"Jya ne" to Px

We bid a heartfelt "jya ne" [good-bye for now, as opposed to "sayonara," good-bye permanently] to Px this past weekend as she makes her way back to Oz. I couldn't have asked for a better flatmate as I started out here in Tokyo. Thanks so much for everything, P, and please, remember us little people when you become a famous pop star diva. xoxox!

The Mash Hits Tokyo

My little Mashy came allllll this way just to see me... ok and maybe them too. Click the Harajuku freaks for more pics of feeding frenzies, karaoke and our trip to Nikko.

The Joys of PR

My task of the morning was to create sample panel displays in order to illustrate our ingenious thoughts to the designer working for our client. Though our jurisdiction is actually only the contents of each panel (messages, text, etc.), the boss felt it would be “helpful” to create a “visual” to estimate how much text we would need. I am a serious communications professional—which means I work with scissors, colored paper, and bubble letters. Behold...


And they say cheerleading is worthless. Bah! Obviously it helps you to become a serious communications professional. It is because of high school’s football season that I became an expert at drawing and cutting out bubble letters and making signs and posters. Look where it has gotten me today (tear).

Let me just say, the closer it gets to quittin’ the less I feel like workin’.

Home Sweet Home photos

Internet has been miraculously repaired. Now if only I could say the same about the washing machine... The pictures you have all been patiently (not necessarily anxiously) awaiting...

Washington DC, Nazareth, New York: June 1 - 10, 2005. Click!

Danger zone

Internet problems have severely limited picture posting and entries to the blog. S’ modem seems to be broken at the moment, and my attempts to steal a wireless connection from the neighbors have been in vain. I have pictures from our trip to the States, Mash’s visit to Tokyo, and now P’s sayonara accumulating all the memory on my camera instead of taking the spotlight on my blog. Hopefully this situation will be ameliorated very very soon.

It’s now been one week since I’ve moved into Masters Akasaka and have taken part in the “living together” arrangement. So far so good, though the situation has prompted some good moments.

I moved in last Sunday. On Monday, I flooded the bathroom (by no fault of my own). The washing machine hasn’t been working right, and during my load of laundry, it decided to start spewing water everywhere, leaving a centimeter of water or so all across the bathroom floor. Our second night in-house was spent sopping up water with towels and wringing them into buckets—we filled two to the brim. And for the past week we have been going back and forth with the Japanese repairmen, trying to get the thing fixed. Conclusion: Japanese repairmen are merely liaison to the real fix-it people. They apparently don’t know how to fix anything themselves.

The week continued with an eventful Wednesday night. S left the door to the veranda open in his room, and at 2am we were awoken by a “zzzz, zzzz” next to our ears and in my case, 6 new red and swelling mosquito bites in various no-need-to-be-mentioned locations. We switched on the lights and jumped onto the bed G.I. style with an aerosol can of insect killer as our chosen weapon. “There’s one!” I pointed and shouted. “Putain!” the Frenchman reveled as he leapt across the bed with the spray. Definitely deserved a photo.

Last night topped off the end of the official 1st week. S was looking for a plastic bag to hold his dirty laundry (which has been piling up immensely due to scenario #1). “Babe, have you seen my Fuji Rock bag?” he queried. She looked at him sheepishly. “I kind of threw away all those plastic bags in your closet since we had so many in the kitchen.” Apparently it was a souvenir from his first Fuji Rock concert two years ago.

Good thing I’m not being graded on this moving in thing. And even better that S isn’t such a harsh grader!

Ah, Muggles...

Well, Onigiriman, the opportunity for you to get here while I’m here, I must say, is unfortunately slim, at least for the near future. I’ve been making some references here and there about a shorter time in Japan than I expected, and now that things are more official, I can clarify.

My short-lived Tokyo stay is coming to a close. I have three more months to eat as much sushi as possible, yell “sumimasen” for some service, and play harder than I’ve ever played before. The next destination will be undoubtedly more demure. Think Harry Potter. Think high tea and pinky rings. Cambridge, England best prepare itself for my arrival.

I’ve been awarded a full scholarship (the GWU Bender, for those who would know) to do my M.Phil degree in East Asian Studies at Cambridge. It is a one-year program, 2/3 taught and 1/3 research, with my proposed topic being on how China and South Korea can be expected to react to Japan’s increasingly more assertive foreign policy.

My Japanese probably isn’t quite at the level it should be to undertake this level of research, meaning I will be working extremely hard. Surprisingly, this doesn’t bother me. I’m ready for a new challenge. But the thought of being a full-time student again-- having no time, no money, and much more stress leaves me feeling more than a little unprepared.

But, it’s one of those things that if I don’t do now, will I ever? Knowing myself as well as I do, I’m sure I would eventually regret not going. After all, as people keep telling me, Japan will always be here (barring any natural disasters of catastrophic proportions).

Of course, in addition to all of these disruptive life changes, the one at the forefront of my mind is what kind of masochistic drive in me will force me to leave S? And how can I possibly think that the opportunity cost of leaving him will somehow be offset by a Masters degree from Cambridge? Why does “self-improvement” always seem to trump love? And why do I always seem to feel that the one thing I can procrastinate is love?

Just the thought of leaving S makes me feel utterly nauseous, yet I made the decision as if there was no other choice. Am I taking for granted that he’ll wait for me? Am I avoiding the thought that maybe, he won’t? Still, rather than stay safe and happy here with him, I have decided to put the one thing I really want up for gamble. It doesn’t make any sense to me, yet I’m doing it. I am consciously deciding to leave someone I have fallen irrevocably in love with.

Can anyone explain human behavior to me? Apparently it’s one more degree I don’t have.

A Side of Mash and a New Home

My university roommate for all 4 years (minus the year we were both abroad), also known as the Mash Daddy, came with her high school friend Nina for a week-long visit in Tokyo. Being that we met at the airport as I was just arriving back from the States, we all persevered through the jet lag and made the most of our week, which included but was far from limited to the most well-attended Harajuku freak show I've ever seen, delicious dinners every night, a karaoke session of insanity followed by an early early morning (4am) trip to Tsukiji Fish Market, an overnight at a ryokan in Nikko and a day seeing the shrines and temples there, Peking duck and clubbing, a Frenchy for everyone, and limitless inside jokes and laughs. Was so great to have you here, girls. Just when I thought Tokyo couldn't get any more crazy and fun-- I should have known better ;-) One city obviously just can't handle all of us!

Continuing the whirlwind that basically began back when I had left for the States June 1st, I found myself at June 19th, working everyday and still going out every night after the non-stop tour up the East Coast U.S. To top it all off, yesterday I moved out of my place in Gakugei and in with my new "flat mate" S in Akasaka. It is amazing to me how I arrived in Tokyo with 3 suitcases and yesterday needed to rent a car and make 2 absolutely packed trips with my stuff. Did I really accumulate so much JUNK!?

Anyway, despite S' fears that I would totally invade his space, I actually only half-invaded it, as I was supposed to. Except for some empty suitcases that can't quite find a home yet, it seems that I will be pretty comfortable in my new home, be it temporary nevertheless. I still think it hasn't hit me yet that I've actually "moved in," as opposed to staying the night with my all too familiar tote bag, but I am realizing it little by little, particularly from simple things, like showering with my own shampoo (never felt better!).

I'm really looking forward to some quality time with S in the couple of months ahead, and especially to this week-- only thing planned is some rest and relaxation!

"Miss" placed

I thought I would feel that way-- "misplaced," that is. Lost in translation in a dimension somewhere between Harajuku and Times Square. But no, my trip to the States made me feel far from "misplaced." In fact, I was brought back to a "missed" place. Home.

From my too short time in Nazareth (I feel as though I spent way too little time with my mom), I arrived in DC after a frenzied drive, stopping at K's house to see her parents and sister, my sister's, and T-pan's in Adams Morgan on the way in. Before I knew it, it was time to meet S at the airport, and I had barely made it into the city. I found him sitting on the baggage claim like a lost little boy with an IPOD. He'd had to wait half an hour after already flying 8. I'm a horrible person!

After we had gotten back to the T&B pad, it felt as if I'd never left-- all except for the Frenchman next to me, who reminded me that actually I was just passing through. But even with S in the picture, seeming to add a misplaced element to the reminiscence of it all, it really felt perfectly natural being there with him. That's good, at least I know we function the same, even outside the twilight zone of Tokyo. The T&B provided excellent service as always (late night spoons and even a short though unintentional peep show-- Thanks Trish!), and I got to spend some, though not enough, time with my girls and even a Mikey for breakfast at the greasiest diner I've ever experienced. The next day was spent showing S the sites of DC-- made even more special, I think, because I think it communicated in the best way where I come from. It's fairly natural to be able to meet someone and share fun experiences, but as things become more serious, isn't it also just as important to share the elements that make you who you are? My family, my friends from home, my life in Washington-- I feel like these are all major contributors to who I am now... and without understanding these elements, I think there are parts of me that would just always seem distant.

As for my family, S met the whole crew. According to him, "I trapped him." Partially true, but not intentionally. We were supposed to meet my sister and brother-in-law, which I knew would go over fine-- how could it not over a lobster dinner overlooking the sunset on the Potomac? But Mom was a different story. Fortunately, everyone liked each other (a lot, in fact!), and that especially made me very happy.

New York felt a bit more like a vacation to me, which is good, because I needed one! We stayed with a friend of S' in a beautiful apartment in the West Village. We brunched, we drank in some pretty hip local bars, we cultured ourselves with a Broadway show and a stop at the Frick Collection, we ran around like crazy to meet the friends we wanted to see, and we ate New York pizza (if only a very small slice), a veal parmigiana, and though I unfortunately failed to satisfy a few more cravings (Philly cheesesteak, STEAK, hamburger-- seems like a red meat thing), I did fulfill my shopping goals (black high pumps, black belt, and a few extras).

The trip wrapped up with a very long flight, made even longer by the Japanese ojisan next to me who, even after I had told him I live in Japan and majored in Japanese in university, apparently felt obliged to ask me if I can eat sushi, what sushi I like, if I've been to Kyoto, if I know that Japanese has 3 alphabets, and if I'd heard of the Kobe earthquake. Finally, I found seppuku to be the only solution and am writing now from the afterlife. Kidding, but not far from the truth. I returned with 2 little souvenirs-- one is Mash Daddy and the other is my favorite of her "home" friends Nina. Time to polish my tour leading skills some more. This-- to be continued....

Home sweet home...

Jet lag is the culprit. It is 8:15 am, and I think I have been awake, tossing restlessly about in bed since 6. This comes after a night of merciless stomach pains no doubt caused by the poor shock to my system of America's "natural" diet. Night one was fine-- my mom made a great dinner for my friends and me, and my tummy was as happy as could be. But yesterday, in restaurants, I could eat only half a sandwich at lunch with my dad and a shrimp appetizer for dinner with my mom, and one of those? a combination maybe? left me in the bathroom for the entire rest of my Thursday night.

On a more pleasant note, the time home so far has been quick, busy, but great overall. My best friend K picked me up at the airport, and we finally got to catch up on everything over the past year. K is my technology averse friend who has yet to accept the convenience of communications through such means as E-MAIL! so compared to my other friends, we have been in far less contact. But how do you know your best friend is your best friend? We picked up right where we left off, as if we had been talking every day for the past 9 months.

K and I could not be more opposite when it comes to lifestyle. We stopped by her house, which she began renting with her boyfriend not long ago. Located outside the "town" of Nazareth, it has a big backyard with a shed that her boyfriend built for his motorcycle, and she has the inside beautifully decorated like a big country home. My boyfriend rides a scooter, because it's the most convenient form of transportation in the metropolis of Tokyo, and I am selling all of my furniture (which wasn't even mine to begin with) in two weeks to move into my boyfriend's one bedroom apartment.

R and K have been together since high school. I still remember the day, when we were driving around and stopped by Wendy's for food, that she excitedly told me that they'd gotten together. She had the biggest crush on him for a long time, but had dated his best friend. Finally enough time had passed that they could start dating, and they've been together, on and off a bit, ever since. She informed me that since I'd last seen R last summer, he had gained 45 pounds and a B cup, making him just about 250 now. "Be careful he doesn't get breast cancer!" my mom piped up.

As I gave K a brief overview of equity derivatives trading (she asked what S did for his job), I asked, "Hey, where is R by the way?" "Planting corn with his buddies," she answers. "Our dryer is broken, I've been driving this car without a sideview mirror for months, and he's out farming instead of fixing stuff at home." Sigh.

I don't think our worlds could be more different, but we ourselves are not so different from each other. Makes you think about how many other best friends you could have in some remote part of the world where life is 100% different from what you're used to. K will never read this-- or at least not until she befriends the technology of today, but no matter where we are or what we're doing, I think we'll always be best friends.