tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27751251925090892802024-03-14T15:12:23.180+09:00little satansjapan, the world, the internet, metamorphosis and moreUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger164125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-18619703191326998862011-07-31T04:39:00.004+09:002011-07-31T05:35:21.113+09:0011 hours left in Japan.<span style="font-family: times new roman;">My scheduled departure from Fukuoka to Seoul is 16:45 and it is currently about 5:30 a.m. I am making excellent headway as far as packing and apartment preparation goes - I might even be able to sleep for a couple hours. This is my second all-nighter in a row and I suspect I will sleep like a dead baby most of the flight home. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I don't have feelings obviously but if I had to use emotionally based language to describe what's going on, I'd say it's a kind of deep sadness not dissimilar to how it feels the few days after a breakup. I have been purposely overstimulating myself with booze and lack of rest so that I can hide behind it (and look awful in all the photos).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">There's something incredibly moving and awe-inspiring about watching the sun rise. I have grown to associate it with a successful night out, with a tinge of sadness that it's over. I guess the three year long wild night that was my time in Japan is seeing the sun rise. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-15670095398286428822011-07-27T20:16:00.002+09:002011-07-27T22:34:31.831+09:00Funemployed<span style="font-family: times new roman;">That's me. Funemployed. This morning I went to the immigration office and downgraded my visa from a 3 year working visa to "temporary visitor." I packed up my things from my desk at school and at 4:30 this afternoon was escorted out the door by a hodge-podge group of teachers and a few students (there was hardly anyone in the building).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I came home and had a nice big cathartic cry, something I haven't done at all during the entire process of farewells and goodbyes. It's been overwhelming and surreal, and a large part of me is fighting the inevitable huge changes that lie ahead. I still have a couple days left in Japan so I'm going to enjoy myself and look forward and spend my time with the folks I care about. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Above all else I am dreading the loss of my social circle that revolves around Oldies. I went there for dinner last night - Miho made me a chimichanga - and we sat listening to the '80s satellite radio channel, uncomfortably skirting around the issue of me leaving. She is a dear friend, a sister, and possibly the kindest person I've ever met. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't fuck around pretending to care about people. I know of course we will see each other in the future and stay in touch, but it's not the same when I can't walk 20 minutes down the street to say hey.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Two lives, one heart, we all knew it was gonna be hard.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-68229516233878279712011-07-16T00:53:00.002+09:002011-07-16T01:43:44.254+09:00Farewell speech<span style="font-family: times new roman;">How are you? I say "I'm fine" but to be perfectly honest, I am very sad. It's been three years and my time here is coming to a close. I cannot fathom that on the 31st of this month, I will be back in New York. <br /><br />My time here has been interesting and full of unique, one-of-a-kind experiences. I really enjoyed teaching English classes. I also relished the opportunities I had to talk with students and teachers outside of class and work. Everyone here has been so helpful, and I have learned many things. Before I came to Japan, I was nervous at the prospect of living in a foreign country. However, once I got here, everyone welcomed me with great kindness. <br /><br />I was surprised at how truly generous the people in Japan, particularly Chikuhou, are. I have never experienced this degree of kindness in my life, and this was probably the greatest culture shock of all. I do, however, believe that people across cultures are fundamentally the same. Generosity and selflessness are virtues that anyone can possess. It is simply a choice you make. <br /><br />You may not have donated a million yen to charity or personally saved a dying man's life, but there are many everyday situations in which human kindness shows. I often see you out and about eschewing selfishness in favor of altruism and helping others. You are helping a blind man find a seat on the train, staying up late consoling a friend who is upset, and bringing vegetables from the family garden to share with your coworkers.<br /><br />I don't care what your priorities are. Perhaps you love to speak English and are interested in living abroad. Maybe you're not the academic type and prefer sports or music. Whatever. The important thing is that you live your life as a good person and show love and kindness in your own way. I wish you all the best in whatever you choose to do.<br /><br />Not surprisingly, it will be considerably harder for me to leave Japan than it was to move here. I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to all the students, teachers and staff who looked after me and welcomed me so warmly into my beloved Japanese life. Because of you, I have grown to truly identify as part of the community at school and in town. It will be impossible to walk away without feeling great sorrow. I have two lives, but I only have one heart. I will miss you deeply, but I know we will persevere and keep on living. Life is short so please give it your all. Thank you.<br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-27091325091393552392011-06-27T12:58:00.003+09:002011-06-27T15:34:05.274+09:00One month of contract left<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-erPyTyrptoU/Tggj0LZa_wI/AAAAAAAAAnI/HEAznc6slpc/s1600/hiyamugi.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-erPyTyrptoU/Tggj0LZa_wI/AAAAAAAAAnI/HEAznc6slpc/s400/hiyamugi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622783514091650818" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Life is too short not to eat cold noodle soup on a hot summer day.<br /><br />I can't believe the end is so near. More on this when I don't feel like the walking dead.<br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-73612694211296430142011-06-14T11:30:00.002+09:002011-06-14T11:41:54.345+09:00Adventures in pictures<div style="text-align: center; font-family: times new roman;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pa76FmjjMxg/TfbIxYzFrtI/AAAAAAAAAnA/lXua33VE2nU/s1600/IMG_3461.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pa76FmjjMxg/TfbIxYzFrtI/AAAAAAAAAnA/lXua33VE2nU/s400/IMG_3461.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617898335987150546" border="0" /></a><br /></div><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Jinkosai festival in Tagawa, May 21 - </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://chrisharber.co.uk/">Chris</a><span style="font-family: times new roman;"> got pulled into the river.</span><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: times new roman;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OOlSuVdDkGM/TfbIw_BVXYI/AAAAAAAAAm4/LzE33S4MWHc/s1600/IMG_3660.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OOlSuVdDkGM/TfbIw_BVXYI/AAAAAAAAAm4/LzE33S4MWHc/s400/IMG_3660.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617898329067576706" border="0" /></a><br />Shinsaibashi, Osaka - guy passed out on the floor near a slot machine in a capsule hotel common area.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rMdWoIxkUZM/TfbIwpCXGCI/AAAAAAAAAmw/sWOLmuFja4Y/s1600/IMG_3852.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rMdWoIxkUZM/TfbIwpCXGCI/AAAAAAAAAmw/sWOLmuFja4Y/s400/IMG_3852.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617898323166304290" border="0" /></a><br />My high school's culture festival; during the "Fashion Show" component some jock boys put on bunny ears and pleated skirts in homage to AKB48, a festering bedsore of a girl group slowly eating Japan's pop culture world.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Kxz8qPloBOc/TfbIwtdlEhI/AAAAAAAAAmo/2I5KPKzktos/s1600/IMG_3922.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Kxz8qPloBOc/TfbIwtdlEhI/AAAAAAAAAmo/2I5KPKzktos/s400/IMG_3922.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617898324354208274" border="0" /></a><br />Holly and Walter, about to embark on an epic donut eating adventure mere minutes after we all ate a whole pizza each.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-97DzQA_0N9w/TfbIwaj2QQI/AAAAAAAAAmg/m3ZRn9uZ-no/s1600/IMG_4124.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-97DzQA_0N9w/TfbIwaj2QQI/AAAAAAAAAmg/m3ZRn9uZ-no/s400/IMG_4124.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617898319280226562" border="0" /></a><br />The musicians at the last Oldies concert. The finality of having played there for the last time left a big spiderweb crack on the windshield of my heart.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-4592101114608890092011-05-26T09:36:00.003+09:002011-05-26T09:49:05.357+09:00I'm going home!<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Bought my one-way ticket home last night. Korean Air via Seoul to JFK, KE085. It was a truly underwhelming experience and I was in a foul mood when I purchased it. July 31st it is, love it, hate it. I naturally feel both emotions at warp level intensity.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:times new roman;">LOVE:</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Happy reunion with my folks.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Better selection at supermarkets.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Able to start fresh and prepare for the Big Move to Austin.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">English everywhere.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Wearing clothes with a "S" in the size tag.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Makeup, daily goods etc are cheaper.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Driving my car.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Hanging out with old friends and rekindling my social life.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Better coffee with free refills.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Delicious salads.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Pleasant summer weather as opposed to oppressive heat and humidity.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:times new roman;">HATE:</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Fat unhealthy people with entitlement complexes.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Getting stared at and objectified in public by men.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Crappy and sparse public transit/sidewalks.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Dealing with the rift that 3 years has inevitably placed between me and old friends.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">People are spawning and/or have spawned and I hate babies.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Having to deal with the "designated driver" question if I want to go out for drinks.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Gas is $4/gallon and the car only gets 18 mpg.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Sharing living space with people for the foreseeable future.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Looking a bit different as opposed to fitting in 100% lookswise.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Not having a super secure job that pays well. </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Missing my Japanese friends, people I've met, and way of life.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-44338002969686517872011-05-16T13:55:00.003+09:002011-05-16T15:00:04.750+09:00Fruits<a href="http://metapedia.com/wiki/images/Harajuku.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 283px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://metapedia.com/wiki/images/Harajuku.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">...nope</span></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://www.kisyu-mikan.jp/dekopon/300px.2007.dekopon%20(3).jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.kisyu-mikan.jp/dekopon/300px.2007.dekopon%20(3).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">...yessssss.<br /></span><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I'm talking about citrus fruits in all their Vitamin C-rich glory. Perhaps later there will be an addendum about why Japanese grapes suck, but for now please enjoy my candid reviews of ten citrus fruits you can find here.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">#1. DEKOPON デコポン</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Dekopon are the best goddamn fruit in the entire world. They look like smallish oranges and usually have a nipple-like protrusion on the top, and are the result of the engineered mating of kiyomi (mikan + orange) and ponkan ("Chinese honey orange," in fact a tangerine relative). Grown almost exclusively in Japan, dekopon are extremely sweet and seedless. Apparently dekopon were introduced to U.S. markets just this year under the name "sumo." </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">#2. MIKAN みかん</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Possibly the most well-known of the J-citrus fruits, mikan are called "satsuma" or "seedless mandarin" in the West. They are sweet and delicate, easy to peel, and while not always seedless it is rare for a mikan to contain more than a couple. Mikan are by far the most popular Japanese domestic citrus fruit, accounting for more than half of the cultivation areas in the country.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">#3. IYOKAN いよかん</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">The iyokan is garbage. The flesh is dry and bears little if any flavor, and it's certainly not sweet. I don't know why it's the second most widely produced citrus fruit in Japan; it's like a crappy grapefruit that wants to be an orange. Oh well, the more you know!</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">#4. AMANATSU 甘夏</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Grown mainly in Kumamoto and Ehime, amanatsu is a step above iyokan but just barely. It peels easily and doesn't make too much of a mess, but each fruit (marginally smaller than a grapefruit) contains ~30 seeds, which makes it a laborious process to eat fresh. </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">#5. YUZU ゆず</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">For whatever reason, yuzu skin and juice comprise an extremely popular flavoring agent, but the fruit is almost never eaten fresh. Salad dressing, dipping sauce for stewed meat, hard liquor, dessert sauces, vinegar, hot beverages...few winter foods escape the distinctive, zesty tartness of yuzu. I'm not a proponent but apparently a whole lot of Japanese people would disagree.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">#6. JUICY FRUIT ジューシーフルーツ</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I have no idea what a "juicy fruit" is called in English. I'd compare it to a large grapefruit with pale yellow flesh. The flavor is slightly sour but overall sweet. When ripe it peels very easily, and it definitely lives up to its name - have a hand towel or napkin handy to clean up the inevitable mess. </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">#7. BUNTAN 文旦 </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">In English, buntan are "Chinese grapefruit" or "pomelo." In Japan, they are expensive gift fruit. They're big, pale yellow things with thick skin that requires a knife (or really sturdy stiletto nails) to peel. Once you get inside, you are rewarded with dryish flesh chock full of seeds. You've already worked so hard to get in there that you go through the effort to remove the seeds and convince yourself that the bitter tartness is luxurious.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">#8. MINNEOLA ミンネオーラ</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">The minneola is a tangerine hybrid of Floridan descent but has made its way onto the shelves at supermarkets everywhere, replacing the winter staples mikan and dekopon. Like dekopon, minneola have a nub/nipple/bump, but they are thin-skinned and so juicy that it's rare for them to survive peeling without dripping everywhere. The juice is very sweet, but they fall apart too easily and leave you wishing you had a mikan or dekopon instead.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">#9. SUN FRUIT/SUN QUEEN サンフルーツ/サンクイーン</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Another popular import from Florida, these are referred to as "Seminole fruit" in English. They bear resemblance to Minneola but are much seedier and more expensive. It is an exercise in futility to sit there pulling 5 teeny tiny seeds out of each wedge of a messy little thing barely the size of a Clementine.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">#10. U.S. IMPORTED NAVEL ORANGES/RUBY RED GRAPEFRUITS</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">As you might expect. Usually California grown. The age old argument/local pride joke is that California oranges are for eatin' and Florida ones are for juicin'. </span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-15364214236180740722011-05-15T22:25:00.004+09:002011-05-15T22:34:10.504+09:00I'm a Laura!<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Today, a sunny Sunday, my talented friend Laura G came over to my house in Tagawa. We ate apples and oatmeal and made joyful noise on violin, ukelele and melodica, practicing our cheeky covers setlist for a Japan tsunami relief concert next month. It was so great to have another person to bounce ideas and harmonies off of. Music and friendship - they add meaning to my life. Noteworthy: today also marked my very first daytime visitor to my house in three years of living here. Three YEARS, one daytime visitor. No one ever wants to come out here since I'm so far removed from the hustle and bustle of "things to do" and "civilization." I'm glad somebody finally did.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Too bad our roads are forking so soon, or else we'd get a ton of shirts printed saying "The Lauras." I refuse to let this go.<br /><br />Laura blogs at <a href="http://ichigone.wordpress.com/">Ichigone</a>, by the by.<br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-80796656020830540652011-04-29T10:53:00.002+09:002011-04-29T11:01:54.114+09:00Make it so<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Walter and I have recently become completely obsessed with Star Trek: The Next Generation. We are planning on attending the world's largest Star Trek convention in Las Vegas in the summer. I want to learn some Klingon. </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">What is happening?</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-63216621339633169372011-04-21T21:36:00.000+09:002011-04-21T21:37:18.370+09:00Practice in the dark<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A5ng3GJYggQ/TbAk6ZN1XoI/AAAAAAAAAmU/IRTEJlwKYkI/s1600/Photo-0824.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A5ng3GJYggQ/TbAk6ZN1XoI/AAAAAAAAAmU/IRTEJlwKYkI/s400/Photo-0824.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598014922441449090" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-22822484246554640782011-04-20T13:42:00.003+09:002011-04-20T13:58:44.327+09:00Shortlisted!<span style="font-family:times new roman;">The JET application process is a big fat multi-tiered layer cake of bureaucracy and paper pushing, and it all culminates the day results are released. Applicants are placed in one of three categories: (A) Shortlisted aka "Welcome to Japan;" (B) Rejected aka "You fail;" or (C) Alternated aka "We're going to drag out the waiting game indefinitely, welcome to hell." I got a message at a JET-related website (which I may or may not have nearly 26,000 posts on...) a couple days back from someone whose cover letter essay I proofread back in December announcing excitedly that he had been shortlisted. Great job, slugger!</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I can't believe it's been three years since I received notice of my applicant status. Like 9/11 or my first clubbing experience in Berlin, that moment is burned into my brain all flashbulb-like. I was at Pizzeria Uno of all places with my best friend and this Chinese dude who was explaining that Shanghai girls uniformly fall all over themselves when he walks into a room (unlikely). Got a phone call from Walter saying JET applicant results were out. He was alternated so I was nearly certain I had either been alternated or rejected, but after having him check my email, it turns out I had been shortlisted! I was beside myself with excitement but naturally had to downplay it so as not to rub salt in his gaping wounds. The minute I hung up the phone I yelled "I'M GOING TO JAPAN, OH MY GOOOODDDDD" in an uncharacteristically girly squeal, and my friends were happy for me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Walter ended up being upgraded from alternate status a couple weeks before I left the United States. Prior to this great news there had been crying and stressing over the possibility of a future, and it was always lurking there shitting on my parade. Similarly to the "shortlisted!" phone call, I remember it perfectly. I was driving to the bar with a friend and nearly swerved off the road when he broke the news over the phone. Just another excellent notch on my already-charmed life. I celebrated a lot and probably shouldn't have driven home from the bar that night.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">It's really fun to think about all this, now that I've got just over three months left in Japan and the next big mystery is imminent. Why is it so much easier to wax nostalgic over the past or to fantasize far into the future than to concentrate on the present? </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-16220592151946208022011-04-11T00:41:00.001+09:002011-04-11T00:43:22.479+09:00Dead dandelions<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mJlpVbfizjQ/TaHPwoVfuwI/AAAAAAAAAlk/8Yta4V0c6E4/s1600/Photo%2B123.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mJlpVbfizjQ/TaHPwoVfuwI/AAAAAAAAAlk/8Yta4V0c6E4/s400/Photo%2B123.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593980646539115266" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">There's nothing sadder than when you pick flowers and come home at the end of the day and they're all wilted and sad looking. Still, even dead flowers bring life!</span><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-91383457726760083602011-04-07T21:25:00.001+09:002011-04-07T21:29:10.127+09:00A mother in Japan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mNcocGs7dzk/TZ2t-Kzms8I/AAAAAAAAAlc/1prbjAghpoA/s1600/IMG_1289.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mNcocGs7dzk/TZ2t-Kzms8I/AAAAAAAAAlc/1prbjAghpoA/s400/IMG_1289.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592817595828319170" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kjIkC8r9U4g/TZ2t98kGM4I/AAAAAAAAAlU/q7ZoB9meyqs/s1600/IMG_1574.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kjIkC8r9U4g/TZ2t98kGM4I/AAAAAAAAAlU/q7ZoB9meyqs/s400/IMG_1574.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592817592005178242" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fH5W-8H9Vcg/TZ2t9q1c4hI/AAAAAAAAAlM/1MKWZRyaS2Q/s1600/IMG_1656.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fH5W-8H9Vcg/TZ2t9q1c4hI/AAAAAAAAAlM/1MKWZRyaS2Q/s400/IMG_1656.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592817587246129682" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l4_qVtpUC5o/TZ2t9I9eiKI/AAAAAAAAAlE/tATqycXVM7w/s1600/IMG_1964.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l4_qVtpUC5o/TZ2t9I9eiKI/AAAAAAAAAlE/tATqycXVM7w/s400/IMG_1964.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592817578152986786" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-naXWTAHzZ5k/TZ2t86T0HcI/AAAAAAAAAk8/wsH0J-5cn78/s1600/IMG_2083.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-naXWTAHzZ5k/TZ2t86T0HcI/AAAAAAAAAk8/wsH0J-5cn78/s400/IMG_2083.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592817574220144066" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-75613460961608183352011-03-31T00:01:00.002+09:002011-03-31T00:02:20.174+09:00The cutest!<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BgH6wA5oQb0/TZNF2gx3IGI/AAAAAAAAAk0/ZfY8rq6PXxQ/s1600/happydoll.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BgH6wA5oQb0/TZNF2gx3IGI/AAAAAAAAAk0/ZfY8rq6PXxQ/s400/happydoll.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589888365311238242" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">"Happy Doll" sundae from Baskin Robbins, with "Easter Party" flavor ice cream.</span><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-67306626113539623802011-03-30T11:39:00.002+09:002011-03-30T11:49:14.940+09:00Checking in<span style="font-family:times new roman;">As I write this, my mom is cooking a sweet potato at my apartment while I'm at work. On Monday she cleaned the kitchen unexpectedly while I was gone. I like having someone to come home to and hang out with, and I'll be pretty bummed when she leaves tomorrow. We did a lot of traveling and there are a lot of photos to back up this claim, which I will show you soon.</span> <span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I've been better, but I've been a WHOLE lot worse in these past few weeks. Perhaps the onset of spring is making life easier, or perhaps it's that I have decided to quit dieting and start living. Realizing that if something doesn't change I will be both huge and looking at a full-blown binge eating disorder helps, of course. You can only start from where you are, and your friends will still love you even if you weigh a thousand pounds.</span> <span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I suppose this is my public declaration that I am going to be nice to me. It's about time. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-35157524554166129462011-03-17T17:41:00.002+09:002011-03-17T18:01:38.002+09:00Admiring the Japanese spirit<span style="font-family: times new roman;">By now you've followed the heck out of Kyodo and BBC and Al-Jazeera. As fits the "charmed life" model perfectly, Fukuoka is almost entirely unaffected by the disaster at large. Unlike Kanto and Tohoku areas, we have electricity 24 hours a day, no earthquakes/aftershocks shaking us several times daily, our grocery stores have food on the shelves, and gas stations are operating normally. It is incredibly surreal, and if I believed in survivor guilt I would be feeling it. I don't, though. Instead, I intend to celebrate my own life doubly in thanks that it has been spared. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Today I gave blood. Tomorrow, payday, I will put forward a sizeable chunk of my paycheck toward the relief donation campaign my school is running. I won't waste electricity and I won't stockpile or hoard bottled water or batteries. Life marches on. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">That's what I like about the Japanese. Unlike my countrymen who dwell lingeringly on tragedy in a very masturbatory and selfish way, the Japanese accept what befalls them and work together to move beyond it. Their powerful stoicism and strength has reappeared, easily forgotten in a sea of effeminate man-babies, a frustrating educational system and suicide-inducing workaholic corporate culture. Some people misinterpret the "perseverance" attitude as disrespect, but I understand it more as a refusal to break under pressure. In this perseverance I see unmeasurable bravery and pride. No one is running away. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Except the French of course. What's with that?!</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-30827185431854675192011-03-07T22:23:00.003+09:002011-03-07T22:26:39.639+09:00Tiny Dancing Man<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">This motherfucker is seriously about eighty years old. He hangs out all day long on clear weekend days in the park behind Solaria Stage in Tenjin, Fukuoka, with a boom box and creepy props like this clown mask and a variety of brightly colored gloves. He owns those shiny pants in more than just hot pink I'm told, and he is actually a really bad dancer with little to no sense of rhythm. I'm so glad you don't need a license to street perform in Fukuoka.</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o_oJfUVb3PY/TXTcl91Y3OI/AAAAAAAAAkM/Gvr4Uz0zaoI/s1600/IMG_0920_2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o_oJfUVb3PY/TXTcl91Y3OI/AAAAAAAAAkM/Gvr4Uz0zaoI/s400/IMG_0920_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581328383030648034" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RYjCE6wggFw/TXTclt7qILI/AAAAAAAAAkE/U6XjsYYTZgE/s1600/IMG_0919_2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RYjCE6wggFw/TXTclt7qILI/AAAAAAAAAkE/U6XjsYYTZgE/s400/IMG_0919_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581328378761978034" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RbMb8vAMm4g/TXTcle0LO2I/AAAAAAAAAj8/gJQcbcNty0Q/s1600/IMG_0918.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RbMb8vAMm4g/TXTcle0LO2I/AAAAAAAAAj8/gJQcbcNty0Q/s400/IMG_0918.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581328374704061282" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-9121023093562969432011-03-01T21:54:00.005+09:002011-03-01T22:24:07.656+09:00"Cafe" music and パリ syndrome<span style="font-family: times new roman;">In Japan, "café" is its own music genre, and it is 99% either chilled-out bossa nova or some sort of quaint take on a French chanson. Essentially, all that is domestic and adorable is equated to France here. There are not enough fingers and toes on all the polydactyl cats in Asia to count the number of twee trinkets, clothing shops, kitchen accessory shops, notebooks, stickers, etc etc etc ad nauseum that boast meaningless French. I don't know what you would call it...with English it's Engrish. Furansuçais? </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Either way, it doesn't take a genius to work out that Japan has a boner for France - ah, excusez-moi, "boner" is rather inaccurate - perhaps a giddy wetting of the vaginal walls in preparation for getting boned on tour packages to the French capital. I have done a little traveling in France - been groped and offered cocaine in alleys by its nationals, sipped wine in spectacular vineyards on a beautiful summer day, smoked Gauloises and downed strong coffee, taken that tedious day trip to Monaco - all those things you do in France should you find yourself there. There is romance everywhere and it is a magical place - the Japanese got that right. But it hits a lot of Feudal Nipponese tourists a bit hard when they actually put themselves on a plane to CDG.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">パリ/Pari/Paris is every Japanese woman's fantastic candyland of love, and you can't go anywhere in the city without running into gaggles of J-ladies carrying hazardously wide open shopping bags draped over one arm. With so many beautiful buildings, quaint cafés, and incredible shopping and style, the appeal is a no-brainer. About a million Japanese visit Paris in a given year. Unfortunately, as with any enormous city built on tourism and political unrest, there are obstacles that get in the way of Japan's vision of perfect bossa-nova France - sexual harassment, a sizable crime rate, racial and ethnic tension between immigrant groups, bums upchucking on Le Métro, graffiti (heavens, no), etc. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I know this was all over the news five years ago, but as I see it, no modifications in the Japanese attitude toward "café" lifestyle and tacking French onto everything have been made. So I'll leave you with a <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/6197921.stm">link</a> to an article describing "Paris syndrome," which basically amounts to "Japanese people going insane from culture shock because their dream visions of Paris have been shattered." It doesn't take a whole lot to make people go crazy here judging by the country's suicide rate, and Paris syndrome doesn't surprise me at all.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">(...This all came up because I'm thinking I'd like to go to France again soon. Japan has infected me. I just downloaded half a GB of Putumayo world music albums.)</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-57920100980650725992011-02-23T22:47:00.002+09:002011-02-23T22:50:27.837+09:00A slice of home<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4rBXyjyO_I/TWUQORw_agI/AAAAAAAAAjM/SHu_xEp7s-I/s1600/subwaysub.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4rBXyjyO_I/TWUQORw_agI/AAAAAAAAAjM/SHu_xEp7s-I/s400/subwaysub.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576881551041325570" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">My usual Japan order:</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Six inch turkey on wheat bread, toasted, with egg, lettuce, tomato, green peppers, onions, pickles, jalapeño peppers, and mustard.<br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-68840177351996600272011-02-22T11:45:00.005+09:002011-02-22T11:55:38.962+09:00Awaken<div align="center"><a href="http://www.sushiilshettigar.com/wod/pictures/finnishlaketroll.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.sushiilshettigar.com/wod/pictures/finnishlaketroll.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">"Awaken" as a word always reminds me of Metalocalypse, particularly of Mustakrakish the Lake Troll. </span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">But awakening is pretty much exactly how I've been feeling over the past few days, as if I had just been dormant and lackluster for those couple cold winter months. I put on five pounds and now I'm taking them off, I feel motivated to do my hair and put on Outfits with a capital O, and overall life just seems pretty awesome. I've got things to do before I leave Japan, and I've got lots of things to do once I get back to America.</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">I'm stuck in this really funny place between wanting to savor the rest of my time here and just hurry up and get back and re-start my "new" life. It's unbelievable how easily and rapidly you accumulate plans and obligations; every weekend for the next month and a half has been spoken for in some capacity or another. I have concerts to play/attend lined up for every weekend from this Friday through the end of March; my mom is visiting Japan for two weeks during spring holidays, I have a road race to train for in early April, and there's a big gathering in Nagoya the weekend after the race. With all these things to be planning and thinking about, I am still just sitting around watching videos of people eating fried butter at the Texas State Fair and daydreaming about America.</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">America <em>really </em>isn't that great, but I've built it up in my mind as some kind of wonderland. Nothing makes you love home like living away from it, I guess. Obesity epidemic, tipping culture, culture of unjustified entitlement and all, I have to admit I feel a bit proud of the big honking eagle on my passport. Now if only I could get a nifty burgundy/purple European Union passport too...</span><br /></div><div align="center"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-43090250430425703432011-02-18T10:17:00.001+09:002011-02-18T10:21:23.084+09:00Saladface<div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Mizuna (水菜), Cheddar cheese, Borlotti beans, Sultana raisins, fresh strawberries, and sesame oil as dressing. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">A+.</span><br /><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VB96TtkFpdU/TV3JJWm1apI/AAAAAAAAAjE/o9SFePTP4yM/s1600/Photo-0670.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574833076279011986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VB96TtkFpdU/TV3JJWm1apI/AAAAAAAAAjE/o9SFePTP4yM/s400/Photo-0670.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k0JSHeAqD9E/TV3JJJaG66I/AAAAAAAAAi8/o8w-4yl_99s/s1600/Photo-0669.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574833072735972258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k0JSHeAqD9E/TV3JJJaG66I/AAAAAAAAAi8/o8w-4yl_99s/s400/Photo-0669.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-4652603093212164682011-02-10T10:56:00.003+09:002011-02-10T11:08:15.833+09:00To The Motherland!<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Well would you look at the time! I'm off to Seoul this afternoon for two full days and three nights of mayhem with a few of my friends living in Japan. None of us have achieved any level of proficiency in Korean; I can barely read hangul and I think I might be the only one who has bothered to learn any emergency phrases ("Dog meat soup, please" - "Bosintang juseyo").</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">This doesn't feel like any kind of pilgrimage or identity-searching journey though. It's just a long weekend adventuring in a new place with friends. I'm not sure whether to feel sadness at the lack of emotional/personal weight of this trip or to feel relieved that I am just going to eat Pizza Hut and muck around enjoying myself. We are staying at a hostel that shares a building with Dunkin Donuts. My to-eat list for Seoul is quite optimistic and involves a lot of meals-squeezed-between-meals.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">1.) Bosintang (dog meat soup)</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">2.) Pizza Hut</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">3.) Dunkin Donuts</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">4.) Korean BBQ with galbi (beef) and samgyeopsal (fatty pork)</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">5.) Dakgalbi (spicy chicken mixed with veggies and rice cakes)</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">6.) Tteokbokki (rice cakes in spicy sauce)</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">7.) Mandu (dumplings)</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">8.) Japchae (cellophane noodles)</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">9.) Jajangmyeong (Chinese black bean noodles)</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">10.) Samgyetang (chicken stuffed with rice and dates)</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I am definitely in denial that Seoul is going to be colder than Berlin, which felt as if it bordered on absolute zero outside. I will regret my poor choices in socks and appropriate layers. I suppose I will have to drown my discomfort in hot soup, preferably with dog meat floating in it. Part of me associates eating dog with revenge against all the stupid dogs who have jumped on me, licked my face and hands, scared the crap out of me by barking at me while I walk in the dark, or in recent cases chased me snarling viciously while I run. It also marks a departure from the Western mindset that dogs are somehow precious and not fit for human consumption. Meat is meat; if I could eat babies, I would.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-92061235871377723802011-02-08T22:16:00.005+09:002011-02-15T19:27:32.717+09:00The Motherland, in a few images<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Seoul was an incredible blur of obscene overeating (like 6000 calories a day), blinding neon, pushy crowds, delicious and stylish people, and whirlwind sightseeing. I probably got to eat fewer than one third of the items on my to-eat list. As predicted, the amount of time we were there was just enough to infect us all with the burning urge to get back to Korea ASAP. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I think these photos are pretty well representative of our adventure.</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UmkU3-nyvHg/TVpUZ7HpW6I/AAAAAAAAAik/DARoAQ_-HXM/s1600/IMG_0327.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UmkU3-nyvHg/TVpUZ7HpW6I/AAAAAAAAAik/DARoAQ_-HXM/s400/IMG_0327.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573860293167635362" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t_EWHhj4CHI/TVpUZgOB67I/AAAAAAAAAic/0ddW21gUcwA/s1600/IMG_0505.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t_EWHhj4CHI/TVpUZgOB67I/AAAAAAAAAic/0ddW21gUcwA/s400/IMG_0505.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573860285946653618" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_SltTDqFkNs/TVpUZUB-RDI/AAAAAAAAAiU/vuUXqWOmu9k/s1600/IMG_0568.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_SltTDqFkNs/TVpUZUB-RDI/AAAAAAAAAiU/vuUXqWOmu9k/s400/IMG_0568.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573860282674857010" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q7lRFvVnES8/TVpUZCOpo7I/AAAAAAAAAiM/tTVeTY8wY7k/s1600/IMG_0672.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q7lRFvVnES8/TVpUZCOpo7I/AAAAAAAAAiM/tTVeTY8wY7k/s400/IMG_0672.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573860277896192946" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Th9iL1ao9aE/TVpUY6WL83I/AAAAAAAAAiE/SNNd_8Vp3w4/s1600/IMG_0702.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Th9iL1ao9aE/TVpUY6WL83I/AAAAAAAAAiE/SNNd_8Vp3w4/s400/IMG_0702.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573860275780318066" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-55231457971318819862011-02-04T20:47:00.004+09:002011-02-04T20:50:51.521+09:00Hey<object height="340" width="560"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/v6xU96KLBL4?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/v6xU96KLBL4?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="340" width="560"></embed></object><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Been trying to meet you...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I've fallen in love with yet another song. Going to do my best to do justice to the guitar bends via a borrowed violin at tomorrow's friendly jam session. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775125192509089280.post-22663209245330136522011-02-02T23:50:00.003+09:002011-02-02T23:59:36.823+09:00I love my pee colored sweater<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Yes, I do. The elbow patches are without a doubt my favorite part - they somehow add tons of personality to what is otherwise an unflattering item of clothing that adds about ten pounds. I got the monster baby on clearance at Zara. The grey pants are from TRIAL which I lovingly refer to as "the Wal-Mart." I slipped and fell on ice today and ripped a hole in the left knee, but it's hardly noticeable. The boots were on super final clearance at the mall tonight for only ¥1000. My kitchen is so fucking messy and my head is in a weird place as I am finishing up Day 4 of cutting out candy/sweets after basically binge eating over the weekend. </span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NQBe4qwNUnU/TUlwFzFeAtI/AAAAAAAAAh4/s2V9R3rcBTg/s1600/IMG_0181.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 188px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NQBe4qwNUnU/TUlwFzFeAtI/AAAAAAAAAh4/s2V9R3rcBTg/s400/IMG_0181.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569105659135132370" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0