything and I want to talk about it: How the women of Nepal are probably some of the most beautiful I have ever seen, and they don't wear any makeup, the exhaust from the busses and the trash piles on the side of the road, the spitting, the fruit sellers right next to congested traffic, the smiles, everywhere smiles, the swindling, the media, and much more. I feel inspired, much like George Harrison and the "Beatles" when they left for India and came back with "Love you To".

Each day just goes so fast
I turn around, it's past
You don't get time to hang a sign on me

Love me while you can
Before I'm a dead old man

A life time is so short
A new one can't be bought
But what you've got means such a lot to me

Make love all day long
Make love singing songs

There's people standing round
Who'll screw you in the ground
They'll fill you in with all their sins, you'll see

I'll make love to you
If you want me to.

Back in College one of my professors said, "Journalism is not a career or a profession." In that, saying it is a very unofficial title with a very unreliable salary. But then one of my other professors that very same semester said to us, "Journalism is a way of life, it is in the way you think about the world around you. You see someone or something and you want to understand why and tell the world." Maybe I am a journalist. We'll just have to wait and see. Love you and will speak with you soon, Seth.

No longer am I this starry eyed child filled with wonder and curiosity visiting this strange strange land.  Where once I strolled through a rainbow of both color and culture, I now cruise through on the back of my hosts 250 Honda watching the faces and creations blur into the brick of the streets.  Oh, but please forgive me my friends for I may seem to be sad or wining, but do be assured that this was not my intention.  I am actually quite pleased with the situation.  I have made myself at home.  I am comfortable with my surroundings, not distracted by the slightest of instances and thus truly able understand and appreciate this great place of which is becoming as familiar as my own clothes.  

Things are beginning here and I am very excited.  I have recently been doing some editing for "New Business Age" and really enjoy it.  I can't wait to try my hand at writing for the youth magazine.  I feel that I may have made the right choice in choosing journalism; the sheer anticipation of writing and photographing makes me smile.  My dream has turned out to be just that, a dream and not a nightmare as I may have once worried.  Although it still may be too soon to tell, it certainly does not feel like a mistake.  The web designer is here and thus soon, I will be in the full swing of things: writing, editing, photographing, and then will I understand better my passion for this career.  I have also gotten in contact with a human rights organization here and they have asked me to take photos of the street children here in their living conditions and with their drug problem for a photo book. Then with the book, the organization can get more funding due to the simple fact that a picture is much more fruitful than a pie chart.  So I have made a connection with a doctor here who feeds the children on a regular basis through a program of his and by volunteering with him I will be able to make myself known to the children and will be more welcome to speak with them in the streets.  And then after about a month and a half of getting to know them and letting them get comfortable with me as well as me with the language (which I might add I am trying like hell to learn), then, and only then will I be able to take their photos; and hopefully have enough time after getting to know them to build a substantial body of work. I can't express how privileged I am to get a chance to have my images make such a difference in this world. Such and opportunity rarely comes across to an artist or journalist. I think I am going to write more often so it isn't as long for you guys.  I know I have said this before but I absolutely love hearing from you, it truly lifts my soul, but please leave your name because this thing doesn't tell me who leaves the messages.  I love you and will write sooner than later, Seth. Oh, and if it seems like my writing voice has changed, I should let you know that I have been reading "The Brothers Karamosoft" by Dostoyevsky. Sorry.

Ooops.

CRAP!  I am pretty sure that I may have, more than likely, possibly, probably forgot to file for my PFD this year.  Oh well, there are things in life more important than free money, although it is really nice.  Any way, I did have a question for you readers; have you ever had a craving for a plate of rice and some pickled vegetables?  And when I say craving, I mean have you said to your self, "Man, you know what I could really go for for the next five months... some rice and pickled vegetables."  I haven't either, but I tell you what, my family here puts so much spice and flavor into just those two items that you don't even care.  I went to a touristy place the other day to get a steak and it was the worst steak I have ever had.  Afterwords, all I wanted to do was go home and eat some rice and vegetables with a cup of tea, which they make very sweet here.  But onwards with the blog.  I'll tell you a few of the small things about living here and then I won't bore you anymore with such mundane details, I promise.  First of all, I do have a normal toilet and it is in a normal three bedroom apartment, (although the bathroom itself is just one giant shower) and I am only a 25 minute walk from the office.  I am still waking up at around 5-7 every morning but due to several reasons: one being that in Kathmandu, gangs of dogs roam the streets at night looking to fight other dog gangs, it's a regular West Side Story if it was in Nepal and of a more fury persuasion.  But any way, all of the gangs seem to come to one specific location known only to them and me as rumble alley, which just so happens to be outside my window.  Every morning like a clap of thunder, there is a dog fight which always ends in a whimper.  And if it isn't the dogs then it's the neighbors with their strange hours and even stranger drumming, booming across the way.  However, the mornings here are beautiful so it isn't so bad.

Moving on to the people of the streets; beggars beggars everywhere and not a dime to spare.  I like to think of myself as a person who will help those in need without thinking twice, but living here in Kathmandu has made me a little more selective as to whom I help.  Twice now I have been approached by fairly well dressed individuals who just seemed curious about my situation.  We go and have tea and in one circumstance spoke for several hours and then after you feel you have built a relationship with this person and you feel you could be there friend and stay in contact with them; they begin to tell you how hard their life is and how you can help them with your money.  I am sick of it friends, and while most of the people here are good, it is the couple of bad apples that I have met that have darkened my perspective.  I see few as genuinely nice anymore and now I am always looking for the angle and I hate myself for it.  But I have kept you long enough,  I love you all and will speak with you soon.  I am going to be doing this blog about once a week around this time so hopefully I will never have to bore you with such tiny details like this again.  Oh, and I love getting messages from all of you, thank you so much.  Speak with you soon, Seth.

I'm in Kathmandu

Alive and well with so much to tell.  I'm not sure if any of you are aware of a little thing called the international dateline; but I'll tell you, as you were putting away the day of Sept. 3 and ready to meet Sept. 4, I had already been flying for two days thanks to our little imaginary friend.  Three hours of sleep in 48 hours and only steel chairs at the Bangkok airport for slumber...fun.  However there was more than just that.  On the way there I met this man who was  a scuba instructor on one of the islands off the coast of Thailand and he invited me to come with him to a little town called Pataan, about an hours drive from the city of Bangkok.  And simply put friends, your humble narrator is quite the catch in Thailand.  Walking the streets of this simple city, I was getting cat calls, whistles and shouts from all around.  Women of the corners and bars were yelling that I better get myself over there if I knew fun, and to say that I was blushing would be quite the understatement.  I ask my friend why everyone is so nice here and he says that they were all working girls; and all I could think of was that I hope they don't work at a beauty salon, less is more obviously meant nothing to these ladies except for when it came to their clothing for some reason.  But as I left Thailand and said goodbye to my new friend I couldn't help but feel that those ladies were going to make some gentleman very happy some day.  

But I digress.  Any way, I land in Nepal and the airfield is over grown with some sort of weed 4 feet tall if it was an inch, surrounding the airport and enveloping this old rusty jet sitting in the middle of the field; it looked like one of those Wasilla lawn ornaments.  I meet my host outside the airport and we take a cab to his home, and let me tell you friends, I feel like I was in the middle of a Dr. Suess book.  Whoosits and Whatsits zigzagging around putzits, smells of poogle and doogle far worse than a shugal, and the trash my god the trash!  Mountains of colors and textures and such, oh why did I choose five months it seems like sooo much.  But after the initial shock all was well.  My host family is beautiful, inside and out.  There is Nardev the husband, Mina the wife, (I call her Didi, big sister) her sister Sila and two awesome little kids Nasib/Bi, (little brother) and Muscan/Bahini (little sister).  And there are two other people volunteering here that are staying at the house as well and they are both great.  I have started my job here at the publication; it's called "Infotiser" and it is the number two youth magazine in Nepal.  Due to the price of paper over here though they have been forced to temporarily stop publication, so I am on this awesome team that is going to put it all online.  I will get to take some photos and do some writing and even some editing; it's not what I came here for but I think I'm going to like it.  Any way there is more to tell but I have kept you long enough.  To those who messaged me, thank you very much, you don't know how much it was appreciated no matter how short or how long.  I love it here and I will talk with you all later, Seth.

I think I'm gonna make sick.

I am confident, I am terrified, I am anxious, I am withdrawn, I am determined, I am uncertain, I am ready, I think I'm gonna throw up and I wouldn't have it any other way. Months ago, I stumbled upon an internship in Nepal for photojournalists. I was skeptic at first but as time drew on my mind I decided to go for it. The day is finally here and for the past few nights my imagination and emotions have ran the full spectrum. One of my main concerns was that for the past four years I have studied for this profession but it has always been nothing but theory and dreams; what if I find out that what I loved did not love me in return or that what I told myself was love was a lie completely. When a life's dream becomes a nightmare, how does one wake up from that. My other concern was more focused on motives. Why do I leave safety, comfort, regularity, love of friends and family, why do I run out from under the shelter of my parents long wise arms? And I guess the answer is that it's just in me. None of my friends or family understands the love I have for them because I cannot measure it myself, and I know if I were to just stick around and not leap for new edges, I would not be myself and could not in good conscience lie to friends and family. So I leave to strengthen my body, my mind, and my care for everyone. I go to find my own rules because I don't have time to simply accept anyone else's. I hope this wasn't too long winded or self righteous for you, this has just been on my mind for a while. I'll get some picks up asap. Hope to hear from you all soon, Seth.