*Back to Work*

Back to Tokyo tomorrow. Wish me luck? Silly fireworks keeping me awake....

<3

*Wait a Minute, Can't that Kill You?*

So, I went to a different doctor today, and long story-short, she suggested drinking salt water to relieve my sore throat's general achey-ness (I think that might actually be a real word when spelt properly. Although spelled spelt spelled apparently works, but may mean something entirely different). Here go the works of my mind:

1) Robinson Crusoe crazy hell readingness reminds me of RC's enormous trek for water away from the ocean.

2) Because the sea water don't cut it. Same as in all those adventurer media things. Except in desert survival stories, because mirage water merely nonexists, not exists in a salt-like capacity.

3) Ergo, doctor (non-regular) wants to kill me via salt water poisoning.

These are severe problems. Let us consult the internet rather than MD-bearing Nazi woman.

Acc. Earth Clinic's home cure/remedy/thingamagig, you merely gurgle the stuff. Well, I TRIED that and it did nothing, or, as one unpleasant... er... dissatisfied poster commented:

""the salt and water so works.......wrong! it hurt my throat even worst.""

Thanks for that eloquent moment, Sara from Jacksonville. Then again, who am I to talk?

Moving on, let's keep trying these remedies and see what actually works. Let's just throw it out there that we've tried gargling other things, such as lemon juice in the raw (btw, OW), and drunk boatloads of teas and water, AND consumed more than the recommended amount of cough drops. Though now am full of like 1000% daily value of VItamin C, as cough drops randomly are chock full of that stuff.

Ok, so Earth Clinic random posters, who are my highest medical authority, also recommend..

#1: Pickle Juice Brine.

What the hey-ho-heck is "brine?" Cannot be liquid IN pickle jar, can it? Oh hell of hells, that sounds nasty. Do we even have pickles?

Back. So, have pickle juice but, alas, comes in pickle jar aka hardest thing to open EVUH. I'll be back once I've herniated myself trying, at which point we'll attempt home remedies for that. Ew.

Well, that's done. So... bottom's up? Ew. That stuff tastes god-awful. Throat still hurts.

PICKLE JUICE= FAIL

Unless I have to wait. Ugh, will wait five minutes and return to you. Then we'll try

#2: Oh crap, apparently pickle juice was way further down on the list. Gr. So, we'll try

TRUE #1: Apple Cider Vinegar

Which just sounds even more thrilling than the pickle juice. Ugh. Why can't any of these be, like, orange juice or something else tasty? Think will be sick from pickle juice, ew.

OK, so obligatory five minutes have passed and pain has, in fact, worsened. Can barely swallow and want to send nasty letter to mean ladies who voted "yes" on pickle disgustingness.

On to the vinegar! If nothing else, will be easier to open. I hope...

So, note to self, vinegar, being one of the ingredients of pickle juice, is even nastier when smelt alone. Must pour and consume. Do not think about nastiness. Plugging nose.

Okay, so now we know that plugging your nose does nothing to disguise the nasty reality of drinking apple cider vinegar. And trying to toss it to the back of your throat directly merely hits those lovely taste bugs hiding on the back of your tongue. Feel sick and will likely die within the hour. Throat still hurts. Will wait stupid stupid five minutes with this nasty taste in my mouth before continuing on to

#2: Cayenne Pepper (if we have any...)

Don't have any. Moving on

#3: ACV and Cayenne.... I don't know what ACV is....

Oh, lovely. Acc. Wikipedia, it can stand for, among other things, such as Allegheny-Clarion Valley School District, in Clarion County, Pennsylvania and an Airborne Combat Vehicle, APPLE CIDER VINEGAR.

Um, yet we still have no cayenne and I ain't touching no apple cider vinegar til I'm dead. In which case, it'll probably be some chance of fate that that's what they use to preserve my body. Ew.

#4: Hydrogen Peroxide.... Won't that kill you too? I'm not risking death to get rid of a damn sore throat. Oh, I can drink water to eliminate nasty taste now. Hoorah. Um, need a new site. Nothing else on here is on our home or sounds deathly toxic.

"What's a cure for the sickness of the heart?"

"Arsenic?"

"Arsenic's a poison!"

"'Twould cure the pain of any heart."

Sigh. New site. Digg.com. Um, one of the top hits is apparently cum, haven't none available/being a little disturbed, we're finding a new site again.

Uh oh, Jonesie. Lookit what an MD, or fake MD, says:
pple cider vinegar (ACV) According to Dr. Jarvis in his classic Folk Medicine, the remedy to use to get rid of a sore throat is to gargle with ACV. The acidity should kill the bacteria on contact. Mix one teaspoon to 2 tablespoons in a glass of water. You can mix it as strong as you can stand it. Gargle one mouthful every hour, swallowing afterward. Repeat twice each time. This treatment can cure a streptococcic sore throat in 24 hours. The acid in the ACV is very helpful in soothing and minimizing the sore throat, and, if you swallow it, the extra potassium is also beneficial. Note: After using this remedy be sure to rinse your mouth with water to prevent the acid from eroding the enamel on your teeth.

So, GARGLE, eh? People need to get this clear. Oh, then swallow, but at least it's diluted. Gah! Must brush teeth and return. Maybe gargling breath freshener'll randomly do something.

Brushing teeth seems to have been the best thing so far for my throat, though it did little. Feel like crying T.T <--- like this.

I give up. Le sob. I don't have honey, which is the only other thing I've really heard of, and I feel too sick now to try much else.

Experiment=fail.

Night all

<3

Post 200! And pictures!

I forgot to post these earlier, but here are some pics:

Roppongi, incl. Tokyo Tower, which was v. pretty, even if my pics fail to show it!:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2051576&l=cd45e&id=32404300

Christmas around Tokyo!:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2051579&l=7d37b&id=32404300

Oh, and here are some pictures of the lovely Shinjuku:
http://gojapan.about.com/od/christmasinjapan/ig/Shinjuku-Christmas-Pictures/Shinjuku-Christmas-Picture-6.htm

Make sure to hit "next." I couldn't figure out how to view them all at once, possibly because I'm sleeeepy.

OOOOh, and Mutts was funny today:




<3

Edit/Add:

Here's my pirate photo:


There's a reason for it, but it's PERSONAL. And what do you think this is, a journal or something?

Oh, snap, I just reasoned myself into insanity @.@ <3

*Oof, Jetlag*

Been too busy with family to post, but I did arrive here fine! Hoorah for not ending up in PORTLAND. Er, I mean getting stuck there... for more than seven hours. Um, but that was about what I was expecting for the layover.

"Layover" sounds dirty. Someone come up with a fancy schmancy latin-esque term to substitute this with.

Anyway, I'm jetlagged (T.T) and it is now five and I've been up a few hours. Gr, I worked so hard not to have jetlag! I even stayed up past midnight last night and still woke up at 3! Moral of story: go to bed at nine-ish if you think you can't sleep past three because otherwise you are SLEEPY but can't SLEEP, which is frustrating.

Anyway, Happy Christmas a la Harry Potter!

I'll post more when I'm less sleep deprived or more coffee saturated.

Peace!

<3

Panic! But not at the disco....

Just worrying that my flight will be cancelled- ew. It's okay right now, so I think it'll be okay...

Wish me luck!

*Phew*

Done done done. Thank goodness.

And now, I'm tired from packing and dumping out food and taking the trash out and test taking.

Flight's tomorrow in the early PM, leaving in the mid-AM for travelness. Wish me luck!

Sorry for the lame posts the last few days....

<3

New Make Ups

So, what do you think?




I'm going for a winter theme. See, all the blues! Five different eye shadows. See, I make my own colors. ^_^

More ness to follow

*I'm Going to Bed*

I went to the book club meeting, which I will relate info of later. Of which I will relate info later? Shoot. I have no grammar at all. It is late tho...

So, I met this guy:

http://www.rusoffagency.com/authors/bishop_g/george_bishop.htm

Whose book is going to be published (click "the books"). Nifty, huh?

So, remind me, and I'll tell you about it tomorrow. I think I've got enough now so that I won't forget in the morning!

<3

Leaves

Attempting to actually get this written down. Wish me luck?

The leaves, sometimes. The spirits, ghosts of the land, or invisible wind creatures throw themselves upward and spiral about like snowflakes in reverse. Tossed back to the sky, rejected by mysterious forces. The wind grows attached to them rather quickly, naturally the type to fall in love with a stranger, perhaps first drawn in by their various tints and crinkles- the green plump things massacred in the prime of life- the brown, wrinkled paper bag types, glorious in the sky, the greatest moments of their mundane lives. The wind does not discriminate, but that it leaves the pines alone.

The highest I've ever seen these wanderers travel was above the sixth floor of a high-ceilinged building. The leaves floated on the breeze like millions of tiny ships, filling the space between buildings like a rainbowy ticker tape parade. Maybe nature got exhausted from all the celebrating of the sentient creatures- the dogs howling with delight, panting, and dancing about loudly, the birds twittering away their life stories to an audience deaf to their meaning, the roar of the helicopter shattering the air, gloating that it has defied nature. We were confined to the land but we evolved! Look at me! Look at me! The blades scream and slice, murderer and the murdered in one.

The four elements seem not always able to speak through speech. Sometimes, they can roar beyond the abilities of machines or the slaughtered pig. The sky shakes or the earth quakes or the sea bashes against a hill. I think it must feel like it has to do this at times, throw a tantrum, because no one seems to notice how loudly it speaks with color.

I think about those children's games we used to play. You blow a long string of soap bubbles into the air and keep blowing from beneath to keep them from dying on the ground. It's an exhausting effort and always fails- you end up out of breath with a soapy nose.

The wind must feel similarly, if it does in fact feel. How much effort it must take, to throw those thousands, tens of thousands, millions of leaves into the air. If you can't enjoy the serendipity that goes into a rainbow, you might miss this other string of colors in the sky. Unlike the rainbow, though, they flitter and crash into each other, elegantly as though it were choreographed. Like a modern ballet.

And it seems like they must float forever, because they have to, you want them to. And, for once in your life, you wonder if the sentience is worth being grounded.

I want to float like those leaves. Not like an airplane or a helicopter or any machine. Not even like Daedalus or Icarus. Not even like a leaf, who gets crushed under feet and mashed into the pavement at the end of the flight.

It's all about glistening and being free. And those leaves get it, even if only for a few minutes. Guaranteed five minutes of glory.

Now, who wouldn't be jealous of that?

*Wah, I Didn't Post Yesterday!*

I have a brilliant excuse, I went to bed at 8:30. Or, maybe that isn't so brilliant... but since I hadn't slept for a couple days more than a couple hours, being awake seemed like a rotten idea at the time and continued to manifest itself thusly in my brain for many, many hours. My tests went alright, but I've another on Monday in a different class, so I mustn't be pleased yet or the gods will hear me and smite me with an F.

If only they'd consider plagues instead. Be careful what you wish for? Monkey's Paw? That's an obscure reference...

I finally thought of a funny story to relate to you all, but then it slipped my mind, possibly because I was soapy at the time (not intended to arouse sexy thoughts). I was actually washing my face. Now, it's going to drive me crazy. If I keep writing randomness, it might come to me. But first, I think I should brush my teeth, because I hate brushing my teeth grrr. If my teeth weren't so important for mashing together in a threatening gesture (gesture, really? That can't be the word I'm wanting to use), then I'd skip the whole process and let them ROT.

(brief interlude)

My teeth are now clean. It was my first time using Japanese toothpaste. The one I bought is called "White White," which I assumed could only be a toothpaste, or some sort of random racist product (there was a book at the bookstore about a little African boy and his family learning to be civilized >.<). I was so out of it, despite the zillion hours of sleep, that I couldn't really form a sentence together. I needed to make sure I wasn't putting denture cleaner on my natural tooths (teeth is such an ugly word), so I asked the lady what translates to, "This...wash the teeth?"

Oh, school has taught me to be so eloquent. Take a deep breath of pride. Release it and cry? Anyway, it's a rotten sort of thing to have to think out when you're all achy from studying so much. I can actually say "is this used for washing teeth?" but it didn't come to me at that particular moment in time. The lady was awful nice about it though (and I'm randomly Charlie Brown).

I don't know how to say "brush teeth." It might actually just be "wash teeth." Don't know...

We have a speech in Japanese after I get back. I think I complained about it already, but it's worth a few more minutes of whining, at least. Anyway, the point of bringing it up is to figure out what I ought to talk about. It's open topic- my worst subject. Seriously. Honest to goodness, I just can't come up with anything when it can be ANYTHING (literally).

I wanted to just translate a short story, but I think they might grade me down even though the process is the same minus non-Japanese type thinking. Er. You know, like composing the actual info isn't important for a Japanese language class.

Wouldn't it be awesomer to just translate Poe into Japanese? Wouldn't it be EVEN awesomer of awesomer was a word?

BTW, I hope you realize that I utilize a lot of fake words. I know they're fake. I'm attempting to invent them. Then I'll be immortal 'cause the OED will have to put my name in the etymology section. Sweet.

So, here are my thoughts for the speech, and, yes, I know they're weird. That is, randomly so, the point:
*The SETI (Search for Extraterrestrial Life) Program and the "Wow!" signal
*Some famous murderer, like a serial killer (Jack the Ripper or John Wayne Gacy Jr.) or maybe whatshername.... shoot... what IS her name? Ah! I remembered the newspaper that the man she killed worked for (Le Figaro) and got to her: Henriette Caillaux. She killed Gaston Calmette, the editor of the newspaper, for writing against her husband's politics. Or some other interesting murderess. Gah, genderized speech gyah! Rewrite: "Or some other interesting female murderer."
*Some sort of animal. One that eats things I can say. I'm thinking the Vampire Bat.
*Some sort of witty story from my youth, that came to me whilst I was washing my face and flew away, like a vampire bat, which needn't be capitalized.

??? Other ideas? Do those work for speeches? I'd rather just translate MLK's "I Have a Dream" speech if it has to be a speech. Ugh. I don't think they care tho.

All I can think are witty one-liner type things. I brought a book about poisons to work and read it during my lunch break one week. I was working at Starbucks. Ha. Apparently if you eat too much onion, you can die. Nifty.

I thought about writing something about trying to jump into the dolphin tank when I was a munchkin, but I don't actually remember it. I'd be plagiarizing my momma. Which you really shouldn't do because, no matter what your age, she's still got the right to whap your butt.

We used to call the playground attendant people (what are they actually called?) "duties." But I thought it was "doodies." Like poop. Ha. (Not funny v.v fail)

Some kids in Japanese today did they're skit like a zombie movie in Japanese. It was really funny. But that definitely wasn't what I was thinking about. I just thought I'd tell you. I don't think they'll get a good grade because they didn't use any keigo (uber honorific speech) and I think the teachers wanted us to, but it was really funny. Pooh on the teaches. Use your accent, and that's grammatically correct.

I'm sure if I rewrote it well enough, the incident with the fire alarm men could be funny, but I'm still terrified that it will happen again. Gah, I had another nightmare about being murdered last night. 'cept I wasn't actually murdered 'cause my alarm woke me up. Hoorah.

Oh, btw, I read Walk Two Moons and the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler this week. They were both good, the prior was very very sad though. And they tell you something at the beginning and spend the rest of the book trying to trick you into believing that it wasn't true and then reveal it again at the end. Which was kinda lame, because I remembered that they told me that. Anyway, it was depressing.

My drama teacher got in a car accident, or someone she knows well did, so there was no class today. I'm really worried because I like her a lot, and I hope she's okay! But I won't find out until next month. Good luck, Prof. Boyd!

I want to write an autobio type short story thingy like David Sedaris, but I can't think of anything amusing. Now I'm depressed because I think it must mean that my life is completely serious gah! But that can't be true! Gah!

It'll come to me. It'll come to me, dangnabbit!

<3

Edit: Dang, I was gonna do this bit about how awful Japanese toothpaste is and segway (I think that's the motor bike thingy, not the word spelling) to chauvinism, and then slip in a quote from the M*A*S*H episode "Hawkeye": "There's no vinism like chauvinism." It was just amusing... well, pooh. You still get love, <3

*Oh, the Internet's Working Again*

It wasn't, all day, until a few minutes ago. Ergo, I am exhausted in the wee hours of the morn (10 PM=3AM Mandy time), and can post very little, if anything.

I have to do a speech in Japanese class after break. The script's due the day we get back. Gr. How many pages/paragraphs is 3 minutes? I've no idea. But it seems long, given our skits are 1 minute each with two people talking. And the big skit is like 5 minutes with four people talking. Boo.

And it's open topic. What the heck? What are the limits of an untopicked speech then? Can I just make a story and translate it into Japanese? Random musings =ok? Do I actually have to convince of something? Why can't I just translate and memorize someone else's speech?

I think our teacher's are secretly trying to steal our amazing works.

Studying goes okay. I'm feeling alright about Friday's test. Monday's is the one I'm all anxiety ridden over. No review sheet = evil teacher will go to a steamy place upon dying.

Oh dear, that sounds sexy rather than scary, doesn't it? You know what I mean. Fire and brimstone. Pitchforks. Men getting their livers eaten out by eagles every day. Random heroes going to get their lassies.

Etc. etc. etc.

Good night! <3

*Tickets, Tickets*

I bought 'em. Hoorah? I also met probably the second rude employee since I've been here. Tsk. Mean old man at the train station.

Also memorized my part of the script for Japanese. Hoorah? It's really lame-o, about buying a Christmas tree for class. Silly thing. But they don't grade us on creativity, because that would be unethical, so...?

Additionally rewrote/vamped a scene from "A Doll's House" in an attempt to make it fit the "guidelines" for Theatre of Cruelty. We actually were assigned this, I didn't just do it on a whim as the previous sentence suggests. Anyway, original scene:

(I had a different translation, btw)

Helmer. And what is in this parcel?

Nora [crying out]. No, no! you mustn't see that until this evening.

Helmer. Very well. But now tell me, you extravagant little person, what would you like for yourself?

Nora. For myself? Oh, I am sure I don't want anything.

Helmer. Yes, but you must. Tell me something reasonable that you would particularly like to have.

Nora. No, I really can't think of anything--unless, Torvald--

Helmer. Well?

Nora [playing with his coat buttons, and without raising her eyes to his]. If you really want to give me something, you might--you might--

Helmer. Well, out with it!

Nora [speaking quickly]. You might give me money, Torvald. Only just as much as you can afford; and then one of these days I will buy something with it.

Helmer. But, Nora--

Nora. Oh, do! dear Torvald; please, please do! Then I will wrap it up in beautiful gilt paper and hang it on the Christmas Tree. Wouldn't that be fun?

Helmer. What are little people called that are always wasting money?

Nora. Spendthrifts--I know. Let us do as you suggest, Torvald, and then I shall have time to think what I am most in want of. That is a very sensible plan, isn't it?

Helmer [smiling]. Indeed it is--that is to say, if you were really to save out of the money I give you, and then really buy something for yourself. But if you spend it all on the housekeeping and any number of unnecessary things, then I merely have to pay up again.

Nora. Oh but, Torvald--

Helmer. You can't deny it, my dear little Nora. [Puts his arm round her waist.] It's a sweet little spendthrift, but she uses up a deal of money. One would hardly believe how expensive such little persons are!

Nora. It's a shame to say that. I do really save all I can.

Helmer [laughing]. That's very true,--all you can. But you can't save anything!

Nora [smiling quietly and happily]. You haven't any idea how many expenses we skylarks and squirrels have, Torvald.

Helmer. You are an odd little soul. Very like your father. You always find some new way of wheedling money out of me, and, as soon as you have got it, it seems to melt in your hands. You never know where it has gone. Still, one must take you as you are. It is in the blood; for indeed it is true that you can inherit these things, Nora.

Nora. Ah, I wish I had inherited many of papa's qualities.

Helmer. And I would not wish you to be anything but just what you are, my sweet little skylark.


REWRITE/thing:

(A room, bare except for a box. Throughout the scene, HELMER continuously snaps a folded belt into his hand, loudly, threateningly. His voice speaks too loudly, perhaps yelling, throughout, while NORA speaks inaudibly.)

HELMER: What’s in that box?

NORA (meekly, muttering too quietly to be heard): No, Torvald, you must’ve seen that before this evening.

HELMER: Okay. (snaps belt) Tell me, shopaholic, what do you want for Christmas?

NORA (winces): Me? Oh, pooh, I don’t want anything.

HELMER (irritated): Oh, yes, you do. (yells at her) Now, just tell me what you want!

NORA (head bowed): No, I really don't know. Oh, yes- Torvald… (glances up)

HELMER (annoyed): What?

NORA (plays with her coat buttons, not looking at him): If you really want to give me something, you could- you could-

HELMER (impatient): Come on, out with it.

NORA (quickly): You could give me money, Torvald. Only as much as you feel you can afford; then later I’ll buy something with it.

HELMER (rolling his eyes): Jesus Christ, Nora. (snaps belt)

NORA: Oh yes, Torvald dear, please! Please! Then I’ll wrap up the notes in pretty gold paper and hang them on the Christmas tree. (pause, continues unsurely) Wouldn’t that be fun?

HELMER (rhetorically): Know what you are?

NORA: Yes, yes, squanderbird; I know. But let’s do as I say, Torvald; then I’ll have time to thin about what I need most. Isn’t that the best way?

HELMER (snaps belt): If I gave you money, you’d just spent it on useless shit.

NORA: Oh, but Torvald-

HELMER: You can’t deny it, Nora. (puts his arm around her waist, menacingly, raising the belt with his other hand.) A woman’s just an expensive pet for a man.

NORA (cowering away): For shame. How can you say such a thing? I save every penny I can.

HELMER (laughs, steps away): But you can’t!

NORA: Hm. If you only knew how many expenses we larks and squirrels have, Torvald.

HELMER: You’re a funny little pet. (slaps belt) Just like your father used to be. Always on the look-out for some way to get money, but as soon as you have any it just runs through your fingers, and you never know where it’s gone. (slaps belt) Well, I suppose I must take you as you are. It’s in your blood. (a bit crazily) Yes, yes, yes, these things are hereditary, Nora.

NORA (defeated, to herself more than to HELMER, audible to the audience): Oh, I wish I’d inherited more of Papa’s qualities.

HELMER (heavy with sarcasm): And I wouldn't wish my darling little songbird to be any different from what she is. (raises belt to strike her)


Uh, Theatre of Cruelty:

The Theatre of Cruelty is a concept in Antonin Artaud's book The Theatre and its Double. “Without an element of cruelty at the root of every spectacle, the theater is not possible. In our present state of degeneration it is through the skin that metaphysics must be made to re-enter our minds” (Artaud, The Theatre and its Double). By cruelty, he meant not sadism or causing pain, but rather a violent, physical determination to shatter the false reality which, he said, "lies like a shroud over our perceptions."

from Wiki

Durn, now you see why my classes are so hard. That's not a very good explanation, but it seems that everything else is just an example. The one she gave was of a squeaky wheel going on throughout the play so that the audience was always in pain. Also, bridging the fourth wall, I think?

Urgle. Anyways, gotta study. Night!

<3

*Bummer*

So, apparently it costs $300 to go from my apartment to the airport. I can't really see how that's at all possible, considering they're so close, but that's what the guy said when I called for a quote. Thusly, I shall arrive home in the glorious land of the free, home of the brave sans feeling in my back, neck, and shoulders. That is to say, I intend to drug myself. Alas, I cannot actually bring the Vicodin back and forth from Japan to the U.S. because I've only filled out the necessary 500 pages for the one trip here and one trip back. So, I must of necessity swallow it before entering the airport. Which means I'll be slightly loopy slightly early, because I intend to get there much ahead of time.

So, perhaps I shan't so much be numb as, and pardon my French, pissed. That's right, folks, being of a proper age, I think I'll indulge on the flight and see what that might do for the pain, having no other means of combating what will surely be an atrocious mess of nerves. I've been told that gin and tonic knocks you out real quick on a long flight. Well, I guess it'll all depend if I get the aisle or the window. The aisle gives you the bathroom, but the window gives you Mt. Fuji. Which is closed this time of year, and all the times of year I'll be here, so it's nice to see, if only from above.

It is now nearly 10:30, how? But I intend to sleep in a bit tomorrow, having no test to study for. I'll probably work on the skit for class, ugh, but I seem always to get decent grades on those things, regardless of whether anyone in my group (given they've been two people up to now, that's a fancy non-blaming way of explaining that I do, contrary to popular belief, err, on the odd occasion) forgets his/her lines or no.

More stressingly, we apparently will be receiving no study guide for the test on Monday in my lit class and still know not whether it shall be in class or take home. I'd rather it be in class so I don't have to write a paper over the holiday, but everyone else seems to feel oppositely. The teacher thinks he'll do one of both.

?

Not sure how that'll work out.

Thusly, good gents and lassies, I must myself to bed, get! No, this is not Japanese sentence structure, it is Yoda sentence structure. If it were Japanese, it'd be along the lines of Myself I bed to get must. And there you have it.

自分でベード行かなkればなりません。

That doesn't actually make much sense in Japanese. It's sounds more like I couldn't properly say that I'll be sleeping alone tonight. O.o

<3

Duck, duck, duck, duck, duck

Goose!

Anyway, yet again I find myself in the computer lab, trying to kill a tiny bit of time so that the cafeteria will not be so deathly loud when I enter it. Good gracious. Need everyone scream all the time? It gives me a headache... but it's cheap.

What else what else what else? Um, cancelled my spot in the trip to Asakusa because this weekend I really ought to study for Monday's test. Kind of a bummer, because I could've met so many people, but what can you do? Shikata ga nai! I can't figure out how to type in Japanese on these school computers...

Okay, so I figured it out, but I don't know how a Japanese keyboard is configured, so it came out gibberish. And there ain't no symbols on the keys but English, so obviously Japanese students are geniuses.

Seems like there's nothing much to write about nowadays. I'll try to bring my camera to school tomorrow to take pics of all the Christmas trees about Tokyo. Then I can try to get some pics at Harajuku if I can meet with Kayoko this weekend. We generally meet there, and it's very Christmasy.

Anything else...................?

I can't think of anything. Sorry to waste space O.o <3

*Goodnight*

I finished US Touching Evil. Not very satisfying- I want more Jeffrey Donovan! But at least there will be more Burn Notice next month. And I got the mandatory 2:30 hrs of kanji studying per day done yet again. It's getting harding, I think. Want to do something- anything else! Tests this week, yet again, followed by one test next week, though only one day of class as well.

Finished RC. Hoorah. Studied all day. Anti-hoorah. Finally got skit- hoorah. Didn't have time to study it- anti-hoorah.

But then there was Jeffrey Donovan, so let's end on a hoorah note.

And it is only 9:30, so I think I can get to sleep on time. I'll try to respond to e-mails tomorrow. Sorry- I got swept up in getting things done in twice the time they ought to have. I think, if my brain's really a computer, it's one of those old ones with too much crap on it, so it can only go very s-l-o-w-l-y. I need to delete things, upgrade, or just trash and get a new one. Ugh, I just had a gross image of USB port type things in my head.

Ew.

Too exhausted to write anything non-depressing beyond this point. <3

*Quick, Hide!*

That's the name of my concealer. Isn't that kinda funny? Anyways, I gotta get me some shut eye, so here's a quick post.

I honestly can't even think what I've spent the last hours doing. Last night? Oh, I talked with Courtney on Skype for a few hours, then went to bed O.o Oh, I think I talked to my mom really late as well, but I was pretty sleepy all last night, so I'm not sure I remember it all. Oh, but Courtney has pictures:

http://thehoneytree.blogspot.com/

Um, I was attempting to cheer her up? "Fail". ":(" "[toilet]" I watched 80% of Meet the Robinsons today, 'til M got back from the party, and they turned on Dreamer. It was even worse than it looked, so I scuttled off to my room to watch more serial killers being caught on Touching Evil. That show's creepy, and not very well written (the U.S. version). If it weren't for Jeffrey Donovan...

I mostly studied or attempted to finish Robinson Crusoe today, which I'll try to get done before going to bed. But it is late, so I must get to that all.

Oh, I also watched some MASH to get away from all that murderingness. Also, I've only three episodes left of the entire TE show. Hrml. And MASH eps are so short, I'll be done with the season I brought soon. Then, I guess I'll rewatch Jake 2.0, but that's not much time either. What the heck am I gonna watch while I study for finals? Has to be something I've seen, or I'll get distracted- gyah!

Anyway, <3 and zzzzs

Astor, my Astor

*Waiting for the Cafeteria to Clear*

So I can eat there when it isn't so crazy loud that I want to do something drastic. If I do something drastic, my life movie might go up from a PG-13 to an R, and then I'd lose my whole tween audience. They're my bread and butter.

But you, darling, are my water.

?

Anyway, I was in a good mood but now I'm just kinda hungry. I wanted to post something while I was in a good mood. But-I'm-HUNGRY! So, maybe this wasn't the geniusest (ha) idea I ever came up with. And I have homework. Like, for real. The kind that's due in oh, two hours. Actually, it's just a reading, and I think it's ten pages AND a play, so... But anyway, I've it nonetheless.

Also, I picked up Arthur Waley's translation of the Tale of Genji, because the fellow in my book club quoted an Amazon.com review supposedly by an East Asian studies graduate student, who said that Waley's (from 1930) is better than Seidensticker's (from the 70's?), after I explained that I heard Seidensticker was better. Given that my info comes from oh, the entire Asian Studies scholarly community, plus a Princeton educated Japanese Literature PhD, I think I win.

But this guy always has to know the most. He claims to be good with figuring out the best translations, but obviously not with Genji. Because Waley slaughters the poetry.

Japanese poetry, as you probably know, is syllabic based rather than rhyme based. You know, like a haiku is 5 syllables-7 syllables- 5 syllables. Rhyming is not important. Yet, Waley makes the Japanese poems rhyme. He basically turns it into a piece of Western literature by using Westerm metaphors and poetic schemes (hoorah for couplets but not when they're forged out of waka).

I don't really know what to say to him because I don't want to be jerkly, but I also think he ought to have allowed that I probably know more than him about this particular topic. He knows I'm in Tokyo studying Japanese lit, so...?

WTF. Gasp, I swore in acronym. Or... that's not an acronym is it? Someone tell me what it's actually called and I'll fix it and we'll pretend this little note never happened.

?

To the food! <3

*Talented, Or Demented?*

So, I fell out of bed last night. Yeah, for reals. I'm a five-year-old.

Sometimes I can have really awful nightmares, and I've woken up screaming before and I remember having seen someone leaning over me, maybe with a knife. I screamed when I woke up last night but I guess it wasn't loud because nobody woke up ^^* Lame-o lungs. Oh, and I propelled myself away from my attacked, which is what landed me on the ground.

Ouch. I hit the nightstand with my hand and it's swollen and stuff. And I've got bruises down my side and back. T.T Being five is painful!

I think I'm at peace with the a-hole in my group? Question mark? But he might get mad at me because Tale of Genji was nominated (yeah, I JUST finished reading it), and he said that the oldest English translation was the best. But we were told that it REALLY wasn't in class, so I wrote:

"Really? I was told that the Seidensticker translation was preferred. Waley's
older, so perhaps the English is a little bit more difficult? Also, I think
Seidensticker assumes you've read Kojiki, so that might make all the difference.
All I know for sure is, don't go with the Tyler version! He makes it seem like
one character is actually three or four different people! Although, if anyone
wants the Waley version, I can probably scrounge it up here in Tokyo. Oh, also,
there's another translation in the works right now.

I think Genji's deceptively long because it is chock full of waka poems and art,
plus the space it takes for notes by the translator. Honestly, I thought it was
much easier than Don Quixote."

I wasn't trying to be nice about it, but maybe I came off as a jerk? Now I'm worried gyah! Don't wanna be a jerk.

Going to sleep thinking I'm a jerk. Goodnight.

<3

P.S. Will try not to fall out of bed.

*Optimism?*

Psyche! I just wrote that to get you to read the entry! And it WORKED! Now, don't you feel silly in your shorts?

Anyway, it wasn't the greatest day, nor has it been an especially fantastic week. Ah, litotes, there you are! In any event, I purchased some books over the last few days, because that's just who I am. Get with it. O.o

I bought The Little Prince (Le Petit Prince) in Japanese. Hoorah for children's books that generally tell you the hard kanjis meanings. Actually, kanji is both singular and plural, but it sounds weird, don't you think? Anyway, in Japanese, the title is 星の王子様, though my book puts the last kanji character in hiragana instead. Some of the kanji are left without notes for their reading, but I generally already know them. Which makes me feel smart. Which is good for my self esteem. Which is good for who? For YOU, gentle reader, and that's what I'm all about.

Also, incidentally, what the hokey pokey is all about.

Or is it all about the hokey pokey? Why didn't I capitalize the dance's name? Disrespecting the Hokes..

Anyway, the Japanese title literally translates to "The Star Prince." Isn't that pretty? And yet, not correct. So, why, beloved viewers, have they made this alteration? Then again, why is the American "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" renamed the "Sorcerer's Stone?" Because Americans aren't clever enough to know what philosophy means? Or because the target audience consists purely of CHILDREN who do not understand the meaning of the word philosophy beyond Charlie Brown's excellent explanation of his "personal philosophy," though I've forgotten what it was.

Also, speaking of Harry Potter, I got "The Tales of Beedle the Bard" in British-ese. The first story was sweet and the second's proving well but it is SO SHORT. Like 100 pages, TINY pages, and with pictures and other stuff cluttering up the pages. Why, Rowling, why do you do this to me? I will be done, and then what? Reread the Harry Potters? That is such a long time commitment! Le sob!

Additionally, in my RAGE at that [censored... um... the censor was on vacation during the last post] in my reading group, I purchased an actually culturally pluralistic Pulitzer prize winner. For 2008, if you didn't know, which you ought to, since I just posted it... Anyway, Junot Diaz's "The Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao" won. It is about a Dominican American kid. I think it will make me happy because you just don't get that much Latino American lit. Or Latino Americano? Or Americano Latino? Or, stop making it worse fool, they didn't much know you'd erred in the first place til you made a big to do about it.

Hi, mom.

So, anyway, I want to read that. Yet, I must also finish Little Prince in Japanese and Beedle the Bard and *$&# Robinson Crusoe AND The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. Phew. I intend to complete RC tomorrow and burn it. Not really. It's a library book. I'll burn MY copy when I get home. That's the genius plan. So, dearest family, if you happen to feast your peepers on this ramble, you cannot in good faith tell me three months from now that I did not warn you of my intentions of arson.

You have been warned- bwahahhahahaha.

The research session was short. The girl just had me listen to random nonsense words in Japanese and mark what I thought I heard. Like...

Aki (a-ki)
Akki (a-pause-ki)
Aaki (aaaaaah-ki)

So the difference is what I marked. She gave me a five dollar gift card to the book store ^_^ Wasn't that sweet!? Of course, this was after my recent purchases and I'm now cut off of the book buying insanity. In January, perhaps. So, I must hold on to it.

Speaking of which, where the hey-ho did I put that thing?

Good night, all! Even though you will be awakening soon...

<3 and Chocolate

I'm So Angry I Could Spit

Obviously, my bad mood continues. Essentially, this asshole (sorry) posted in response to my nomination for February's book, The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison, that maybe we oughtn't read pre-WWII books 'cause they aren't really classics. This pissed me off. If he doesn't want to read the book then don't vote for it. It's not like I'm the only one nominating for God's sake.

So I replied (Frank's the group leader):
Frank said in the nomination message that the group does "modern
classics" as well. It seems more difficult to get cultural pluralism
in our texts if we ignore the 20th century! I think the difference
between pre-American Civil Rights Movement and post is significant
enough that we have to look beyond the 1960's in American literature,
at least.


[His response. Quoted without permission >.< but I'm angry so grrrr- my commentary in brackets]
You're right that it is harder to get cultural pluralism if we stop at
about World War II, though our January selection is an example of a
pre-WWII cultural pluralist selection [We're reading The Sound of the Mountain by Yasunari Kawabata, which is both post-WWII and culturally homogenous. It's Japanese for God's sake, this country's about as racially and religiously homogenous as they get. Cultural pluralism? Does he even get the term? I think he thinks he's a lot smarter than he is. Cultural pluralism refers to minority groups within larger cultures], so it isn't impossible.

But if we read from any era, the group becomes just a generic reading
group without any particular focus, not a classics reading group.
That's not to say it couldn't become that if people voted it that way,
but there are hundreds of Yahoo reading groups, plenty of which read
and discuss modern literature, while this is the only one I'm aware of
which specifically focuses on classics. Which is what attracted me
here, just speaking personally. [So he's saying, what? He wants me to leave the group? The group's read things like "Atonement" and "The English Patient" previously. Why can't he just not vote for the book and leave it at that?]

BTW, I, for one, think the term "modern classic" is an oxymoron, and
an particularly insidious [Insidious: intended to trap of beguile; stealthily treacherous... are we not being a little melodramatic?]one at that. So many books are hailed as
"modern classics" or "destined to become a classic" or such which
within a decade or two disappear into Neverland. Just go back and
look at the selections of the Pulitzer or other prizes for literature
from the past few decades and see how many have survived and are still
read today [because twenty years is how we know a book is good. Nevermind "found classics," such as the Nihongi and Tale of Genji, that reappear hundreds of years after having disappeared into anonynimity]-- and how few are likely to be read hundreds of years now,
as Austen, Chaucer, Dickens, Trollope, Defoe, Thackeray, Scott, Hardy,
Milton, Shakespeare, et. al, have been and still are.

We could argue ad infinitum, if we chose, over the definition of
classic and never reach agreement, but personally I think a pretty
good guide is that if a book has never appeared in at least one of the
major series of classic books [AKA, enjoyed by the WASPS. Jesus Christ, I'm angry at this point. Because the classics are almost ALWAYS by caucasians and then mostly by men. He's trying to change this into the class that made me quit my English major. I could spit!] (I think of the Great Books of the
Western World, the Harvard Classics, Modern Library classics, Everyman
editions (both original and current), Penguin Classics, Oxford World
Classics, Barnes and Noble classics, and there may be a few others I'm
missing), it isn't very likely to be regarded by many literate readers
as a legitimate classic. [By "literate readers," as though I'm not because of my opinion. What an asshole.]

Just my opinion. [I hate him.]

How to respond, I wonder? Is he being overtly rude enough that I can be implicitly rude back? Am I just angry because I'm overworked, had two tests the last two days and two quizes to follow, with 8 pages of homework assigned, all in the same class? Plus 80 pages of Tale of Genji for tonight, two tests next week and a big test the day before break?

That may be true. But I still think this guy's a jerk. Gr.

P.S. Here are the apparently "unread" novels that have won the Pulitzer Prize in the last thirty years:
1978: Elbow Room by James Alan McPherson
1979: The Stories of John Cheever by John Cheever
1980: The Executioner's Song by Norman Mailer
1981: A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole
1982: Rabbit Is Rich by John Updike
1983: The Color Purple by Alice Walker
1984: Ironweed by William Kennedy
1985: Foreign Affairs by Alison Lurie
1986: Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry
1987: A Summons to Memphis by Peter Taylor
1988: Beloved by Toni Morrison
1989: Breathing Lessons by Anne Tyler
1990: The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love by Oscar Hijuelos
1991: Rabbit At Rest by John Updike
1992: A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley
1993: A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain by Robert Olen Butler
1994: The Shipping News by E. Annie Proulx
1995: The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields
1996: Independence Day by Richard Ford
1997: Martin Dressler: The Tale of an American Dreamer by Steven Millhauser
1998: American Pastoral by Philip Roth
1999: The Hours by Michael Cunningham
2000: Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri
2001: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon
2002: Empire Falls by Richard Russo
2003: Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
2004: The Known World by Edward P. Jones
2005: Gilead by Marilynne Robinson
2006: March by Geraldine Brooks
2007: The Road by Cormac McCarthy
2008: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz

Under the Sea

*rant*

I remember one time this exhibit came to the city with information about the Titanic. At the beginning, each person received a little card with the name of one of the passengers or crew members printed upon it. When you reached the end, after seeing panel after panel of distressing news about preventable deaths and Tower of Babel type analogies, there was a wall. On this wall were printed all the names of people who died in the ship's sinking, and each person was meant to scan down the list to find the name printed on their card. My person survived. I went to the exhibit three times and it was always the same.

So the exhibit wasn't quite as dramatic as it might have been. Similarly, you receive a card at the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C. In this case, it isn't simply a name, but a brief life story and a picture, I believe. At the end, your heart is generally broken as you see this person's terrible end, merely in print but after hours of wandering through horrific images and documentary shorts, the image clearly returns to your mind. But, anyway, back to the Titanic.

At that exhibit, they had an iceberg, so that people could tell exactly how cold the temperatures must have reached when the ship sank and people were thrown into the water. You were asked to hold your hand there for thirty seconds, in comparison to the hours upon hours that the poor passengers and crewpeople were forced to endure or die from. If you managed to hold on for those thirty seconds, it became apparent how they must have felt, for you have already numbed. I hear that the people who died after floating in the water for some time generally either drowned, if they were unable to procure some sort of flotation device, or passed out from the cold and then passed away.

It must be a horrible death. I can't remember who said it exactly, but Alan Alda mentions a scientist in his second autobiography who asked not to have anesthetic at the time of his death. He said, and I paraphrase, "There's only one opportunity to experience this, and I'm not going to miss it." Imagine not even being granted that luxury.

Yet, I again digress, for the point of this rant is to proclaim that I want this numbness! The cold has been a constant enemy of mine over the years, but it might be worth enduring more than thirty seconds and more than a hand, being submerged, just to have some break from this feeling. It hurts and if I take the medication, my mind and my body dulls. The cold water must keep you awake, right? Like when you take a freezing shower to awaken yourself in the morning after staying up too late the previous night. The numbness of body without the numbness of mind. Like a paraplegic.

Isn't there some way to have that numbness of body without numbness of mind, yet still be in control of said body? Everything's about sacrifice. Tit for tat, right?

Anyway, I'm just ranting until the Vicodin kicks in. It's okay to be mentally "out of office" while you dream. I hope I don't have more nightmares. I'm watching Touching Evil, a show about serial crime detectives, so I get to have happy dreams of serial killers killing me or people I love in fascinatingly disturbing ways. The one last night involved puzzles. Ugh.

<3

*Bad Mood*

I'm in a bad mood -gr.

Artist's representation of bad mood:



Being a straight A student is very, very hard. And I should probably get to studying for my next test, as there's another one tomorrow, as complained about previously.

I'm very homesick and want to call my mommy and cry but it's too late there. Even though she'd say it's okay, I still feel bad because I already woke her up once- d'oh! I am an unfilial child. >.<

Anyway, on study breaks I'll be trying for another Incredible! (re: previous e-mail >.< I don't remember which!), which hopefully will not disappear through a glitch in the system. Though, one might believe that I only got it through a glitch as well. Tricky minds, you have, gentle readers.

Groan! Whine! Sob!

でも、仕方がない。

＜３日本語で。。。

Don't Wanna Study but I'm Hungry!

Ah, the logic just fills us all with joy. In any event, if I go to the cafe to eat then I must study for the test tomorrow. The test today was alright; I think I did well, but one never knows with this class. It is a confusing yellow-green spotted jumping hippopotamus. Exactly.

So, I was writing in my head when I was trying to sleep last night, and I'm trying not to forget, because I'm rewriting the first chapter of my Nanowrimo book for last year. Thusly, I type it's start below, which may or may not be complete crap O.o:

"Le garcon [is/Fr] belle."

The response from Toby(?)'s classmates reverberated many times throughout the metallic hall into which the room's door opened. As the long hallway continued, the sound began to distort and decay, so that at the very end, it was merely present as though an impossible wind. In the classroom itself, the noise was loud enough to embed itself permanently in Toby(?)'s mind, to haunt him for the next 8 days, the last of his short life. It was so loud, in fact, that it pulled Thomas, ineffectual as always, from his acceptant, perhaps fatalistic, silence and into speech.

Yet even as Thomas' lips parted in preparation for the authoritative word, his efforts were subverted by Joe(?)'s mocking voice, "Boys aren't pretty!"

Joe rocked himself back in his chair as he giggled, clutching his belly and displaying what remained of his teeth.


Anyway... I had more but I'm hungry enough to have to go study grrrr. Wish me luck!

*How Fast Can I Type, Or Gyah!*

So, I have a huge test tomorrow and the next day, so I really must go off to sleep so that I can go in for another zillion hour day of pure study bliss. I think, for the test tomorrow, I've studied a combined 15 hours, so I ought to get an A. I'll probably get a C, because I'm feeling pessimistic, and thus have to say things like that, or risk losing my lousy name. I also have to call my name lousy. Though, it seems good enough to me.

I had nightmares last night from watching the creepiest episode of Touching Evil (American version). It's one about horse mutilations and I've seen it before, once, but this time it bothered me even more. Maybe because last time I'd just finished reading Equus, which is also about horse mutilations, but also strangely religious. It's an interesting work, if you have the time to read it. Peter Schafer, I think, who did Amadeus as well. Also the play that Daniel Radcliffe appeared in sans clothing. But it's an artful scene, so let's not us be silly about it.

I hate group work. The gal what was supposed to send in our skit script forgot. Now, we all get late grades. You see? I'm not pessimistic about this- it just happens to be the case that whenever I work in a group, I am left disappointed and trying to hold the durn thing up. Insert nihilistic "born alone, die alone" type comment here.

I watch many YouTube channels religiously but one in particular has made me very happy lately. So, if you've the time, please check out Vick Vancouver at the above site. It is a comedic gay soap opera set in Vancouver. They just had the season finale (gasp) and it's a cliffhanger. I just jumped right in, so you probably don't need to go back to the beginning to figure out what's going on. Pretty amusing lines, though. Vick's being hounded by the student loan bureau and he exclaims: "I wasn't even a student when I spent that money!" Ha...

Only three more chapters left of Genji. Hold your applause hold your applause. I'll have an update the second it's concluded, which ought to be Wednesday.

Oh, on Wednesday also, I'm volunteered for this graduate student research thing. They're testing the ways native English speakers hear Japanese. Shrug? The girl seemed really nice and a bit desperate for subjects, and it's only a half hour AND after the big tests for this week (more next week gyah!) so I figured I ought to. And, hopefully, if I need zillions of people for my research thesis thingy for master's or doctorate (I actually do know the names but I'm too exhausted to type them out, deal wit' it a la the ghetto), I'll be due. In a good way. But not in a baby way. Though baby way is good way too.

Wellll, wish me luck. Seriously. No, seriously. Honest to Pete, I'm going to get a C on this test and have to cry because I wasted so many hours studying for naught. Well, for a C, which isn't quite naught. I suppose in grade terms, that'd be an F O.O

Kev Jumba's grading scale (how his parents view his report card/transcript... I think it's right- forgive the language please)
A: Average
B: Bad
C: Crap
D: Death
F: Fucked

So, if the last is beyond death, that'd be pretty scary. He got an F in Calculus, actually. Oh dear...

<3

*This Weekend*

Yesterday, I went to this Winter Fest thing at the American School in Japan, which was very fun. I bought gifts up the wazoo, because these weren't just crafts- they were intense! Also, there were booths serving food from different countries. I guess there are a LOT of countries represented at the American school. So it was very tasty. Also, I got a lot of books for about $3, hoorah. Though, I am still (still!) reading Robinson Crusoe and will never finish. Gah!

Today, I studied all day. I have a zillion tests in the coming weeks, which is just mean, since I finished midterms so recently >.< I have two big tests in Japanese, and I really want A's, so, you know. Watched Rocky while I studied the kanji aspect. That movie's a lot better than I remembered it. He's just kinda sweet, you know?

No test tomorrow, just a quiz gr. So burnt out. Burnt out! I can't fit any more Japanese in my brain. And my hand aches from writing so much today. Literally, this vein in my right hand is throbbing and I can feel it. Like if I put another finger over it. It really hurts. T.T

It will be interesting to see how we cover 2 lessons, 8-9 days of class work in five days. We have another test next Thursday, which must mean between this Thursday and next Wednesday we'll cover those in class. How? Sadists.

I need to go to bed. Sorry for the complainy-ness. It wasn't the most pleasant of days. Plus, on my break I got an "Incredible" in Alchemistry playing Yohoho Puzzle Pirates but the game bugged out, so I don't have the trophy to prove it T.T That game's hard- sniff. What a pain!

<3

*Ouch! And "Oh!"*

So, my back/neckness was pretty durned bad today. There was some lying on the floor moaning goodness. Hoorah? I missed my second class (it's ok, it's the first time missing each class, except Japanese which I have five days a week, for goodness sake). I think I figured out the problem though.

"Oh!"

It appears that the box spring, if that's what it's called (the thing that's like a mattress but more solid that goes beneath the mattress) was off of the supporting thingy at one point, so that it dipped, making the mattress dip as well, though not as much. Here is an artist's rendering of the event:



Thusly, I hope that the problem has been solved by fixing the box spring, or whatever it's called, so that it is no longer askew. Sure hope so, 'cause I've got tests up the wazoo on the horizon. Gyah! Pre-break murder sessions are just mean -_-
I need to go to bed, because my neck still hurts, though it feels some better after sleeping on a flat bed for a few hours. Going to a winter fair at the school M (edited to just that) works at. Her husband says he's too busy, so I'm glad I didn't back out on account of the pain. Then she'd have to go alone to an event that must be sad enough with the empty roost-ness.

Wish me luck with tests, but not Robinson Crusoe. Though I need luck for both >.< I'd rather bag the RC reading. It's ok but NO BREAKS GYAH. I need chapters. I am that sort of person. This straight text thing makes me want to bury my head in the sand a la an ostrich.

That is the plan.

Good night <3

Look, it's a POST!

Summing up- kinda sick and burnt out. Thusly, slept all day yesterday. Did not write blog (did not even remember it O.o). Did not bathe.

Actually, the last bit is a fallacy. Nonetheless, it was a dark time. Or is? Because still sick and burnt out, ugh.

"Won't you light my candle?" Then I'll be lit anew. -.-Zzzzzzz

<3

*No Test Tomorrow?*

How surreal... I have no quiz/test in Japanese class tomorrow. Hurrah! Spelled correctly, just this once. But I think "hoorah" looks a lot more exciting and adds a degree of mystery. That's right, I put the "who" in "who-rah!". If you listen carefully to my exclamations, you may notice that I do in fact say the word in that manner. I think that "her-rah" is gender discriminate. I love men too much to pronounce it in such a sexist manner.

Or not. I could just be ranting 'cause I got nothin' to talk about. Uh oh.

So, I did in fact go to the Shibuya Ward office today to update my address for my Alien Registration Card (they keep track of all us Jupiterians, but not the Martians or Venusians. Sick 'n tired of this terrestrialism. I think they're just jealous of our planet's size. And distance from the sun. Yeah.). It was a pretty sweet deal 'cause I didn't have to wait so long as others because I can speak Japanese well enough. So, I could tell the man who only spoke Japanese whereas others had to wait for the lady who spoke English as well. ^____^ <---arrogant much? Also, I saw the Disney Store in Shibuya, which is AMAZING. It looks like a Disney house/castle from the outside! I'll take pictures next time I go there.

I also found a stray kitty but I couldn't catch him. He was an amazing creature. Lifted his leg and peed on a car a la dogs. I wouldn't really know what to do with a stray cat, 'specially since you can't have 'em in this building, apparently, but he oughta have somewhere to call home! I'll try to figure out what one does with a lost kitty/pup. Maybe I should go back and look for him. It's a man because it peed on the car, btw. Oh, I guess I just outed myself as a sexist. Durn.

Or not?

Well, there was some traumatic-ness today. Some people came into the apartment to check the fire alarm, but I wasn't informed that this would be the case, so I thought someone was breaking in. Okay, they kept trying lots of different keys, which does sound a great deal like someone picking a lock. I figured it had to be one or another, so I'd hide in my room and lock the door. Anyway, they had to check the alarm in my room too, but it was locked, so they tried the keys on it O.O So, I freaked out, picked up my flute to use as a weapon (a $2000 weapon O.o guns are cheaper...) and opened the door. I think they got a pretty big shock.

But it was not a good experience. Three men + one girl home alone =DISASTER! Even if they were fire alarm checkers, it really isn't a good idea. They could be perverts! And I'm inclined to think that most men are perverts (sorry sorry, but every 26 seconds a woman is raped in South Africa... and there's a whole lot more of world. I think it's every five seconds a woman is raped. It takes more than five seconds to rape a woman, so there must be a ton of rapists out there. Shiver shiver). So, this kinda turned into a man-bashing rant.

Hrm. I think mostly women read this anyway...

<3

*Printers are Loud*

What a dope I am, printing something so late at night. I didn't realize it would be so slow and noisy! Gyeek- please let it be quieter on the outside!!!

So, I forgot to print the map for the Shibuya Ward Office at school today, because that's the way my brain works/fails to work. I did, however, remember to print all of the poetry and short stories I have selected to bring to the December meeting of the book club I joined. I'm planning to bring/have printed:

*"Bullet in the Brain"- Tobias Wolff (http://ofsink.com/bullet.pdf)
*"The Yellow Wallpaper"- Charlotte Perkins Gilman (http://www.library.csi.cuny.edu/dept/history/lavender/wallpaper.html)
*"A Temporary Matter"- Jhumpa Lahiri (http://www.nytimes.com/books/first/l/lahiri-maladies.html)
*"Six to Eight Black Men"- David Sedaris (http://people.cornell.edu/pages/bs16/Christmas/6_to_8_black_men.txt)

*"Tonight I Can Write"- Pablo Neruda (http://www.geocities.com/nerudapoet/lovepoems/tonighti.htm)
*"My Boy Jack"- Rudyard Kipling (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Boy_Jack_(poem)#Text_of_the_poem)
*"Not Waving But Drowning"- Stevie Smith (http://www.artofeurope.com/smith/smi1.htm)
*"Magnificat"- Michele Roberts (http://mandyofthesea.blogspot.com/2008_10_01_archive.html --linking myself??!)

I'm also trying to get ahold of the first chapter of "The Things They Carried" to print. But maybe I have too many already? I don't know how much to bring @.@! I hope everyone else brings things that are amazing that I've never heard of!

I found this really nifty book at the library called "Crime Novels: American Noir: 1930s & 40s". It has about six novellas in it that eventually became Film Noir(s?). Like "The Postman Always Rings Twice," "They Shoot Horses, Don't They," and "Thieves Like Us." Having never seen an old film noir (I've seen modern interpretations tho... up the wazoo!), I don't actually know these films/stories, but I have heard of them, which must count for something, mustn't it?

Well, I'm exhausted, so fair thee well into this wintry night. Or... wake up happily? I guess it's about six am there. Lazy bones! Just kidding...?

<3

*It is Late, and I Have Work to Do*

Well, I have kanji to study anyway. Yet another test tomorrow- groan! So, anyway, leave me to my Jeffrey Donovan bliss/study session, and forgive the short entry.

Not that much happened today O.O Our skit in Japanese is now about buying a Christmas tree, but they still won't take any of my ideas. As in, maybe one person could be, I don't know, LESS than enthusiastic about the idea of buying a Christmas tree. I want one of us to be a scrooge v.v But this isn't for anything but a grade, and that based on grammar and such, so really what does it matter?

But it does matter to me. T.T They took my creativity and shoved it into a 2"x2" box. At least it might have been ovular!

Loves <3

Oh, and I finished Aesop's Fables. Um, but there's nothing new there. You pretty much hear them all over the course of your life. Now I must read Robinson Crusoe for that same reading group (online), then I can get back to The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. THEN I can read Raisin in the Sun, real quick (it's a play for goodness sake), and hit up the second Twilight book. Then you will all love me again.

What a sad thing to say!

Loves again <3

I think this must be why I didn't like The Time Traveler's Wife

Among other reasons... Anyway, this short story came out long before the book's publication:

Tim Maly

Time, Again

Before we met, you showed me your diary.

I must confess that I am still confused by this sequence of events, as, I imagine, you must be confused by my decision to leave your life so suddenly. I've gone over everything in my head time and time again and I can't shake the feeling that, somehow, everything got mixed up. Though this may seem a flimsy reason to you, it is reason enough for me. I don't understand, so I'm going to leave.

Before we met, you showed me your diary and then we were having sex on the wooden floor of your living room. I still remember the way the plants filtered the sunlight and the sound of the tea kettle building up steam. Then our son was at the foot of the bed, asking me where you'd gone.

"I don't know," I told him, "I expect she'll be back soon."

Today I went into your study and found that you'd converted it into a gallery. The first photo of every roll of film we'd ever had developed was there, somewhere. I found that I could date every one, even the ones that hadn't happened yet. They seemed to go on forever, a jumbled mess of happy memories, each one partially obscured by blinding white light. I knocked over a jar full of tacks but when I went to pick them up I was overcome with vertigo and I had to leave.

We were making desperate love in your basement when you told me about spacetime. You said that the future is just as real as the past. You told me that just because you aren't there yet doesn't mean it isn't real. You said it was like Baghdad still being real when you're in London. You talked about personal time and light cones and folding space and I didn't understand anything except the way that your breasts moved and the way your breath misted in the cold. Then we were on a roller coaster and you were screaming and you said, "This is what it's going to be like all the time." A balloon seller lost hold of his wares and they floated majestically into the sky. It was beautiful.

After you introduced yourself, we resumed our date and I asked you again why you'd chosen a drive-in. You told me that you had a special soft spot in your heart for B-movies. You said that there was something endearing about the earnestness of it all. You said that they called out to our imaginations in a way that big budget films can no longer achieve. You said that all science fiction - no matter how dismal - was optimistic in that it assumed that there would be a future at all. We were in a board room and you were explaining to the assembled group of investors about the Machine. They were smiling and nodding. They didn't really understand but experts had told them that your idea showed promise and, after all, a war was on. The coffee tasted terrible and I kept fidgeting in my seat. You were radiant. No one thought to ask what would happen if the Machine broke.
< 2 >

Today, I watched an egg assemble itself on the kitchen floor. It made a strange popping noise as the last bit of eggshell attached itself. It flew into the air up and up and then came to rest on the counter. A helicopter roared overhead and our son came in and told me he was scared. I didn't know what to tell him. The war has begun and no one can say how or when it will end.

I remember your reaction when you read this letter. I remember how the last line, where I say "we weren't meant to live like this," brought a tear to your eye and you turned to our son and tried to explain to him that I was gone. But how could you explain? What does 'gone' mean to a child his age? Then we were lying together under the stars and when the first fireworks went off, you leaned over and kissed me for the first time. You tasted like popcorn. I can't blame you for choosing a new husband.

When you finally came back, you were younger. That was the hardest for both of us, I think. We didn't share the same memories anymore. You held me and told me that it would be alright, that you had hardly changed but I think that we both know now that that wasn't true at all. Time changed people. That's how it worked.

Today, I went down to the basement and stared at the Machine. I can still remember the day you turn it on. You'll stand in front of a crowd of reporters with our son and your new husband at your side and you'll give your speech about the tyranny of time and death and the triumph of science and about setting us free. But inside, you'll be thinking, "I wish he had been here to see this." I know this because, before we met, you showed me your diary and you wrote about this day. How could you not? It was the most important day of your life. You saved us from the enemy and ended the war. You asked me to stop it. There's nothing I can do. The future is just as real as the past. There is no before or after anymore. Because of you, there never was.

We weren't meant to live like this.