I was in a furniture store.

I think I was buying a bunk bed for my college apartment, so that puts us about 5 years ago. Some guy caught my eye, and it turned out to be a guy from high school. We weren't friends, but we were in a PE class together. Maybe Spanish class too. I remember him mentioning something about working with disabled kids, and I was impressed that's how he turned out. When we played football in high school, he used to sit on my head when I hiked the ball. I wouldn't be surprised if he was one of the kids who smoked out during lunch.

I clicked my way onto some girl's myspace. I knew her in high school too. She was small and twerpy, like me but stronger. I have little desire to talk to the girl, but it was nice to see that she grew up, looks happy, grew her hair out some. I barely recognize her.

Another guy that got sacked with the unfortunate nickname of Willow got all hairy and resembles Ben Stiller. He's got cheekbones now.

None of these people were good friends of mine. But it's reassuring that these people seem happy with who they are all these years later. The only people I really think about from high school days are good friends or people who've done something stupid. And of course my friends are phenomenal and can Do No Wrong, but everyone else turned out mediocre and stunted from growing up in an oatmeal suburban town.

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Cursed.

My Japanese is getting so bad that Spanish is starting to creep in again.

And I just got a song from an elementary school musical stuck in my head. Remember Cosmic Pinball? "Take me away, Let me fly through outer space, wherever you sayyyyy" Jeezus it's painful. Look at how vivid my elementary school memories are: Movie Vampires Evilly Mortify Juveniles Seeing Unauthorized Nighttime Programs!

These memories are precious because they're old. I'm not sure why else they're valuable.

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My House, My Party.

My sitemeter says that no one has come to my site in over a month. And while a very very tiny part of myself is sad that I'm all alone, the rest of me is filled with glee. I can talk about whatever I want! And I want to talk about the BBC! And clever headlines! And no one's here to catch me! Hooray! This is way better than eating cookie dough without the eggs for an after school snack.

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Shut up Shut UP.

It's time to rant about the BBC again! Looks like people in their twenties are lusting after the 60s and 70s!

Summary turned Rant
The BBC interviews white students from the London School of Economics, a school which used to be radical and politcally active back in the day. Lotsa demonstrations and arrests and stuff. The article highlights two: first a girl who thinks the late 70s were great and a lot more authentic than the world we live in now.


She makes some valid points about music becoming less precious, but not for the reason I like to cite (oversaturation), and that she has a lot more opportunites now, but for the most part, it feels like she's romanticizing it too much. And she gets quoted twice about clothes. Here's the second one:

Only having three television channels was better, she says, because individual programmes could have much more impact. And Ms Black sees the second-hand clothes culture as being more imaginative than a designer-clothes addiction.

Fashion is what you make it dear, but I'm not going to waste my breath on fashion.

The second guy I give more credit for being more conservative in his response. He talks about how people get nostalgic and forget the crap bits. Then he says he's into the '80s and how some people have '80s parties where they dress up as "yuppies with double breasted suits and with big mobile phones." He likes the "thrusting style" of '80s architecture too. (Oh you poor sexually-charged words. I've been watching too much zefrank.)

And the comments say more of the same, a good mix of romantic idiocy and grateful observations. I'm glad that at least one person said that she was grateful for not ending up as a housebound baby-maker:

I would love to have seen the Beatles and Stones live, but am happy that being born a few decades later meant that I didn't end up a housewife with four kids under my belt before I was 30.

The article ends well, with good insight from Mr. '80s, but the eagerness of the first girl kind of leaves you with a gross feeling in your mouth.

My Turn for a Story
When I was in the 7th grade, some TV station came to our class and asked individuals if we knew what the American Dream was. As a 13-year-old, I had a vague idea, but couldn't give the proper answer. I felt bad, feeling that I was dishonoring my great-grandparents that came over to make some money. Looking back, I also feel a great deal of distaste toward that TV station, as it was more than willing to spin our ignorance into a quick feature. No desire to educate us, just point it out to the general public. Isn't that sad, kids don't know about the funding principles of our Country. I don't remember if anyone got that question right, but I do remember feeling foolish and somewhat taken advantage of.

I'm sure that both of those students got spun a bit, and I feel bad for the first girl, but still.
Shut UP and go do something better than wax nostalgic.

I should also probably take that advice. I'm down to 46 days in the apartment. Damn it all to Hell.

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Oh admit it, it's kind of cool.

You know, 666. A friend of mine's hopefully getting married on 777, and I feel like I should make something good happen on 888, as everyone thinks that's what I write when I scrawl my initials. If I get married, I'm going to keep my initial scrawl. So there.

I went to see the fireflies again tonight. The weather's still really nice at night--breezy and cool. I soaked in the sounds of semi-inaka--the bugs, the frogs, the airplanes landing. And I'm going to miss it all. Perhaps not the airplanes landing, but I did get a really beautiful clip of the frogs chirping, getting silenced by an airplane, and then hesitantly coming back full chorus. I saw an airplane land before that, and it was sinister. All I could see was the lit up red tail fin, cruising above me, screaming as it taxied.

I'm going to miss being able to stand outside, alone in the dark for almost an hour without being harassed or feeling unsafe. I'm going to miss being able to identify three different frogs by sound, even though I have no idea what they look like. I'm going to miss parking on the side of the road, knowing that I won't get hit or ticketed. I'm going to miss the green, the bamboo forests, the irrigation ditches full of bugs and fireflies and usually not water. I'm going to miss these trivial seasonal things, because I doubt I'll have that wherever I end up.

It's quite a trade for becoming literate again.

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I think this is what happened.

Last Saturday, there was this really swell get-together for the third years. It wasn't a snob party, but it was a nice chance to hang out with the people I got here with. We've all gotten used to each other. There were nine of us, and in this hokey, nostalgic way, I felt like we were family. You don't know everyone absolutely, but I felt comfortable with all of them, where I could sit and talk and ask questions and listen to old stories and not mind. I'll miss them all.

However, we also took the time to get nice and drunk. Perhaps not as ridiculous as the kids outside who were having a food fight and spending money trying to get underwear out of a crane game, but we had a good time. Such a good time, that I recall a conversation that may or may not have happened that night.

No, this happened Sunday night. Meh, whatever.

I expressed this relief that I'm missing out on pop culture back home. It's not important, but when everyone is referencing it, it becomes important. I really like being selective about my news. And I say that I'm glad I've missed out on all that Tom Cruise crap--I still haven't watched the whole couch incident, and I think I'll be okay with that. But someone else proclaimed that Tom Cruise makes him happy. I can't remember why, but it's true. Tom Cruise is just going crazy, in this lovely public way, and it's just stunning. Oh I can't remember what he was talking about.

Last night I dreamed about William Riker. That's my current mental state.

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Tonight in Eikaiwa...

I learned that older people in Japan think that kids with round (as in protruding) foreheads and deep-set eyes are clever/smart. Kinda like a Neanderthal.

Also, I learned a new Japanese saying: 主婦は 二人 いらない。(しゅふは　ふたり　いらない/shufu wa futari iranai) Translated, it means you don't need two housewives (in one house). It's great. There's a woman who doesn't get along with her mother, and she expresses her exasperation with such natural, unrestrained delivery I'd swear she spent some time out of Japan. Her mother is a year older than mine, and I like to think that I would be like this woman if my mother had kids earlier.

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Snippet 2

Headline from boingboing.net:

Bacteria eats chocolate and shits electricity

Man, I forgot that English could be whimsical.

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That's really not going to help.

Wait, what was I reading about again? Jeezus. I seriously just stared at her chest in a bewildered daze. Please note that Japan is silk-screened on her right breast in gold (as you're probably still staring at her large, yet cleavageless chest). Thanks BBC, for another pretty much unrelated photo.

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