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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No Such Thing As Overkill.

In my life and in my posts, there is no such thing as overkill.

Today I went to see the fireflies again. Third time this week, and the only reason why I didn't go yesterday was because I was hashing out harmonies in Chuo Koen. Getting devoured by the damn mosquitos, might I add. I'll go again on Friday with G, and maybe I'll drag other people along one more time if the fireflies are still alive.

The fireflies are important to me, in the same way cherry blossoms are important. They're only around for a very short period of time, and this'll probably be the last time I'll get to see them in Japan. I'm trying to say goodbye to stuff, and that means getting my absolute fill of whatever I'm focusing on.

I went last year to look at fireflies on some sweaty evening, by myself, in the dark. I was freaked out because I didn't know if it was the right place and I was afraid I was walking into someone's driveway so I only went about halfway down the path before scurrying back to my car.

This year was different. When the cherry blossoms were in bloom, I wandered the park by the airport a lot. It's a lot better than you'd think. It took maybe...3 hours to walk the whole thing (on three separate days, however). The last day I went in April it was ridiculously windy. Howling through the trees windy. And I discovered a great lookout point. I couldn't see much, but it made me feel like I was playing Oregon Trail, and I was peering into a safe, welcoming valley. I haven't seen much like it in real life, so that's all I have to compare it to.

Right, from that point, surprisingly, I recognized the udon shop by the firefly place. Something reminded me to go this week, and it was a lot better than last year, where I saw maybe three or four fireflies, and I was all bummed because I was playing mail tag with G and he ended up not coming.

It's hard to explain what makes me go back so many times. I get this impression from movies that fireflies fill the air while they bob and sway. (Although I couldn't name a movie with fireflies in it except for the one we watched last week, "When the Last Sword Was Drawn" and that depressing "Grave" one that I haven't seen.) And the ones I saw, they swoop and stuff, but they stay over their little canal. Tonight they're flying higher, so maybe I just need to wait a little longer.

I guess it also has to do with the weather. It's cool at night still, and the frogs are chirping, but not screaming. Yes, when there's enough of them, they scream. Ear-ringing screams. So it's cool with a warm breeze, and there're frogs and fireflies, and there's no way you can be grumbly when nature's being so accomodating. I took G there on Monday, and it's even better when there's a hand to hold.

Tonight there were more people, and I saw an old student. She's probably 16, maybe 17 by now. She was sending mails on her phone almost the whole time and I had to laugh. She was with her family, but still dressed up, and intent on staying in touch with her friends. Silly girl. She was squatting off to the side and someone informed her that she shouldn't be pissing there. Then her little sister (cousin) announced that she had to pee. Great. The little cousin had a small lantern shaped like a Hello Kitty head. Absolutely adorable.

I told my ex-student that I knew her (other) cousin, and she was impressed. She wanted to know why, and I just said he was a really happy kid. I didn't tell her that the damn kid runs around my English classes at the kindergarten (well, he's only three, and apparently he likes me) and likes to pull/bite/kick/grab other students. Even older students. I hope he grows out of it. I know his whole name, and for a new student, that's impressive. I only know one other 3-year-old's full name, and that's because I am absolutely in love with him. He gives me hugs and says goodbye and asks the kids who are screaming bloody murder to be quiet. And he's 3! He's going to forget me in a year or two and it'll break my heart.

Back to the ex-student. Turns out I saw her family on Monday. Her father shone this bigass bright light at me and G and didn't return our "Good Evening." Lame. But he was nice and friendly tonight when he found out I was a teacher. So there.

Later, a couple families with small kids arrived. One kid kept saying totaru! totaru! instead of hotaru. Her mom kept correcting her too. The other girl kept insisting on being held, just a little higher. It's banal when I regurgitate it, but it was really cute at the time. Right before they went home, both kids were sitting on their mothers' shoulders, a little sleepy but still fascinated. I wanted to take a picture, but those moments don't catch when they're complete strangers.

So that's pretty much my life now. I love it. No TV, no more insane nights out 'til the buttcrack of Dawn, just fireflies and frogs and a slight summer breeze. Going back to the suburbs might kill me.

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Holiday?

Yesterday I went to the town sports day. That means I "worked." Usually I get a day off on Monday to replace "working" on a Sunday. I find this silly because I'd probably go anyway since the whole elementary school has to be there. But don't tell Them that because I also like getting a free day off. Anyway, I didn't get today off, and I'm kinda grumbly about that. G gets today off because he had a sports day yesterday, and it would've been nice to bum around with him all day.

Anyway, I get home to relax, check up on the internet. Like no one has posted anything. What the hell? It's Monday, their Sunday, and they should be churning out content. Points to my sister for posting about her genius ipod. And I decide that it's just a slow day. Maybe the weather is nice. Let's see if Zefrank has something new. No, but I forgot to watch Friday's clip, and wouldn't you know, he's taking a long weekend. For Memorial Day.

Oh. I always forget about those patriotic ones.

That's all.

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Someone Else's Snippet

"slamming into an enormous black bear at 60 miles an hour is kinetically equivalent to driving into a brick wall."

Forgive the 1am coffee high, but that a beautiful comparison.

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Yes I do.

Okay, time for some wacky Japan postings.

Today was a local shrine festival. Nothing special, just lots of booths with your typical fare--goldfish game, corn on the cob (fuck you 500 yen!), takoyaki, hamburger on a stick (meat only), french fries, ice cream...I had a lot of fun. It's kind of a bittersweet thing because this was the first year I was aware of it. It would've passed again this year except both my kindergarten kids and my elementary school kids asked if I was going. One girl asked where she should wait for me. (I think.) How could I resist that?

So I went, and I ate a hamburger on a stick, drank "peach soda" (::cough:: shaved ice syrup mixed with club soda), shared french fries with some graduated students, and bounced from group to group of students. I complimented them on their lovely high heels (jeebus kids, I didn't wear heels like that until, well, ever), I admired pedicures, and even inspected a 7th grader's pierced ear. (Big big no no. It came up in the staff meeting this afternoon, and I just had to check it out.) I got punched by some kid (typical), and watched kids try to catch goldfish and freshwater eels (the latter with a hook, for eating, not keeping).

There's this one guy who's graduated that has two holes in his left ear. Two! And he keeps two giant crystalesque studs in them. Pencil eraser, maybe bigger. And he has this cute little girlfriend that must've gone to the same junior high school, but I just can't place her. They're cute. The boy seems bad, but for the record, he's the only one ever in three years to tell me what verb tense I was using in a casual conversation. Love the kid. Here's the conversation we three had (more or less):

Girl: "Look what he did!" (She's got two more hickeys on her neck. I saw them, I swear, like last week, and she only had one.)

Me, to him: "Bad boy. She's a nice girl [no clue, actually]. Do you love her?"

Guy: "Yes I do." (IN ENGLISH! JUST LIKE THAT! I wish I could've praised him without blowing his cool vibe.)

Me: "Why do you do that? Sad. She's cute. In the summer, she'll want to wear cute low-cut shirts. Now she'll have to wear a scarf. Lame."

The girl nods with me. Dumb proprietary boys. Neither one of us is really angry about it, but I feel bad for the girl. Hickeys sure are ugly. I think I also told her to give him one on his cheek.

I also bargained with my motorcycle gangsta kid (hilarious, a little bad, intelligent, obsessed with motorcycles). He had a friend on the back of his bike, and that's SOOOOO BAD. Not allowed. Nope, not at all. (Note to non-Japaners--this is funny because my primary mode of transportation in the city is on the pegs of my boyfriend's bike.) I told him I wouldn't tell the other teachers if he's good during English class. I told his friend (7th grade mouthy twat idiot) the same thing. Such threats resound so sweetly when I can call them by name.

I wish I had taken more photos of my kids all blinged out. One kid had a shiny silver cross (complete with shiny approximation of a hanging Jesus) about 3-4 inches long. I told him it was too big. I don't even bother explaining the whole Christianity connotation anymore. The WWJD bracelets wore me out, as I don't possess the vocabulary for religious explanations.

And then I went to English conversation class and one woman ranted in a very cute way that she and her husband never talk. He's a quiet guy, she said, and if she didn't initiate conversation, they would never talk at all. She once stopped talking to him, and they didn't talk for two months. Two months. While she's breastfeeding a baby. The only reason why she started talking to him again was because she had a fever. I had to think about that one for awhile.

And then I went over to this woman's house. She has a beautiful house. They just built it...maybe a year or two ago. I've only seen the downstairs, but let's sum it up in one observation: TV built into the wall in the bathroom. A small one, but really. built in! I'm going to devote an entry to that house someday.

Back to these Thursday night get togethers. It's awesome, in this weird way. I get to hang out with 6-7 women who are older than my parents (save one, who is only 5 years older than me), and listen to what real Japan is like. They pour over the grocery ads, we watch TV, we drink coffee, they ask questions sometimes. This is the Japan I wanted. Sitting and zoning out and listening and not giving a damn about rules I may or may not be breaking.

Tonight I got my nails done by their ringleader. She did almost everyone's nails. After that, she colored someone's hair. I call her crazy, but it's only a mild crazy. She's one of my favorite stereotype breakers. She's a temple minister's wife, but doesn't hold back her gregarious socialite personality. I'm reading that Ya-Ya Sisterhood book right now, and it feels like Ringleader Crazy would fit in quite well with those brassy personalities (if she didn't also possess the mandatory Japanese self-control). A few weeks ago we made hand-rolled sushi, and she dropped a fish egg on the ground. One of those big orange ones. With barely a pause, she picked it up and popped it in her mouth. Didn't even look at it for dust (not that there was any dust in that lovely house).

Final thought: did you know that "NEED TO DUMP" can be anagrammed into (among other things) "Mended Pout"? I amaze myself sometimes. Desperation truly is a great inspiration.

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Unlike

When people feel the need for change, it seems that they lop their hair off (or perhaps intentionally grow hair in different places), or buy new clothes. Me, for whatever reasons, (probably because it used to be punishment when I scratched people,) I cut off my nails. Sometimes all the way down (wow, fingertips are really sensitive! I always forget until I cut my nails off.), and sometimes just enough so that the kids stop commenting on how long my nails are. I'm getting to the point where my typing becomes inaccurate, I guess a trim wouldn't hurt.

There's more to say than that, of course, but I promised myself that I wouldn't rant about my private life on the internet anymore.

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PS: Four

When did Banana Republic go tacky-frumpy? I must be cranky. Some things are okay, but I feel like BR is becoming the Gap and the Gap is turning into Old Navy. No clue about Old Navy, because I don't bother looking there.

I want chocolate chip cookies.

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I'm gonna be sick.

One: because I've been eating imported tortilla chips made by Doritos. They're mostly satisfying, but I've gotten chubby because of it. And because they're full of preservatives and coloring and things I don't want to think about.

Two: Watched some clips of "American Otakus" going to Tokyo. It got boingboinged, but here's the address anyway:
http://libationkowloon.blogspot.com/2006/05/tv-in-japan-otaku-from-usa.html
http://libationkowloon.blogspot.com/2006/05/otaku-from-usa-part-2.html

Some Japanese program followed them around. I still haven't decided what I think about the anime/manga freaks. If they keep it to themselves, that's okay, I think, but when they start integrating the vocabulary into their native conversations, I get edgy.

I think I get nauseous because growing up, I attached this notion that such people, deep down, wish they were Japanese. They take up some martial art, they study the language half-heartedly...or maybe I'm just remembering the creepy boys who used to ask me random vaguely oriental-oriented questions. But I digress.

I guess it's just the obsession with the exotic Other that gets to me. Am I being dated because he's got the Fetish? Etc etc etc etc.

It didn't help that the guy the video clips focused on was one of those doofy geek-types. Plenty of Japanese blunders. And he was chubby-ish, further reinforcing the notion that Americans are fat. The black guy with the dreds didn't get interviewed, although I think I heard him say "Alright, a maid cafe."

Some other guy bought a maid costume because his 15-year-old daughter was into...goth-lolis maybe? I don't know. But I'm glad it wasn't translated into Japanese. They just said that Americans had some strange omiyage.

And Three: The guy who translated the tv clips also recently got a Japanese passport, and Japanese citizenship. And I'll give him credit for going through it all, whatever his reasons are. He doesn't seem like your typical lifer, all boozy and illiterate, but he did have this to say:

Having citizenship also changes the attitudes of people around you. Foreign residents, no matter how long they stay, are always assumed to be guests, and are thus constantly subjected to less than welcoming questions such as "when are you leaving Japan?" and "can you eat Japanese fish?" Being a citizen is really the ultimate nullifying answer to all these questions, and it allows people to open themselves up a little more as it gives you an air of permanence. There are a lot of other minor perks like this too, which I'm sure I'll find out about once I'm accepted.

(It gets quite ranty here, just to warn you.)

Uhm. Uhm, no. Perhaps in his country--he's from the UK somewhere--but I'm pretty sure that he won't be joining the "Japanese Citizens' Club" any time soon. He'll gain the respect from close friends that know what he did and why he did it, but for your typical old man on the street, he's still Mr. Gaijin. How do I know this? I used to get ranted to about how irritating it was that the cashier would always try to speak English even when asked a question in flawless, properly polite language. It's obvious that I'm Japanese-proficient, was the thought, why am I still being treated like a giant pale retard? [ahem, my words, not theirs] And the answer is, because they don't know that. You can't SEE fluency when you're walking down the street. Just like you can't tell what nationality someone is. This guy is going to keep getting "Oh, you're so good at using chopsticks!" but now, he'll be able to rub in his Japanese authenticity even more.

And yes, I do feel bad ranting about this guy. I'm sure he's not a bad guy. He doesn't post pictures of his pornographic doll collection (well, for the record, he doesn't give access to his archives unless they're linked), he doesn't seem to act too elitist. (Minus points, however, for ranting about "What exactly is a Japanese fish?" in broken mouseover, that I've removed. "Japanese fish" is probably an overtranslation of something.) But being a proper citizen won't change another's initial impression until you intentionally drag it into the conversation.

On the flip side: my damn kids still think I'm Japanese. At the elementary school, I wear a name tag (like all the other teachers do), and my name is written out in katakana. (Annoying, but forgiveable--no one asked me before I got here, and every. last. damn. thing. is done in katakana.) I have two Japanese names, middle and last, just like almost everyone else of my generation and ethnic makeup. They ask me where I'm from and are always always always impressed when I tell them America. And at the same time that they're thinking I'm Japanese, they're all, "Holy cow! You can eat sashimi! Holy cow! You can eat natto!" (Although I will smugly say that some Japanese people don't like natto.) Ugh, I'm pretty sure I contradicted myself a few times, but mostly that was to illustrate that JAPANESE PEOPLE AREN'T ALWAYS THAT OBSERVANT PAYING ATTENTION. That's what happens when you've grown up in a homogenous society: your brain makes shortcuts.

Last example: One of my teachers that met my parents and my maternal grandparents HAS THOUGHT THAT MY FATHER WAS "AMERICAN." I don't know if she thought he was white, or just "Not Japanese" but she has thought this for...almost two years. I gave her the rude incredulous look because she deserved it. MY FAMILY NAME IS JAPANESE. And she's not one of those stupid people, I'm pretty sure. Just not observant.

Annnd I'm spent.

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Flying pigs abound.

Today I used a gawddamn hotpack today because I was outside. All. Day. Except. For. Lunch. Ugh. And it was cold! Like 20 (68F, and I was underdressed)! My fingers were blue. I was amazed. Last year I'm pretty sure I was sweaty and gross by now.

I also made the terrible realization that when I go home, a quick udon lunch will not be an option. And the noodles will probably be slimy and overcooked. I'm going to start making udon at home, watch me. I went to some noodle restaurant website, and they had their prices listed. Something like 5 bucks for a bowl of niku (meat) udon! WHAT? Well, uhm, no, the place I usually go to charges about $4.50. But 450 yen is a steal for lunch here.

There's a post rotting in the draft section. Someday I'll put pictures from my vacation in there.

I got a new camera today, to replace the old one that died from too much drink. (I kid you not.) And after I gleefully ripped the box open, put in the battery and a memory card, I was done with it. Done. Talk about overstimulated. I guess it's not shiny enough.

Today I also paid my car tax. Whee. But what makes it extra special is that it was last year's car tax, as in, overdue. Super overdue. And I'm way proud of myself. Instead of hiding the notification (which came in an uncharacteristic red envelope), I took it to school, asked about it, and paid it this afternoon. Problem solved in 48 hours. (I was too busy on Wednesday, really.) But I was amazed. I asked at 3:30, I knew what I had to do by 3:45, and I was on my way to city hall by 4:25.

I can hear your eyes glazing over. I'll stop.

But let's rejoice over one more little thing: I found the store that sells tortillas! After almost three years! Hooray!

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Two for two.

I drove for two hours (roundtrip) for a two-hour rehearsal. I now understand why a lot of the far east/west siders don't come to town very often. And why fellow cast members bitch so much during rehearsal. Transit makes everyone cranky. I will award myself extra points because I can't sleep or read on the way home, unlike people who take the train.

Okay, time to eat my bento, which is 5 hours old.

And since I'm obsessed with the weather, here's an update. It's definitely spring, past the pretty flowering trees part, and it's still a little chilly. It's halfway through May, and I'm still wearing socks. What gives? Two years ago my family came to visit, and I was gross and sweaty after a 15 minute walk to their hotel. Curse the humidity. I guess I'm glad it's not that humid.

The kids are outside practicing for sports day, and I'm catching a cold. Ugh. Some poor girl was rocking back and forth because she was sick and cold. She was sick and cold and coughing, but she still sat outside to watch practice. Whose idea was that? I've been here for long enough where I know it could actually be her choice, to be there with the team instead of getting healthy.

No really, I'll get that bento now.

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And while I'm writing...

I guess I should note that I have about three months left in Japan. Three months, after almost three years. The frogs are chorusing nonstop, and they'll only get louder. I remember one time, maybe last year, when I woke up at 3am because the frogs had finally stopped for a moment.

Time stopped for me here. I feel ageless. Twenty...something. Not because I don't want to face becoming an adult, but because it really doesn't matter. 23? 25? 36? Doesn't make a damn difference. I remember setting a low, humble goal--learning how to be happy. It was more of a desperate grab, after the mess that was university, but I knew I needed a goal of some sort. Happiness was a good place to start.

I can do that now, along with a few other things--read a bar menu, navigate a few train stations. I'm not fully integrated in my community, but that's partially because I guarded my freedom. No extra-curriculars (buubuu--failed, I'm currently on musical number two), no taiko, pottery, dance, music...nothing. I miss having hobbies and passions, but I don't miss coming home at 11pm after two or three meetings or rehearsals.

I'm disappointed that I haven't done more, but then I look at this past weekend: I went to town late on Friday (tired and uninspired), Saturday was lunch-rehearsal-birthday party, Sunday was rehearsal and dinner with a friend, and then we passed out. That was a full weekend, and I didn't even leave the city. No, I needed to slow down, regardless of all the facinating things I'm missing. These past three years are unique because I'm in Japan, but they're also precious because I can be free. I'm going to miss that a whole bunch.

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Epicurean I am not.

Yesterday I had quesadillas for breakfast and pizza for dinner. The only reason I only had two (tiny) quesadillas is because I ran out of tortillas. The reason I stopped eating pizza is because I kept collapsing when I wasn't stuffing my face.

I am going to get so fat when I get home. Especially when I can get my hands on alfredo cup o' noodle. ::sigh::

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