*snore*
This week is going to kill me... and it's only Monday. Going to bed at 11PM, getting up at 6:20AM, I simply don't have the energy to get done the things I need to do. Next term, NO MORNINGS EARLIER THAN 7:30AM WAKE UP.

CRASH
There was a giant accident on 11th and Jefferson, just on the corner near my house. And ooh, guess what? I get to play police photographer!



This van allegedly ran the red light going southbound on Jefferson toward the fairgrounds. That light must have been REALLY red or else the driver of the lexus SUV the van T-boned was REALLY impatient. The Lexus spun 180 and slammed into the front foundation edge of the house on the corner. The van probably spun too, though I'm not sure. It was pretty freaking totaled. There were no extreme injuries, possibly a concussion and some internal bruising to a woman in the van. Luckily, her kids were OK.

$$
One of the good things about being poor is the fat check the government cuts you in tax return at the beginning of each year. That is, IF you file your withholdings correctly-- which I, erm, didn't for a few years and had to PAY before I went to Japan.

This year, I only worked on US soil since August and didn't rack up much of an over-the-table salary. So I get all my tax refunded: $173, cha-CHING! It's pocket change in the grand scheme of things, but combined with my REI gift card it'll buy me a chunk of the backbacking gear I've been coveting for the summer.

Dear Abby
Sometimes I surprise myself. Last night I picked up the daily paper from Rachel and Micah's kitchen table, read the comics and then skimmed the advice columns for a bit of trite amusement. The next thing I knew, I was sitting at Micah's laptop writing a curt response to Dear Abby via DearAbby.com.

The column in question? This one:

MOTHER WON'T ACT TO STOP GIRL'S ONLINE EXPLOITATION
DEAR ABBY: My brother recently discovered that his 16-year-old stepdaughter has been chatting online with a man in another state, up to and including phone sex. He went into her e-mail without her permission to see what was going on after she ran up a $300 phone bill.

When he confronted her about the bill, she lied and said she had been talking to a girlfriend. Her mother -- my brother's wife -- thinks her daughter would never do anything wrong and gets mad at my brother if he implies otherwise. He doesn't want to do anything about the situation for fear of her wrath.

I say, the girl's safety is more important than a fight with his wife. Do you know if there's a task force that he could e-mail this information to and remain anonymous? I would like to see that man caught before something horrible happens to this beautiful young girl. -- PROTECTIVE IN COLORADO

DEAR PROTECTIVE: The girl has been victimized by a predator. Your brother's wife is doing her daughter no good by behaving like an ostrich and pretending this incident never happened.

There are several things your brother can do. He should contact his local FBI office and/or visit the Web site www.fbi.gov and check out the area devoted to cyber crimes -- specifically crimes against children under "What We Investigate." If he is referred to his local police department, he should contact them immediately so they can investigate further. The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children also has an informative Web site, www.missingkids.com, which provides information regarding exploited children and an opportunity to report it.

Why did the column piss me off so much? If you know me well, it's obvious. At fourteen I was involved in an online relationship with a "man" in another state. I never did anything as stupid as running up a $300 phont bill-- only about $50-$100 a month and I paid all mine from my paper route. Now, if MY parents had known the full extent of my relationship with my internet boyfriend, they, too might have shit a brick. I was two years younger than the girl in the column... and for at least a year before that I'd been soliciting men online for cybersex by telling them I was eight or more years older than I actually was. Why? Because I was horny and curious. But was I stupid? NO.

My point? Without knowing the age of the "man" in question or the nature of the girl's reltionship with him, Abby absolves her of all responsibility for her situation. More than that, she suggests that her uncle and her step father make a drastic conspiratorial move against her, perhaps damaging her trust in her parents forever, rather than suggesting they talk to the girl in earnest.

My full response is rather lengthy (and therefore I doubt it will be published) but if you're really curious, you can read it here.

Now, I'm not familiar with Abby as an advice columnist and I've often only read her in passing. I don't have a particular memory of her being stupidly conservative, but maybe I'm getting more liberal and she's becoming a bitchy crone. What the HELL is up with this question and answer? Did she just tell this girl not to defend her opinions in class?

DEAR ABBY: At my school, a period of time is dedicated to discussing world events. My teacher, "Mrs. Jones," has often shared her opinions about world events and our government with us. She has very strong opinions and usually gets upset when anyone disagrees with her. One day when she was talking, I told her I did not agree with her opinion and got detention for it. Personally, I don't think I deserved one.

I understand that I shouldn't be rude to teachers, but I believe that my comment was respectful. Was I out of line? -- UNCERTAIN IN FRANKLIN LAKES, N.J.

DEAR UNCERTAIN: If the comment was disruptive, it may have been. It would have been more diplomatic had you voiced your disagreement after the class was over.

What? That's it? No "don't be afriad to stand up for what you believe in?" GRR. I sincerely hope that some of the major papers syndicate a columnist who is a little less of a conservative cow.

Harajuku Girls
I have such a soft spot for J-pop culture. I went to iTunes and bought the whole Gwen Stefani Love, Angel, Music, Baby album on a whim after Justin told me today that she had a song that references Harajuku girls. [Hey, my $20 iTunes gift certificate has been sitting around untouched since October.] In fact, at least three songs on the album mention the gothic lolitas, and one's entirely dedicated to them. Stefani herself has a mod-squad entourage of four Harajuku Girls. (See photo album here.) Admittedly, Stefani's girls don't look very "true Harajuku" to me... they're much less gothic and more poppy than any I ever saw. But eh, it's still fun to pick out all the random Japanese references out of the album. Even though I'm not sure if the hyper-pop or Stefani's pronunciation of Harajuku as Hera-jewku will amuse me or annoy me to tears.

Well, I suppose I could say the same thing of the album as Ms. Stefani says of the Harajuku Girls in her song. It's "style detached from content."

second opinion
See now, that's what I thought. I AM headed in the right direction with my thesis. The marketing and publishing research I'm doing, as well as the analysis of competing publications are exactly the sort of things that go into a critical essay. I don't have to bullshit after all. I need to keep on exactly the same track, adding to it with a personal critique that's based off more than self-reflexive bullshit.

I liked my second opinion much better than the first. And now I'm going to talk to another Honors College prof I had my freshman year. I feel like I'm shopping for thesis committee members. But so what, eh? I'm allowed.

I give up
Today... just sucks. I'm physically and mentally exhausted and I feel like there's SO MUCH that I need to do (specifically my thesis work) that I haven't gotten to yet because I can't get to it. To top it off, the HC just tried to tell me that I ought to submit a FORTY PAGE analytic essay in addition to the 32 page magazine I am writing, directing, designing and publishing and the 10+ page marketing and magazine analysis that accompanies said magazine. I almost died on the spot until I realized I could get a second opinion. Fuck it anyway, all my energy for the day is gone now and I just want to start over.

fog
The morning fog is back and it's down to the mid-thirties again, though it's supposed to be 62 later today. Hmm. My wardrobe is deginitely underprepared for this weather. I have about 15 sweaters and only 5 long-sleeved T's or button-downs.

I had a great weekend with the boy. Saturday, we didn't haul ourselves out of bed until 11AM and then spent the day preparing for our "Spaghetti feed" later in the evening, shopping for ground bison, veggies and pasta. I read while Justin cooked a delicious sauce. Then we went rock climbing together for several hours before dinner so we'd be sufficiently hungered to chow on pasta, salad, bread and wine.

Micah, Rachel, Justin and I all watched Hedwig and the Angry Inch for the first time. 'Twas the rockingist film, and much more accessible than Rocky Horror, even though they have similar followings. I was totally in awe of Hedwig's makeup.

Sunday J and I got up a whole two hours earlier and had breakfast at the Original House of Pancakes. Then we headed over to the UO campus to visit the public opening of the Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art. I give the UO art museum thumbs-up for tasteful exhibits and a palatable size.

After we were all arty-farted out, we ran some errands (or rather, Justin played errand boy for me), read while dinner cooked, watched and episode of Ebichu, the Housekeeping Hamster, read more and took a nap.

Before Justin left, we did some collaboration on the article I'm having him assist with for my thesis project. Turns out that one of the best students and practitioners of traditional Japanese swordmaking in America is located in Oregon, 'bout 120 miles southwest of here. If we can get an interview with the dude at his forge, this story will be solid and sellable. Wewt.

Was a great weekend, nice enough to be worth chronicling here.

I found out last week, somewhat to my chagrin that my "family" got a dog. The quotes are there for a reason. Technically my sister bought the dog, is training it and paying all expenses. But she's (here's the chagrin part) going to some unknown college in the fall and will be spending her first year (at least) in the dorms, during which time the dog will stay at home. That's not to say the pup will be neglected. Though both my parents work, my littlest sister will still be coming and going from elementary school, and with all her older sisters in college she'll be getting some much-needed companionship and training in personal responsibility.

Here's what gets me. If it were my parents who'd acquiesced and purchased the pup, I'd have no beef with it. But sis here is getting the dog with full intention of passing it off in a few months. Even during that time, it will be spending time bonding with family members other than her. When she goes off to college, that dog won't be hers anymore. Yeah, animal loyalties can shift back and forth, but Justin saw the same thing with his sheepdog-- he went to Montana to visit his dad for a summer and when he came back Buddy's loyalties lay solely with his mom.

That, and purchasing a pet without a solid plan for living and income seems rather impulsive to me. Most people don't realize how much pets can and do cost per year. A month after I got my cat, he developed an abscess on his back and cost me a $300 trip to the emergency room. With food, treats, litter, toys and vet visits combined, he still probably only costs me $250 or so a year, but you can double that for a dog. My sister's probably well aware of this: she works in a pet store. But regardless, that job won't be hers for much longer. She has no idea what the responsibitilies of college will be like, much less what the responsibilities of keeping one's own house (with rent, bills, etc) included will cost and the time it will consume.

I got my cat only after I'd been living in a house for a few months, and then with a few reservations. I felt like an asshole leaving him when I went overseas-- but at least he had another parent. My other sister, who is college-aged at the moment, is also considering a pet once she moves into a house. I gave her all the cost-benefits for careful consideration. Maybe I'm just speaking from the perspective of someone with a co-dependent cat, but I really think that keeping a pet is a lot closer to child-rearing than many people realize. I'm against breeding without forethought, and in my mind buying a pet on a whim is the same as popping out a baby without thinking about it. Both you and the child will be damaged in the end.

This little Schepperke (named Lilu, after The 5th Element <3) won't be for any lack of love. This sister also a high-energy person, and while I still don't think she's got a full grasp of the responsibility she'll be facing with college, a dog, and an apartment, she at least is willing to pursue menial labor to make ends meet. So nobody's losing out... and I'm not really PO'ed as much as it may seem (sorry Liz) but the news is worth sharing with the rant, if just because I think everyone ought to keep their local Humane Society in mind when thinking about pets-- both because they need homes, and because they're there because some other poor fool couldn't handle the responsibility.

heat wave
For every hour I spend in front of my computer during this gorgeous day, I must lose five minutes off my life.

It was 65 and sunny again. I don't know what's up with this January heat wave, but I'm not complaining. I'm sure the weather will get back to seasonal rain soon. I'm just enjoying the little glimpse of summer.

^_^

f*ck drama
OK, I may be a b*tch on occasion, a cynic in the morning and sarcastic most of the time, but Drama Queen I am no longer. It be unsympathetic of me but I get so f*cking SICK of all the Drama Queens and Emo-Pain Whores (both male and female) I know. Most of these people I know only by proxy-- for good reason, because I can't STAND them. And you know the honest reason it makes me nauseous to be around someone with a lust for drama?

Because I used to be just. Like. That.

Even though it makes perfect sense, it shocks me how ignorant people are of their cycles of destruction. I hear them talk about the pain of living and how "no one understands." They whine and they carry on without realizing that the world isn't doing crap to them-- they're doing it to themselves.

Of course, they say they DON'T do it and they'd never WANT to put themselves through anything like their infinite pain. The big secret is that they DO want it. They need it to survive. They feed on drama because without it there is only fear of the unknown, the fear of making a choice that cannot be undone, the fear of leaving an addiction as serious as any drug.

I know some people I swear are victims of paranoid schizophrenia, codependency complex or narcissistic personality disorder. Some of these people need sereious professional help. Others just need to get over themselves. When I think that many of them will NEVER learn to truly be happy and will always lived trapped in a cycle of psychological violence against themselves, I get bloody angry. And this is my rage against the machine that is modern social depression. This is for all the zoloft, paxil, misprescribed ritalin and Thursday drinking binges:

WAKE UP. THE WORLD IS NOT OUT TO GET YOU.

Sure, there are some crazy f*cks out there. You may be one of them. But for Christ's sake, at least be a happy crazy f*ck. Stop waiting for it to happen. Stop basing your existence on something that will come along "someday" and save you. That something will never come until you realize that you already have everything you ever need.

Forgive your past, give up on the "golden future" and just live. F*ck the drama. It might make you feel Real but it's just another cocaine high. And it's not worth it.

Weblogger's Meetup
Last night I enjoyed pizza and a bit of chit-chat at the third Eugene Weblogger's meetup. It was hosted, per the usual, at The Strand. Unfortunately, The Strand had decided for the second time to lure uber-liberal, hippie customers by broadcasting a ridiculous conspiracy flick at the same time as our meeting. Alas.

My neighbor Matt and roommates Torgie and Shanna went with. I've finally added Matt and a few of the Eugene bloggers (tvindy.com, followingedge.net, and junknstuff.net) to my links roster. Check 'em out.

moving on
Yesterday, I passed by two old friends without speaking. By "old" friends, I mean people I knew prior to going to Japan and had some close acquaintance with-- but have now drifted apart from. People whom I don't really know any more for some reason or another.

Rather than stopping myself along my gravitational curve toward home, or class, or wherever I was going, if even just to say "hey," I kept on moving. Why? Because I'm tired of painful small-talk and failed reconnections... or maybe I just don't WANT to reconnect.

I looked back with slight regret at not asking "how are you doing?" The truth is that I'm doing fine, and somehow that means more to me than trying too hard to reignite the lost flame of friendship.

Does this happen to anyone else?

jibun no imeji
The temperature here has over doubled in the last two days-- from 30 degrees to 64. It's like Spring outside, the hippies and the hoochies out in true form. If it were dry enough, I'd expect to see people playing frisbee on the lawn outside my office window.

I woke up at 6:30AM after a good night's rest, biked to the gym with Rachelry, ran two miles, stairclimbed, lifted weights, showered and went to class. I ate first breakfast (banana), second breakfast (clif bar) and an early lunch of a delicious pastrami and swiss sandwich I made myself.

On days like these (and, in fact, most of the time lately) I find it hard to imagine ever being uncomfortable in my own skin. When I began writing this blog in the November of 2001, it just another internet plea to be heard. Yes, I am the master of "navel gazing" as Monk calls it, and I did, in fact, start a blog so that the world could hear my sob story. As stupid as it sounds now, I don't really want to discredit myself. I was a pretty damaged individual.

Looking back, I find it sad and fascinating how much fear I lived with and how poorly I thought of myself. I consider myself lucky to have never been permanently damaged by any of the compulsions I toyed with.

I've been messing with this entry for the last half-hour or so and I can't quite get it to say what I want to say without sounding too self-help-bullshitty or too narcissistic so I guess I'll just paraphrase:

I'm so glad I feel good about myself. The way I looked at the world and the way I carried myself back then hurt SO much, every day. I was mired in so much CRAP that I can't believe I put up with.

I feel so liberated.

Fifteen Things to do at Wal-mart

NOTE: I would never shop at Wal-mart unless I was absolutely desperate or needed a super-dose of corporate Satanic evil in my life. Nevertheless, I saw this and thought it was both funny and strangely appropriate. It doesn't necessarily apply to Target or other chain stores because they're not fucked up enough to have a GUN department.

1. Get 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in peoples' carts when they aren't looking.
2. Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 2-minute intervals.
3. Make a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the rest rooms.
4. Walk up to an employee and tell him/her in an official tone, 'Code 3' in housewares and see what happens.
5. Go the Service Desk and ask to put a bag of M&M's on lay away.
6. Move a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.
7. Set up a tent in the camping department and tell other shoppers you'll invite them in if they'll bring pillows from the bedding department.
8. When a clerk asks if they can help you, begin to cry and ask 'Why can't you people just leave me alone?'
9. Look right into the security camera; use it as a mirror, and pick your nose.
10. While handling guns in the hunting department, ask the clerk if he knows where the antidepressants are.
11. Dart around the store suspiciously loudly humming the "Mission Impossible" theme.
12. In the auto department, practice your "Madonna look" using different size funnels.
13. Hide in a clothing rack and when people browse through, say "PICK ME!"
14. When an announcement comes over the loud speaker, assume the fetal position and scream "NO! NO! It's those voices again!!!!"
(And; last, but not least!)
15. Go into a fitting room and shut the door and wait a while; and, then, yell, very loudly, "There is no toilet paper in here!"

Omoide Poro-poro

[ Children in Ooka-mura do a rain dance ]

I'm hopeless. Sitting at home with an electronic dictionary in one hand and a cup noodle in the other watching Studio Ghibli's Omoide Poro-poro (The Tears of Memory) in Japanese *only* because I can. And then, of course, because this always happens when I watch a Miyazaki film, I get all nostalgic and start to cry. But it's a good cry, though rather strange one, because the Japan I'm yearning for is a Japan I've never been to-- the early postwar countryside.

The Japan of manufactured modern nostalgia. It's like craving the childhood innocence that you never had. I don't think anyone can disagree that modern Japanese culture is intertwined with a nostalgia for the 40s, 50s and 60s inaka (countryside), and that that nostalgia has saturated every visual media.

I did a brief project/ presentation on Japanese nostalgia during my Spring semester at Waseda, which gave me a little elucidation toward the mindset, at least to why the older generation feels nostalgic for their childhood "summer homes," but I never really grasped how that nostalgia was passed to the younger generations, who don't share the same history. And what *really* puzzles me is how that nostalgia was passed to foreigners, like me, for whom that "innocent" Japan is entirely out of reach.

It makes sense but it doesn't at the same time. I do love those nostalgic Ghibli movies though.

revue
I'm feeling lonely this weekend. Not so much lonely in the 'there's no one here but me' sense, but more like a friend has just left me. It's a feeling of malcontent that creeps into the hole where something that is now gone has been.

Why am I lonely? If I tell you, you'll laugh. I often get this feeling after I've finished reading a book or watching a tv or movie series. It's all over. The story is gone, done and complete. It's left me and all I have is the memory. The feeling can range from bad (even depressed) if the ending to the story is poor, incomplete or dissatisfying to a sort of dull, lustful ache if the ending was particularly good.

This time, I've just finished Full Metal Alchemist, a rather long (50 episode), involved anime series that was popular while I was in Japan. I've been watching this show since the beginning of last term, rationing it out to myself like a drug, and now it's all done and gone. The show did a good job of wrapping up nearly all the major loose ends and avoiding major plot holes (personal pet peeves of mine), but the ending still leaves something to be desired. Though the characters were developed beyond what I would have expected, I don't think they'd learned the lessons I though they would learn by the end of the series. Poop.

Now I'd better start on Ebichu- the Housekeeping Hamster as a pick-me-up. >_<

Last night I also watched The Bourne Identity for the first time. It was one of those movies that had been SO hyped to me by friends and family (everyone said it was absolutely great) that there was no way I couldn't have been disappointed. I just don't see what the big deal was. So Matt Damon managed to ACT. Woo-HOO. The movie was like a poster for the male fight-or-flight response.

Matt Damon: AGH! What the fuck is going on?!? I don't know! I'd better kill some peopel!!

The US Government: AGH! What the fuck is he doing?!? We don't know!!! We'd better kill people!!!11oneone

The whole thing was bloody stereotyped if you ask me. And was there a single creative use of rationality or good, old-fashioned communication? No, and that's why it's meant to be entertainment! God, sometimes I hate cinema. I can already guess the entire plot of The Bourne Supremacy: Matt Damon has a good time with his girlfriend-for-no-reason who has nothing better to do than be a fugitive... someone who isn't supposed to come after him comes after him and kills his girlfriend-for-no-reason... Matt Damon is pissed and takes revenge... Matt Damon discovers secret of past identity that has been kept from him... Matt Damon pursues secret to past identity while uncovering goverment conspiracy and actively taking revenge... Matt Damon makes amends with past identity without really finding out anything concrete. The end. Wait for third movie in triad, repeat.

... exciting.

And in other news, I dreamt I was selected for a reality TV show featuring webloggers. Was this a good dream or a nightmare? I can't be sure.

'Tis true

Mr. Teapot says:
"As shit dissolves in a bucket, so are the days of our lives."

bein' sandy
O what I wouldn't give to be lying on a Tahitian beach with a Mai Tai in hand right now.

That's the problem with winter, you see. Constant exhaustion, discomfort and irritability make it excrutiatingly difficult to NOT wish I were somewhere else, just relaxing and being. When I'm NOT present, when I'm miles away or miles ahead, it's remarkably easy for me to become irritated at my present circumstances. I also tend to become rather critical toward the behavior of others. (Let ye he who has not sinned cast the first stone, eh?)

So then I get all ranty, and that just makes me sandy, sarcastic and cynical. I've been rather behaving like a cunt these past two weeks, so if I know you and you've noticed, I'm sorry.

There's a lot of stress on the plate for me right now. All of the sudden it's time for me to be researching and composing content for my senior thesis project and I'm in a panic over that. The project, by the way, is a magazine I'm creating myself.

Finished, the magazine, called Tanuki, will be 32-pages, full-color, and full-bleed. It's a publication targeting Japanophiles that will focus on cultural crossovers between Japan and America, Japanese culture as it manifests in America, cultural events in Japan and travel tips, as well as a host of other tidbits. I'm hoping to create something that's a lot more intellectual than the average otaku 'zine intended to review anime, manga, video games and other toys. But I think that it will still be a really fun mag-- with a huge market.

Nevertheless, I'm only one woman, so composing all the content is a huge pain in the ass. I've contracted out some of the small stuff but I'm leaving all the main features for myself, both because I want credit and because I don't want to deal with editorial bullshit. I already did that for two years with the Oregon Voice and I don't want to do it again.

Unfortunately, I'm having trouble coming up with what seems like a solid idea for the third major feature story (1000-2000 words in length). Does anyone have any suggestions for a timely cultural piece either dealing with Japanese culture in America, cultural crossover issues or other relevant issues?

I'm devoting my long weekend to making progress on this project. I think once I get started it may actually turn into something fun. Until then I'm just going to keep biting my nails.

unplugged
Whenever I see the Bloodmobile, I always feel like I have too much blood.

waterboy
Yesterday I left work with an elderly member of my departmental staff to do a house call on his ailing computer. Lucky for me, it was a quick email server switcharoo, and I made $20 for about 10 minute's work. (An hour, all told, travel and tinkering time.)

On the way to his car, he told me about growing up in 1930s Chicago. He had been a water boy, delivering pure water to homes with no filtration for the city's undrinkable sludge. Those were the days of Al Capone and the Chicago mafia. His neighborhood, he said, was home to several major mob members including Golf Bag Sam Hunt, who carried around a tommy gun in a golf bag. Sam Hunt's daughter was one of his friends. Lucky for him, though, he was too young to take interest in her and moved away before Sam was caught and hauled off to prison.

Another neighbor suspected of being a mafia man would sit all day in front of his home inside his black cadillac with dark window curtains. Sometimes his wife could be seen bringing out his lunch, before he drove off to whatever dark deeds awaited him.

Some of this may have just been childhood fantasy. But even so, it painted clearly a picture of the pre-war era, a sort of innocent nostalgia from the time before everyone wanted to be a hero and many, like he, went off to war at the age of seventeen.

Huh.
Guess who just applied for graduation?

Well, that was anti-climactic.

down again
I can feel Winter wearing at me. Its dark fingers are pushing like heavy weights against my eyelids and creeping cold up around my kidneys.

I always forget just how difficult January and February can be. I coast through November and December riding on a wave of anticipation toward the holidays and Winter Break. Even though the days are getting longer by the time the New Year starts, the first months are always the most mired in darkness.

Things are better this year, my mindset more positive and my surroundings more luminous. But even in an office with many windows, even while sitting wide-eyed in front of my light-box I feel heavy and tired, wrapped in the smothering blanket of perpetual twilight.

Up before dawn, home after dark, in-between hours spend listlessly sitting and biding the time. If only, my mind says, if only we could get away from here. It's so hard to remain "present" when presence in the grey mist of Winter 'now' seems only to lead to sleep.

A regular sleep and day schedule helps me relax, as I think that (with few exceptions) minimizing bodily and mental stress during Winter relieves the most pressure. Early-morning Ashtanga yoga works miracles for my body and mind, though it does contribute to the problem of sleep loss and early mornings. Fair trade, I guess.

But ah, the weekendds, when I finally get to sleep in and relax a bit. This weekend RacheMicah's wedding party went to David's Bridal to look at bridesmaid's dresses. There's a bit of a toss-up as to whether we'll go with 'wine' or a lilac/ victorian lilac color scheme. When we entered, we were leaning toward one and when we left we were leaning toward the other.

I somehow expected to try on a bunch of ugly dresses and leave feeling that I looked stupid. Instead, I found a handfull of great (but pricey) dresses available in both colors. (See: Dress 1, Dress 2, Dress 3, and Dress 4.) I though I looked pretty good in most of those, so I'll probably end up getting one of the above.

Justin and I watched the campy but good coming-of-age werewolf flicks Ginger Snaps and Ginger Snaps Unleashed, ate some Papa Murphy's pizza (free from the government to me!), made awesome stir-fry, slept late, and went for an urban nature walk. (I do love Nutria and ducks.) It was a god way to unwind from a week of readjusting to the academic climate and extreme muscle soreness.

I don't want to live weekend-to-weekend but if I can manage to make each weekend as cushy as this last one, the mid-winter slog will be much more manageable.

Go Bush or go home!
The world took it upon itself to teach me a certain interesting fact two times yesterday, so I take it upon myself to share it with you.

Did you know that the aid amount the Bush administration has pledged to help tsunami victims is equal to the amount of money spent in Iraq every TWO DAYS?

Chew on that for a while.

Ameri-kuh, FUCK YEAH! >_<

homesick

Life here in the U.S. sure seems much more... comfortable than in Japan, especially since I've learned to live without a lingering malaise. But, honestly, something is lacking. Challenge, maybe. Or it might simply be that I have a fetish for the surreal and I'm just not getting a large enough dose of daily strangeness to satisfy me. It's just not the same. Kyoko, Okaasan, Otoosan, Ayumi-san, I miss you guys. Wish I could come back and visit, but I'm too dang poor...

Hardcore
It's been three days since I started getting up at the ass-cold pre-dawn hour for 6:15AM and, honestly, it's getting better, little by little. Monday, Wednesday and Friday I have an early-morning Ashtanga yoga class and Tuesday/ Thursday Rachelry and I are lifting weights and doing cardio. That makes us some hard core bitchez!!

home... sweet, musky, home
You know you've been in Eugene, Oregon for too long when...

You have been peddled for money by young, not-homeless, perfectly employable and terminally lazy stoners for more than four days in a row.

You have been begged for one or more of the food or beverages that you purchased and are holding, intending to eat them, also by people your junior or of the same generation.

You have never bought weed, yet you still know no less than five sources from which you could readily purchase some.

You have seen, in public, on no special occasion, topless women with unshaven pits or children running naked through the grass of city parks.

You have discovered, more than once, dreadlocks mysteriously shorn and parted from the head of their wearer, strewn about the campus quad.

You have counted, on an average weekday, more "dirty hippies" than you have fingers.

blogtied
After the New Year's post, Elaine requested an explanation of sorts for the kink-related tidbits I drop in my blog here and there. It basically comes down to three things:

1) I am a pervert. Always have been, always will be. So sue me.

2) I am open-minded, both experientially and conversationally. This means I prefer to live a no-fear approach both in and out of the bedroom, and also that I have no qualms talking about or trying out new things.

3) I am lucky to be surrounded by like-minded people. I have some fabulous friends and know some extraordinary personalities.

It might be better to say that I'm sexually liberated, rather than giving myself too much credit as an actual bona-fide pre-vert. Sure, Justin and I own a dumptruck of toys, but they spend most of the time locked in the Magic Porn Chest with his old VHS tapes.

It'd be a stretch to say that I'm "into" BDSM. I'm just a wee little Kinkster taking baby steps away from the mindset that I should be ashamed about my aversion to the mundane. The fact is, I'm pretty much willing to give anything a try, within safety and reason. Good, giving, and game as they say.

In truth, it took an "enabler" to get this pervert to the point where she could undersand that Kinksters, whether into BDSM, Swinging or what-have-you, weren't all messed up in the head. (Maybe I just suspected *I* was?) Thank Monk and Justin for that. After they dragged me (not exactly kicking and screaming) to the Wet Spot's naked sushi competition, to Folsom street fair and to work as a rope gnome, being perverted just didn't seem all that scary any more. Best not to reject what you really are, you know.

So far, what my adventures amount to is that we've met a lot of fabulous people, had many fascinating conversations, and been to some great events and parties where we've done things that most people wouldn't want photographed but would categorize as "mostly harmless."

Yes, I'm looking for a good time, with my partner whom I love... but I'm also looking for open discourse with like-minded people, a chance to push my limits, and maybe a reason to keep from ever getting bored. I'm not anybody's slave, a bondage master, or a pro domme. I'm only part furry, and I think I say that more out of endearment than truth. I'm just a freaky schoolgirl who doesn't mind embarrasing herself online.

(Bring on the google hits!)

I don't write about Kink in much detail because a) this isn't a sex blog (though what KIND of blog it is remains to be determined) and b) my family occasionally visits here, but apparently not enough to know or care that I'm a superfreak. So I'll remain elusive about all the fun an games, except for many posting an occasional picture.

And please, curb the harassment about me being a social/sexual deviant. That's only part of who I am. OK, most of who I am. But nevertheless.

I hope this answers any questions.

frost
Ironic, isn't it? The winter I was in Japan it snowed in Oregon and Washington, snowed a lot and stayed. Right on New Year's, too. This winter, they have rare snowfall in Tokyo, and there isn't an ounce of it here. It is cold, though. Freezing cold, an unusual event here in the Pacific Northwest. The second irony is that I often feel less frigid when it's crisp and clear like this than when it's 45 degrees and "misting" rain. Just goes to show ya that I haven't quite been parted from my Michigan roots.

Another term started today and it's back to the drawing board. Back to tuition, books, boredom, stress, lacking sleep, and too little time. The return to Eugene also signals my return to my long-distance relationship after the longest same-city duration since I came back from Japan. I do like to sleep by myself sometimes, if just because Justin is a terrible bed hog, and when I'm with him *all the time* I often need some space... but it just doesn't seem right to be a couple hundred miles of freeway apart.

I'm drowing my sorrows in retail therapy. Having already overspent my monthly budget (on the 3rd of the month?!?) I think I might need some REAL therapy to compensate, or at least credit management advice. It's hard to feel icky about a $400 credit card bill when one has $30,000 in federal loans in one's name. Ownz0red by the government. Yeesh.

Happy 2005!
What did you do for New Years Eve?