Names you wouldn't think of.

Last night, nine alumni came out to play the varsity boy's basketball team. They started the game down by 16--I later found out that the 16 points were not planned on; the OB's were just not used to the idea of playing basketball--but came out on top by 2 in the end.

It was a weird scene for me. Suddenly, I was 16, 17, 18, back in that gym, watching the same guys play basketball--not all at the same time, of course. I spoke with some of them afterwards, to say hello and ask how/what they were doing nowadays. Great to see you, Maybe I'll see you in London, Take care. I left the gym quickly afterwards with a peculiar feeling: it was as if I had revisited my past as someone else. They probably didn't even know who I was, just that I was a familiar face from a time during which they were unaware of most things to begin with. I hadn't thought of their names in at least 5 years (if not more), and then I watched them play basketball, and the funniest thing is, I will probably never see them again. Until, of course, one day, somehow, somewhere, we cross paths without knowing that any of it would happen. Moments like these make me think how small the world could be, and how life is really full of stuff that one fails to fathom and predict.
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One year older.

My 23rd birthday turned out to be a pretty good day, breaking the record of 16 consecutive, horrible November 28th's. It's not that I've had bad birthdays persay; my 'birthday' was often celebrated days after or days before due to bad timing. But it just so happened to be that every November 28th's for the past 16 or so years have just been 'bad' days. You know--gross weather, cranky people, frustrating job/work, unnecessary insults, topped by the lack of any celebration either amongst friends or on my own, alone. This year, it was different: surprise celebration by the English and Social Studies teachers; a slice of cake the day before presented by two awesome kids; dinner with a friend; and of course the boyfriend, albeit thousands of miles away, who sends me a paint file of confetti, complete with two dancing figures and a missing 'h' in "birthday."

So, in light of a good day coincidentally on my birthday, my resolution for my year 23 is to recognize and appreciate the good things that I have in life, sometimes.
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Just for fun

You are The Wheel of Fortune

Good fortune and happiness but sometimes a species of intoxication with success

The Wheel of Fortune is all about big things, luck, change, fortune. Almost always good fortune. You are lucky in all things that you do and happy with the things that come to you. Be careful that success does not go to your head however. Sometimes luck can change.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

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An early surprise!

I was eating some chicken noodle soup in hopes of improving my current throat condition, when two of my former volleyball girls came shyly walking into (and walking out, repeatedly) my room with grins and giggles. Their friend then explained for them that they have a birthday present for me, even though it is one day early!! It was so sweet of them!! Now that the picture is up, I can eat it :)
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Back from Beijing

And my voice is gone. One of the varsity girls who decided not to go came up to me first thing this morning and said, "Sohko, I should've gone. It would've been worth it to see you yelling and coaching the way I heard you did." That's great, eh. I've lost my voice, if that says anything about the entire weekend. The seriously smoggy air of the city didn't help, either.

The girls' team lost all their games, but it was the ultimate practice for them, and I think they learned a lot. The boys' team, on the other hand, won most of their games and came out on top, as champions of the entire tournament. They played so well!

By far the biggest highlight of the trip was the morning excursion to the Great Wall, on Thursday. We climbed a steep hill where many shops and vendors were set up, selling little trinckets and articles of clothing for passing tourists. I got two bracelets just for the fun, and even found Aaron an old piece of wood. It was probably part of a large door frame or something, but the intricate carvings on it were what got him excited (he enjoys decorating his house, he says. Oh, adults). We went up to the actual Wall via cablecar, and the car I got on was the same one Bill Clinton had got on on his way down. Who knows if it was actally true, but there was a sticker on it that said so. On that day we only walked between two guard towers, but one day I would like to go back and hike the whole length of it. Hopefully the restorations would have finished by then. (Or not, depending on how efficient the Chinese decide to be.)

I stayed in an apartment building located in a residential complex, whose homes are at least 1000 sq. ft. in size and the rent starts at at least $4500 CAD. Totally western-style architecture and interiors. There are about 100 houses in one complex, and there are probably about 15-20 complexes. The region around the International School of Beijing consists of primarily these western European blocks; the only times I felt that I was in Beijing was when I was on the Wall, when I was out shopping in a local market, and when I was on the bus in the mornings traveling between ISB and our excursion destination. It was an interesting set-up, to say the least, and kind of creepy, to be perfecly honest. The School was great, though! Awesome people and the tournament was fabulous - every aspect one would consider for an event was covered and executed, and I was thoroughly impressed.

Some pictures to follow, and there are more on my flickr site.
> A bright red sun at 6am, because of the intense smog in the air.

> See! Bill Clinton took this car.

> Me and the Wall (and a random China man).

> Great view.

> The Pomegranate: a North American sports bar in the middle of nowhere.
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All out...and waiting.

Applications are all out. Whooop-ti-doo. I'm glad it's all over. Now it's just waiting and waiting and waiting. Sigh.

In the meantime. I am off to Beijing in three hours. Smile. I hope to land safely in China by 9pm tonight. Praying.
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bulls-eye.

Maneck studied Beggarmaster's excessive chatter, his attempt to hid his heartache. Why did humans do that to their feelings? Wheter it was anger or love or sadness, they always tried to put something else forward in its place. And then there were those who pretended their emotions were bigger and grander than anyone else's. A litle annoyance they acted out like a gigantic rage; where a smile or chuckle would do, they laughed hysterically. Either way, it was dishonest.

A Fine Balance, by Rohinton Mistry. Page 493.
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Trip #3 of the year!

Destination: BEIJING
Dates: November 22 - 26
Purpose: Invitational high school basketball tournament
Activities: Climb the Great Wall of China, see the Forbidden Palace, and shop. And coach basketball, of course.

Score.
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Where the....

F&%K!!! is my letter of recommendation from UBC???

RAAAHHHHHH!!
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My 4th JUMP.

Ex-ASIJ would understand what that means.

On Thursday and Friday I spent 2 days with 12 kids and another adult in Chichibu, Saitama Prefecture (read: boonies). It was truly in the middle of nowhere, but still a lot of fun. Some highlights:
- We hiked the wrong mountain.
- I had possibly the best udon noodles in a small, 70 year-old restaurant located in the middle of the 'right' mountain.
- I almost had to call an ambulance for a kid suffering from an allergic reaction to cedar pollen.
- We made glass beads!
- And then we made our own soba, and ate it.

> View from the train to Chichibu.

> Japanese version of Stairmaster (aka Our Hike).

> Clean water!

> Lamune! See the marble?

> Indigo dye smells. Eww.

More pictures on my flickr page...
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Sooo close! *updated*

My team was ready to fight to the death in each game. It was a double-elimination tournament. Although we lost our first match, that we had taken a set from one of the top teams in the league was a confidence booster for us underdogs. We probably shouldn't have gone to three sets in our second game--perhaps we got a bit cocky--we managed to win that game...until, of course, we met up against our own JV team in the second round of the losers' bracket.

The first set was a blow-out. Something wasn't mentally there and we lost, very quickly. The second set started out slow, but we picked up at the end and came out victorious. In the final set, we began strong by using our momentum from the previous set's victory. But being a short set capped at 17 points, we lost the set by only 3 points. We were so close!

Regardless of the ultimate result, the girls had a great time, and for a team that was shafted for gym practice time and that had less than half the number of season games than all the rest of the teams in the tournament, we fared pretty well, and definitely put up a big fight! Go JVB!

Epilogue..
A few days later, a coach from another school emailed all the athletic directors and volleyball coaches in our league, stating that

Next year I would like to ask that A**J not be allowed to enter a 'B Team' into the tournament...The B team is hard to seed and obviously very good due to the fact A**J is a big school in a small school tournament. Furthermore A**J appears to only be using the tournament as a means to build a strong varsity team as they do not attempt to win, but just play as many girls as possible. [...] If A**J does not care to play to the best of its team's ability with one team, ok, but to take up space with its 'B team' is a waste of time and very poor sportsmanship.

A note to readers that, the topic of discussion is a high school Junior Varsity volleyball league whose players are no where near the college playing level; they have just started to figure out what the game of volleyball is all about. This guy gives no credit to me and Josh who've put quite a bit of time, passion, and effort in building our JVB team. We're just good because we're a bigger school? How does that make sense? I mean, what does that say about his team, and furthermore, his coaching skills? And, apparently, giving dedicated players with a strong desire to learn the game some playing time in a tournament setting is 'poor sportsmanship' in his world. The girls love the game! What's wrong with them wanting to develop their skills for the varsity level and beyond? Arrrghhhh...

Anyway, some pictures..





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Is it worth the investment?

Investment of time, resources, and perhaps more importantly, faith.

In my recent effort to write a letter of intent for my postgraduate applications, I strongly insisted that the world is in need of people who are not only multilingual, but multicultural, to stand as representative members of a growing international community. I argued that they must be, first and foremost, endowed with a sense of global responsibility. I cannot help but feel that Roh Moo-hyun, the current South Korean president, was one such person.

His 'sunshine policy' programme was began in an effort to reengage a population that had been separated quite cleanly in two by a physical border and a war. According to my mother's extended family members, such a political separation has not led them to believe that they are specifically 'Northern' or 'Southern'; they are, they insist, Korean. The successful completion of Roh's 'sunshine policy', therefore, would have helped bring together two populations that were originally one.

But what do you do, as a man of politics, when your neighbor blows up a nuke, against international objection? Here is a government you've decided to invest in, hoping--and that is truly the appropriate word: hoping--that they would begin to cooperate and see things in a different light. Despite the result (i.e. nuke), Roh should be commended for his effort and his ultimate faith in the good heart of human kind. Yes, they may be (are?) developing 'weapons of mass destruction', but their people are starving, and today, they would be half my people if it were not for the War and the physical border. The government that rules over their former people must be pressured to meet recent international standards of peace and security, but being so close and sharing so much history, they must not be completely alienated. As the direct neighbor and thus the most threatened, South Korea's approach to the recent North Korean crisis has been summarized in the recent issue of the Economist as the following:

South Korea's predominant political consensus, says Andrei Lankov of Kookmin University in Seoul, is to seek gradual change north of the border in ways that might eventually narrow the vast income gap between the two sides. Tightening the screws too far risks goading Mr Kim to strike back. A collapse of the regime, followed by reunification, would impose unbearable costs on the South. Even the opposition GNP, says Park Jin, a member of the party, believes in maintaining dialogue with the North, while adding some pressure.

How does one with a sense of so-called 'global responsibility' tackle such a situation?
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the calm after a storm..

exhausted.

i've got no brain energy.

anxious and nervous, but too tired to do anything about it.

my mind wanders.
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Leaves here, snow there.

My friend Iku and I went to Nogawa Park today to have lunch after finishing our physical exams (complete with blood tests, urine tests, x-rays, and sight/hearing tests). The leaves were starting to turn all sorts of warm colors and the sun was nice, too. I thought, the autumn season is just beginning! Then, I received an email with a picture of Sadie (left) in the snow - it's already snowing in Calgary! Oh the wonders of nature.
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Narrow!

These stairs are located in Shimo-Kitazawa (aka "Shimo"), and they led up to a small clothing store. You think that the stairs look narrow just because of the way they were taken? Nope - they were literally under 2 feet wide. More like, 1.3 feet. Tiny!
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"Life is like a box of chocolates.."

Oh, the famous opening. Life probably is like a box of chocolates, except you can't choose which set of chocolates you want, and in the end, like it or not, you end up eating them all.

Regardless of whether the famous metaphor is true, I got a box of chocolates today, from the same student of mine who found me in my room with a huge frown yesterday. What a sweetheart. In return I let her know that our volleyball team is back in the tournament (we got kicked out because there were too many teams; then, one team decided not to participate), and she jumped up and down and left for class with a huge smile.

Unfortunately all I could muster up was a weak grin, looking down at the box of chocolates. The pink wrapping paper, and the brown ribbon. Thanks, Hannah.

My insides are turning. I tried to sleep last night and couldn't. I feel full just looking at the chocolates, and yet, I am completely hollow and empty. My eyes are burning.

Control, control.
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(T T)

My eyes hurt. Left my classroom at lunch break to retreat to a corner of the bathroom, trying to stay quiet, and then I wasn't hungry. The food was dry in my mouth, it felt like swallowing balls of sand. The spanish teacher found me in the corner of the faculty room and tried to cheer me up by talking in Spanish. "Como estas?" Later, a student caught me with a frown and bulging red eyes in my room, came over and gave me a hug.

Arguments. A clash of opinions, emotions, fatigue, weariness; in its ceasefires I have little desire to eat or move or think, and all I want to do is sleep. But arguments are no abnormal phenomena--what did you expect, you're thousands of miles apart and you're reading words off a screen, a sheet of paper, no matter the medium. How is less words a solution? How is less words in lower frequency a solution?

I spent days and weeks trying to smile, forcing it out when I can, no complaints, focusing on the good's and ignoring the bad's for the time being. Don't talk about the bad's and just talk about the good's. And now I am exhausted, confused, and hurt.

Thus, like any other, the beginning of an end.
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Good reads

I started Rohinton Mistry's A Fine Balance over the weekend. It is such a good read (so far; I'm about 100 pages in) but the backstories of the four characters involved are just, sad. The first one left me in thought for a while about the safety of all the people who I love and care about. Hope you're all well! :)
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negative exponents

Let the graph speak for itself.

KEY:
Point 2:59 pm = Josh comes to visit.
Point Incident A = realization of critical misinformation and daunting consequences for next week.
Point Incident B = wake-up call to petty and annoying realities of the working world and people, general.
Negative slope y = x^-3 already a given from the day's beginning due to:
- unbearable allergies;
- no promise of dinner;
- the thought of uncomfortably sleeping over school with a whole bunch of middle school munchkins running around me.

This is retarded. I'm getting dinner.
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clustrmaps

That clustrmaps function (the map under "Hi, Stranger!") is pretty cool. I have people from Denmark and even Australia, and various places in the U.S. stopping by at this blog. Interesting. It just makes you wonder who they are and what they do, what kind of lives they live...you know? Stuff like that keeps me going.
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I woke up late...

...at around five to 8 this morning. Let it be known that I have to be at school at least by 8:15. Well, for starters that did not happen today. Like a 12th grade kid suffering from senioritis, I managed to slide in to my room just before the bell rang at 8:30am. Oops.

I have an excuse. I ate lots of turkey last night (check back for pictures), and then stayed up late finishing the first book to Kafka on the Shore. This means I have to go get the second book soon, before I forget what's happened in the first one. I'm thinking I'll go and trade my first book with the second, so I don't start accumulating things while I'm here.

On a totally different note but related to me almost being like a kid here... several reps from University of London were here today for a visit, and luckily I was able to catch the rep from King's. After having spoken to her it sounds like I'm just going to end up applying to two programmes at King's instead of one. When she first saw me she thought I was a senior student. I took it as a compliment at this age (22) but lately that's been happening often. People who don't know me or don't recognize me ask whether I can be helped, and they blush in embarrassment when I tell them I'm faculty. Good times. :)

Also had a nice swim today after practice, slightly aching at the moment from a fall in the women's locker room. Art history lecture tomorrow, that should be fun.

> John (athletic director) - Victoria represent! - and his UVic shirt.

> The reason for my monday-morning tardiness.

> Meagan, and host, Dan.

> Ed and baby posing.
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Dancing conductors and rolling cymbals

I forget which tune it was but there's really only one notable classical piece that demands a percussionist to do a 'roll' on a pair of clash cymbals. Well, NJP proved me wrong last night when they played a piece by Rodion Shchedrin, and one guy pulled out a pair of cymbals and started 'rolling' on it. What does this exactly mean? It means you angle the uppermost tips of the cymbals against each other, and make a circular motion with your arms so that the cymbals are literally 'rolling' against each other. It's totally weird.

The rolling clash cymbals definitely set the tone for a peculiar, musical evening. The concert began with a snare drum set up right in the middle of the orchestra, and the principal playing a jazzy rhythm on it during the Shchedrin piece. Slightly distracting was the dancing conductor. I mean, this guy was dancing. He would jump up and down, swing his hips side to side, suggestively flare his arms here and there...it was as if he was acting out his own personal musical. Possibly because I wasn't used to seeing dancing conductors, his performance kept me from concentrating on the music.

Then of course half way through the concert I realized that the timpanist had set up his timpani backwards. It's by no means illegal in the world of percussion--whatever works goes--but I couldn't imagine how one could play like that.

The star of the show was Keiko Abe. She was featured in a piece called Lauda Concertata for Orchestra and Marimba, and I knew she had played this piece before (have read her bio). But when I heard it at first I wondered if she was having a bad day. Her mallets' stick-ends were hitting the keys on the marimba, and I thought I heard a few notes here and there that probably wasn't supposed to be there. After the performance I briefly read through the programme notes for the evening, and the piece was described as having an eery, almost rite-like air to it, with the strings playing long, legato notes and the marimba playing rhythmic, staccato notes characteristic for a percussion instrument. So I guess maybe the stick-hitting part was supposed to be a part of the piece, as with the odd notes here and there. New-age contemporary music is hard to tell in this way--you never know if it was all supposed to be there or not in the first place.

In any case it was a good evening. Sumida Triphony Hall is one amazing concert hall, and watching the New Japan Phil made me want to play percussion in an orchestral/concert setting all over again. I have to do something musical one of these days, or else I'm going to go nuts! I'm thinking of taking up the cello but access to the instrument itself is one obstacle, finding a good teacher is another, and then of course I have to pay for lessons, which is an additional obstacle.
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NEW TOY! Getting pins.

If you scroll down the page, there is a new sidebar element that's been added. The map has pins, noting where I've been in the world so far (I've yet to add Italy). If you click on it, or on the sohko's travel blog link under "Links," it will take you to a travel journal page at Realtravel.com. The travel blog that I've created only talks about the places I've been and what I've done there, and I don't know if I'll put up any pictures on it because that would set a precedent and would mean that for every place I've been, I would have to put up pictures and well....I'm too lazy for that.

This blog will remain to be the main site to check out what I'm doing, and what life in general is like. The information that will be posted on Realtravel.com will mostly be technical things like restaurant, lodge, or event information particular to the city/country I'm currently in. Just another cyber-toy to keep me entertained, I guess.
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A Successful Test?

International Herald Tribune announced, along with all of Japanese, South Korean, and U.S. media, the successful--question mark--execution of a nuclear bomb test in North Korea. North Korea gave the following statement regarding this shiver-inducing 'accomplishment':

The field of scientific research in the DPRK successfully conducted an underground nuclear test under secure conditions on October 9, 2006, at a stirring time when all the people of the country are making a great leap forward in the building of a great, prosperous, powerful socialist nation.

It has been confirmed that there was no such danger as radioactive emission in the course of the nuclear test as it was carried out under scientific consideration and careful calculation.

The nuclear test was conducted with indigenous wisdom and technology 100 percent. It marks a historic event as it greatly encouraged and pleased the KPA and people that have wished to have powerful self-reliant defense capability.

It will contribute to defending the peace and stability on the Korean Peninsula and in the area around it.

Whether North Korea actually blew up a nuke underground remains to be confirmed. Personally, the successful completion of a nuclear bomb test seems highly unlikely for a country that, not only failed to launch 7 missiles in July 2006, but is also facing international reprimand, including those from fellow neighbors China and South Korea; an entire starved nation; and limited funds/resources. Do they have all necessary components of a nuclear bomb, and have they been able to develop sufficient technology? Not so sure.

If North Korea actually blew up a nuke, it will be interesting to see what the UN and its participating countries will do in response...if any. The U.S. have, in the past, repeatedly articulated their contempt for any nuclear test, as has the UN, China, Japan, and South Korea. Furthermore, a successful execution of a nuclear test is a metaphorical equivalent to a political slap in the face for China and Russia. For years they have stressed that they will contain North Korea and its potentially disastrous activities. A successful test will, essentially, prove them wrong.

So far, tangible confirmation has been limited to a 4.3 Richter scale earthshake, artificially created, in an area of North Korea that U.S. intelligence has estimated to be the locale of nuclear testing.

To be perfectly blunt, the U.S. has nothing to gain from North Korea other than, in its defeat, keeping their reputation as the world's police force debatably committed to extermintating all Evil. Unless North Korea actually bombs someplace beyond their national borders, the U.S. will do nothing.

Now, as for Japan and other East Asian countries developing nuclear arms, which many Western nations seem to fear. As the only country ever levelled by an atomic bomb, the feeling that we will never be the ones to nuke another nation remains strong, even half a century after the War. Abe, our new PM, may be more nationalistic than Koizumi, but it is doubtful that he will go against an entire nation's opinion.
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Do Japanese people eat sushi all the time?

I've answered "No!" to this question bazillions of times, but then when I've been asked follow-up questions like "Well, then what do you eat?" or "So what's a regular Japanese meal look like?" I wasn't able to give a good answer.

So here's a picture of a standard Japanese meal. From the top left: broiled Komatsu-greens (similar to spinach) with soy-radish sauce; grilled salmon fillet with soy sauce; seaweed and green onion miso soup; Japanese rice; pickled radish. It was a tasty, and most of all hearty, meal. Totally comfort food for me. In any case, you can see why most Japanese people tend to be slim--there's very little fat content. Maybe a bit of fat from the salmon, and some carbs from the rice, but all in all it's a pretty healthy meal.

It's not what I would call 'standard', but this dessert is fairly traditional. The reddish-brown stuff is sweetened red-bean paste (if you are in Vancouver you can go to pretty much any bubble-tea store and have a taste of red-bean), and the white balls are literally called 'white balls' (shiratama) in Japanese. They are kind of like mochi (rice cakes) but slightly sweetened. Japanese desserts like these are also fairly healthy compared to a cake or a cookie, and (I think) they're pretty tasty, too.
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AND Blogger Beta.

Ok yeah that took WAAY too long to reconfigure my entire set-up. Are you thinking of switching to Blogger Beta? It's kind of cool, actually, but if you're like me and you've played around with your blogsite a bit (i.e. html of template, etc.), then you're going to find it a bit nauseating to reconfigure everything you've done. The best way to go about it is if you keep the html-encoding source page of your original, and then refer back to it when you switch to Beta and reconfigure. Plus, I was bored so it definitely kept me busy for a few hours!

And you Vancouverites, you are lucky. Tokyo weather is at the moment The Shits. Two typhoons are attacking Japan at the moment and we are suffering from severe rain and wind. I am at school at the moment, long past my working hours, and was hoping the rain would subside. It doesn't look like it. Booerns.

Speaking of 'attacking', North Korea is threatening to run nuclear tests. They've already shot 7 missiles in our direction this summer, calling them 'tests'; I am not looking forward to a nuclear version of one of their so-called 'tests'.
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1 of 3 finished.

Ending with a slight feeling of euphoria and dizziness, I've finally submitted my application to the London School of Economics and Political Science. Finally. Now it's just waiting for the recommendation letters to be sent digitally (submitted by referee and therefore out of my hands now -- yay!), and once those are in it will be up to the greater powers above...well, in London.

But of course I have to finish my SOAS. I'm just waiting for the letters to come in, as I have to submit my application via paper and snail mail (it costs money to do it via online). And, KCL doesn't open online applications until January.

*phew*
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London Bridge ISN'T falling down..

Well, at least the real estate there isn't.

So I know I said something about fucking future plans, but well, today is another day. I went online to check up on rent rates in London...it is ridiculous! Talk about expensive, and I'm from Tokyo! Asking around, I found out that university-operated student housing is the way to go, because it is uber-cheap. But from experience, I know that sometimes this type of housing isn't so cheap compared to what actually goes on in the student (housing) world. And also, do you not pay rent by the month in London? I've seen the abbreviation "pcm"--Per Calendar Month, I am guessing--and other rent prices noted by the weekly rate. On some sites, it even had a daily rate! What is going on?? Man, I hope I can live a little while I'm in London, because right now it sounds like that's just not going to happen.
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What keys?!

It sucks to end up as the 'bad person' when you weren't clued into how things work to begin with.

Allegedly, a bunch of balls and equipment were scattered in the high school gym early this morning. Because my team was the last one to use the gym, we (the coaches) were reprimanded for leaving equipment out. What equipment?! Josh and I looked at each other in confusion. We always made sure we put everything away, so we had no idea what we were being scorned about. Turns out, we were supposed to lock every cabinet and door before we leave. But, a lock requires a key. And we were never informed about any keys.

On a similar note, everything that goes on at the moment--the little that does, really--doesn't seem to follow a smooth path. How many times do I have to rewrite my letter of intent for my grad application? I mean, at least the letter improves each time that I do. Relationships don't, the more you try to do something right, the worse they get. Progressively worse, increasingly emotional, and exponentially frustrating. I become more apologetic, and of course there's no one to stop me. And then mom needs to be paranoid (rightfully so, however) about my trip to South America. And no more IM conversations. Yeah, good one, Sohko. As if that's going to improve anything, including your own mood.

What a blow to my motivation this week has been. I am not looking forward to the rest of October.

You know, sometimes I wish we had the ability to drop everything. Just drop everything. Fuck responsibilities, fuck future plans, fuck aspirations, fuck goals, fuck relationships, fuck everything that takes mental energy, patience, and sanity, and just...leave. Ironically, times like these when you're in a shitty mood, you need mental energy, patience, and sanity the most.

So then you take a deep breath, and say, "Life sucks. Life's not fair. Shit happens." And then you cry, because it's important to let things 'drop', at least that much.

I'm done.
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Applications.

So I thought I was done and over with school applications. Apparently not. Here I am, spending hour after hour, day after day scrutinizing my so-called 'Letter of Intent', and filling out three sets of application forms for my master's degree. Everything is pretty much ready to go--application forms are filled out, UBC transcripts have arrived, recommendation letters have been requested--and all that remain are my three letters of intent. It is a frightening moment--that moment when you click 'Submit' and you no longer have control over the contents of your application. I'm already nervous with the sheer idea of clicking 'Submit'. Will it happen today? Maybe.

On a happier note my friend Emmy passed her driving test! Congrats!

I am also in the process of putting together a lecture on Renaissance art for the art history class here. I've finally been able to print three articles about a couple paintings, so now I have something to do: read!
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Hong Kong!

For the second time in my life, I went to Hong Kong. This time I was a chaperone for the high school choir who was participating in a choir festival there. The rehearsals were long, and I think it was a bit too much for the kids, but they probably learned a lot seeing how they sang Bach's B minor mass--a hard piece for their age. They also sang a piece commissioned by the hosting school who was celebrating their 40th anniversary. As such the school threw some big money into the occassion, and the kids got to perform their concert in the city hall. That was pretty cool.

All in all the week was a bit too sacred in character for me, and I reckon that I could raise hell for the rest of the week and still be eligible for heaven.

Bought a couple things at the night market, which is always fun. I was introduced to new orgasmic dessert there called "Mini Mango Delights" which consists of fresh mango puree, mango ice cream, and chunks of Phillipine mango on top. So good--they must've existed when I was there last winter, but no one was there to inform me about it! If you ever go to Hong Kong, try it.

Also met up with a former elementary school counselor of mine. That was pretty cool. I hadn't seen him and his wife for about a decade, and they were always people we wondered about as alumni of the school. Unfortunately I didn't take a picture with them but here are some pictures from the trip:
> From HKIS on a sunny day!

> Stanley market. I had lunch (alone) in a local restaurant at the far end.

> Past curfew @ the night market. Oops.

> No friendly conversations with the bus drivers here!

> Concert in Hong Kong City Hall (remember this, UBC Wind Symphys?).
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A brand new passport.

On Sunday I got my new, Japanese passport. There is something really exciting about getting a new passport, I'm not quite sure what. It was made with great haste, as my last one was only valid until October 4th, and I needed one valid at least for another 6 months to enter Hong Kong. I thought I looked like a convicted criminal when I had my picture taken for it, but once printed on the passport itself I don't look that bad. Just a bit on the tired side, but that's what I get for taking a passport ID photo at the end of a long work day. The best part of it is that the new passport is valid for 10 years--until 2016! I can't even fathom where in the world I would be then, with whom, and what I would be doing!

This new passport has this hard plastic page inside it, which apparently contains an "IC chip." The computer chip contains my identification information, complete with my ID photo, date of birth, nationality, etc. It says that because of the chip I can't get the passport wet, and if I do happen to break the chip I have to get my passport replaced, and pay for it. I kind of thought that was unfair, because it's not really our fault if the chip is fragile. I'm going to be carrying my passport under my shirt when I go to Peru, what the hell's going to happen to the IC chip if I sweat like a pig (which I will) on the Machu Picchu hike?? Brutal.

But in any case, it's pretty exciting. The first place I get to go with this new passport is Hong Kong!! My last passport had stamps from Taiwan, Hong Kong, Canada, U.S., Rome, and Japan. This one will have tonnes more--Hong Kong to begin with, and several countries in South America from next summer, and then the U.S., followed by London...or so I hope.

Sidenote: the current music director at the international school we're visiting was the music director at the Canadian international school the UBC Wind Symphony visited back in December 2005/January 2006. It will be nice to visit Hong Kong again, and reminisce about the good (and bad) times. I will try to post pictures and whatnot while we are there.
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Mr. Trainman

Ever heard of this guy? Well, he's out there, somewhere in the crowds that inhabit this city. Mr. Trainman works as an IT specialist at a company. Whether it is because his desk is hidden in the corner of the office floor, or whether it is because he is so quiet--well, probably both--we cannot say for sure, but he often goes unnoticed by everyone around him. He commutes to and from work hiding behind backs, pillars, and shadows, slithering through the crowd. When he is noticed, it is because he has tripped on nothing and has fallen on his face. Or he's woken up in a screaming fit on the train.

When he goes home, he sits in front of his computer and his social life begins there. He knows not the faces or the voices of the people he types to, but they are his friends nonetheless, and every night they talk to each other about...life, I guess?

Anyways, there is a happy event to this apparently miserable and pathetic story of Mr. Trainman. He meets a girl one day on the train. She is being harrassed by an intoxicated salaryman, and he steps in. Well, he kind of throws himself onto the man from behind and shudders by the door whilst the attacked drunkard transfers his frustration upon him. Luckily, some train officers intercept the drunken man and drag him off the train. The girl asks for his contact info so that she can get a hold of him later, to send a gift, perhaps.

So to make a long story short, with the help of his online friends he refashions himself, changes his way, and gets the girl in the end. They marry.

This story portrays a man that is so typical in contemporary Japan. It also vividly portrays the lives of his so-called 'friends', who lead various lives of their own--a heart-broken nurse, a detached wife, her silent husband (they don't know that they're in the same chatroom until the end), a depressed youth, and three students who don't have any idea what they want to do with their lives--and the ways in which they 'refashion' their selves while they cheer and encourage Mr. Trainman along.

The story was a movie (^-^). And it was based on a true story. So Mr. Trainman is still out there, living his happy life with his beloved wife! Isn't it a great story? Programmes with plots like these are so common, I find. Whether it's because people here are longing for some 'pure' form of love or some other idyllic notion, I don't really know. I can't help but be reminded of the article that I wrote about before...
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Snakes and Earrings

Recipient of the 2004 Akutagawa Literary Award
She was 19 when she wrote it, and this short novel contains ample sexual and visceral imagery. Although the award nomination committee accepted this work without much discussion, for a while both the book and the author were widely acclaimed amongst Japanese intellectuals with much debate and criticism. After all, the author was only 19 and, from the standpoint of the Japanese intellectual elite, what could a 19-year old possibly have to offer to our complex society?

The book was recommended to me by the English Department here, who all read it in English. I thought it would be neat to read it in Japanese (seeing how I'm fluent in the language anyway). Their reaction to the book varied, but was often one filled with a curious type of disgust and a desire to remain distant from, yet within reach of, the reality that it portrays. This reality, however, is the reality of youth culture in Japan, and although the author takes a radical example set from it, she still manages to show what it's like in the world that people rarely see.

(Breif analysis follows--it might ruin the ending. Read with discretion.)

"I'll be God myself."
They also thought that the reason why Loui goes 'back' to the tattooist, sadistic boyfriend Shiba (could be spelt Shiva, alluding to the Hindu god of life and destruction) is because she was lonely. I think there was much more to it than that. After her boyfriend Ama died, she didn't care and couldn't care less who she was with. The fact that the man was possibly related to Ama's death, in fact, only urged her to be with him. After all, Ama was dead and Shiba wasn't. The key was that this was another reality that she could change. She told herself, "It's okay, he might've killed him, but it's okay..." and then tried to change her surroundings--including the physicality of Shiba. While in some ways this probably was in an effort to get rid of everything tangible that existed and/or pertained to Ama's death, it was also a way for Loui to retain a will to live on. Loui's tendency to want to change the tangibles of her life was mostly apparent in her split tongue and her large tattoo on her back. 'Tis why Loui gradually lost the will to live as her tongue and tattoo were completed. By the end of it, she needed something else to change, something else to give her a purpose to live. Shiba was the answer.

At the same time, the reason for Loui's desire to make these changes is not necessarily because she needed constant change in her life. In fact, it is the ultimate paradox: the desire to change in order to attain perpetuity. She wanted to change Ama's hair color after finding out about the murder report on the newspaper not for the sake of changing, or just so that the police wouldn't recognize him, but also so that she can keep him, just the way he really is--gentle and at times childish, and always by her side. For her, changing his hair color would facilitate perpetuity. Then, when she loses Ama, she looks towards Shiba to provide her with the same opportunity, and it is here that her fundamental motive for change becomes particularly apparent (if it wasn't so apparent in Ama's case). At the end, she wants him to change how he looks, and she wants to change the scent of the incense, not because she doesn't want the police to find out in case there were any witnesses to his murder of Ama; rather, because she wants to make the change and make her desired reality stay. Just as she declared in the beginning of the novel, she had made herself 'God'.

Is such a phenomenon--the desire to always be changing but always be looking for a home plate--relevant? I think so, both on an individual level, as well as on the greater, cultural level, here in Japan. Highly recommended read.
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Silver lining...where is it?

They say that every cloud has a silver lining. But do they really? Recently I find that it's become increasingly difficult to focus on that silver lining--the small glimpse of all things great and happy. Maybe it's because I am tired at the end of the day, or because I am left with so much time to think and ponder all by myself. My work entails a lot of interaction with people, which is great. I have a lot of friends here who know so much more about life and work and everything else, it seems. So when it comes to asking for advice, they are inspiring and helpful, and hopeful as well. Yet, the heart-sinking feeling doens't subside and I'm often left to stand on my own. Is this what being an adult is like? Am I to make life-changing decisions without a support system or an intense conversation? Am I to go on and only share the low and high times over email?

Really, what I lack is something as simple as a friend who is going through the same transition, the same instability, the same self-doubts; someone standing on equal ground, with similar roots, with the same mindset as my own. And it hasn't gotten to me until now. There is no one to turn to when I have a bad day, or when I've been having a bad week. Emails are great but there's only so much you can say in one email, and everyone is busy; replying to emails isn't such a simple task sometimes. My good friends are scattered across the globe and the person I really want to be with is on the other side of the world, and he's probably not even half as upset as I am on a daily basis, as he is substantially more apt at finding the good in things than I.

I feel like I can't live in the now. I am always looking towards the end of the month, the end of the term, the end of the school year, in fact! Surely that is no healthy thing, and no wonder I am less motivated than usual to do the things I love and enjoy. In fact, I almost feel like I can't do the things that make me happy right now because I'm working towards a final goal--grad school. Doing things that make me happy now somehow seems to lessen the chances of me achieving the final goal. Thus, I've succumbed to a delayed form of gratification, no longer looking for things to make me happy now. Perhaps I am tired of looking for a 'silver lining' anymore, crossing my fingers in hopes of it appearing in front of me on its own. Maybe I need a vacation, but hell, it's only September!

A former roommate once told me that the incessant desire to sleep means one is usually upset in some way. It is probably true, as all I want to do these days is sleep.
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Slow days..

This is a picture taken in Stanley Park, Vancouver. The duckling seemed curious of the camera as it came charging at it.

Things in Tokyo have generally been slow. The weather is cooling off--this is a very good thing, as the heat mid-summer here is unbearable. The students are starting to settle into their daily routines, as am I. I don't have much to do just yet, as the kids haven't been assigned too much stuff and they have yet to write their first essay of the year. Once those come in I'm sure some will start asking for aid.

I researched a bit about my trip to South America next summer. Only the middle leg of it, actually--from Calama, Chile, to Cusco, Peru. We are trying to book the Inca Trail hike to Machu Picchu at the moment, as I hear that those get booked up pretty quick. Allegedly there are tons of things to be done in Bolivia, and a substantial amount of time will be spent in Chile as well, so Al's figuring out the details to those parts of the trip.

Going to Hong Kong in a few weeks, so that should be fun. The high school choir is going there to participate in a festival. It will be nice to see Hong Kong again. Expect pictures and updates.
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Coaching is...

HARD!!! So diffcult!!

Well, no, now I'm just being dramatic. It's a lot of work is what it is and communicating matters of physical movement is, as expected, difficult. Furthermore, matters of mental state are also difficult to convey. Volleyball isn't some sport where you can stand around and not move; it's no weak sport, truly. You have to throw yourself out there, and work your butt off. There's an additional difficulty if you're not tall. Like basketball, unfortunately volleyball is a sport that discriminates against us Tiny People. Blocking is out of the question--if you're short you ain't blocking, you're digging. And even if you're short, if you can jump that's great, but you really have to jump. But it can still be fun for everyone, so long as everyone understands the important roles people can and must play on the team.

Just thought I'd throw that out there.
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Keiko Abe and New Japan Phil.

I was looking for a ticket to the Carmina Burana show with the New Japan Philharmonic Orchestra. The cheapest ticket went for 4,500 yen (appx. $45), which is a drastic difference to the $10 rush/student tickets or the free tickets I used to get for the VSO. While browsing through the NJP site, I came across an exciting option: Keiko Abe as featured marimbist for the October 13/14 show. All the cheapest tickets were gone, but there were a few B tickets left, going for 4,500 yen. I would've waited for my new United Mileage Plus credit card to arrive, but the tickets were going fast. So out came my wallet and my VISA card, and now I have a ticket to see one of the best marimbists in the universe after Evelyn Glennie. How exciting!

I have to keep these spenditures to a minimum this year, because I have a Masters programme to pay for next September (if I get in), in addition to a $2,000 plane ticket that will fly me from Tokyo to Santiago, Quito to D.C., D.C. to London. Brutal. I really don't know if I'll have enough money.
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I am Urashima-taro

Just as I expected, I feel like a foriegner in my own country.

It's been only two weeks since I've left Canada to start my new life in Tokyo. I saw my mum for the first time in three years, I am working with my former teachers with whom I am now on a first-name basis, I've gone out to at least 3 parties where booze never ran out but the food always did and everyone was dancing by the end of the night at the principal's house (not to mention 3 parties in two weeks for Sohko is a huge anomaly and ground-breaking event). My Japanese is slowly but surely coming back, and I can now create full sentences without blatant grammatical errors. I'm still looking for some place to do yoga, and speaking of which, I've already bought a pair of shorts from Lululemon Japan. The food here is glorious, just like I imagined it to be, and the heat unbearable, at least for these first few weeks. Soon, autumn will hit and the food will only get better.

Amidst all this transition and re-adaptation to Japan, I am everything but adjusted and comfortable. Reverse culture-shock, they say, is harder to deal with than any other usual form of culture-shock. I'm used to how things work here -- the transportation system is the best of its kind in the entire universe, as far as I am concerned -- and know what to expect when I go to Shibuya on a Saturday evening. There are so many things here that I recognize, but that's all it is -- mere recognition. Somehow in these past four years something has changed, and I no longer feel the roots of my own identity, grounded and saturated in the soils of one of the most oddly spectacular countries of the world (if they ever were, that is).

There is a folk tale that is retold to children in this country, which tells the story of a young man by the name of Urashima-taro who saves a turtle stranded on the beach. The turtle in return offers to show its gratitude by taking the man to an underwater paradise. The man complies and spends a grandiose time, until one day he is prompted to return to his home above the sea. He is given a box as a token of gratitude, which he is warned not to open. When he returns home, he is unable to control his temptation and opens the mysterious box, only to realize that by doing so he has reawakened to a vastly changed reality, and that he himself has turned into an old man.

I feel like that man who has spent years abroad and upon returning to his origins he realizes that time has not stopped and the reality he was used to seeing no longer existed in its original form. Some things resemble its older form, but most have undergone an unrecognizable form of change. It's one thing when you can identify what kind of change has occurred, but unfortunately, there is an unsettling discomfort that lingers inside you when you are unable to say exactly what that change was. If you get what I mean.

All in all, however, it has been a good two weeks. The kids are starting to come in and coaching keeps me busy. I hope blogger keeps working on this computer so I can keep the updates going. Also, check out my flickr site (link is located in sidebar), there will be pictures there for you to view.
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From Calgary to San Francisco - Aug. 13

It has been a while, there were some techincal difficulties with updating my blog, so here it is, in all its glory: my life for the past few weeks.

My journey back to Tokyo, Japan, began with a painfully annoying experience of the competencies and incompetencies of airline companies. Newly installed in certain airports are so-called 'Self Check-in Booths', which I first encountered at Vancouver International. You stand in front of this slick machine, and swipe your passport or your airmiles card, and on the computer pops up your flight information. After a number of confirmation messages, the computer prints out your boarding pass, and all you have left to do is to take your check-in luggage to the counter and off you go. Solid. This efficient process was a nice welcome at Vancouver International, and again at Calgary International. Yet, what thwarted my all-encompassing admiration for this small glimpse into our near future of flying was nothing more than a single wake-up call. That is to say, United Airlines made it, literally, boldly clear on their website that passengers were to arrive a stunning three hours before departure time. For my 6:33am flight, this meant I had to be at the airport at a stomach-grueling, faint-inviting, vomit-inducing hour of 3:30am. There was no point in sleeping, so Al (oh, poor Al) and I stayed up all night, playing pool, watching Forrest Gump, making a song, and dozing.

Anyhow, the most frustrating part was that, despite the bloody early hour, responsible passengers like myself arrived promptly at the airport at 3am, only to be welcomed by not a single staff member of the airline companies. That certain security measures undertaken at this time (being post-9/11 and with the recent, successful aversion of the 'terrorist attack', which apparently took 12 years of planning and its instigators allegedly included a man 18 years of age...which meant this man had been planning this supposed attack from the age of 6, which is in itself a scary thought) take a long time is understandable. But to demand passengers to be up at 3am and not have the staff ready to check them in until at least 4:30am is ridiculous, and makes no logical sense. What was the point of making us wait an hour and a half?

This annoying logic was, of course, one of the many frustrations that haunted my journey. It took an additional 40 minutes to get through U.S. customs and security on the Canadian side (as it has been arranged), followed by carry-on luggage security, at which not only was my Legacy Games memorabilia swiss knife taken away (for obvious reasons; it was foolish of me to forget, but again, it was early), but I was selected for a thorough search which included taking everything out of my bag and getting a body pat-search. Of course, one wonders why I always get selected for these allegedly 'random' searches. In frustration I downed a tall caramel macchiato in under 15 minutes. I finally got on the plane, slept for 2.5 hours and landed at San Francisco International...on time!

At San Francisco I had a 3-hour layover. I treated myself to a bowl of udon for lunch, which was yummy, as I was fairly starved at this point. I had to go through carry-on luggage check again, and again I was treated to a thorough searching...and I didn't even beep when I walked through. Seriously, there must be an alarm siren ringing on top of my head and "I need to be searched" written across me. Two searches in under 5 hours is too much. Oh, and of course, they had to take my deodorant. Great, I thought, I'm cranky already, and now I have to smell. It passed U.S. customs the first round? As did my white-out pen. They almost took my mascara and my concealer, but the security officers had a 'debriefing' this morning, and they were told that mascaras and cosmetics as such were okay. But the deodorant and my white-out pen were confiscated the second round.

Lastly, Canadian loonies and toonies are globally useless. I have $12 in toonies left and have no idea what to do with them, as the currency exchange depot stopped taking them. I am at least 900 yen less than planned. Brutal! I tried to reason it out with the duty-free shop attendant, but she declined to listen. "Only bills, only bills," she said. Bah! F*&% you. Al, I'm sending you $12 in change, plus a handful
of dimes and nickels and pennies.
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Running wild in Calgary, AB

For the record, Calgary is the eastern-most city I've been to in the vast and awesome country of Canada. It is indeed a sad record that, in my four years in the land of maple leaves, beavers and hockey fanatics, I've only traveled once beyond BC. "Beautiful British Columbia," says the license plate, and this is true -- the beauty of BC should not be underestimated. But come on, there is so much more (or, so I think there is) to Canada and it is a shame I didn't get to visit other visit-worthy places. Oh well.

Can you see me running wild? Well, imagine flat land. Slightly hilly, fairly dry, low clouds and a horizon, with the occasional thunderstorm and visible flashes of lightening. Such is a view unfathomable in Tokyo or Vancouver (the endless flatness, I mean). It's not quite the perpetual-fields-of-wheat as would be frequent in Saskatchewan or Manitoba, or the tornado-ridden Redneck-land of Kansas that I dreamt of, but close enough, eh? "Wild Rose Country" Alberta is Beefland, and the steaks here are tasty. We cooked some the other night. And the storms, the storms! I've missed them for such a long time, because they don't ever happen in Vancouver. They are so cathartic.

Alberta also lacks provincial sales taxes. That means every time I buy something or eat out, I don't get slapped in the face with a 14.5% sales tax, as was the case in BC. So Sohko runs wild in the shopping mall.
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BAH!

So you see, when I don't have the luxury of a digital camera and wireless internet service, I lapse into a sort of laziness and I put off blogging. How horrible of me. Contrary to the apparent uneventfulness of my life (as proven by my lack of blogging) I have been going about my final days in Canada busily. Since my last entry I've worked at band camp, lived in student residence at UBC, flew to Cranbrook, spent a good week at Windermere where Meg's cabin is located, and then for the past few days I've been in Calgary, Alberta. On August 12 I'm off to Tokyo, Japan, where I settle in and get ready for my new job. So the past few weeks have been great fun, and I've enjoyed most of it. Now that it's past though, I don't feel like writing about it. Meh. Life goes on.
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Shakespeare in Vancouver.

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
-- Puck: Act V, epilogue.

Thus ends Shakespeare's play, A Midsummer Night's Dream. As one of Vancouver's famous summer attractions, Bard on the Beach is a Shakespeare festival that annually puts on four plays for an affordable cost of $30 per seat! In the past two summers I was involved with the other summer Vancouverian attraction, Theatre Under the Stars as a pit orchestra member, so I never had the chance to go see other theatrical productions in the city. Last weekend my friend Katherine and I went to go see Bard, and boy, was it great!

Shakespearean plays are every high school student's nightmare. You have to read it out loud in class, follow the rhymes and rhythms of its poetry, and try really hard to comprehend both the subtle and obvious literary going-ons that Shakespeare had so cleverly interwoven. Many people hold degrees specializing in Shakespeare, and so you tell yourself, how am I to understand these plays?? Essay questions are handed out and exams are administered, and when you're finally done with high school, all you want to do is never read another one of his plays...ever again. (Albeit, some kids do get hooked on it.)

I wouldn't place myself in the I-detested-Shakespeare category, but I certainly was no enthusiastic advocate. A Midsummer Night's Dream, furthermore, is one of the more difficult ones to follow. There are so many characters, to begin with! But Director Gibson did a phenomenal job putting together this show at Bard. I wouldn't want to describe it here in fear of meddling with its true wondrousness. The costumes and set were full of funk; artistic freedom in delivery was utilized but not abused; and awesome actors, especially the guy who performed Puck, the mischievous faery. I don't think I've laughed so hard for a long time. If you are in Vancouver, or if you are visiting Vancouver this summer, please please please go see it. Measure for Measure is supposed to be really good, too. The 2006 season of Bard on the Beach is on in Vanier Park until September 24th.
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Valdez 2 / Forza Azzurri!!!

I came back from Valdez Island with: an extreme tan; cut up feet; two toe rings; a new found love for Pure Vanilla's Passionfruit Cheesecake; a realization that I can't hold alcohol; a missed chance at smoking an artfully rolled dubie; great memories; and really really red and puffy cheeks (a result of too much sun). The vast majority of the weekend on the Island was spent in the sun, reading, swimming in the bay, and eating (very good food). One day I will come back this way.

E gli azzuri!!! Che impressionante!! Che meraviglioso!! Molti i miei amici dicono che desiderano una vittoria francese, ma io non sono d'accordo. No no no. Le Forze Azzurri, solamente. Sono in modo da eccitato! Purtroppo, penso che non posso guardare il gioco la domenica, ma proverò, proverò duro!
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Valdez 1

Valdez Island is one of the many Gulf Islands located off the coast of Victoria of Vancouver Island. My friend Jess and her family own a cabin there, and have kindly invited me out for Canada Day weekend. It is also probably the last time I'll get to spend time with Jess for a long while to come. So here I am, in Victoria, on Jess's bed, the night before we depart for Valdez.

Going to Valdez is a bit of a trip, as early tomorrow morning we will be taking the ferry to Galliano Island, driving down its entire length to catch a water taxi that will take us out to an otherwise inaccessible land mass. As far as I know the island is fairly small, and there are no B&B's or resorts--only private cabins. Both of Jess's parents turn 50 this year, so they are having a huge feast to celebrate. From what I've heard, it consists of crabs, prawns, mussels, casseroles, salads, to name only a few selection of dishes--an "unprecedented feast," as it has been described. Such is a pretty exciting event to look forward to. The day itself will be spent swimming in crystal clear ocean water (apparently cold but not unmanageable), reading, sun bathing, etc. etc. Photos will be taken and yes, this will be a good weekend.
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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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