When I feel it

The big debate.  Do I stay here for 1 year or two?  I've thought for the past week or so, definitely two,  I could kick it here and visit Kyoto and just take it all in.  But when I announced the news to my father via email last night, I couldn't sleep.  I had an anxiety attack instead.  What would I do my second year?  The first year is all planned out.  Thailand for Christmas, India for spring break, see some family in the summer...then...stay and save money?  I could make $4800 of "free" money if I just take my checks and put them in the bank (cough)pay back my credit cards.

But I just couldn't see what I would do the second year.  Stay here, teach and ....live?

I guess the big question (to the "big" debate) is why not?  Immediately there are about 5 faces squishing their way through my brain, almost out of my eyeballs and onto my lap.

Mom, Katie, Kara, Dad and Gabby.

And then, Josie and Alice my cats.  And then my developing furniture company Kiss my Sass.  And my career, whatever that means.

So what would I do if I got home next year?  Traveled, saw the world and moved home?

What would happen if I stayed here another year and then moved home?  The answer I suppose lies in, what's next?  Originally, I thought the answer was in the question...am I one of those people that lives close to home her (relatively) whole life or can I separate and find a home afar?  Plug for Skype - if I didn't have it I would be home right now.  

What's next.  Brett Dennon is in the background and he says, "when you feel it you know".  Talk about timing.  I think I will marinate on that for the day...maybe a bit longer and, when I feel it, I'll know.

I need a beer!

I am grateful for Fridays and beer and that hair grows back.  I am grateful for fried shrimp, sushi and America's Next Top Model.  There is no better day than today.  

I was dreading school this morning on the brink of a panic attack as to why I moved to this country that I know nothing about and who knows nothing about me.  But I realized I was just stressed out because I was going to get my "bangs trimmed" tonight after school and I was nervous because I was going to a place I'd never been to with one of my (favorite) coworkers...who doesn't speak English.  And if you know me, you will know I'm very very very very very particular about my hair.  I was preparing for the worst.

I get to school and the rain comes.  Sheets of rain pouring down, which is great for 2 reasons and shitty for so many others.  It is great because it might just kill that fucking ugly ass GIGANTIC spider that lives outside my front door - waiting to eat me.  Also, the rain reminds me of home.  On the other hand, the rain sucks balls because....it reminds me of home and makes me involuntarily homesick, and I have to ride my fucking bike in it - sans umbrella.  But whatever...this conundrum also amuses me to no end.  After the first period of me sitting at my desk writing Kimmie a letter, the thunder comes.  It sounds so close I'm sure I felt the room shake...more fun.  I am envisioning my solo "teacher's" bicycle outside the side door getting drenched and how soggy my ass will get to have to sit on the puddle that is a bicycle seat.  But I move to 1 of 3 computers in the teachers office to check my email.  My previous blog was a bit over the top so I had to see if there were any comments.  Probably best if there wasn't.  

To my surprise, I find Ms. Amy Phillips on gmail!  We chat for about 30 minutes or so and I felt like it was a real conversation.  We typed at the same time, we LOL'd at the same timed and HAHAHAHAHAH'd at the same time and even talked about Macy's big belly at the same time.  It felt good to be in sync.  Plus, I love her soooooooooooooo much she is my inspiration and reason for living so I was happier than a fly on shit to see her name marked available!  Her Jeffy got home and my teachers were getting restless so I let her go and went to sit solemnly at my desk.  I think it must bother the other teachers that I have nothing to do, when they are back and forth and in and out busy all the time.  So I sat.  I have started a vocabulary list from the book I'm reading: Love in the time of Cholera...good book.  So I was studying my English words.  YAY me...revolt against the culture you live in! 

well...I was also sitting there hoping - all the fruit flies in my apartment would die! (sidenote) and that I wouldn't have to stand in front of the whole classroom today. I much preferred face to face time when I was helping my girls with their speeches.  I packed up and headed to the first of 4 classes today.  It was a fucking miracle...today I was going to sit in the library and have the students read to me 1 at a time ;)  Yay!  there is a god.

So I did that for 2 classes....by then I was starving.  What was for lunch?  Another egg stuffed fish with a face?  Please no!  When I arrived at my desk there was....fried chicken...no shit.  Japanese fried style but fried none the less.  What a great day.

My last 2 classes were sorta....off.  I wasn't as prepared as I should have been for either of them and my last class had the same kid in it who strangled another student and kicked over a girls desk last I saw him.  Today he decided to wail on the poor chubby 12 year old in class until he was crying.  And no, nothing happened to the mean kid.  Nothing ever does.  They "discipline" their students different here.  They just don't.  I got back to the teachers office in time for cleaning.  The students have to clean the school for 15 minutes at the end of the day and today I was ready for them.  I was tired, I didn't help clean, I pointed out where they needed to do more and made them talk to me in English.  I was a bad ass and felt kinda like a teacher.  When they left I high "touched" one of the (unsuspecting) teachers and stated proudly, "I need a beer!"

How strange it felt to feel something so familiar.  I was almost giddy that my entire body was in agreement.  But first I had to get my hair cut.

I raced home and changed into something more comfortable (which wasn't as it turned out because they don't do boobs here and most of my tops do) but whatever.  So I met my coworker Iho Sensei at the station in Adogawa.  We were driving to TOPS.  Iho sensei brought her English dictionary and I brought my pseudo Japanese dictionary.  It looks huge but has large font so no words of use as it turns out.  The first word I tried to look up was cool....because the salon was actually pretty dope.   Did I take pictures? no...I have a fear of looking like a tourist.  But the word cool actually means cold so fuck...fortunately after about 5 minutes of acting, I remembered the word ---  sugoi (sue-go-e)  and she looked it up and sure enough it meant wonderful.  So we jumped out of the van and into TOPS.

They took me to the shampoo station.  A cloth was placed over my face (geniuses) while they massaged and shampooed for about 15 minutes.  Then, more massage at the cutting station itself.  The hair cut was described as - trim it, bangs shaggy (stylist's word - awesome) A-line (curses I'll never get anywhere beyond that fucking A-line - I'm sorry I ever left you Jennifer).  Then she began to cut.  And as usual I hated it.  But she kept cutting.  And cutting.  I knew I shouldn't have got the whole thing cut.  Every time I want to grow it out...I need a trim which turns into a cut.  DAMN IT.  But after the cut there was more shampooing.  What the fuck ever I thought...it couldn't get any worse.  I was just going to enjoy the fact that a man's hands were touching me.  So I was relaxed for just a bit.  More massage and back to the chair for more massage...I could get used to that.  Iho is looking up words and phrases and is being such a great friend chatting about hair and salons in America and such and she is just so cute and wonderful.  My new boyfriend is now blow drying my hair.  And as he is so gently rolling out every section my hair transforms into something almost cute.  Yes.  cute.  He adds a bit of waxy gel to the top and the woman who cut it sprays it.  And, what do you know it's not half bad.  I was even asked to come back and be a hair model! 

      

The transformation into a Japanese person is well on it's way.

Now it's time for a beer!  

Right where I'm suppose to be

I've always felt like a...loner.  Someone should really think up a new name for that.  It sounds so early 80's.  Well, for lack of a better word, I have felt separate from any crowd.  Don't get me wrong, I have lots of great friends who i spend a lot of time with.   Sometimes scheduled time, sometimes spontaneous and it is with friends, but when I'm alone I often feel alone.  Is it this way with everyone in temporary moments of solitude?  To feel unacknowledgable?  

When I was in Portland I spent a great deal of time wondering if anyone was thinking about me.  To my friends, I was constantly busy.  To myself, I was constantly busy.  I barely had time to think in between social events, dating and dance or art, but I liked it that way.  There were less things to worry about when I was busy - like who is going to love me?  The more I was out, the more I felt like I was giving myself the opportunity to meet people, meet him, whoever he was.  But alas,  my endless stream of dating got me wanting to leave the country.  So I did.

But the point of this story is that as I sit here in my apartment in Japan, after having watched When Harry Met Sally and Steel Magnolias (sorry Sarah!) I find myself starting to wonder why I have this same feeling...why am I alone?  Even after canceling plans TONIGHT to watch Heroes with friends or other opportunities to pick up the phone....I still have this feeling.  Does everyone?  

It seems ridiculous to me.  Maybe because I'm PMSing and everything is introspective or I'm not eating enough red meat or I'm missing my family or I am tired of my art projects and cleaning and internets to the point I am left to my thoughts.  (Sarah would say this is self inflicted from tormenting myself with fictional sob stories such as the movies previously listed) What's the use.  At least it wasn't The Notebook this time.

Can I blame my family for this?  My mother practically has my name on match.com as we speak!  And every man I meet is greeted by my sisters with the same enthusiasm and premonition...he's the one!  Bah!  Get out of my head!

Is is possible to just be alone.  I mean clearly because here I am.  In Japan, it's not like I'm hiding....necessarily.  I mean, I'm adventuring and learning about myself still.  I have ambitions and dreams I aspire to accomplish.  And it can be complete with all these things, even without a partner right?  Oy vey.

I do believe in love.  I've had it.  I know that it comes out of no where and when it is there, there's no denying it.  I am not afraid it doesn't exist, I suppose tonight I am just worn out from anticipation.  We'll call this a lull and I'll go eat some strawberry Pocky and be fine tomorrow.   I'll get my bangs cut and visit an art museum and I'll be surrounded by life.  I will be right where I'm suppose to be, doing exactly what this life has to offer and I'll love every second of it.  

And this question will come up again, but not for awhile.  I don't have to make heads or tails of it, because it is just a question, just a thought, like so many rolling around in my head.  If I knew the answer to this, I'd just be blogging about something else.  So for tonight I will revel in my inquisition and love that I am alive to think about it.

It's my birthday and stuff

Sept. 4th

Today I am 26 years old.  It just hit me.  Panic?  More like a ringing in my ears, a slight compressed sensation.  26.  In Japan.  Sure.  Why not?

Western Style, My Ass

Sept. 3rd :

I had an interesting experience today while trying to take a dump in the school bathroom.  It could be comparable to most of my experiences here in this foreign country thus far.

At first I wanted to be alone, so I waited for my moment of privacy.  I noticed the 2 sets of toilet shoes as my first clue that I was the only person in the bathroom.  I slipped a pair on knowing full well that should someone stumble into the bathroom my shoes would be a dead give away it was the American taking a dump.  But I was willing to chance it just in case someone came in and saw 2 toilet shoes but heard someone in the bathroom and thought, "eew, gross - potty shoes American!"  At least taking a crap is somewhat more universally forgivable. Perhaps 'potty shoes' is not so much.

So - I enter the "western" style stall.  My excitement for the familiar is quickly replaced with sadness and disappointment.  There is a toilet with a seat, yes, but the seat is wrapped with a terrycloth seat cover.  A moist terrycloth seat cover.  But a seat none the less so I take it.  I think it was the coffee that induced an urgency to the bathroom - DAMN than amazing caffeine rush in the morning!   

Double edged sword : No coffee - tired and slow through the day but no midday dumping. Delicious can of sweet cold coffee - life is great until 2:00 when public dumping is necessary.

Back to the imagery of me on the terrycloth toilet seat, my own little piece of Dante's Inferno.  I have gotten over the first few foreign obstacles but here is the test.  I begin my usual toilet session and things are moving along.  A ray of hope for a quick return into the office and avoiding public awkwardness.  No sooner am I enjoying this thought, my body betrays me.  I have no control and I don't know whatever gave me that idea.  It's stuck.  A moment of panic.  I can hear the kids in the hall.  What do I do?  Push? Reposition? I hear something!  Pinch? Pause?  At this point I'm playing tug of war with my butt.  

I know I am at no place to fully retreat so i bare down for my last desperate attempt to save myself from another experience of a cultural unknown...and the very familiar sting of humiliation.  I grab for the toilet paper which is housed in its own roll of terrycloth.  Embroidered on the terrycloth the words, four seasons.  I hope they are referring to the changing of the weather because this is sure as shit (pun intended) NOT the Four Seasons hotel I can tell you that.  

As I conclude my experience I leave the stall feeling slightly molested.  The floor is wet, the toilet seat is damp terrycloth and who knows where these toilet shoes have been before me?  I can only hope this experience will make me a stronger person and I will begin to feel anything close to optimism again.  Maybe tomorrow or maybe after I take a shower, when my body is mine again and not this foreign place's.

Co-dependence and Abandonment

September 2nd :

Left here like a helpless baby.  LUNCH? Ahem!? 

Nobody waits for people to eat here, they just begin their meals when they arrive.  And if engaging in a conversation about how the school lunches work it's perfectly acceptable for someone to interrupt without so much as an excuse me and then take the person I was talking to away -- even if I am desperately trying to figure out why I am alone in the staff room and if I'm suppose to help bring the lunches out and when I finally get to eat!

Possibly the funniest moment in my life - after a meager attempt to independently find lunch - with no success, I solemnly walk back into the office.  No one is here.  No one.  The only sound that can be heard is...crickets.  No joke.

Crickets, to mock my co dependence and abandonment.

 

Give it to me one more time

Back log : August 22nd (I guess I was trapped in an English speaking body in Japan)

"O" sensei laughed with his whole body when "S" sensei explained to me she didn't have the Japanese writing instruction book for "young kids".  O sensei chimes in, "young kid?  Young kid?" as it is often customary for Japanese people, trying to understand an English conversation, to do by repeating your last words (or maybe in every communication transaction between 2 foreign speakers).  He looked at me, at which moment I point to myself and said "young kid" to express it is I who needs children's books to help me with the writing order of Japanese letters.  

My simple gesture (and coy facial expression) seemed to trigger an attack of spasms all over his body as he threw his hands in the air and moved in every which way as he laughed.  More fluid then a jelly fish was his ability to move his whole body in opposite directions at once.  This laughter was unlike any I'd ever seen!  The spackling of his voice in the air to match, was child like as if he saw something he had never seen before and his reaction was purely physiological and involuntary.  I wish I could describe the sound of his laughter but I fall short by saying it was a contagious ringing of short burst of noise...worst analogy ever : like a ghost was tickling him.  yes.  A ghost. 

Internets happen.

Back log : August 22nd (apparently I had a lot on my mind)

What an amazing process!! After 3 weeks of Internet talk - my supervisor comes in the office in the middle of her teachers' training to ask about which Internet I want to use (there are few different servers).  Apparently, the Principal is on the phone with the "Internet people".  Just fifteen minutes later a man appears from the "Internet" company. 

The elastic had worn out on his slender face and the delicate folds of skin gathered around his cheeks and mouth.  They moved with the inertia of his body, smiling then not, looking down at his notepad.  His Hello Kitty tie said it all really.  

He is here to sort it out.  My address and phone number just about does it and he is off to work on setting up my Internet.  As quickly as he shuffled in, he shuffled back out.  I watched as his green plastic visitors slippers (much too small for his extending feet)  slid over the abused parquet office floor.  The sliding doors clammered shut to trap the precious supply of AC.   

Side note : There is no reason to be upset or impatient.  It always comes through.  If impatience has proceeded it has smothered any chance for genuine appreciation.

Speech Contest

It was speech contest day.  What an experience.  There were about 30 kids giving speeches.  Half were speeches that they had written, the others were recitations of stories.  Both were interesting by their own merit.  The English pronunciation was...developing.  Some students spoke very clearly in their speeches, some speeches I think were in English.  But that is neither here nor there.  There were also some very interesting topics.  The winner gave a speech about suicide in the junior highs.  It was titled, We Are All Involved.  Heavy, but she was looking for a KO and she got it.  Another heavy topic was people who had to hide in a cave during the war and another was about being in a car accident.  Very intense.

The second section was students reciting stories they had memorized.  These stories are unlike any I've ever heard before.  Stories of a little girl dying under a tree after the bombing of Hiroshima, stories of sinners bobbing up and down in the river of blood in the floor of hell, nursery rhymes here.  Brilliant.  Unfortunately (for my 4 young aspiring English speakers) the people who won this category recited stories of Beauty and Beast and Goldie Locks and the 3 bears.  All of which had alternative endings like I had never heard before...I think my favorite was the story where 1 man lost his wallet and another man found it.  The man who found it returned it with all its original $300 in it but the owner of the wallet wouldn't take it because technically he "lost the money".  But the person who found it, couldn't take the money because it wasn't his!  And after arguing back and forth the landlord settled the argument by throwing in $100 of his own money so they could each have $200.  The reasoning, the rationalization to this story : they could both take the money because they were each at a loss of $100, including the landlord (who had nothing to do with the wallet) and then the landlord took them all out for dinner!  Doesn't this make sense?  This is Japan.

As the judges came back in the woman with the microphone announced the weinners.  The weinners.  one more time, the weinners.  I know this is bad karma or something, but really just cultural observation I feel it is my obligation to share the irony of an English speaking contest, critiquing on pronunciation and repeating the words weinner more times than I could handle.  I loved it and yet was disturbed by it all at the same time.  I think that is the definition of acclimating to another culture...don't question just take all in.

some new things

I did all by myself.  I paid my bills at the convenient store, 3 bills, electricity and 2 phone bills.  I sent 4 pieces of mail to the states and had a nice "discussion" with the postman how to address Japanese envelopes.  To address on the front, from address on the back.

(I had to stop and think about the word discussion....I have not had one of those here with a Japanese person ever, such an interesting concept for my life in Japan).  

So, after my delightful stop at the post office I was off to the train station heading to Otsu for my re-entry permit.  Not only did I not know where the office was, I didn't have my form to get the permit.  But!  I managed to find my way to the stamp station, pay the 60 yen for the stamps, and get directions to the proper permit building!  When I arrived I was able to find the form, fill it out (without my usual prolonging fret that increases my form filling time to twice as long).  Filled it out and asked the nice man at the desk questions that I was unsure of.  I got about 5 minutes of Japanese soap opera in before I had my permit and I was out of there.

Next up, shopping.  I really just needed a watch.  

Shopping is what keeps me questioning my allegience to the female gender.  I'm terrible at it.  I start out telling myself, I know what I need.  I think I know what I need.  I have a list.  I have 3 lists.  It starts with one thing...'just focus Kyla'.  A watch.  I keep looking at my wrist and am constantly disappointed (unlike this very second as I watch Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams in The Notebook....never disappointing.) 

So I enter Parko, this giant mall...I am feeling excited.  I accomplished all my goals for the day and I had a little too much cash in my wallet, the mall seemed like a perfect idea.  First stop swatch...right?  Hmm...TOO MANY CUTE CLOTHES on the way....what to do?  Try everything on....but I collect myself and decide...I'm here for a watch.

Watch found! Swatch.  I thought something utilitarian, something that would work with every outfit and just simply tell me the time.  But...then I found this watch and clearly fashion could not be compromised. (sorry it looks like my arms are dead - awful fluorescent lighting!)

So after I had the taste of doling out cash I went looking for, ya know, 'just a top'.  I stumbled into this fantastic store called Natural Beauty Basics...Not only were these clothes Kawaii (cute) but it reminded me of how liberating it is to buy new clothes.  And so I did.  Before I made a *small* purchase I made 2 fantastic discoveries...you have to take your shoes off before going into a fitting room - does anyone else think that's too much? - and when trying on shirts you must first put one of these on....no joke.

Well...after my adventure in shopping it was definitely lunch.  I found a great Italian place with a view, ordered some pasta with mushrooms and cream sauce and had a glass of wine.  I was slightly miffed that they were out of garlic bread but I was not going to let it spoil my celebration for self reliance.  I read a little bit of my book, Love in the Time of Cholera and tried to relax but couldn't figure out if this restaurant was a place where you could hang out or if it was an 'eat your meal and quickly remove yourself' kind of place.  I made a terrible oversight in the clothing shop by taking a pair of leggings out of it's plastic bag and would hate to be so presumptuous now! (Yikes big mistake...the clerk was not too happy) So I ate comfortably but then left.  It was getting dark anyway.  Now, if I could just make it 5 escalators down without finding something else I "needed".

No! The answer is no.  I found the home shop!!!  OMG.  I almost made it out but then there it was, pillows, blankets, beds, couches, lamps and SO CUTE!  I went back and forth between pillows and bedding.  The new bedding made itself into the fitting room with me where I left it deciding I was not there for bedding.  But neither was I there for the clothes necessarily but it didn't stop me from getting another top with tank for underneath...woops.  

Okay...long blog but in the end I will tell you, after doing all of these things by myself today I am starting to feel like I live here.  Despite the fact that I still know practically nothing about the culture and language I have made my way through today.  I owned everything about today and I began to feel at home.  Maybe it is because I am returning to me, the girl who takes on the world.  Or maybe I am on an endorphin high from my retail therapy.  either way, it was a great day.

today

Today is the day my parents decided to make me.

30 years ago today, my parents got married.  I wonder what the future looked like for them as they stood face to face on that alter.  Did they want a forever?  Was there something they knew but thought it would pass?  Maybe love just wasn't enough? They didn't know it that day, but their relationship ended, 18 years ago...a longer relationship apart than together.  But on this day, playing The Beattles, Will You Still Love me When I'm 64, walking down the isle, my parents made this world for me.

It happens. 

you know it

a place where meetings 

become a game of old lady or go fish

and emails read aloud 

become poetry from

the devil

human nature at its worst

studied behind

a suit jacket

bathroom walls provide

the only moment of true privacy

while a cauldron of speculation

brews in the coffee vendor

just outside the door

sing it sister

I also just realized that I am here representing America.  All of it.  I am "those" Americans.  Now I know how Whitney Houston felt when she sang, I'm Every Woman.  Seriously.

Learnt

backlog - more deep thoughts from August 22nd.  

I am remembering laying on "A's" bed with him.  It was his bed I desired.  His bed represented warmth, safety, comfort and accommodation.  My bed felt utilitarian at best, yes it coordinated with my room  but  I was in no position, or was without personal permission to spend the money and effort into making it my palace.  His was a palace, a fortress.  Sentimental of the way I felt crawling into my mother's bed as a small child while she held me watching her late night TV.  I found that in "A's" bed.  

It is amazing how a piece of furniture and some textiles can do that.  I am amazed.

well look what I found

Back log : August 22nd

I miss Portland more than ever right now.  I am jealous of the people drinking their coffees at Stumptown or Opposable Thumbs or having a beer at Side St. or sipping a glass of wine at Lupa - walking up and down the streets of Alberta or Mississippi after breakfast at the Tin Shed or Gravy.  Laying as a hung over mess on the grass outside of moxie.

I am a Portlander.  I am a Portlander. What a tremendous source of pride I get from saying that and how threatened I feel when I see others enjoying it without me.  I am a Portlander.  I am the girl with the bangs who does my part to save the planet, who wears skinny jeans and spends $5 on an avocado - who looks for food from local organic growers and care that my hair and face products weren't tested on animals nor do they have a 30 sec. spot on some TV 

station that I don't watch.  Distance makes the heart grow fonder. I am a true Portlander, there is not another place I'd rather be (unless on holiday or for short term employment).

Getting ready to leave

Perhaps part of the process for moving to another country is scrutinizing over every lifestyle cliche where you are currently living.  This certainly happened to me and I wrote this poem to express myself :

I am Portland

I live in Portland

I am a girl or boy

I am the only black person in the room

My hispanic friends live in the burbs

My hair hasn't been washed in 2-4 days

I use all natural, organic make-up, face and body wash

I have bangs

I wear skinny jeans

and so do my friends

I tote a yoga mat to my yoga classes

I wear crocks

My diet consists of organic everything

I believe in good :

wine

chocolate

cheese

salt

flowers

and I let everyone know it

I loathe plastic grocery bags and anyone else who uses them

I use the same water bottle because plastic is sufficating the environment.

I do my part to save the environment

My look is subtle

and chic

don't forget chic

only people from the suburbs

coordinate, iron or tuck 

their clothing

it is important for them to be noticed

not me

I'm subtle

and chic.

Stick it where the sun don't shine.

This SUCKS!  WHAT THE FUCK!  After what seems like a year I finally receive my $300 check.  A miracle check just to survive and not live out of my supervisor's wallet.  I think I can make it.  Like a happy ignorant dog I enter the bank, tail wagging, eyes glossy, ready to present my check.

TWO FUCKING WEEKS to turn this check into real money.

that one stung a little.

homie don't play

I wanted to tell her she owed me a beer (the one my predecessor left me in the fridge when he exited was somehow missing when I arrived)...

...though in retrospect, I'm sure there were a lot of things she would like to "tell" me.

I made it, now what?

Back log : August 11th 2008

Life is interesting.  I want my friends around.  I realized I have allowed them to participate in defining me as a person.  Today I hung out with D and R and though I was relieved  to be in the presence of familiar faces I realized I was put together with these people (thank goodness we're all on the same wave length) but these are not "my" people, "my" girls, "my" peeps.  Yes, it's great to hang with the dudes but I have also come to learn the importance of female perspective in my life.

Today we adventured over to R's house.  His apartment is small but he is right on the lake.  We swam in the lake for probably a good hour.  The lake was filled with seaweed which constantly tickled my legs and arms.  I tried to not believe it was the loch ness monster.  I often found myself wandering close to the shore where I could stand on the hardened pebbles.  The water temperature was refreshing.  It was a light liquid breeze.  In some areas it was closer to a hot breath but if I pushed to one side it changed back into my cool breeze.  

We took a trip to Imazu afterwards to hit up the Heiwado (Heiwado ga doko desu ka?  <--- Go R!!  He asked 'where is the Heiwado' like he knew Japanese!  ps the Heiwado is sorta like a walmart - like an everything store) As all shopping malls go, I was quickly overwhelmed.  It was worsened by the constant over stimulation of Japan.

There was a wonderful moment when I was watching the most adorable little girl probably 1 or 2 laughing and frolicking around.  As soon as she spotted me (though it was probably Dale) her smile stopped, her eyes widened and she ran behind her father. She was scared of us.  Of us.  I had no idea a white person could cause such fear.  I suppose some black people could empathize.  Why do people fear people because of their ethnicity?  Never mind.

There is a thunder storm outside right now, thank the humidity.

ps...they played Tegan and Sara The Con in the Heiwado!

taken

Besides finding out where this life takes me, I just want to be taken.  I want to not think but just be lead around by the breeze.  I suppose the difference between ignorance and education is that while I am being taken around I have honed my abilities to observe.  I am not aimless in my quest for spontaneity.  At least I think observation and self reflection is what I am learning in Japan while I am being taken in by this life.

this doesn't make sense anymore and I'm still posting it.

rabbit people you may be wondering....

I had the strangest dream the other night, filled with the most vivid imagery.  It was a 5 parter but overall it was artistically charged starring my sister Katie (with her boa constrictor), Abby Dalton (giving me an umbrella that had a "moral" question as she jumped off a second level of an outside shopping area backwards.  Her dark plaid umbrella opened and assisted in floating her safetly down to the level below.)  And then there they were....the rabbit people.  

I noticed someone shaking two rabbits by their tails.  They were for supper, naturally.  As I glanced up to see who was going to be eatin these little soft tails, I noticed these "people" were rabbits themselves, rabbit people.  They noticed I was staring at them.  I could tell by the, 'what the fuck are you looking at' expressions on their furry faces.  One of them was wearing metal rimmed glasses and peasant clothes.  They were across the pond from me in a haze.  I looked away immediately.  Before I woke up I found myself walking through a tarp to see the fish caught from that day, giant, half dead, very colorful fish, floating in a blue plastic kids pool.   There is so much more to this dream of course but let this be the appetizer to wet your pallet for my blog, blurbs.