For my birthday, I'd like some new jeans and shoes, and to bump into Jon Hamm while he's walking his dog around the neighborhood. Please, someone help arrange this.

To every season, turn turn turn.

It is almost my birthday. I really wish it were not. I am spending too much time sifting through okcupid trying to find a decent boy to go out with, and looking at pictures of a friend's towheaded baby girl is making my ovaries act funny. I am getting older.

Covetous

I want this so badly.

her: so you know, totally not ready to devote myself to 5-6 hrs of reading student papers
that dumb kid in the taco bell yesterday, he still hasn't turned in his paper
me: hahaha
that kid clearly blows
her: like, what are you doing
if your paper is 5 days late, and it is only 3-4 pages, you should not be at taco bell
3-4 pgs!
you know
maybe he doesn't give a shit because this class is no longer a requirement for graduation
me: maybe that kid just loves tacos
her: hahaha
me: two opposing views of the world!

November is the longest month.

This last week has been all about body-pain (cramps, headaches, bizarre intestinal discomfort, etc).
However, tonight is all about nostalgia, and a little bit of the blues. My cupboard holds a new one-lb bag of untoasted yerba mate, and the smell reminds me of summer '06 and the year that followed it. I bought a hefty bag of sucanat to go with it, and I've cleaned out a pot for the roasting, but I haven't quite managed to make anything happen yet. Today I also haven't ever managed to get dressed, going so far as to shower and then put my pyjamas back on. My feet are cold, and on my coffee table there sits a tiny display of gourds and one ear of blue corn. It is November.

Even Los Angeles feels like autumn now. It's time to learn things, time to avoid going outside for fear of the cold, time to dress in multitudinous scarves, time to listen to the saddest of the sad singer-songwriters. Phil Och's religious revolutionary music is good for this now. Okkeril River seems conceived of only to make me weepy. I wish, again, I lived somewhere with deciduous trees, but there are still dead leaves falling off of plants here if you know where to find them.

I haven't been writing anything for quite awhile, and I'm not sure why. The last two or three months have felt long, hot and sweaty and difficult. First there was my weird heart-crushing experience in August, then the trip home to Florida and to Brooklyn. Then I became a teacher, which has been both tedious and strange. I rarely wake up in time to sit in on my students' lecture. I put off grading until the last minute. On Friday, I wrote my first recommendation letter, with copious help from a friend. Then we went to the post office to mail it, and I drove for the first time in about two years. I entered the wrong side of the post office's parking lot, parked terribly, and my friend and I were both called "cuntbags" by an angry old man who saw my parking job. White spittle flew out of his mouth when he harassed us, the first time I have ever seem such a thing happen. I yelled at him that he'd probably be dead in two years anyway, probably the worst comeback of all time.

Cibo Matto's "White Pepper Ice Cream" is on now, and my Japanese accent decoding skills have grown so poor, I heard 'white paper ice cream' instead. I am still studying Korean, and now I can't tell the two languages apart in my mind -- fragments of phrases just float around each other. "Deh-mun-eh" sounds too much like "demo ne". My little paperbacks of Ogawa Yoko need to be read and theorized-upon. An open pdf of Horkheimer's "The Authoritarian State" sits between iTunes and SoulSeek. I need that tea, to make the synapses fire a little faster in my mind. Horkheimer, then Korean vocabulary, then essays on Horyu-ji. I can do these things.

And of course, Tuesday is looming high and heavy over me. Super Tuesday! I will ride my bike a few blocks to someone's house near Griffith Park, hopefully just in time for the polls to open at 7am. I will vote in this big crazy history-making election for a super-cool smart man from Hawaii and Kansas and Chicago to be our next president. I will vote against 'saving marriage', and for public transportation, and for who knows what else -- there are so many initiatives in California to take part in. And then I will ride my bike down to Sunset, hopefully not getting hit by any cars, and get on a bus and go to campus and sit back while I make my undergrads present on early modern Japanese literature. I will drink large cups of coffee. I will come home tired, hopefully before 7, and watch election results come in via the tin-foiled antenna on the TV. I will probably drink bourbon, hopefully in celebration. If no one is sitting with me, I will type furiously in chat windows and email windows. But hopefully, I won't be sitting alone.

And that's all I have to say about that?

And that's how I feel about that.

Purgatories.

Lately, I have been forgetting that I am any sort of a writer, or that I have any kind of desire or obligation to fill up these little white boxes from time to time. I think it's getting me down a little, though of course that could also be a host of other things. So, let me try a little harder.

I'm at my parents' house now, which is perhaps my definition of the modern 'purgatory'. Nothing to do here, most days no real reason to get dressed before 5pm if I bother to get dressed at all. Can't leave the house on my own, and rarely have any idea where I'd like to go if I did leave. Yesterday I smacked through the ennui long enough to put on a bathing suit and go out to the back pool, only to see a large dead spider waiting for me under the water at the bottom of the stairs. In the deep end, a small (living) frog floated along atop the pool thermometer. I went inside, and took a shower.

Seven more days here, and I can't think of any way to make them not like the last seven. I feel most awake when I'm in the shower, enough to make plans and get back a little of my 'take charge' attitude (read books, practice japanese or korean, write that paper, call the landlord), but none of my books are waterproofed, and the feeling usually dissipates by the time I wrap a towel around my head and leave the bathroom. The real world just feels a little too far away.

And yet, I have plenty of work to do. Late paper to write, two languages to relearn, finances with which to wrestle. Silly, silly important things. I can't hope to get them all done through 6ish weekday afternoons in Brooklyn while I wait for friends to come home from work. Maybe about half, though. I have heard there are some very nice cafes in some of those Brooklyn neighborhoods.

I have, instead of stuff, managed a lot of naps with the new kitten. This kitten has no name, because no one in my family can agree on one. This perhaps makes him even more adorable. I went to my kid sister's open house and met all her teachers. Some of them may have thought I was her mother, until our own mother came in. Two were spastic in the way only high school teachers are, and four of them are probably good educators. Two were coaches pulled to fill in as teachers of classes they had never taught before, due to budget cuts. One was just vaguely annoying. There was another teacher-like person (computers?) we passed in the hall that I would have talked to/flirted with, if I did that kind of thing (I do not). Get me out of my house, ironic mutton chops. I am dying here.

I sort of wish my family lived closer, so I didn't have to go through feeling that my real life was being displaced every time I go to visit them. Or I could be smarter, and stay for less time...

Anyway! I hope when the fall semester starts, I'll feel like my life is picking up momentum again. I have the syllabus for the class I'm TAing (Intro to Japanese Civilization) in my inbox now. TA orientation and first classes will be all through my first week back. I haven't finalized my class selection, but I am getting there. I will have a best friend in the city I live in again, finally. I might have an immediate visitor from Ann Arbor as well, so long as the timing is right and the sublettor-roomie isn't sleeping in the living room when I get back. Maybe I will even have faith in boys again? I am really working on this. Of course, it'd help if the other team would meet me halfway.

A lot of things are almost done.

I am leaving Los Angeles soon, and I am glad.

Not leaving for good, of course. As of a few weeks ago, I am officially on the lease for this apartment, which is a nice place with a balcony and in a neighborhood where I would easily expect to pay about $300 per month more than I do now in rent money. My landlord is sort of a flake and I will probably never have air conditioning, but those are small(ish) offenses. The living room has soft white paper lamps in various shapes and paintings, done by a friend of mine or by my roommate. Maybe I will make something to put on the walls as well. I am comfortable here.

But, oh, this summer, and oh, Los Angeles. It has been so long, and so all the same. A hundred hours logged sitting on the bus, or more. Another hundred plus logged sitting in class, discovering that I couldn't learn with my mind turned off. A lot of missed deadlines, piling up. The same meals. That mozarella sandwich on campus that cost $6 and nearly had me vomiting on the sunny pavement. And always, everyone I know being so far apart.

I miss the insularity of the 'Center', which kept us all involved in each other's lives, even though it was also often dreary and bleak. I think I miss everything as soon as it stops happening, until the next thing comes and washes it out. This analogy is certainly applicable to my dating life, when I have one. I never know if I appear complicated or simple when I first meet 'the other'. I don't know which description of myself would be more appropriate, either. Certainly my emotions are simple; the way my mind works is not.

So, I will give up these dry hot times and go to Florida, for the rain and my family. I will definitely eat chocolate-covered dried cherries, annoy my cat, and float in the pool. I will almost certainly get a sunburn. I will not drink my parents' beer, because it is cheap and terrible, and if I start drinking at home I'll see the next sister soon following suit; what sort of example would that make me? When all three of us are home, we all revert to a dynamic that was set in place as soon as there were three of us at all. I think I get stuck at about 15; the two of them at 10 and 7 seems about right. They fight in the car and threaten to spit in each other's hair. Later, we will all climb into the same bed with the cats, say nothing for awhile, spread our bodies out at weird angles. It is always much more comforting to do this with the girls than when my mother comes in to hug me in the morning. I have never been able to feel her hold onto me without feeling that I'm suffocating. It's a neat emotional analogy, as well, but of course a very real physical reaction too.

After that, I will go to New York, and spend my days sitting in cafes in Brooklyn with my beat-up darling laptop. The nights will hopefully all be spent drinking. Sobriety and friendlessness are not doing me any favors, and I have to have some kind of summer vacation, even if it happens in September. If my dating life keeps being idiotic, maybe making eyes at drunk Brooklynites will calm me. Maybe I'll get high for the first time in a year and make fun of people one of my best friends and I both dislike, which is the best schaudenfreude-y time I can have. One day I will go back to my high school reunion, or someone else will, to find that all the people I never liked are now fat. Thanks for the genes, mom, if not the hugs -- at least I don't have obesity waiting in the wings for me. I get enough curveballs as it is.

I don't even like skateboarding.

So why is this so fucking hot?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l6uwukoIN-U&NR=1

In other news...

I continue not to write, and my parents continue to both find new ways to destroy themselves and our family while knowledge of past errors slowly unearths itself. I am very lonely right now.

안년하새요!

Oh my god, typing in Korean is so hard. Also, I bet I spelled that wrong. This language hates the shit out of me.

Anyway! So, update time, internet world. Right now, I am studying vocabulary words for my 10th vocabulary quiz in korean (roughly two per week, oy vey), after having finished about half the class (and about 1/100th of the homework). This week, on the menu are words such as "eye" and "gloves", and verbs or verb-like adjectives like "to be warm" and "to congratulate". Did you know that in this language, adjectives conjugate like verbs do, but for some reason aren't verbs and therefore seperate grammatical rules apply to them? Shoot me, please, I beg you.

The tide's always turning.

After two and a half weeks of enjoyable society back in the ol' US of A, the universe conspired to fill my life with suck today. As if being $63 in the hole on my bank account for a week wasn't enough brutal enough. Thanks life, no really, I can't get enough of this shit.
First, I spent nearly 3 hours on the bus today, going from one side of this overly-wide city to the other. The return leg of the trip was particularly bad, as the bus was more crammed full than I have ever seen it. Almost "last train out of Shibuya" bad, and that is not an image I invoke lightly. Next to me for much of the trip was an elderly drunk man, who had waited at the same stop as I had. Before getting on the bus, he asked me what bus was coming, what city were we in, and if I knew of any rehab facilities in the area. On the bus, a sharp turn caused the giant can of Foster's hidden in his pocket to spill out on the feet of the people around him. A small amount of that beer landed on the top of my foot.
Behind me was a man who could not stop singing to himself, R&B style but without any discernable lyrics. Occasionally, he'd give the singing a break in order to proclaim on how full the bus was. A girl near him had been unlucky enough to secure his focus as well, and he asked her if she and her friends were going out to a club tonight. He would be at the club, til closing. On his neck was a tattoo that read "Scheezy".
I did not stab the man with the tattoo that read "Scheezy", but I wanted to.
The bus ride might not have been so bad if I had had a nice afternoon before it, but that was not the case. Instead I had spent 3 hours eating a friend's party food and realizing that I strongly disliked everyone at the party except the host. BDSM professionals and their boyfriends, it turns out, are just the kids from high school who shopped at hot topic and tongue-kissed backstage during drama class, plus seven or eight years. And I don't have much to add to conversations about corset colors or "what happened at the dungeon last night".

IMPORTANT NOTE: Things I never want to see, #1: Bruises on your ass, from your boyfriend spanking you the night before. Everyone I know or will ever know, please take note of this.

Once I got home, I tried to take a nap, but was kept awake by two people in a neighboring apartment. A father and son, to be exact, who were arguing and belittling each other over a video game. The son sounded like he's about 8 years old. Once, I heard the father tell the kid that he was "terrible" at the video game, because the father was winning and it was the first time he had played. Yes, that actually happened. Is that enough evidence for me to call in Child Services?
Now it is late and the day is a waste. My Korean homework is unfinished, my nails are unpainted, and I am out of lemonade. The rest of the weekend was lovely, but all that will have to wait for another day.

Native soil.

Back. Back! I have rematriculated my American-ness, everyone. It is totally weird.
Right now, I am lying belly-first on the carpet of my new bedroom, which is furniture-less and scattered with open suitcases vomiting out my clothing and sundries. The temperature is about 80 degrees, but promises to hit at least 94 before the day is over. Yesterday, I went outside and sweated in a tank top and skirt, and fretted over possibly getting my first sunburn of the year. Luckily, my fancy new american face lotion comes with spf 15.

Leaving Japan was sad, sweaty, and painful -- the last two caused mostly by me hauling heavy-ass luggage and boxes and shit all over the city. I mailed what felt like 100 lbs of books over the ocean to my new digs, which should arrive here in about 3 more weeks. I went over my weight and luggage limit on my flight, and had to pay accordingly. I threw away bagfuls of unsorted trash in the night, and left two sacks of old clothes and sheets and a slightly moldy futon for my landlady to toss for me on the appropriate day. I spent over a week having last and second-to-last meals with almost everyone I'd ever met during my time in Japan. I gave away a bag of macadamia nuts I'd received as omiyage to my landlady's mother, the day she came to get the keys to my apartment and bid me farewell. Secret: I hate macadamia nuts.

And then I flew across the Pacific in a bright shiny airplane that boasted free wine and terrible vegetarian meal service. Truly the crappiest food I have eaten in a long time; I have no idea why people automatically assume that vegetarians hate food with seasoning, fat, or taste. Case in point: both my dinner and breakfast came with a small side salad which boasted absolutely no dressing whatsoever. In its place, a slice of lemon mocked me openly. There was not even any salt. I should write them a letter.
Also, no one in the world considers mushy rice and mushy vegetables a breakfast food. Come on, people. At least find a way to whip up some (vegan?) pancakes. So far the only palatable airline food I have had in my international travels was from United. They also boasted the most liberal free liquor policy.

But, now I live in a 'young, hip' neighborhood of Los Angeles, and my food plight has been rectified many times over. The taco stands have vegetarian options. A bulk food mart is less than two blocks from my apartment. I hear tell there is a Trader Joe's round these parts, and I plan to plunder it within the next day or two. Food, delightful food, free for the taking (after you pay for it).

Of course, all is not perfectly well, as I have to start learning my 3rd language a mere 3 days from now. I have not bought the textbooks, so I really hope the bookstore on campus is open before 8:30 am next Monday. Because that's when my class starts. My class, which goes for 4 hours a day and happens 5 days a week. I mean, I know I hate myself, but this is really taking it to extremes.

Lastly, I have a new roommate, which so far has been a good experience. She is slight and dainty and Australian. This morning we talked over coffee about our mutual dislike of Scarlett Johansson. That remains a surefire way into my good graces.

If you're down he'll pick you up, Dr, Robert.

Let's get substantive around here.
School is over. I don't really believe it, but it's true. A large group of my favorite people in Japan are returning to the States in the next few days. I myself will return to LA on the 17th, which seems like a joke or a sort of very realistic dream I haven't fully shaken yet. But no, it's the truth. I made my ticket reservation yesterday. I'll be flying Korean Air, which almost definitely means free alcohol.
After about 4 weeks of thinking about nothing else, I found an apartment and a roommate back in LA as well. My new roommate is a film editor from Australia, and the new apartment is in Los Feliz. I will be (apparently) 100s of miles away from school, but I think I can make the bus riding work for me in exchange for having such a nice place to call home. I plan on getting a bicycle immediately after I move in. Hopefully, it will have a basket on the front or back for my groceries, and will be a bright blue or green. I am also planning, for some reason, to buy long chino shorts as a summer wardrobe and to wear them with docksiders without socks. Sort of a weird late 50s New England summer, but on the wrong coast and happening to probably the wrong person. Aesthetically though, it is incredibly appealing.
In my new apartment I will have my own bathroom and not too much rent to pay. In my old apartment, which is where I am lying right now, it is a little too hot except when a strong wind comes in through the big windows. I like it to be a little cold when I am home, so I can be under the blanket and feel like I'm hibernating, but this sunshine is a portent of the sweltering Japanese summer I am escaping. At least in LA, I can afford to pay for the electricity to run the air conditioner. Here, my electricity bills ran about $90 per month when I had to run the heat, and I only ran it when I was at home in the evenings and when I slept. Japan is not made for poor me.
Graduation. It was strange. I stood in a room full of people I knew and received a diploma and people clapped. I took pictures of the people I liked, first with a digital camera, then with my Diana+. I plan to finish off the last of the second roll of film tonight, and then get it developed so I can finally see what kind of magic this camera makes. I bought bags of Jelly Bellys from the candy store in the mall next to school, and gave them to my three favorite teachers. I think they were surprised, because I don't come across as the thoughtful type.
On Wednesday, I gave my final presentation, in front of my classmates and my landlady and her mother, as well as random Japanese businesspeople who had an interest in what our school does. I was very nervous in the beginning and couldn't always read my essay particularly well, because I was directing my eyes almost straight down so I could rest the paper on the podium and use it to lean on. Later, my advisor told me it had sounded smooth at the end, and a fellow student told me my voice 'flowed like water'. This is much higher praise than I would have expected. I am glad my voice only sounded shaky to me.
I did do a little better at hiding my nervousness than a few people (one person had a beautiful presentation, but her neck and chest broke out in hives as she spoke), but I was less practiced than many others, so I feel like it was sort of a C+ performance on my part. Also, I didn't make a Powerpoint to go along with the speech, not realizing that without one I would have to stand in front of two gigantic bright blue screens. I haven't used Powerpoint since I was in high school, but perhaps I had better learn. It gives the listeners something else to look at besides me, anyway, which has to be a good thing?
At the presentation, I wore a black sweater and skirt with plum-colored tights. I need to buy some more colorful footwear before I go 'home'. It lets me dress like a girl without worrying that anyone is thinking about how pale and bruise-y my legs are.
Now, the wind is blowing a little bit stronger, so I think it might be an excellent time to take a small nap.

Something to do before I die.

I have a lot of places I want to go, of course, and hopefully I will be able somehow to see all of them before I get too old to ride a yak in Mongolia or start drinking retsina at lunchtime in Greece. Obviously, I should have picked a more lucrative career; but at least I still have many more years before I get tied down in a steady job.

The newest addition to the list is staying in a glass igloo in Finland, where I could lay back and watch the Nothern lights from bed. Even if that bed is covered in a frankly cheesy zebra-stripe fleece.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/travel/gallery/2007/dec/07/hotels.top10?picture=331479808

It would make a pretty excellent honeymoon kind of trip, yeah? Much better than going to Hawaii.

This is excellent.

http://www.claytoncubitt.com/commissioned/galleries.php?gid=28

"Lagos Calling", a photo series mixing British punk/skinhead and African fashions.

Makes me shake like a soul machine.

Earthquakes, please stop happening. I want to be asleep, not wondering whether or not I ought to be bracing myself in the doorframe of my bathroom.

When she saw the funny side...

I have a cockroach problem, sort of, in my apartment. Sweet!

About a week ago, I saw a cockroach once, then twice, running around my kitchen. The second time, I saw the cockroach disappear into the corner under one of the cabinets. On closer inspection, it turned out there was a big fucking hole down under there. Needless to say, I was unhappy.

Not knowing what to do, I wrote an email to my landlady, and moved my desklamp into the kitchen, training the light on the hole. I left the lamp like that, night and day, for two days, until my landlady could come and look at the problem. I also bought a shit ton of house cleaners and bug killer, since in my eyes everything in my kitchen (and probably the rest of the apartment, this isn't a big place) was now dirty and infected with bugs. Not just any bug either, but the biggest and most disgusting bug that was ever likely to invade my home. And I waited.

My landlady came, looked at the hole for 20 seconds, then told me to go buy some tape. She then asked me if I could move out of my apartment by early July (my lease and my visa here don't run out until the first of September), because she had someone else who might want to move in here then. And then she left.

After she left, I fumed, and sprayed more bug spray around the house. The next day, I taped up the hole. Soon after, I found a cockroach dying in my bathroom. Awesome. I sprayed it with more bug killer, then covered it with a scoop of laundry detergent, and swept it and the detergent into my dustpan. I threw the contents of the dustpan out onto the street in front of my apartment.

Today, I have been sitting around the house cleaning and waiting for my landlady to show my apartment. 15 minutes after she was supposed to be here, she calls to tell me she is canceling the appointment because the guy is taking another apartment. When I tell her I still need to talk about the bug issue, she tells me she has other business now and hangs up on me. Again, awesome!

I am so glad I don't pay this woman her rent on time. Maybe I will go on rent-paying strike until she fixes the wall.


On happier notes, it's Golden Week, so I can do fuckall for the next 9 days or so and that is just fine. Also, last night, after having a short conversation about the 1994 movie version of "Little Women" (holy shit, Winona Ryder is painful to watch in that thing), I re-remembered my love of Gabriel Byrne and in particular his performance in "Miller's Crossing". Afterwards, I had a long night of dreams in which a young Mr. Byrne was my boyfriend. If only my dreams were like that more often, instead of their more usual form, where I am fighting with my parents or have to save my sisters from the apocalypse. Come on, psyche, cut me some slack here.

I am in love...

With this project.

http://colorwar2008.com/submissions/youngnow

http://youtube.com/watch?v=oRAEm0JPV4E&feature=related

Get that dirt off your shoulder.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/apr/20/uselections2008.hillaryclinton :

Clinton accused Obama of doing too much complaining after he spent most of the ABC debate on the defensive over his political and religious links and his comments that small-town Pennsylvanians are bitter and cling to guns and religion. But he recovered on Friday in North Carolina by using hip-hop moves taken from rap mogul Jay-Z that had a crowd - liberally peppered with white women, supposedly Hillary's grassroots - on their feet cheering.

Drawing shrieks of laughter from a crowd in Raleigh, as he dived south briefly from Pennsylvania for an event ahead of the North Carolina primary on 6 May, Obama joked about the debate. He bit his lip, gave one of his wide, electric grins, and mimed a hand stabbing with a dagger, saying: 'Hillary looked in her element. Y'know, that's her right, to twist the knife a little bit.'

Then he mimed brushing dirt off each shoulder, a move that Jay-Z, one of his musical heroes, uses to dismiss the negative sentiments of anyone ill-disposed towards him or what he stands for. The crowd went wild and commentators declared it a seminal moment in the campaign, combining his charisma, feel for popular culture, youth and resilience.

Clinton had earlier declared: 'I'm with Harry Truman on this - if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen ... just speaking for myself, I am very comfortable in the kitchen.'

Obama was effectively saying: 'I am, too - name your kitchen'.

Noooo!

Wahaha fuck I missed tickets going on sale for Radiohead's LA shows! Wahhhhh nooo.

I seem to be slowing down with the blogging again, but lately it's been hard to find the good few clear minutes I need to write down what I've been up to and how I've been feeling. Usually, if I get those moments at all, it's at a time when I really ought to be doing something else, like homework (such as right now). Still at the same time, I feel odd to think of vast amounts of my life passing undocumented.

So, what has happened lately? I have eaten a lot of indian food, both at restaurants and home-made, in the last two weeks. I went to Tokyo and saw a woman I met two years ago at the University of Chicago present her dissertation research findings, and I told her a little bit about what my experience of grad school had been like. I tried and failed to bake pumpkin bread in a microwave/oven hybrid at the house of some friends. I slept on floors, and had strange dreams. I drank coffee without any sugar or cream. I saw a great deal of art. I missed more school than I feel comfortable with, with no pronounced negative effects (yet). I saw many, many cherry blossoms, and then days of rain washed them away. I smelled a cherry-blossom impersonator flower, that smelled like anise. I got angry at the Chinese government and made untenable plans to go to Nagano to raise a Tibetan flag as the torch passed. I drank organic wine from Chile. I swept my floors, many times, and ran my shoes through the washing machine. I bought hair-ties for the first time in a year, and started to use them every day. So, you know, I was alive.

Helter skelter!

Boys are the number one ruiner of cool lady friends you used to be able to just chill and shoot the shit with. Case in point: Today, after a friend told me a little bit about the new boy she is dating, I got this message unsolicited: "I believe you will meet someone nice soon, too".

Don't say things like this, people. It is just rude, and rub-in-your-facey. I mean, I am happy for you and all, though I know I will never be able to hang out with you again because I don't want to hear about how happy you are now (as a prelude to what an asshole this guy is, which I will get to hear about as soon as six weeks later), but really, I am happy. Everyone deserves to have some time in happy-butterfly-stomach lovey-dovey land. But seriously: Don't ruin my goodwill by comparing your new happiness to my single (and thus, apparently terrible) life. If you must know, I am pretty freaking awesome all the time, regardless of whether or not I am dating. SO THERE.

Success!

The stupid job I didn't think I would ever end up having has finally come through, and I have my first lesson this Saturday -- woohoo, dollars! Actually, woohoo to the yen, currently worth more than the dollar, and to being paid in the currency of the country I work in! Now if I could only get about 10 more students...

So long ago, was it in a dream?

I am awake at 1:30 am, eating hash browns and eggs and worrying about the immediate future. For, although it is no surprise that I have no money, it is something of a surprise that the value of the dollar has dropped nearly 25% in the time since I first came to Japan and right now. For me, with all my money still sitting in an American bank and being converted to yen when I withdraw it, this means in a very real way that everything in this country has steadily become more expensive for me since last July, even though all the prices have stayed the same. This is pretty terrible news when you consider that I am already poor and terrible with money anyway. So now, I am so worried, that I almost didn't make the food I am eating now, because these are my last hash browns and who knows how much they will cost when I go to buy them again! Insanity reigns.

If I could stop worrying about money for 15 minutes (I can't), I would be able to say that things are actually going quite well. I have put medicine back in my body and my body is happy again, the weather is growing warm and mild, and yesterday I even enjoyed the experience of seeing a parade. A parade! I met up with two of my classmates in Harajuku, and we watched the annual St. Paddy's day parade -- and I can't think of more fun I have had at seeing a parade so far. Usually, "parade" evokes a very strong mental image for me -- it is cold outside and early on a sunday morning, I am with a group of other children (cousins and the kids of family friends), and we are standing next to the curb of a road a few blocks from my childhood home. The adults are all standing behind us, drinking irish coffee and making jokes that aren't appropriate for children. Soon, the parade will begin, and we kids will fight the other kids and each other to dig out the most Tootsie Rolls from the dried leaves gathered in the gutter. It will be a point of honor to gather the most candy, and I will snatch a Dum-dum away from one of my sisters' outstretched hands with absolutely no remorse.

Luckily, yesterday's parade was nothing like that. Though the irish coffee might have been nice.

Instead, I was surprised by the professionalism and dedication the parade-planners put out for this most un-Japanese of holidays. There were no floats or anything of that nature, but there were many groups of different people doing traditional Irish dances or playing music (often, the entire group doing such was Japanese), people with Irish purebred dogs brought them out to be showed off, a heavily-tattooed Asian man in a kilt and green mohawk played bagpipes, children threw and caught batons, and several marching bands played. Though perhaps someone should tell the Japanese marching bands that there is not much Irish about the theme to "Star Wars". There was even a section of people representing the Bretons, dressed in a French-y manner of black-and-white stripted shirts and berets, out showing off their Celtic pride. And! The parade leader was dressed like a rainbow-kissed leprechaun, and I believe he was actually Irish. I took approximately 264 pictures of all of this, which I will get up on my Flickr as soon as the next time I remember to do it rolls around.

Sidenote: I like how red wine makes me feel like I'm eating something savory, like cheese, even when I am having it by itself. As I am now, having finished all my eggs and hash browns.

So, that is it for now? I also saw a lot more of the coolness of Harajuku that exists a little farther off from the station -- interesting speciality shops, cute cafes, all the things I think about when I think "big city life". And near the station, I saw the coolest group of dressed-up attention-seekers ever -- a big group of dancing rockabillies, done up to a T with leather pants, poodle skirts, greased-up hair, the works. They danced like crazy, posed for pictures playing air guitar, and were just generally totally awesome. The only part that was a disappointment was that no one went in and joined them, except for one girl who seemed too embarrassed to get into the show once she was out there. They're out every Sunday, so I want to go back and join in one day soon -- maybe I will even wear a skirt that I can shake out while I dance. How many chances like that am I going to get, after all?

Come on!

Yesterday I woke up at 4pm and stayed awake for the next 12 hours. To make sure that that wouldn't happen again, I set three alarms before I went to sleep -- for 9:30, 10:30, and 11 -- sure that one of them would jolt me from my sleep and allow me to return to the land of the living.

Guess who was wrong! The same person who woke up at 2pm today, that's who. Though I suppose technically it is a small improvement. Maybe today I can stay awake only til 2am, and manage to wake up tomorrow at noon. Fuck!

Holy mother of hell!

Things that are really terrible = being in withdrawal from Effexor. Things that need to burn in eternal damnation = whoever flagged my meds at customs and refuses to send them to me.

Now I know what all that shaking was about yesterday. Besides the shaking I also have weird headaches that won't go away with painkillers, a very angry gastrointestinal system, and an amount of energy so low it makes normal-me look like a marathoner. Holy god in heaven, someone help me.

Seven and Seven is.

It is vacation time, and I am at school. I am at school, and freely updating my journal from school, because there is only one other person here but me and it is no longer a big deal that someone see me writing in this thing. So there it is and there we are.
I have sort of done some work today, my first weekday of my spring break, which makes this the most productive spring break of all time, ever (not counting last year's when I had no choice but to finish writing my final paper that had been due the week before). My accomplishments so far may be meager but I plan to feel good about them anyway, because well, how often is it exactly that I am more studious than the average student here? Truth be told I could work my fingers to the bone 8 hours a day for the next two weeks, and when school started again, I would still be woefully behind everyone else. Overachieving fuckers! (Not really).
Part of today's work was an hour of talking with the school's one intern. Since I had never spoken to him before, and had no plan going into the speaking practice of what I should do exactly, the whole experience was completely terrible. It looked and smelled like a bad first date, without the distraction of drinking or food. Once I did manage to get up and leave to get coffee, but I just felt guilty leaving the kid to sit around and wait for me to come back. God though, what was I thinking when I agreed to do this. I didn't realize that the kid would not ask me any direct questions (though I should have realized that), and I probably came across as completely asshattingly rude for asking him direct questions about what he studies and what he wants to do in the future. I suppose it was good speaking practice for me at least due to the fact that all I did was talk for an hour to fill up the silence.
The previous two days, I didn't do too much, and it was pretty great. I went with a friend to see a great and completely creepy exhibit on "Goth" at the local art museum, which I had been meaning to see since it opened 3 months earlier. Some of the art was creepy and terrible, not terrible-bad but terrible emotionally, as I suppose was its intent. Only one of the exhibits was actually just bad (a video installation whose main screen showed a piece of meat frying on an electric fence -- come on people, try harder). And one part, a huge exhibit by the Mexican artist Dr. Lakra, was so great it was obsession-inspiring. Dr. Lakra is a tattoo artist by trade, but also an artist who uses the tattoo style in his work. And man, is it fantastic. Dr. Lakra primarily does tattoo-style drawings over old ads and prints from the 40s and 50s, and the result is by turns creepy, fascinating, and offputting. But the exhibit here showed the products of his 2-month residency in Japan, and they were completely amazing. I wish any of it was on the internet so I could show it to you; it is good enough that I want to go back again before the exhibit ends and take a more serious look at everything. I especially love that Dr. Lakra took old Meiji-era prints, works of art in their own right (and not cheap), and made them his own works. The feel of the erotic-grotesque that's so overt in his work is already present in these old Japanese prints, I would say, so it's really a perfectly conceived match. Even if, or especially because, it pissed off some of the museum curators.
I would like to write more but it appears I am starting to shiver and shake, for what reason I can't figure out. I have eaten today, and had coffee, and I don't think I am cold -- but there it is. The human body is ever a mystery, eh?

Dappin'.

Right now, I am sitting with saran wrap wrapped around my head, amidst the ruins of my kingdom (i.e., my messy apartment). My hair is supposedly absorbing a new color, called "Maron Gurasse"; what that is in English I have no idea (melon glace?). At any rate, the picture on the box is of a white girl, much like I am, with pretty golden-brown hair. I am hoping I end up in similar straits when I take this saran wrap off my head.
I am also listening to the most recent album by Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings, after only hearing about great they were for about the last two and a half years. So, Y, if you are reading this, I finally thought about them while I was on a downloading spree, and now they are signing/playing to me as I type! And it only took, you know, forever.
Lately I have remembered that music is fantastic in all its forms, at that has truly made my life more joyous than it had been for awhile. It is very strange how a simple thing like remembering to open my iTunes when I sit down to my computer, rather than listening to weird machine noises/people in the neighborhood, affects my entire well-being. At least, times when I have felt down for awhile are almost always times when I also do not listen to any music.
A great thing indeed that I have been listening to constantly the last few days is Neil Young's "Live from Massey Hall 1971", which is truly a magic recording. I am actually not usually a big fan of live recordings, but this one is so perfect I think I would hate to hear the more 'produced' versions of the songs -- the crowd howling and clapping seems so integral to the music. And really, although I always knew that Neil Young was out there, I never knew how many of his songs ("Ohio", "The Needle and the Damage Done") I had already heard and loved, but not connected to him. So, mister wild Canada man, I owe you an apology, as well as apparently a lifetime of fandom after this week.
Oh crap, time to wash my head! Be right back, blog!

Okay! That's done. Now I need to wait 5 minutes for my eyebrows to become a slightly darker color. Even though it is silly and only lasts for like 2 days, I like the eyebrow-dyeing thing the best -- dramatic! Of course, I also always fear I will somehow dye my entire brow-area and have to go to school/work/into 'society' looking like a damned clown-fool. But that hasn't happened (yet).
So, of course, school is still happening -- I was briefly really diligent about it, but then started slipping again, but may still manage to redeem myself? Time will tell. After next week, we will be on a glorious two-week spring vacation, in which I plan to both work and be lazy in equal amounts. I am planning to go on day trips to museums in Tokyo, maybe go once to an onsen, and sleep several times for 12 hours straight. Maybe some cooking adventures, some apartment cleaning, etc thrown in there. Hopefully at least one karaoke/dancing trip, somehow, with more than one interesting person -- my hopes, they are high.
On my immediate plate, though, is writing a lot of different things: revising a speech, writing a presentation for Friday, finishing a very important grant application I meant to do last weekend, god only knows what else. Reading a story. Studying kanji. Reviewing the textbook work I never bother to do, even though knowing grammar and expressions is very important. Things like all of that. Which I will do, I will. As long as I keep listening to music and feeling happy, I can accomplish these measures, easy!

Optimism is good times, I need to work with this more often. It is a little (very) difficult to be sort of as slipshod with le emotions as I am. This is sort of worse now because I am sort of almost totally out of medication and waiting for more, which isn't yet on its way, due to the fact that I kept forgetting to ever call back to LA and get it sent to me. Which, let's face it, is terrible -- having drugs is very important. And when I have been on them pretty steadily I definitely do feel more consistently not-depressed, even if that isn't the same as happy/capable. It is, at least, a better starting point than what nature gave me, ya know? Every time I forget to take the meds regularly, I re-remember this, whereas when I am taking them smoothly I of course forget that I need them at all. Not my favorite catch-22, I can tell you that.

Now, for real, back to workkk. Except first, I must say, I saw the cutest thing at the subway station today: maybe fifteen or more first-grade girls, wearing private school uniforms and bright yellow hats/backpacks, all running down the stairs to be sure to make the next train. When they made it down to the platform in time, they hugged and told each other earnestly "Yatta! Omedetou!" (We did it! Congratulations!). I laughed out loud, and earned myself an odd look from a 10-year-old boy standing near me. Life!

Kowai, kowai!

I have a really large list of fears. This can't be surprising to anyone.
Most of them are probably normal for the section of the population I belong to, ie the neurotics and depressives: dying young, dying really old after an unexciting life, organ cancers, brain tumors, being touched by a spider (the bigger, the scarier), my own incapacity to love/be loved, the concept of eternity, nuclear war, all other kinds of war, failing out of grad school, going batshit crazy, turning out to not be smart or creative after all, my parents dying (well, maybe not my stepmom), going blind and/or deaf, paralysis, conversing in Japanese with people I want to like me, bad things happening to my sisters, falling from a high place, rape/assault, being found out as the fraud I am somehow sure I am, and getting fat. Just for starters.

However, for the next 6 months, I am adding one new fear: the huge fear that somehow I will be in
Japan during the American part of Radiohead's world tour, and in America for the Japan leg. Please, please, let this never come true.

According to this link (http://www.radiohead.com/tourdates/), there will be 4 shows at some point or other in California. I will go to all/any of these, even if it is mid-afternoon August in San Diego and the tickets cost $200. And I have to fly there, or something. I will do it.

Queries.

I remember a few years back, once describing a band's sound as "like the Beach Boys mixed with Jesus and Mary Chain", but for the life of me, I can't remember why or what that band was.
So, we should totally start that band, right?

Also, are you still mad at me, internet? Be honest, I can take it.

Things!

Yes, things have been happening! I got a job that should start soon, a friend of many years had a baby, I cleaned my entire house, I played freeze tag in Chinatown, and I ate an entire bag of fun-size Kit Kat bars. Life is looking good, except for the part of life that has me awake at 5:30 in the morning writing a movie scene in Japanese. That part, I could probably do without.

Also, there is this! I feel the same way.
http://barackobamaisyournewbicycle.com/

Winter, for real.

Today it snowed for the second time this winter, and for the first time it stuck to the ground. I am unreasonably cheery about this, because snow is lovely, but also because I haven't had to go outside today for any reason. Tomorrow morning, I think, will be a different story, since I am pretty sure none of my shoes make a good promise of being waterproof. At least I have gloves, which I bought because they looked like candy and only cost $3. Just in case you think it is impossible to find deals here.
Life has been very boring, unless you find homework or drinking wine out of the bottle while watching movies interesting. I am lucky that I have all the "Arrested Development" DVDs with me here, or I think I would be going a little more crazy than normal. Hearing english, as well as my kind of humor, is very comforting. I also highly recommend laughing at people more messed up than you are, even if they are fictional, as a good depression remedy. It is just too bad there are only these 50 episodes to watch...
In other news, since I am one broke-ass bitch, I have finally started to apply for jobs. This is really hard to make myself do, since I am pretty wiped out in general during the weeks from school and going to work after that sounds really, really shitty. But, then again, so does avoiding the school's managerial staff for the next 4 months because I don't have their tution money, or moving to a smaller and crappier apartment to save on my rent. I have been trying very hard to do things like keep the heat down and carry home-made lunches to school, but that is not going to make up an extra month's rent. Also, I would like to say personally to the American Dollar: Fuck you, man. Fuck you.

Some of the jobs leads I have sound great, like proofreading or babysitting. Others are the terrible-sounding grind of English tutoring. the mill that chews up and spits out all this country's available foreign twenty-somethings. Even if I just end up doing that, though, I will be happy enough having a steady income again for the first time in a year and a half, as well as any kind of social interaction beyond what happens in school. But cross your fingers for me that I get one of the two jobs I listed, or both: I really am good with kids, you know.

Haha, yessss.

Seen on a random livejournal icon:

"Feminazi: Because a woman who doesn't laugh at a sexist joke is about to invade Poland".

Oh lordy.

I have just watched, for the first time, "The 40-year-old Virign", while simultaneously drinking most of a bottle of 'organic' white wine. And I have to say, the inherent cuteness of this movie is overwhelming.

Also, am I the only one who wanted to cry when Andy started to sell off all his toys? Even though the entire thing is fictional, I hope he kept the "Iron Man" that he got in 2nd grade. And opened it himself.

It reminds me of this quote, from Eliza Skinner's website www.elizaskinner.net (the subject is "What Women Want) :

Surprises. Who doesn’t like surprises? Not like “birthday roast” or “cancer” surprises, obviously, but smaller benign surprises are magical. I have a friend who wistfully told me about how his mother used to surprise him with a new action figure left on his bed from time to time, for no reason other than to make him happy. He told me this 15 years after it happened. Surprises leave a special indelible imprint. Cost - $0 and up


Let's all cry and hug now.

Nihon seikatsu.

One thing that's pretty nice about living in Japan is, if you speak Japanese to them, the Jehovah's Witnesses here will tell you how happy you make them and leave the whole "religion" thing alone.

Make it work.

Oh hell, I am back at school. Am I ever.

Leaving Japan was nice, but somehow also uncomfortable. I spent about 10 days at my parents' house in Florida, hanging around and waking uncharacteristically every day at about 8am. I drank about 4 cups of coffee a day and never got much of anything done; went to the beach, sunburned my shins, and gave my feet an ice-bath in the Atlantic. My sisters and I dyed my hair a color that reminds me of cherry Coke (even though, now that I think about it, I am pretty sure cherry Coke in a glass looks the same as the regular stuff). It was long enough, all together, to be a real vacation, and going back to interrupted sleep and the Japanese language has been a little kick to the gut. A little one, really, but still there.

But at the same time being home was wrong. Or wrong-ish. I was unused to how easy it was to communicate, and felt a little weird and indignant at the America-ness of America. Once or twice, I would do something like say "Nanto itte mo..." while I was thinking about a question. Riding back on an airport limo bus from Narita, going along the sparsely-trafficked highways in land that looked just like the Midwest, I felt...like I was as much home there as anywhere else. I think I have forgotten what it's like to be in a place that suits me well.

However, where-ever that place is, I know now that it is not anywhere near a Sam's Club. Have you ever been in one of these abominations? In the middle of all the exercise equipment and giant-screen TVs and 10lbs packages of peanut butter, the one I went to in Florida actually had a teeth-whitening station. Not even like, a small one, either! There were six fucking dentists' chairs there. What the hell, people? Who really thinks that stopping in for a discount teeth whitening, where people of god only knows what certification shine weird beams at your mouth -- a part of body, may I remind you, that is very damned close to your brain? Anyone who gets new luggage, 100 disposable razors, bulk frozen chicken wings, and a dental procedure, all at the same location -- you are officially on my list of People I Hate Irrationally.

I have been thinking about that list for a good part of today, actually -- it should be imaginary, but in fact it is not. I will definitely be putting it up here soon. It takes the burn off of a bad day of scholasticizing, I can tell you that.