I've recently realized a life goal of mine. First, I need to memorize and learn the words to every song in existence. Second, I need to learn to read lips. Ultimately, I hope to be able to look at people driving next to me and always know what song they're singing in their cars.

Several days ago, I saw the Google Maps car (okay, probably not the Google Maps car, but one of them anyway). This made me wonder how one manages to get the job of Google Maps Car Driver. Although, as I was looking for a picture of the Google Maps car, I came across this, and in between fits of laughter (yes, I know it's insensitive to the poor deer), have decided that this career path may not be for me. Having my driving blunders semi-permanently recorded for all the world to see isn't very appealing. Sidenote: I just realized that I could possibly be on Google Maps now, which is less than exciting considering people will start finding out about all my shortcuts.

Siobhan Stewart, since this is primarily how we communicate out feelings about each other, I have to tell you that I refuse to erase your number out of my cell phone, though I'm actually causing myself more pain, considering how often I am reminded of the fact that I can't text you absurd things at all hours of the day. Please come back to me.

Well, I'm back on the job hunt again, and as I read description after description of what qualifications employers are looking for, specifically in terms of personality traits, I am disappointed. I just read an article about how it's getting more and more uncomfortable to be an introvert in America, and I must say that the job market certainly reflects this unfortunate truth. Every other employer wants someone who's a "team player, enthusiastic, energetic, outgoing personality," blah blah blah. Not that introverts can't be good team players. But I think we have a lot of other valuable qualities. Why is it that no one is looking for an employee who is "independent, polite, efficient, can mind their own damn business"? Again, this is not to say that extroverts cannot be all of these things as well, just that you'll never see this particular combination in a job description. Introverts are neither unfriendly nor do they have bad people skills, but including "outgoing personality" in a job description would imply otherwise.

Done with rant. Back to job applications. I should probably remove "stays on task" from my resume.

where did my walls go?

I just realized today that no one took seriously my Facebook plea for donations for a new laptop. I would literally take $5 right now. On second thought, perhaps I should invest in some kind of insurance for the accident prone, on the off chance that someone is foolish enough to start THAT company. Semi-related: I promised Jo that I'd blog about my laundry basket incident. Pretty much, I accidentally stepped in a laundry basket. At the time it was hilarious. I guess you had to be there.

Lessons learned and general observations for the day:
1. It's generally better to keep your mouth shut.
2. Sometimes I wish I could put my life in the freezer when it gets too scary.
3. Misery can be pervasive, and good is not always present--sometimes you have to create it.
4. Dog gates in doorways do not combine well with sleep-walking.
5. If possible, it's always better to sit outside.
6. I'm beginning to confuse reality with dreams I've had.
7. It's okay to avoid creepers.
8. It's generally better to keep your mouth shut.
9. Pretending a burnt grilled cheese sandwich "tastes like camping food" really doesn't help.
10. Ten is just a more complete number.

Hi blog buddy Sho (did I ever tell you that Sho was the name of my first crush?).

Mama Pajama got half her neck burned to a crisp.

I am efficient so that I can be lazy.

Burnt orange Range Rovers and tourists who think they can direct traffic are all on my hit list now.

Dogs are not allowed to bark, but twenty people can get away with running their mouths right outside my bedroom window on my one day off.

Migrating futons. Velociraptors. Jeff Goldblum.

Tandem bikes are almost not worth the trouble, but they keep you young.

Crayons and margaritas are the best combination.

When you're in a creek at night, EVERYthing that brushes by you is a snake.

My retirement will consist of southern accents, canes, and lawn chairs.

According to my nightmares, I am incapable of love, but my love for cheese grows daily.

There have been recent complaints about my nearly month-long hiatus. Let me start by saying that I have no major injuries to report. It's possible that they were source of my inspiration, thus, the hiatus. However, to appease my dear older brother, here are three embarrassing incidents, as well as a recent concern of mine, to hold you over until inspiration returns.

First, my younger brother and I were driving back to Tokyo from the mountains, and, finally making it to the tollbooth in Tokyo, we prepared to pay the toll (as you do at a tollbooth). Mishap substep #1: pull in too far away from the booth, poor man has to reach half his body out to take my ticket. Mishap substep #2: cannot find correct change, but somehow it seems incredibly crucial at the time to use up as many coins as possible. Drop half of said coins all over car floor. Mission accomplished. Mishap substep #3: drop a coin in the chasm between my car and the window. Poor man has to come out of the booth to pick it up. Mishap substep #4 (the finale): try to hand poor man the rest of the change and experience an awkward fumble wherein the man drops all the coins and has to pick them all back up again, then hurries back to his booth hoping that when he turns around I'll be gone.

Second, while eating dinner with my family tonight, my father mentioned some recent flooding in what I thought he said was Oklahoma. I had no idea why he would mention this, and then proceed to talk about rivers rising and nearly flooding bike paths, as though this was at all relevant to any of us (and really, out of all the states, Oklahoma?). Not that it's not important to be aware of current events, but bike paths in Oklahoma just seemed a little too specific. In any case, I decided this might be an appropriate time to belt out that song from the musical...you know the song. Luckily, someone asked my dad why it was flooding in Yokohama, just seconds before I would have started singing and thoroughly confused everyone at the table. So maybe that wasn't an embarrassing incident. More like a fortunate sidestepping of such an incident.

Third, whilst playing a game of hearts with my mother and siblings, someone says something funny and I let out a laugh unlike any you've ever heard before. It's the kind of laugh with different pitches, and the "ha ha's" are maniacally close together, and while you're laughing, in your head you're thinking, "WHAT is this NOISE coming out of me?" The worst part is, you can't just end the laugh and move on. You know it's echoing in everyone's heads.

Finally, my recent concern. For whatever reason, I have begun to lose a lot of hair. Perhaps I have a condition, or maybe the world is trying to restore equilibrium, since I probably have more hair than most. I need to get in touch with Locks of Love so I can donate all the hair I'm losing. And while I'm at it, maybe I should order a wig myself. If anyone has any inkling of why this may be happening to me, I would love to know. Preferably before I start getting patchy, or have to fashion a comb-over.

Personal Injury and Mishap Log, 6/3-6/5

6/3
10:32pm. Opened car door on face (possible bruise on chin, will update).
6/4
7:28pm. Paper cut on finger from program during graduation ceremony (for the record, did attempt to refuse receipt of said program).
2:11am. Viciously attacked by red cockroach on bed (spent remainder of night sleeping fitfully on sister's bed; possible subsequent attacks thwarted).
6/5
6:20pm. Put shirt on inside out and failed to notice for several hours (note to self: college degree was for nothing).
9:14pm. Thumbnail bent backwards by loving mother during an especially animated game of Nertz (bruise already evident).
10:52pm. Burnt on arm by iron (glaring scar, likely to blister; siblings' ears permanently violated).

Better luck tomorrow.

Mayra: Nebusoku = "lacking sleep" (neh-boo-soh-coo).

a happy ending

I've biked the same way from my home to my old high school for almost 8 years. A little over halfway there, there's a small mirror on the ground. It's shattered, and has been for as long as I can remember. It gets flatter and flatter to the pavement as the years go by, but every shard is still intact.

I think it's safe to say that whoever dropped the mirror is finally through their bout of bad luck, and I'm quite happy for this individual.

accidentally on purpose

Consider these last couple of weeks a long comfortable silence between close friends. Sometimes there are no words to say. And now, my biggest news: last night I pulled out a sizable cluster of eyelashes from my poor left eye. Said eye is undergoing a bit of an identity crisis. It seems to be blinking more rapidly due to the loss of eyelid-weight, and altogether too much air is being allowed into the eye itself. Due to some tricky bits of mascara artistry, the missing chunk is not noticeable to the naked eye, except perhaps to people who are taller than me. I've been told that from above, the gap is quite vivid.

The real issue here was, I believed, quite obvious. Trichotillomania, the self-induced loss of hair, from compulsive hair-pulling. Many a roommate of mine has been privy to my obsessive nightly tweezing ritual. But precisely because I have impeccable eyebrows, I don't believe that trichotillomania is my problem. If there is any question of this, all one has to do is a google image search of this disorder. No, this particular eyelash incident was just an accident. However, it has tampered with my personal equilibrium (both physical and psychological), leading me to the conclusion that "hair is everything," something a very good friend of mine once said, and I have often repeated to myself. No doubt in the 45-60 days it takes my eyelashes to fully regrow, I will have time to ponder this timeless truth.

Since it appears that Mayra still reads my blog (as do others, though quite invisibly), I will once again come up with a new Japanese word for you. Bosa-bosa is a term often used to describe my hair. Basically, it means "frizzy," or "messy," neither of which can be said of Mayra's hair.

and everytime I held a rose, it seems I only felt the thorns...

Last night I dreamed that the world was dying from so much pollution (I know, it sounds like Wall-E). The air was so bad that our bodies were deteriorating so we had to wear these artificial body suits to stay alive. And there was no drinking water so we had to drink milk and apple juice. A select group of people had chosen to live in their own skin instead. It meant dying a pretty painful death, and dying young. I decided to join them, because I would rather die living a real life than live a long life in a fake body. So we went out, ate what real food was left, and watched as our skin started to sag off our faces and disintegrate. It was beautiful.

There's a family down the street who owns a goose. The husband lays out on a lawn chair in their carport, while the wife sits next to him. Sometimes the goose sits in a little bath, but today it sat in the wife's lap, and she was cleaning it. It's funny how there are still surprises in your own neighborhood. There's really never an excuse for boredom.

I forgot what it feels like to be stared at constantly. I find myself resenting it and I'm not sure even sure why. Maybe because I'm not the type of person who likes to stand out. Maybe because I wish people wouldn't see me as some sort of oddity. Or maybe just because sometimes I can't tell if they're staring because I'm white, or because I have food in my teeth. In any case, it breeds self-consciousness as well as a strange sort of apathy, depending on the mood of the day, and I haven't really made my peace with either. Although to be fair, I stare at foreigners here as well. Mostly because I'm looking for some sign of that little nod telling me, "Yup, I'm a foreigner too." I like to think it also says, "If we got trapped in this train somehow, we would probably be instant friends," or "If everyone in this restaurant gets stranded on an island, we can form an alliance." It's pretty straight forward, really, so I'm almost offended when The Nod is not offered. It's like they're trying to pretend that they actually fit in and I'm the only weird one.

Mayra's Japanese word of the day: maji (mah-jee), loosely translated, "for real."

I think you hid it from me

Sometimes the best things in life happen when you're not looking for them. Oftentimes, these things happen in what would be seen as unfavorable situations. For example, last summer, I (through a series of "unfavorable" circumstances) got "stuck" spending three nights alone with a friend of my sister's. However, we ended up bonding over impromptu bonfires made from tiny candles and scratch paper. And now she likes me better than she likes my sister. By the way, her name is Lauren, and she's been waiting for me to mention her in my blog.

Other times, good things in life must be sought out, and are often made more worthwhile because of the work put into them. I am reminded of this nearly everyday by most of the people in my household ("Did you find a job yet, Emma?", "Have you worked on that project today, Emma?", "If you don't have anything else to do, you could always do my homework for me," "Stop complaining that you're bored, all you do is watch TV shows all day," and my personal favorite, "You need to get a life."). While these promptings are anything but motivational, I'd say my family is onto something. Starting tomorrow, I will be more intentional about my time. As a personal acquaintance of mine once used to say anytime anyone ever said the word time-- "Time is a gift and a luxury that gets taken for granted, and you can never get it back." ...Or something a lot longer that usually spanned two or three texts. Although, I suppose I shouldn't take life advice from people in the car next to me on Lambert. In any case, it's important to figure out what you love in life, and to go for it. Sometimes that means going for things that are seemingly unrelated to your end goal, but just as essential in reaching it. This is something my friend Siobhan taught me to do: think about Future Emma.

Mayra's Japanese word of the day (or night, in this case) is bakusho, which according to my sister, means "burst of extreme laughter." Good luck with that one!

I want to ride my bicycle

On my bike ride home today, I:

1. realized that I love biking into falling cherry blossom petals
2. almost made a little kid fall off his bike (would have made my day)
3. saw a very short Japanese man, noticed he was walking funny, and realized his shoes were platformed. This reminded me of something a tall friend once told me. Apparently you have to watch out for short men because you never know what they might do to "even the playing field." Food for thought.
4. was snarled at by a group of small boys, which brought back elementary school flashbacks of being made fun of for being American, being called a "giant," and being constantly poked and prodded with rulers because my classmates wanted to compare the lengths/heights of our foreheads, noses, and eyelashes. Also, I've never actually been snarled at before by anything other than dogs, cats, and small rodents.
5. smelled dinner cooking in almost every home I passed, which is something I love about biking here at this time of day.

Mayra's Japanese word of the day is gaijin, which literally translated means "outsider," but is often used slangily (Whether or not this is a word is up for debate, since it's on dictionary.com, but blogspot puts a little red line under it. On the other hand, the word "blogspot" also has a little red line under it.) to refer to foreigners (pronounced guy-jean). I was--and still am--often called this by children (loudly) as well as adults (when they think I can't hear them).

someone somewhere

I'm finding that trying to figure out storage for my possessions from across the ocean is a near-impossible feat. Between the time change and trying to coordinate three different people (brother to move stuff, friend with truck, people with storage space), I'm feeling a little helpless. It's times like these when a little extra money would be nice. Imagine renting out a proper storage space and hiring real life movers. In all my years of moving houses and hopping across oceans and whatnot, I've never had anyone move me. In fact, when my family moved into our current house in Tokyo, we had to move out the current owners, as they had procrastinated, and then gone out of town right during our move-in date (don't ask, I have no good explanation for this). Maybe it's just a pipe dream, but someday when I have a little extra cash, I plan to move for the sole purpose of hiring movers and watching the whole process unfold before my eyes without having to lift a finger. I would never have to say good bye to a beloved couch again.

On another note, my parents are home, and I promised to properly introduce them. As my ancient laptop is currently on a photo embargo, I will not include a picture. However, my father and mother have safely arrived home from their trip to Hawaii. My father Tim (age 53) and I immediately got into a discussion about my love of red wine. I pointed out that Jesus drank wine, therefore it is biblical. He still expressed some disapproval, so I imagine he assumes I don't have the self-control that Jesus did. My dear mother Katie (age unknown) then entered the kitchen and told me if "all you're doing is talking to your dad," then could I please refill the dog food. Because we all know dog food is a much higher priority than father-daughter bonding (don't worry, Mom, I know you didn't mean it like that--oh yes, my parents have discovered my blog).

Mayra (do you love that no matter what you're always going to get mentioned every time I write something?), your Japanese word of the day is okureru (oh-coo-reh-roo), which means, to be late, or "I'm going to be late." Yes, you guessed it, I'm about to be late for a lunch date.

that's more like it

It's about that time of year when the bamboo shoots in my yard start to spring up everywhere, breaking through the concrete walk, as well as anything else that gets in their way. They grow so quickly that you can practically watch them shoot up. This got me thinking about bamboo torture, so of course I googled it, like I do everything. While I couldn't find a definitive source on whether this form of torture was actually used, I did find the mythbusters episode proving it to be possible.

On another note, my adventure today was almost thwarted by the universe. But then I remembered that I'm Emma, and rain does not hinder my adventures, it is often the impetus behind them. So I braved the elements, hopped on a bike (unfortunately the only one I was able to unlock was my Dad's fold-up one, which made me feel like a very large child, and elicited more than a few stares), and pedaled down to the train station.

I spent the next hour meandering around the nearest department store, shamelessly accepting anything offered to me for free (iced tea, coffee, ring cleaning). In one import store, amid the anchovy sauce (ew) and liverwurst, I discovered a rare gem: Kraft Mac 'n' Cheese. For $3. Which, unfortunately was about what I paid for my short coffee at Starbucks. The upside was that it was my first time EVER to be served coffee at Starbucks in a real mug. I don't know if I just look like the paper cup type or what, but in all my years, I've never even been offered one.

Mayra, your Japanese word of the day is jitensha (bicycle). I would teach you the word for fold-up bicycle, but I'm pretty sure you would just give up before you even tried to pronounce it.

I'll never be a (successful) housewife

After spending much of the day cleaning, folding laundry, and cooking, I feel...domesticated. Tomorrow I need to go have an adventure. Preferably one that does not involve almost falling off of my bicycle on the way to the grocery store, burning my hand on a waffle iron multiple times, or accidentally scattering dog food across the just-cleaned kitchen floor because I stubbed my toe on the food dish. Maybe tomorrow will be a day without personal injuries.

Mayra's Japanese word of the day: daijoubu (Okay, fine, safe. Daijoubu? as a question would mean Are you okay?).

P.S. I'm looking for a new hobby and am now accepting suggestions.

so live your life

Somehow I wound up at that street again, the one where time stands still, the black hole, the magnetic field which only attracts freckles or the red pigment in hair (which would explain why this street is always deserted). My instinct was to run down it again, but I followed my better judgment (not a frequent occurrence these days), and turned off before it was too late. Turns out this was an act of fate, because down that glorious side street sat a kebab truck. In MY neighborhood?? I have no idea where it parks once it's open, but one of these days, I plan to drive down there in one of those stake out vans (or probably the miniature silver box car with the sewing machine engine that I've been driving) with a pair of binoculars and some string cheese and follow it so I can have me some delicious kebab. Side-note on my run: I swear I saw a piece of dog poop on the street today just spontaneously turn over. Maybe I'm hallucinating again.

In any case, all of that is besides the point. Today I'd like to introduce you to the cast of My Life These Days (not to be confused with Days Of Our Lives, or DOOL, as some fondly refer to it).

Meet Bella, the youngest character, age 1 (right).
I've been here four days, and in that short time, she has managed to: eat her own poop, bat my hair with her paws, attempt to EAT my hair, yank my earphone out as I was doing push-ups, and attack my face (this one may or may not have been provoked).
Kiwi (the mother, age 3, left) has licked the inside of my mouth (without consent), sat on my sweater and growled anytime I tried to take it away and put it on, and walked across my laptop keyboard several times, resulting in some strange facebook misunderstandings.
Note: it seems my camera lacks the green-eye reduction feature.

This is Caroline, age 17, junior in high school (human). So far since I've been here, she has made me eat vegetables with dinner (half a cucumber, with the end still attached), used me as her chauffeur twice, told me to get a life countless times, and has made me transform her into Bella (the Twilight character, not the dog) for a school fashion show. This involved straightening her not inconsiderable amount of hair, as well as letting her ransack my wardrobe, because "Bella wears boring clothes, Emma. I need something boring."

Last but not least, is Kat, age 20 (picture not available). I tutored her last fall in Brea, and now she is somehow living with my family in Tokyo. Bizarre? Slightly. Do I mind? No, since yesterday she told me I have a pretty face.

Soon to rejoin the cast of My Life These Days are The Parents. Stay posted for upcoming episodes.

Mayra, your Japanese word of the day is something I yell at my dogs quite often. Uruse (ooh-roo-say, make sure to roll the r a little), loosely translated, "Shut up!!" Now THAT'LL come in handy at Starbucks.

where the streets have no names

As I rounded the corner I saw a street that looked strangely familiar and thought, "hmmm...pretty sure I've been lost on this street before." Except that it was two years ago, pitch dark, pouring rain, and I ended up hitching a ride with an electrician who passed by in his work van, no doubt on his way to a late appointment. Now THERE'S something that you probably shouldn't try in LA. Well apparently time and experience have improved me, and this time I made it home safely. I terrified myself a little when I got home and saw my reflection in the glass of my front door. Crazy Mad Hatter hair, without the hat to cover it (sidenote: does it seem like there are a lot of semi-crazies with bad red hair? The Mad Hatter, Carrot Top, Ronald McDonald. Coincidence?) This reminded me of a strange experience I had in downtown Tokyo several years ago. I was walking back to the train station after taking my laptop in to get repaired, minding my own business, when a man (in my mind he was a deranged escapee of some underworld asylum), runs up to me, messes up my hair with both his hands, yells "I'm sorry!" in Japanese, then promptly runs off in the opposite direction, leaving me with crazy hair and the stares of about a hundred onlookers who were looking at me with bewildered expressions as though somehow I had done something to bring this about. True story.

On that note, Mayra's Japanese word of the day is I'm sorry: gomen-nasai (or more informally, just gomen).

musings and observations during my plane ride

My most recent flight back home to Japan begins my six-ish month stint moving back in with the parents, and not on a very good note. Mostly. Thoughts during my flight:

1. There must be SOMEone who can design an airplane with less wasted space above our heads and more legroom.
2. Somehow I got the one seat on the whole plane with the busted tv screen. It would let me watch about 20 minutes of a movie (just enough to draw me into the story), then it would just turn off. Damn bait and switch.
3. Best airplane food thus far in my not inconsiderable flying experience: cheese pizza. Finally, some genius decided to serve a food you can't screw up (on previous flights I have opted to sleep through meals, or munch on the plastic silverware instead, so this is quite the improvement).
4. Am I the only one who encounters the window seat dilemma? In getting out of my seat when the aisle passenger is sleeping, I find I have three options, a) wake said passenger up and risk pissing them off, b) face-to-face straddle escape method, or c) butt-to-face slide method. While the second two offer a more discreet (debatable) extrication, should the passenger wake up, say, mid-straddle...I don't know, maybe I'm the only one who experiences anxiety over this.
5. Old woman in a mid-section seat in front of me (to be more specific: NOT directly in front of me, NOT next to me, NOT behind me) turns around and gives me a ten second stare-down. I have no idea what I did to deserve the Death Look, but it must have been pretty bad.
6. Can't remember the last time I didn't cry on an airplane.
7. My water cup had a hole in it and spilled water on me.
8. Young man sitting next to me was on his way to his wedding, so no possibility of repeating the Bad Life Decision of Summer '07. One less thing to do on the plane (that came out sounding dirty, and Siobhan I know you're rolling your eyes at me--I meant besides not being able to watch full movies).
9. The second I saw my beloved Japan from the window, it was all worth it. I wonder if I'll ever get this place out of my system.

Thus begin my adventures at home.
P.S. As it turns out, driving at night on the opposite side of the street, while jet-lagged and sleep deprived is not the best idea.
P.P.S. Mayra, I have not forgotten your Japanese word of the day. Today's word is kotsujiko (koh-tsu-jee-ko), or car accident, which by some oversight of the gods of destruction I did not experience today.