Black Crane versus Snow Hawk: Coming to a Theatre near you!

Though the title is confusing and misleading, it’s in reference to my future profile picture granted Tracy is ballsie enough to post it. We pretty much proved we’re possibly the biggest creative type dorks in Japan as her boyfriend shook his head shamefaced and took our picture. It has been awhile since I’ve updated this thing about antics in the Land of the Rising sun…not to say I’ve been lazy, but things have been rather tame. Where to start..? Guess from Epiphany Thursdays, Bouken (adventure) Fridays, and Lazy Saturdays.

I realized about halfway through Literature class several things about being in TIU. For one, while the 3hr daily morning dose of Japanese (with Japanese Only strictly enforced) is extremely tiring on the mind, it IS effective. Granted, I’m a level below where I technically should be but I’d rather relearn the basics and learn new things versus pretend I know everything and struggle epically. But yes, though it’s repetitive, it’s useful. Everything else…

…not so much. If it weren’t for the shitload of financial aid covering my educational expenses at TIU, I’d probably return to the US. My THREE HOUR STRAIGHT History and Literature class add up to 6hours a week of my life I will never get back, slowly consumed by the tedious system. For one thing, I’ve already DONE History of Modern Japan but it’s the lesser of two evils because I don’t want to do Econ or Politics. What troubles me is that it is three hours of Lecturing.

Not discussion.

Not group debates.

LECTURING. I might as well whip out a recorder and kick the fuck back for all that’s worth. Literature somehow manages to trump that. I mean, it’s not a boring class per se…but it’s ACTUALLY the history of Japanese literature and the teacher talks AT us about nothing for three hours. It is painful. How painful?

Glad.

You.

Asked.

Generally when I take notes, I try to write down everything said in class. Here’s an example of the eloquence that is my Lit notes:

“OH YES its another POWERPOINT. ALRIGHT!!!

People didn’t think Japan had a stone age and then someone dug deeper and they find all sorts of things.
(the above sentence is the teacher’s EXACT words)
Lesser of two evils lesser of two evils lesser of two evils lesser of two evils lesser of two evils lesser of t
(see that? That’s my mental break an hour into the class)

Things are becoming organized around central bodies and central figures and things loosely associated with blah blah are apart of larger routes and this i
(no, he didn’t finish the thought. Therefore, I didn’t finish the sentence)

They are the size of a large cathedral, these gaping key holes…large amounts of stuff piled into shapes
(…I think I was talking to Perla and in between that, heard this phrase?)

According to these Japanese characters there’s a painting of mainland influences…what??

Today we are learning about hiragana…what??? I see Kanji, I see France, I see someone eating Lance?

Hiragana came from temples…Oooooooh we’re talking about the ORIGIN of literature.

BACK TO WHATEVER THIS IS:
The beginning of the END…Blind people.
Mountain villages….”

…

Now. I’m aware I may not be the best student but I am a DAMN good note taker granted you give me something to work with. There was NOTHING to be taken from that lecture but notes on Japanese characters and opinions on poetry (which I didn’t bother writing down). Clearly this is supposed to be my joke semester because I can’t take this shiitake seriously. But enough of being a Debbie Downer. This is the last time I’ll pull out a negative Nancy blog, I promise.

Maybe. *ahem* Friday the same topic that always comes up came up. “What are we going to do? Duur Karaoke?” That’s not to represent anybody in particular but rather, a vast majority of us because our tired footsteps always lead us to those neon karaoke doors (and I’m so sure the Karaoke people love our money faces). I decided a day before that I didn’t want to do that shit again. Sure, its fun, but I can’t always do karaoke like I have money, that’s just wasteful…and repetitive. So what I suggested to a few people is we go to the park and chill for awhile…with vodka. Wow, it’s just like being back at Oxy except publicly drinking and nothing to look forward to. Oh wait, what am I saying? Exactly like Oxy…well, at least I had Zeta but you get my drift.

Before the beginning of that EXCITING night, we (me and two of my other female friends) went into Kawagoe because I was in desperate need of a new pair of tights. I sadly found out the hard way that my size is not M-L in Japan. Because in Japan M-L stands for Mad Light. At least that’s what I came up with when I bought tights and they couldn’t go past my fat ass. No…my size in Japan is O. As in Light, Mad Light, Lar—oh-who-are-we-kidding-large-asians-don’t-exist, and O. For Obese. This size is a rarity among rarities in Japan and reserved for the poor Americans who visit. The only place that has even something CLOSE to it is an underground mall (score one for Puu-ra) called Uni-Qlo.

Pretty sure it’s supposed to be either “Glow” or short for “Clothes” but it doesn’t explain the Q and L’s don’t even exist in Japan so that entire last part must be the struggle of the century for Japanese speakers. Then again, “First Kitchen” (this western style fast food place) is shortened to “Fu-kin” (sound it out) because Japanese people like to shorten words and its so cute how innocent going to the “Fuckin Restaurant” must be if you don’t know curse words…

Back on topic, I managed to find a pair of leggings that actually fit me and weren’t $20 (looking at you, Gap), Hurrah! Though I will never find a pair of jeans that fit me I did find denim leggings (which look like skinny jeans) so that works out just as well if not better (a little better actually). After a failed search for $1.00 shot glasses at the 100en (99 cents) store the three of us found our way back to the train and on the train notice a…well, a pretty hot Asian guy with an angel wing tattoo across his chest. Combined with his messy hair and lip ring, all he needed was a neat bow to complete the sexy “rebel” package. My friend (I’ll call her Lip Ring) noticed him and made it quite obvious she wanted THAT. Two stops later we reached our stop and she turns on…

The Walk.

You know, that confident walk with the hip switch and raised head that says: “You can get it…maybe.” She turns it on full blasts in her wicked high heels as she exits the train…and walks in the opposite direction of the station exit. I was a little confused because it was SO confident of a walk that I thought maybe there was more to where she was going besides train tracks? Fortunately, friend 2 (I’ll call her S.S. for Sober Sally—well, Sonia in this case but still) notices what would’ve been dual stupidity and points Lip Ring and I in the proper direction…while the train doors are still open…and hottie is still watching our sober jackassery.

Oh Christ.

Lip Ring quickly struts her stuff in the proper direction while cursing under her breath in disbelief. Here’s where S.S and I start to laugh to tears, it was just too amazing slash a waste of a hot walk. But even though the moment warranted a head shake, I’m sure the cutie must’ve liked what he saw of her :D

We returned to school to meet up with the rest of the gang but we find only Tray-J (the couple) waiting. I wondered where the hell Open Throat was because he was interested in accompanying us and AJ informs us that he went to visit his girlfriend after a week of not seeing her but he’ll be back. Wait, why will he be back again? That mofo can drink ANYTIME; just do your girlfriend, we understand o_o”. Whatever. We head to the park (Tray-J, Me, Lip Ring, Germany(‘nother friend)) and sit underneath a vine covered gazebo with a view of the lake.

It was…well, despite being incredibly low maintenance, one of the more memorable experiences I’ve had in awhile. Eating melon bread and taking shots of vodka while comparing musical tastes in good company ranks up there as one of the simple things in life. But I enjoy those simply silly things, you know? I mean, ignoring the raptorsaurus duck that waddled out of NOWHERE, the mosquitoes that feasted on AN ankle, having Tracy sing to me in the spider infested literal-porcelain-hole-in-the-ground bathroom so I wouldn’t lose my shit, having to run back inebriated to the school to pick up Open Throat, and sending that fond (but EXPENSIVE) text message to someone, it was otherwise a pretty satisfying night.

Saturday morning sucked though. Yeah, apparently waking up in the middle of the night with dry mouth and forcing down bread to ironically enough, avoid vomming, makes you WANT to vom. I woke up feeling like the Red Death was upon me and thankful living by myself in Rangeview taught me how to logically react to potential shit shows.

“Hmm…is it more culturally acceptable to vom in my trash can or should I run down the hall to the bathroom? But the walls in this house are really thin…”

It crossed my mind that it might be more culturally acceptable to throw up in the shower. But then I realized I shouldn’t base vom decisions on isolated incidents where said party was either drunk or completely retarded. Though to be FAIR, she (Open Throat’s girlfriend) is a sweet girl and COMPLETELY adorable…but she should never drink again. Or if she does, it damn well better not be in MY hotel room…

Back on track, I chose the bathroom. Made it back to my room feeling crampy and crappy but glad I could just sleep all day. Well, no. Because even though I am POSITIVE host dad heard me reversing my insides, he decides to wake me up to tell me they’re leaving to see his parents (but he’s like 63 so how the fuck old are they o_O?!) and host mom made me breakfast and…

…what happened to leaving a note? That worked last week. I nodded while trying not to throw up down the stairs then dragged my footsteps back to my room and…I think that’s enough for now. This is a really long entry and not every moment needs recording. Until next week?

~ベッリ