elaboration

It's a good thing you aren't here. Then, I might actually have to become a human.

well here I am, back again. It's been like priming a dry pump the last few days- too many words. so many words swimming and drowning in words, words WORDS. Heh. I lost my way. Figures.

Anyway- sometimes thing strike me and I get the urge again- like Bob Hope's death. I was never really a fan of his, but he represents to me an era of performances in Hollywood that almost seem to embody sophistcated innocence, simplicity. Sure the plots were terrible, sometimes non-existant- the love staged, the fur real, the women wearing them just a little less fake than the diamonds they wore. But it's the PROCESS from metamorphsising an art form from stage to screen- that is what we can learn from. My appreciation deepens for the films now when I know where films have been.

Yet, it's a quandry- sometimes the lines are just better knowing that they came from past.

On to other business- one of these strange dates is coming up: August 2nd. I should probably preface this- I am not into the everyday crystal New Age oracle business- that's as commercial as hawking love brought-to-you-by-Hallmark on Valentine's day. But I do try to pay attention, even to the odd little quirks my mind makes up. And one of them is around dates- there are certain dates that just stand out in my mind for no particular reason- January 3rd, February 10th, August 2nd, October 12th, and December 15th. No birthdays, nothing to make them any more memorable than any other date. Well... August 2nd was the day I got my ear pierced 13 years ago. I remember my father was out on the ocean- I think it was my mother's way to shake up his homecoming. Come to think of it, July 31st also stands out...but I think that's because of a memory. A white water rafting trip- the runs were great, the weather hot, and the company and scenery were wonderful. But at the end I collapsed- the start of several painful attacks that happened during my teenage years. Never did figure out what it was.

Anyway, back to the dates- my brother does it too. He's convinced that he's going to die on August 12th, sometime in the future. Creeps my sister-in-law out. Fortunately, I don't feel that way about any of these dates- it's actually more of a good feeling rather than dread.

So yeah, that's me right now- the good old days, dates, death and memories. Always memories. Hopefully now that I've written this out, my brain will move on to something else.

well, here I am past the halfway mark- 9 hours more to go.

For those of you who don't know, I'm standing on my head for twenty-four hours for charity.

That's what it feels like- and I have been doing a lot of headstands to get some blood to the brain and out of my legs.

Stories are shaping up nicely- I especially like how Mujara is shaping. I may return to her when I'm not marathoning against time.

Lapsing into weirdity pretty soon, so I may post here again to play it out- not much weirdness happening on the ze board, sad to say.

was ankle-deep in student evaluations this past week- wrote over 100 pages, using sexy words like "syntax" and "verb conjuncation". skipped out on my late classes last night- too exhausted to teach. Worked all weekend after a week of pulling 14 hour days. Came home and slept.

Finished with the evaluations now. Hopefully, they will now leave me the fuck alone, so I can slip out of here quietly.

Looking forward to the blogathon. At least that's the kind of fun worth staying up for.

hey, oh yeah- my buddy grindell is sailing from Cape Town to Annapolis starting Monday. Wish him happy sailing.

Sponsor me in the 2003 Blogathon. Peas and carrots.

Today's the last day.

Watched Amelie last night before going to sleep- and I dreamt in French.
I think, next time, I'll hire a translator to come along with me when I sleep.


I know I may sound like a broken record at this point, but this came to me last night as I was walking home- I like taking the dark streets home at night here. Because in there, in the darkness, I am free to walk the way I am.

My father instilled in me to always walk confidently- even if you don't know where you are going. If you walk with confidence, then people will 1.) leave you alone, 2.) get out of your way, and 3.) treat you with respect.

I walk differently here. Confidence is not kosher.

I've tried walking the same way, but it's considered extremely rude and vulgar. (The looks on people's faces is enough to show me that). So now, I walk with appreciation and move with the pack, unless I am actually trying to get somewhere. Appreciation because I'm just a gai-jin guest- I must always accept that. With the pack, because that is what everyone else is doing- if you don't conform a little bit, it's insulting.

Now, I'm all for appreciation- I think the world should have more of it. But to ALWAYS be appreciative of something so basic as where you are- that's difficult to keep up. It's like looking at the Playdough on the table and being appreciative of its molecular structure- yet never touching it, never play with it, mold it into different shapes, get it under the nails or lick its creamy center.

mmmmmmmmmm....creamy playdough.
joking. joking.

It's more salty than creamy.

Anyway, you have to have a little bit of confidence in the molecules that hold the Playdough together to forget about their existence- at least long enough in order to create something completely new. Some people can do both- and maybe one day I will be able to also. But right now, I'm a lazy git. I just want to play and be confident in who I am.

And walk with my head high to the beat of my internal drummer.

I think I walk like Kermit the Frog.

Whenever I'm walking and I catch a glimpse of my reflection, I'm always reminded of the Muppets- usually Kermit.

Either Jim Henson is THAT good...

or I walk funny.

Sometimes it's fun to just let go of the reins and see where the horse takes you.



You are odd. Just like everyone else.



Everyone is being becoming nothing- that's what life is all about. Yet, our reality seems to be teeming with opposites that circle in on themselves....
Is there "Being becoming nothing notcoming being"?
When we are notcoming, we are becoming, and we don't pay attention to what we do not see or experience.

I'm notcoming a clown who eats bubbles.
I'm notcoming a Hollywood motorcycle stuntgirl.
I'm notcoming a professional glider pilot.

I'm notcoming many things. But I am becoming something.

Hopefully, parts of those notcomings will be in the becoming.
Even better if they were in the being.



Being vegetarian means you know what it's like to be without people.

You are down in the dumps- your girlfriend or boyfriend (or both) left you. You got fired from your job. Your family disowns you. Your friends think you need a bath.

Everyone is gone- except the dog.

It's not nice to eat the dog.



Koko, the Wonder Dog, was curiously silent for this one. Perhaps it was because it came in the deep night. She sleeps hard.

This one actually felt good- like a jolly laugh from within the Earth, like sleeping on Jello. The room was dark blue, and safe- no sound save the creaks from the walls. I guess they didn't like the idea of something moving under them.

I just remember being cradled by my blankets and wiped out- my body spent from trying to keep cool under the blankets. There was no reason to dash about to save anything.

In that moment, I was ready to let go. Reins, horse and all

I've been adopted. again.

I already have a Japanese "father"- Tsunashima-san. (I call him by his first name, Shigeru, when he's not looking.) He is an older gentleman and my Japanese language teacher. He has seen fit to educate me in Japanese culture as well.

Now, I know I have much to learn, but I have been blessed as far as a gai-jin is concerned- I started my Japanese instruction when I was nine- my elementary school ran a Japanese culture and language program. My cousin lived in Yokohoma and sent a Japanese girl to live with us when I was 13. Later, during high school and college, I worked for a traditional Japanese Garden for several years- I used much of that time reading about Japan. My areas of focus for my geography study in college were Oceania and Asia-Pacific- again with a focus on Japan.

Needless to say, Japanese culture is not all that foreign to me. (The language is another matter entirely)

Yet, the Japanese way is one of the most intricate cultures in the world- and despite the education I have received thus far, it is a tiny drop in a very deep bucket. Shigeru tries to cultivate me the best way he knows how- by acting like a father.

So, he scolds me in public for not slurping my soba noodles, or for saying "Domo" instead of "Domo arigato gozimasu" ("thanks" rather than "thank you very much"). What can I say? I've asked him to please teach me- so he is.

Anyway, this post isn't about him- it's about my new Japanese mama-san, Sachiko.

Sachiko is one of my "students"- she is an older lady who lived in Canada for a bit a few years ago. I mentioned to her last week that I've seen many yukatas (summer kimonos). Was it the tradition for the summer festival of Tanabata ?

"Oh yes! I will bring you one next time."

"Um.... okay."

So, this week she came, bearing two yukatas for me to try on: a yellow yukata and a blue yukata. She dressed me up like a little Japanese Barbie doll, then told me, "Okay, now you do it."

"Um.... okay."

(I am especially proud of the back of the blue one, since that's the one I tied myself.)

Now I have to keep practicing, because if I can do it correctly, then Sachiko will take me to a tea ceremony lesson. (Not just a tea ceremony, but a LESSON. If you have any idea how intricate a Japanese tea ceremony is, you know how nervous I am about an actual lesson- all in Japanese.) She left me both yukatas for my practice. The obi, the sash, is the tough part. I 'm not quite sure I'll remember how to do that.

Ask one question, and I have a Japanese mama-san.

I really have to be more careful next time.

My composition for Being Gorgeous

Radio-Free Tuesday And The Man Who Did Not Like Puddin'

"We're doin' alright for ourselves."

"Put it back on the fire. Watch it whistle and snap."

"Tuesday, you never listen."

"Watch it, now."

Whhissstle. SNAP. pop.

"There it goes...Jello's last stand. The world will never be the same."

Quiver.
mimble. mimble.
shake.
muuuuuuuurl.

"Ugh...oh...ooooozy flambé makes me woozy."

"Sticky-sweet sugar syrup signals sick stomache? Or olarfactory openings observe odors?"

"Aye"

"Well then, my little angel-food cake...why don't I tiptoe over and give you a nice raspberry?"

Tip. toe. tip. toe. tip.

THPPPPPPTTTBBBBBBTTT!!!!!!

"AAAAH!"

And there they lay, Radio-Free Tuesday and The Man Who Did Not Like Puddin', in a world that will never be the same.

Doin' alright for themselves.

Two of me boys are into delivering sailing boats now.

And another is studying Physics.

I dreamt that everyone I knew could speak Japanese fluntly.
All of you.
But not I.

And woke up speaking the words, "You need to get out of here".

Ugh.

fuck.

fuck.

FUCK.

do you have any idea?

I'm skipping meals to be online as much as I am now.

I have a fucking large-ass question mark that needs some sort of answer in 56 days. And for the first time in my life, I'm genuinely scared of that question mark. I find myself telling myself- "you have got to be brave. you've done this before and you can do it again."

So much has gone wrong in the past- it's very easy for me to be scared now. Yet, there is absolutely no room for it. I have to focus and keep looking up. There is no fucking around this, no dramatics about it- I know my life, my health, is depending on me getting this move right.

I teach 33 hours a week and I have to be on every single hour of that time. For every hour I'm in the classroom, I need at least a half an hour prep. I don't get paid for that. I have over 100 students who depend on me for smiles, fun and some education, week in, week out. Whether I'm in the mood for it or not.

I'm living in a fucking box- I have no one that I can talk to in my 4-D space. I spend my time alone because otherwise I am being used to teach English. Or to be seen with. Not because people accept me as amanda. That person is an anomoly in a place where anomlies are not acceptable.

You have parties, family, work places full of people to connect with all around you. I have a coffee I look forward to once a week to watch the sad pachinko men. They watch me back.

And on top of all of that- I am trying to understand what the fuck has happened to my online community- a community that I'm already distant from. You are online, I sleep. You sleep, I'm online. Some of you talk on the phone to one another daily. I think that's great, but I'm definitely out of the loop on that one.

I'm trying to still have fun and play while walking the edge of a very thin ethical path, my chosen path. Alone. And I know that path pisses off a lot of people that I care about- YOU AREN'T THE ONLY ONE WHO IS ANGRY WITH ME.

BUT, in the end I HAVE TO LIVE WITH ME. Everyone else leaves- and they ALWAYS do.


Me and the Is- that's it. That's all I got, baby.



I'm gonna go find me some pigeons.

Heaps of nonsense running through my head these days. Some of it good- most of it pretty silly.

sent a blanket e-mail admitting to what I've been up to for the past year (as I need sponsors for the Blogathon). Yep, I'm in Japan, but I've been spending a lot of my time writing on my computer. Most of my 4-D friends don't even know that I like to write. Oh well, I suppose that's not much of a problem- most of my friendships now are net-sustained anyway.

Oh, that reminds me- hi tmwc. hi gil. *waves*
So you've found me.
Welcome to my little net abode. It isn't much, but it's a home.

Started working with Ursula LeGuin's book Steering the Craft. It's based on a writing workshop that she runs in Portland occasionally. I've heard about it before, but it's terribly hard to get into. This book is the next best thing.

So far, her missives on writing have hit dead on- writing is a craft, a making that you can devote a lifetime to (I knew I liked her for a reason). The exercises have also been very fun. Here, I'll share the first one with you:

"Being Gorgeous"- write a paragraph to a page of narrative that's meant to be read aloud. Use onomatopoeia, alliteration, repetition, rhythmic effects, made-up words, or names, dialect- any sound effect you like, EXCEPT for rhyme or meter.
(the exception is to keep you from writing poetry. the idea is to learn how to write prose.)

If you like, post what you came up with here.

Being vwey vwey qwiet.

Job hunting.

hehehehheh.