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."