June is bike month...and the police are out to get you.

I was in a hurry. I had a dental appointment at 1pm, but I had about 40 books that I wanted to donate to the Vancouver Public Library. I couldn't possibly haul it to the nearest branch by foot, so I decided that biking to the VPL was the best idea--plus, it would save me some time. It would take two trips, but with a bike I figured I could probably do it in under 30 minutes.

"Hey ma'am.....MA'AM!!! *blows whistle* Could you step over here, please?" At this moment, out went my under-30 minutes plan. A power-mongering (obviously) police officer stood by his motorcycle and beckoned me over to the side of the road. What's going on? What crime could I have possibly committed in my final days in Vancouver? I swear, I haven't stolen anything, I haven't killed anybody, and these are all books I'm about to donate to the VPL! If anything I'm committing a very very humanitarian act by donating books. I am proudly contributing to the fountain of publicly accessible knowledge...

"Where is your helmet?" he asked.

Ah. Indeed, I wore no helmet. After all, I was only taking books to the library, which was literally only a few blocks from my house. This, of course, was no excuse. I was reprimanded further for not having a piece of identification. "You have a BAG on your back, and you're telling me you have no ID on you?" "Uhh...well my bagS are full of books I'm about to donate to the library." Apparently this revelation of my act of humanity in contributing to the fountain of publicly accessible knowledge didn't distract him very much from issuing a ticket that fined me $29 for not having my helmet on while riding my bike. Moments after issuing me this rather obnoxious ticket, the police officer stopped another, and then yet another, Vancouverite riding his or her bike without a helmet, just as they have been all year long. Pretty soon there was a crowd of bikes and people forming on the intersection of 8th and Macdonald.

I went out the rest of the day warning those on bikes that the police are out to get them. June is bike month, and now it is the end of June: hunting season. And yes, I do plan on paying the $29 to ICBC. I don't really want to get stopped at customs going out or coming into Canada in the near or far future.
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So much for my resolution..

A couple days ago I ventured out to Kits beach with my friend Katherine. While I was putting on my bikini, I realized that the bottoms no longer fit me--it was way too big. I only bought it last summer, too, and having really liked the design, I was kind of bummed. But of course, I couldn't possibly survive the rest of summer with a bikini bottom that basically sagged from my hips. So I stopped by American Apparel on 4th avenue today, and found a nice bathing suit for a reasonable price of $70 (damn PST's..). The people there, like at most other clothing companies, are dressed in their own company's clothes, and boy do they look funky. 'Funk', I think, is the best way to describe AA. One-tone colors, simple designs, and yet at the same time slightly retaining a hint of the 80's. So simple and yet...so expensive! A regular cotton T-shirt for $30...but you see, it is alright, because they are completely void of any sweatshop production, much like lululemon athletica. I will indulge in lululemon when I get to Calgary.
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Leggi italiano?

Questi posti che sono scritti in italiano sono per i miei amici che parlano italiano. E anche per me, per praticare il mio italiano. Io amo l'Italia; da quando l'ho visitata nell'estate di 2002. Quando sono entrata all'università, ho deciso continuare a studiare la lingua italiana, per due anni. Ho seguito corsi numeri della cultura e la storia dell'Italia, e ho scritto quest'anno una tesi sul fascismo italiano: ha chiamata "Bodily Stones: Corpo humano, architettura, e urbanismo nell'Italia fascista." Un soggetto ostico, no? Era difficile, perché i miei documenti erano tutti in italiano, e gli molti che ho desiderato non erano accessibile. Ma, è finito, e mi sono laureata.

Cari amici, se, nel mio blog, ho fatto un errore enorme, ditemi! Io amo la vostra lingua, la vostra cultura, il vostro paese, e non voglio distruggerlì. Anche spero a creare una sezione nel sidebar che mostrerà tutti posti sono in italiano.
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I don't like YOU.

There are some incredible things people get away with in this world. Actually, it's not that incredible--I bet it's one of those things that happens very often but no one ever hears about it. Imagine if, like every other time in your life, you happened to lose your wallet, or even get it stolen. You cancel all your credit cards, notify the bank, get a new driver's license, and a social insurance card. You get a new wallet, and you think the matter is settled. Then, one day, you get a phone call from a ski rental place to tell you that a snowboard you rented was damaged. You've never been snowboarding in your life.

A front-page article on the Vancouver Sun this weekend recounted in detail exactly such an occurance. It is the most frustrating, and allegedly unsolvable, crime ever: identity theft. An 18 year-old woman had her purse stolen one night, and for the past two years she's been fighting someone who has been claiming to be her. This 'someone' has all her legitimate government ID, so for every car crash and every counterfeit cheque transaction, the finger points to her...except, she has committed none of it. And the reason why it's unsolvable by the police?

Sgt. Ken Athans, head of the Vancouver police Identity Theft Task Force, was not familiar with McAteer's file. That's because his new and highly successful task force targets large groups of people who work together across the Lower Mainland to pull off organized and very lucrative identity theft. [...] He has sympathy for McAteer and others in her situation, adding that in an ideal world there would be enough manpower and cooperation between police and outside agencies to solve a case like her's. [...] "We probably have people pointing fingers at each other saying it's your jurisdiction ... It's a huge problem. Resources are always going to be a problem. And we need to find a way to empower somebody to do something about that. That's sort of the shadow that identity criminals are able to operate in," he said. "It's really tough for her to go to the top of the pile ... There are a lot of people with stories like her's, and we hate to hear them."

First of all, in an ideal world, there wouldn't be such dishonest people. Secondly, in an ideal world, there would be no need for criminal justice systems or laws, for that matter. And thirdly, if not even that, there wouldn't be such an incompetent 'Theft Task Force' whose head-hancho stands and publicly claims that there are people "pointing fingers at each other saying it's your jurisdiction" and does just that. (Well, at least he is being honest.)

But, the true reprimand shouldn't be aimed at the police for their incompetence, but this bitch who goes around thinking she can get away with identity theft, although she clearly has and is. Whoever you are, wherever you are, you do NOT deserve to live in civil society, to reap the benefits of a safe, peaceful community. People like you who don't have common decency should never be amongst those of us who actually do. Go f%^k yourself.
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we're just not having enough sex.

Al emailed me an article he found online today, titled "Falling birth rate due to lack of sex" and joked that he was starting to have second thoughts about coming to Japan:

Japan's fertility rate – the average number of children a woman bears in her lifetime – fell to an all-time low of 1.25 last year. Demographers say a rate of 2.1 is needed to keep a population from declining...Japan came last among 41 nations in a poll last year by condom manufacturer Durex, with lovers there having sex just 45 times a year compared to a global average of 103 times a year.

45 times a year. Just so you know, that's less than once a week. The funny thing about this latest revelation about Japanese sex lives, is that the country has--and is known for--a substantial pornography culture. The dominant prevalence of pornography in Japan was demonstrated last year by Al's father's souvenir. Upon a brief visit to Japan, Al's father had brought back a magazine bought from a newsstand at probably a train station. The type of magazine that he had bought, however, was not only manga (a particular type of comic prevalent in Japan only), but the extremely sleazy type of manga that "stressed-out" salary-workers (men) would read on crowded train cars, regardless of the time of day. Thus, pornography is not limited to red-light districts and happy-ending massages by beautiful Asian women; it seems, more or less, part of any man's daily life.

So if Japanese men are as horny (perverted?) as I've made it sound, then why aren't they having sex? The aforementioned article of the Japan Times attributed to stress, "tiresome relationships," and--"no particular reason." Dr Kunio Kitamura, director of the Japan Family Planning Association, says couples need to start talking to increase interaction. But, I believe that there's much more to it than just stress and tiresome relationships. To begin with, Japanese men are probably satisfied, to some extent, with their porn. They get to read it on the train, they get to rent it at any local video store, and now they even have the internet. They're already stressed, and, the best part about videos and magazines is that without any physical effort, they can take their sex lives to a place far beyond a manifestable reality. Their wives aren't hot enough? All they have to do is resort to imagination. There's a lack of spice or passion in their sex? Well, fantasies can solve that. And, they don't have to get frustrated about pleasing the woman, because hey, it's a fantasy and in fantasies the women are always pleased.

All the blame can't lie in men only, however. Japanese women have their faults, too. A good friend of mine once described to me her friends in Japan: "They have their own careers, they have their own lives, they have their own apartments and their own toys, and they have money. Now they probably have vibrators, too, so why the hell would they need a man, or even have any desire to have a family, when they can just please themselves whenever and however they want?" Like every other time in their history, it seems as though the Japanese have once again taken things a bit too far. These are independent women--truly independent women, who don't need others to please them, because they figured they can do it themselves. No need to experiment, no need to think about pleasing the other. Like their male counterparts, they, too, have their own fantasies.

Conclusion: Essentially, you have an entire country whose citizens live their sex lives solely in their own fantasies. Now that is just a bit disturbing.
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moment shots

I've added yet another section to the sidebar. I was originally thinking of linking a photo album, but stopped short of the process when I realized three things: 1) Scripting was a major task, especially without an FTP host (which I can't figure out on blogger.com); 2) I was bound to get lazy about updating the photos on the album, and therefore not only would my original efforts at...2am would go to shambles, but also the project would simply end after the first update; and 3) No one would ever be that curious about my life to withstand a pop-up window showing you all the details of my life, moment by moment. So instead, to cater to my own short attention span as well as to yours, I've submitted a simple solution: one photo at a time, updated whenever I want to. Organized mainly by seasons (hence now, "Summer 2006"), the photos are not necessarily in any chronological order. It is truly up to my own discretion. How lovely. Enjoy!
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my jorja fox

Tadaaa! My new work bag from Matt and Natt Montreal!! Based in Montreal, QC, this company sells shoes, bags, and wallets, and they are all vegan products. The brown/blue one shown is the one I have. It is a rather large bag, easily fits my 12" iBook amongst other things (14.5" x 12"). I've been eyeing it all summer and finally it is in my hands. This, I swear, is the only shopping I'll do in Vancouver. The rest will be left for Calgary in August, the land of no PST's. I'm super excited about it, but I'm going to keep it mint condition for a week, just to make sure that I truly enjoy the sense of ownership of it. Purchases like these don't happen often for me, so when I do make them I just want to make sure I used my hard-earned money for the right things... Bah, whatever.
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20 (+2)

I turned 20 two years ago. Yet in Japan there is a traditional ceremony that I technically should've done but did not because I was out of the country: that is, the Coming-of-Age ceremony (sei-jin shiki). Facilitated much by the local government (I think), on the second Monday of every January there are multiple venues--large concert halls, auditoriums, city gymnasiums--that are utilized for the congregation of 20 year-old men and women, dressed in traditional kimonos (for women) and hakamas (for men). Some may wear tuxedos and fancy dresses, but the true way to go is in costly traditional attire. The ceremony itself is known to be fairly boring, much like many graduation ceremonies of universities...a few speeches here and there of monotonous nature, followed by a formal drinking of rice wine at the end. In Japan the legal age to drink, smoke, drive (actually you can start driving in an N license at the age of 18, but full licenses come around 20) is 20, and by that age, unless you are in school, a full-time job is an expectation to say the least. Otherwise, shame is bestowed upon you and your family...no, not really, but kind of. Strange country (let's not get started on that).

Anyway, in a recent conversation with my mother, the idea came up that maybe I should get a photo shoot done to commemorate my coming-of-age, two years belated. No real need to go through the ceremony, per se, but a photo in nice expensive kimonos is a once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing unless I come to own my own kimono one day, and it would indeed be kind of fun to have a picture of me in such...well, clashing?...attire lying around. After that conversation I surfed around and found the following three kimonos appealing (they are from a website of a place that rents kimonos near my mom's apartment).
This one is my favorite (and actually, the least expensive of all three...yes, this is a major concern, as rentals are costly. This one is approximately $350 to rent for a day). Since this is a traditional ceremony, we might as well go fully traditional by using the basic colors of Japan: red, black, and white.





This is my second choice. When foreigners first came to Japan (1800s), they were astounded and allegedly mortified by the Japanese's use of clashing colours, as in this one. Blue with orange and red and yellow (rather than blue with light blue and green, or blue with purple or lilac). I think it's quite beautiful, and nowadays motifs like these are fairly common. Back then it was a blasphemy.



This one is the most expensive of them all...if it weren't for the sale they're having the original rental cost is about $1000. I like the more subtle blue base and and purple corners. All in all this actually looks the most....well, mature.

I just don't want any butterflies on my kimono, or any bugs (like fireflies and dragonflies) for that matter. But no butterflies. It's a coming-of-age ceremony and I don't want to look like I've reverted back 10 years. Or huuuuge flowers. Or too many flowers. Again, I'm 20 (+2), not 10. Or pink or pastel purple, or even ones that are really tacky looking. Perhaps it is a bit more difficult for you to understand what I mean by 'tacky' kimonos if you're not Japanese, but really, there are some horrid pictures out there that you wish you never saw. These people destroy the art of kimonos. Somehow. Anyway.
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A bag(gage) of trust.

A man once told me that I have to "stop bringing emotional baggage like that. You have to get over it and move on, for fuck sakes." The irony, of course, was that he himself carried such 'baggage' with him. It angered me greatly at the time that he would be so hypocritical and ignorant to have criticized me for my "emotional baggage" when he so clearly hauled around his own.

But, it must be first stated that his criticism has some truth in it. As I wrote a while back, there exists a certain point, after which one must learn from his/her mistakes, from others' mistakes, somehow look upon what's happened voyeuristically, and slowly walk away from it, and finally move on. For mundane matters this is a lot easier of a task, while for other, more serious matters, it proves to be quite difficult. Yet we all know that if we keep all of our 'baggage' (I dislike that term, but whatever) with us for the rest of time, it will eventually take a toll on our bodies and we might even stop moving 'forwards', if you know what I mean. That would be bad, and quite sad.

So yes, for fuck sakes, we have to get over it and move on. But the question remains as to why boldly 'moving on' is such a difficult initiative to take. Here is my temporary answer: we grew up with mixed messages.

Think about it for a second. When you were a kid and you had an ice cream cone, but you pressed your mouth so eagerly against the round, scooped mass of sugar that you accidentally pushed it over the waffle cone. At this very moment, you cry in mourning for the now-lost, delicious ball of sugar that has already begun melting on the ground. Ants are starting to crawl around it, and you think, "You lucky ants." Your parents or your siblings or whomever comes over and either A) tell you to shut up, stop crying, "I told you to be careful, look at you, you've soiled your shirt" and the matter ends there and you are left to deal with your agonies, or B) they give you another one and this time you're extra careful.

As we grow up, we find that reality is not as sweet as they once were, and situation B rarely presents itself. In fact, we realize that while we deal with our agonies--which already is a difficult task in itself--we long for a situation B to happen, and, here's the key to it all: when B does happen, we are extra careful that second, or third, or fourth time around. Thus, while we learn a great many things through more positive experiences, it is only through our other unfortunate experiences like tipping our ice cream cone, that we have learnt the art of being extra careful. At the same time, through negative experiences we have also come to form an appreciation for those positive moments in life, so any sane person who cherishes the positive ones will also be sure to keep those coming. This means, being careful.

For great things, however, one must take great risks, says the wise, and we learn this too. Things then become a bit of a tricky pickle, because all your life you've mastered the art of carefulness, but now you also learn that we must also at times be courageous and brave, plug our noses and take the plunge. What we are fearful of, then, is that the art of carefulness--i.e. what people call 'baggage'--will weigh us down to the bottom, so not only have we taken a plunge, but we have taken a plunge more as a suicidal act than one of bravery (which it was, just for a moment). All our lives we are thus fighting with a bag(gage) in one hand--weighty, of course, being full with our past experiences--and the urge to leap forward, hopefully for a great landing (or sinkage). How could one ever be blamed for fearing that?

So while the aforementioned man's criticism was immediately annoying and offensive (and a huge turn-off), it took me a second to realize that he too held a bag(gage) of his own, and thus anger was not the most appropriate emotional response, but rather, pity.

Well, what do we do? I know exactly what I do: I stick with my art of carefulness, and take plunges only when I know for sure that things are safe down there. I think I've lived long enough to know that, while we must take great risks for great things, truly great things--ones worth taking the plunge for--only happen a handful of moments in a lifetime. I am no gambler, and when I do gamble, I gamble smart. I've taken a plunge before, and whether it was worth it or not I will decide on my deathbed, but I know that it will be a little while longer before I take another one of those again.

Yes, I have a bag(gage) in hand. Look, you have one too.
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Enticing body art. POLL

So I've got a question for you. Should I get a tattoo? The basic design would look like this:

Name:

Should I get a tattoo?
Go for it! (move on to next question)
Fuck no.

Where?
Around upper arm (i.e. arm band).
Side of arm, up-down.
Around upper thigh (i.e. thigh band).
Side of thigh, up-down.
Upper back.
Lower back (but not 'slut stamp' area).

Further comments?

Thanks for your input. If you have found other pictures of designs, patterns, or motifs you think could make a nice tattoo, feel free to post it in the comments or email them directly to me.
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I'm trying to pack.

Packing up a room is truly a difficult task. I've accumulated so much in four years, it's a huge pain the arse to go through everything and separate those things you want to keep with you as you move on, and those things you want to leave behind because they are useless or mean very little. Academic papers and photocopied articles that I used to keep will all go to recycling, all my furniture -- even my comfortable bed -- will be sold, and I will be leaving this room as of June 30. I suppose the best part of it all is, I'm making some money from it. I recently sold a quarter of my 'library' to a local second-hand bookstore, and they gave me $62 for it. Awesome. I still have about 30 books left, including one gigantic art history book, which might go for a good price. We'll see. I'm glad I'm starting now when I have an entire month to work at it little by little, because this would be such a stressful undertaking if I had left it till the last week.

All of my clothes are in order, I've got 2 big boxes of winter clothing and clothes to send home, plus a smaller box of photos and books. Whatever I make from selling furniture and books will go to their shipping costs, I'm sure. After sorting through, I've got 4 garbage bags full of clothing and clothing items that I no longer wear. A new wardrobe is in order when I go to Calgary at the end of July. For the rest of the month of July, I'll be living out of my suitcase, hopping around friends' places for the first week and then in Vanier for 2 weeks while I toil away at UBC band camp and starbucks. Oh boy.
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