ski bums


After my first time skiing in three years and maybe fifth time downhill skiing ever, I have concluded that no, I really do not understand the sport. Perhaps it's that I didn't grow up with it, living in the flat plainland of central Michigan. In the midwest, lump-like hills are called "mountains," and the first time I ventured onto one with the intention of skiing down it, I ended up on a rescue toboggan for a twisted knee and my sorry ass was hauled to the emergency room. I think I ruined my best friend's 16th b-day ski getaway. So maybe I've never lived that trauma down, but something about hurtling down a mountain with two slick planks strapped to my immobilized ankles just... isn't appealing to me.

Nevertheless, I realize that I've only "just" learned to ski, and as a novice I can't pass up the chance to try once again to wrap my head around downhill winter sports. This time, Justin, Micah, Rachel, and I got a free ride (literally, yuk yuk) to Mount Hood Meadows thanks to the generosity of Rachel's mom, who volunteers on the slopes, and an old friend of Rachel's working in rentals.



The Northwest resorts have all been hurting for a lack of snow this season and many are closed. Mt. Hood Meadows, though open, didn't have much, as you can see from the background of the above photo. There was supposedly a 32-inch base at the bottom of the mountain, but we all agreed it was closer to five or less in places. The snow started out icy in places from the overnight freeze, but by noon most of the runs, except those at the top of the mountain, were slush.

Barring bad snow conditions, it was a beautiful day to ski. Justin "borrowed" (read: bought with the intention of returning) me some gear from REI, because I had absolutely nothing to wear, but it turned out that I could have skiied in rain pants and a windbreaker. It was so warm that Micah skiied all day in a long-sleeved shirt.

Because I'm a gimp on skis I stuck to green runs and probably considerably slowed the pace and enjoyment of everyone else... it's hard to improve much skiing for four hours once every few years. Nevertheless, I had a good time even after getting stranded on one definitely non-green route and spending the better part of an hour picking my way down the mountain.

I'm not a seasoned skiier, so I have none of the traditional gripes with snowboarders, but I must say this, as a faction generally representative of the counter-culture "up-yours," anti-establishmentarian youth (much in the same vein as skateboarders), a lot of them certainly board like assholes. There were, by far, a greater number of boarders out there being dumb shits than there were skiiers. Must be the age demographic.

And, I'm sorry, I know that boarders spend a lot more time sitting down just because of the logistics of the board. And they have to strap in and yada yada. But the slope is not a fucking lounge and I find it unacceptable for groups of 20 people just to CHILL at the top of lifts and at random places on the slopes like a bunch of sitting ducks. That's just rude.

It didn't help that some douche body-checked me partway down one run, causing us to both do 180s on the slope. Ah well, I could have fucked up just as easily, so I'm glad it wasn't me.

All in all, a good time, great workout and beautiful view. Maybe I'm one step closer to understanding just what the hell people find so appealing about hurtling down a frozen substance with a billion other people while avoiding stationery and moving obstacles. I'd still rather jump out of a plane for my controlled freefall. ;)

writer's block
Argh, stupid culture shock story doesn't want to write itself... and I hate actually working to make something flow. I much prefer it when it just comes on its own.

I've probably psyched myself up about writing this one so much that I'll only be able to concentrate on it after I turn in a pathetic first draft on Monday.

And I'm stressing about the idea of relaxation... how sad is that? Justin, Rachel, Micah, and I are going to Hood River tomorrow to ski on Saturday. I think a day off will be good for me... if only I could get some progress on this before we leave tomorrow. >_<

eat me!
So I'm sitting in class today munching on my trail mix and dried fruit. I hold up a piece of fig to take a bit of it and suddenly-- shock and surprise-- discover that I'm about to eat what looks like the mummified remains of a clitoris and labia!


Vagina Fig!

'Twas enough to make me lose my appetite. The roomates are suggesting that I put the Vagina Fig up for auction on eBay, on the off chance that it garners as many bids as that retarded carrot a while ago (I can't even remember what it was shaped like). I doubt Vagina Fig will make any money, but it may be worth a shot for the entertainment value alone. What do you think?

static
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy...

More like makes Kat a freakin' psycho. I've had a serious problem with my work ethic lately. A serious problem, in fact, with all matter of things involving self control... eating, TV, Internet useage, sleep, concentration. Of course, the issue is stress, and the huge volume of work I have looming in front of me. I can't prioritize any of it, and there's just so MUCH of it that it all gets mushed together until it's impossible for me to concentrate on the present moment.

All that serenity I felt fall term about focusing on the Now has fallen away and I'm a total manic/depressive mess. Yesterday I finally got some of my work under control, but I'm struggling to do the same thing today. It's almost impossible to retain perspective without hyperventilating about term-end projects or thesis work.

So I'm back being a cynical, irritable bitch who can't stand to be around anyone. It's hateful. I resent other people because they can't conform to my expectations. I resent the world when it doesn't go my way. And I resent myself because I should be able to control my own pace and progress but can't even seem to do that. I'm exhausted and still sick (but recovering, thankfully) with no end of this madness in sight.

Everyone is looking forward to term end for a break. Admittedly, it will give me some relief but I have no plans for a break. My Spring Break is dedicated to uninterrupted progress on the magazine-- because the more I can get done now, the less likely the shit is to hit the fan when the thing goes to press. I just hope I survive.

poo-poo
I feel like I died and was reborn as a plague victim.

I haven't been this sick in years... and I mean that above and beyond the fact that I haven't really been sick at all for two years. I'm really, really sick and I can't just let myself relax and go with the flow. I have too much stuff to do to lay in bed and contemplate a John Grisham novel or something. I figure that plucking away at the computer won't stress my body out much more than sitting on the couch watching VH-1 will anyway. But... eh. I feel like my throat is swollen to the size of a tree trunk, I talk like a man (when I'm not hacking like a chain smoker), I have a fever, and I can't concentrate. On top of that, it's just bad news after bad news.

I hate everything.

the initiative
I've got an interview with a Japanese student at 4PM and until then I must sit here, biding my time, with absolutely nothing to do. My Media Literacy professor was out sick again and yet again refused to cancel class. Instead, he left us a hand-out expecting everyone to stay and not only discuss our projects in groups but lead group discussions on the readings we were assigned. Now, we can't even accomplish this when he's THERE, mostly because he gets caught up on some tangent for 40 minutes, so how does he expect us to get fired up when he's GONE?

Of course, no one in the class took the initiative to lead the discussion. Even I abstained, first because I didn't care enough to shepherd the entire class toward a conversation they didn't want to have, second because I already talk enough in that class, and third, less than half the class had probably done the reading.

I thought high school was over 3-5 years ago, guys? This is a 400-level class and it's not that hard. I'm surrounded by morons.

I'm still ill and I have a very low tolerance for the general incompetence of people. I swear if the emeritus faculty member upstairs calls me one more time today for a lack of basic knowledge about his computer, I'll start to cry. IT'S NOT MY JOB TO HOLD YOUR HAND, BUDDY. I fix computers here, yes, but this is what we call a "user-end" problem. RFTM, kthx.

I want to crawl into another bath. That felt so nice and worked so well. Argh, only an hour and a half to go...

Tickticktick

"..."

I woke up this morning feeling... "off," and by the time I got home I felt like a steaming helping of crap. Still, this is nothing more than a precursor to illness, some minor body aches, fatigue, and throat scratchiness. I haven't been full-on sick for a couple years *knock on wood* so it wouldn't surprise me if I were better tomorrow. On the other hand, it wouldn't surprise me if my body's just decided it needs a vacation, too. So we'll see.

I'm plodding ahead on the magazine project. Last weekend Justin and I went to the mall, Goodwill, and some second-hand stores looking for kanji shirts with "bullshit" potential. I picked up many of the shirts with the full intention of returning them when they've served my purposes as material for a "fashion" feature in (my) Tanuki magazine. So far Hot Topic gets the biggest points for it's TOTALLY made-up kanji character on a shirt that reads "Anime Junkie" and appears to be copyrighted by "Fashion Victim" inc. Is the name of the company coincidental? I wonder.

We also sampled and "graded" some grocery store sushi for the 'food' section of the magazine. PC Market's fresh sushi? B at best. Trader Joe's? Surprisingly, a solid C-. Even stranger, the made-daily sushi at the campus convenience store looks like it will be better in price and quality than either of the two larger chains. But I haven't tried it yet.

Tomorrow and the next day I'm conducting interviews with Japanese and American students for the Culture Shock Triggers article. Hopefully I'll finish transcribing the 3-hour interview with clasically trained swordsmith Michael Bell either today or tomorrow.

All this so I can put in LONG, LONG hours this weekend and get a good burst of progress on content. At least I've been producing fairly decent writing for the things I have done. If only I all the time I wanted to spend on it. Alas.

Back on the personal health front, I've been having problems with the right hole of my right nipple piercing. No matter what I do, it seems to remain inflamed, tender and oozy. Must be partly because the strap of my messenger bag pulls on that breast. In my usual paranoid fashion, I went back to the piercing parlor (again) for my 3rd check-up in 3 1/2 months. Again, they took a quick look at it and told me it wasn't infected and I didn't have anything to worry about-- but to up my salt soaks. As if I have the ability to bathe my nipples while on campus or chilling in my office. >_< Grr. I picked up more saline wipes as a compromise and I've been packing them on. It seems that the problem is that I actually tore the hole a wee bit (it's considerably looser than the other 3 exit wounds). It's trying to heal the same way most owwies heal, with scabs and pus and that other fun stuff, but it keeps getting stuck to the metal of the barbell which then tugs at the skin and keeps the wound from healing. Fun times. It's not a big pain but I just want it to be better so I can enjoy it (or at least accessorize or something).

And with that, I'm off to take a bath so I can feel a little less like crap and a little closer to human.

G'nite.

that thing you do

The jealous cat killed my boyfriend and tried to bury his body.

I had a wonderful v-day weekend with Justin, and I suppose I should have posted about it yesterday but it seems that whenever I sit in front of a computer these days I'm distracted by some form of work or research related obligation and haven't had much time to blog. We had some wonderful culinary experiences cooking dinners, desserts, and breakfasts for each other as well as a fine celebratory meal out at Chantrelle, quite possibly one of the best restaurants in town.

Sunday we ran the Truffle Shuffle as part of Team Country Vitamins. Because I'm a masochist, I had Justin sign us up to run the four-mile race. Though I know that nothing is physically preventing me from being able to run such long distances, I always have a hard time coping with the IDEA thereof. So before the race, I psyched myself out a bit.

Well, maybe I was terrified, which should have been easily remedied with some reassurance and by the fact that I'd ran three miles on Friday with no problem. But no, I freaked out right and left, first insisting that I needed my gloves (which I'd forgotten) and then that the weather was too crappy to run at all. We'd arrived there early, convinced that registration had to be completed an hour before the race. So by the time we actually lined up in the chute, I'd crapped myself out pretty bad.

Justin ran with me and let me set the pace, though he took some reminding at times. But I far too aware that he could easily outpace me and frustrated by the fact that his natural ability far exceeded my practiced ability. My tension and anxiety at all the people passing us gave me a godawful side stich somewhere toward the end of mile two, and I stopped. I was mortified, tried to walk it off, and ran again. It came back. I slapped myself, derided myself, generally tried to talk and beat myself through it, but I couldn't breathe. I stopped again and finally convinced Justin to run ahead without me.

I wasn't sure if I insisted he leave my side because I wanted to be angry if he did or if I knew that the pressure was just too much to perform under. Either way, I was peeved when he left me, running full tilt to shave minutes off his time, but I almost immediately felt better. After a few minutes, the stitch was gone and I picked up the pace, passing the lagging runners who had lapped me before. (I think this panicked some of them.)

Part of me contemplated yelling at Justin when I crossed the finish line. Angry at our compatibility, I just wanted him to go home. But that's the nice thing about running, if you can get beyond the aspect of self-punishment to it, it's rather cleansing. So by the time I was dusting some girl who tried to race me across the finish line, I felt much better... and like an ass for being such a whiney baby with so many mental issues.

See, that's the nice thing about my darling, he'll forgive me almost anything, and I've put him through endless amounts of bullshit over the last five years. By evening, everything was kosher again and he was making me tea while I started on my homework. I'm lucky to be with such a fabulous guy. Not many boyfriends will bake homemade meatloaf with mashed potatoes AND spank their girlfriends with a riding crop all in the same day!

sharing is caring
Because it really is pathetic just how many hours of endless, passive amusement the Internet provides me (all when I ought to be doing something else), I thought I would share with you some of the most humeous sites I've come across recently.

The Chronicles of an African American English teacher in Kyoto, Japan.
Apparently some people can't believe this guy is factually representing Japan. I guarantee you that everything he says is true. ALL OF IT. It's really like that. And yes, it's an enthnocentric viewpoint but that's what it's like living overseas. I laughed my ass off when I read his editorials.

The Masked Grader. Some dude, a student at UT Austin, found a bunch of old papers that students had neglected to pick up. So he wrote comments on them in red pen and left them for the morons to find. I guarantee you'll find it shocking that college Freshmen can be this ignorant. It made me slightly nauseous... or was that the laughing?

Justin's coming down this weekend-- his first two-weeks-in-a-row stint for a long time. We're having a long visit, even, from 5PM today until early Monday morning. I feel like it's a bloody conjugal visit arrangement. What kind of way to organize a relationship is this?

OK, really, I'm not complaining... I'm used to it already, but it still sucks.

Valentines Day is lame, but we have dinner plans at Chanterelle on Saturday and we'll be running the 4-mile Truffle Shuffle on Sunday. In between now and Monday, we're gonna cook meatloaf and red potatoes, and maybe irish stew or lasagne. You see, my whole friggin life revolves around food. It happens pretty much every winter and I'm not sure how to prevent it or even if I want to. So I'll just fixate on delicious meals for now.

Work on the magazine is going well, all things considered. I'm not in a panic yet, as everything still seems feasible, but I really have to start hauling ass on writing my features. It's what, Week 6 of the 10-week term now? GUH. Anyway, this is what I've got on the docket for the publication:

Editor's note
Masthead
Table of Contents
Hajimemasho (getting started)
Languate tips
How-to Corner
Feature #1: The Life-Cycle of Culture Shock
Photo Essay: Mount Koya
Feature #2: Profile of Mike Bell, Dragonfly Forge smith
Feature #3: Engrish and Bad Kanji-- T-shirts
Travel Tips
On Screen & Page (anime/ manga)
Reviews (CD, book, movie)
Food column
Literature section (translation)
Comic
Endnotes

...

etc.

Everything's at least had some sort of planning done for it, and most things are partially or fully written. It's going to be a damn lot of work, but at least I've got the Internet to distract me.

look at those shoes...

[ Festival of the Steel Phallus, Kawasaki ]

I'm being a bad, lame weblogger at the moment and slacking on posting. But really, what else is new? Every moment of my waking life is spent doing something for some project, somewhere. Yesss!

'round in circles
On Saturday, the boy and I drove down to Coquille, Oregon via I-5 through Reseburg and then back up the coastal highway so we could have chowder in Florence on our way back. A big adventure for a big interview with Michael Bell, the head smith of Dragonfly Forge and a very practised, authentic craftsman of Japanese swords.

That's all I have to say on the subject for now, but will be back in more detail later.

Focus
I'm trying not to let nostalgia or anticipation get the best of me while I finish up here at the UO. When those feelings take over is always when life starts to go downhill-- forgetting what's in front of you is the worst thing, IMHO, a person can do. Too many people I know are focused on what will happen next to save them from themselves, rather than what they can do, now, to change how they feel.

As usual, Winter Term is a struggle for me, but this year it's been a lot better. Nevertheless, coming across something like the link in the last post is almost always enough to send me into momentary convulsions. Because, really, my life situation at the moment is just one busy, boring routine. GUH.

Am I learning a lot? Yes, even though I'm in a stupor for at least 20% of every day. In fact, Justin and I have an interview with a traditionally trained (American) sword-smith of Japanese swords in Coquille, OR this Saturday. On a long shot, I also just attempted to contact Gwen Stefani's publicist to see if I could get a 15 minute interview. So far, little progress. We'll see.

I really want to dedicate all my time to my magazine project. But unfortunately for me, other classes and obligations always get in the way. Or I'm simply distracted by the Internet or some other form of mindless passive entertainment that slowly wicks away hour after hour of my time. Even when I intentionally sit down to watch TV with the mindset of taking a break, I find it hard to relax... I could always be doing SOMETHING, even working on the knitting I've forgotten about since Winter Break.

But really, about that distracting Internet... there's so much out there to annoy and entertain. There's an entire livejournal community dedicated to posters' questions regarding whether or not they're pregnant. Posts usually fall into one of three categories: 1) total dumbasses who didn't even consider protection, 2) girls with media induced paranoia about birth control. They're on the pill but still use the pull-out method every time... but suddenly they got semen on/in them and they're OMG FREAKING OUT. (children, please, it's called BIRTH CONRTOL for a reason). 3) airheads who wonder if they can get pregnant from touching a cabinet handle their boyfriend touched an hour after he masturbated.

Like I said, amusing stuff.

I hate you, Internet.
I'm so nostalgic I could vomit.

*sigh*

Dear God, after I graduate, even if I don't have any plans to move back to Japan, could you make my life just a little Tokyo-kooky, so I don't get stuck in the same mind-numbing routine every day? kthx...

Places I remember...

[ Hiro Coffee Farm, Yanbaru Mountains, Okinawa ]

The second day of our stay at Okuma Beach resort on Okinawa Honto, the weather was not cooperating. So we took our Japanese mini-mini rental car out for a spin. Up the Cape Hedo, where one can see northern islands on a clear day. For us, the waves crashed forbodingly against the shore and the wind threatened to dash us into the jagged rocks.

Because we had nothing better to do, we decided to round the northern tip of the island and drive along the east coast until we found a road that would take us back west. But before we were even halfway, the sky had darkened and the weather was getting worse. We huddled inside the car, wishing we could be diving or sunning. I just wanted a pair of long pants.

We were a half mile past the sign that said 'Hiro Coffee Farm' before I made Justin stop the car and turn around. Something about it-- a coffee farm, a real coffee farm, there in Okinawa-- was simply irresistable. We pulled up in front of a small house and what appeared to be a shed. What does on DO at a coffee farm, I wondered. Drink coffee? Buy coffee? Look at live beans? As it turns out, at Hiro Coffee Farm, at least on blustery days like the one we visited on, customers are shepherded into the "shack," which is actually a comfortable little coffeehouse, and served warm, fresh, coffee with cookies.

We probably didn't need a pot each... no, we REALLY didn't need a pot each, but at $4 a pop, how were we to know better? The coffee was delicious and somehow took the edge off of the windstorm outside. The wind ripped on the coffeehouse-shed open and slammed it shut again no matter how tightly we fastened it, but we sat inside entranced by the little gem we had. And before we left, the owner and his daughter(?) insisted they take a picture of us in front of their sign, just as we took one of them.

To me, this was one of the most precious moments of my Spring Break journey during my ten months in Japan, probably because it was so unplanned and unique. And this is why I love the internet-- because I can now share this story with others and find that others have already shared their story of the same. I found that news article on Hiro Coffee Farm doing a random google search. And boy, did the memories ever come rushing back.