Christmas Eve

Went to Rakuzo bowling, and played 4 straight games with my cousins the other day. I got the highest score! Bowwwlin' swag! 

Chun-chan restin' on my shoulders. 

Happy Christmas Eve! 

受け入れた生徒たち、おめでとう

Congrats to all who got accepted into college!
Way to rub it in our faces... nah, just joking. It's great to hear acceptance news. Just, it sometimes makes people who have not applied to feel a little, tiny, bit bad. Like me. But I know that it is all up to me and it's what I do that counts. The best thing to do for now is to just keep doing what I have to do, and someday, I'll get in too.

今日いくつかのクラスメート達が大学に受け入れました。すごいところに受け入れたなぁ～べつにおめでとうって言いたけどあいつらあんまりしつこくて自慢すぎる感じ。だが、その理由で大学にまだ受け入れてない生徒たちにはちょっとわるくていやな気持ちになるんだ。僕もまだ適用してねえんだぞう。でも、そんなことをいつも考えてたらだめだから。もっと上を向いて前を進む。すべては僕の選択だからさ。何とかなるよ！！（＾＾）

また風邪か？

先日風邪引いちまったみたいです（。＿。）
１週間で冬休みなのに本当に引いたら困るわ。
でも引かねーよ、僕＾＾

昨日ウォーターボーイズ２を見終えてテーマソングが頭からぬけません。みなさんこのドラマはぜんぜんクリシェじゃなくてよっぽどええドラマだよ。最後が悲しかったなぁ～
えいきちくんとしおり最後にキスした方がよかったのにな。あいつら二人とも好きやからなんでしなかったんだろう。まぁ、プレッシャーもかかるしね。こずえちゃんにもわるいしな。
ふううううんん。。。。

I've started watching Water Boys a couple of years ago, and today, I finished watching all 12 episodes of Water Boys 2. I couldn't stop watching the last episode. It was so emotional. It stuck with me for the entire day, and possibly will stick with me for the next few weeks. Even though others may feel that this drama is cheesy and cliche, I think it is a very touching, inspirational drama.

Below are some crucial quotes that I think best fit in with the overall theme of the drama.

A person who has lost can gain something more than a person who has won.

Continuing something for many years is a beauty.

It is your responsibility to follow through with what you decide.

reality

 Am I in or out of reality?

僕は先日いっぱい買ったな。

昨日は電気屋に行ってアルバム買ったんだ。僕はあんまりカントリーミュージックきかなかったけどこのフットルースのアルバムきいたらけっこカントリーっていいねって思いました。

ほんで。。。

英語のバクマン７も買うてきたぜ。英訳めちゃ遅いな。日本のはもう１５ボリュームあるやろう？！でもバクマンはいっぱいじあるからやっぱ英語やないと漫画を完璧に了解できへんねん笑

黒木メイサの歌をきいてたらびっくりしたわ。声がアムロとめちゃ似てるやんっ！

The faint sound of my own breathe woke me up. I was laying down the floor, my whole body curled up like a ball, embryonic amid blankness. I didn't recall what I did before I slept or how I slept or what happened when I was asleep. But I definitely had a sense that something happened. Moving around, I realized that my clothes were drenched in sweat, and also that I bruised myself somewhere along my upper cheek. I felt it with my fingers, and it felt swollen. Nearly the circumference of a typical yo-yo, it stung whenever I pressed on it. I looked at my fingers but there was no blood so I felt slightly relieved. Seeing that I could see my hands better, I looked around elsewhere but everything still seemed blurry and white. The diamond ring, which I could still sharply envision, was resting a little further from me. Its presence seemed like a wild, deadly animal patiently waiting for its prey. After all it was the diamond ring that caused all of this hypnosis.

Slowly, I got up from the floor and walked around. I was able to walk. Nothing forced me or held me anymore. Right then I didn't know where in the world my body was going through. Someone was probably controlling my brain, I thought. But my id was completely identical to my action so there was no way anybody was controlling me. I wanted to walk and I was walking. 

I continued to aimlessly wander around, trying to get a hold of myself. Afraid of causing more trouble, I walked past the diamond ring, not willing to get closer to that haunted piece of jewelry. There were no exits, no windows, no doors. Just a world indulged in white. The more I walked, the more I felt like I was just wandering around in circles. This place was like a perpetual world. I looked down at my feet but they only looked like two lumps of some unknown substance. Nothing was clear to me but the diamond ring. I didn't know if there were even any lights. Something was sustaining this brightness but I couldn't tell what exactly was. I stretched out my arms in front of me, then reached for the sky, letting out all the excess stress. Time was passing by in a flash in this little world. My body ached in so many places. The lump on my cheek continued to sting and my body began to shiver from my drenched clothes. Right then my head suddenly leaned back a little bit. My heavy body unconsciously went with the force, as I felt a brief pain around my back. Before I knew it, my feet were not touching the ground. I felt like I was stretched out on some wall but I couldn't tell. I tried to walk but my feet were not touching anything so I couldn't move. My back was on something, preferably something flat, like a wall. I was laying down on something. Gravity was holding me back. A hard, flat surface was holding me back. A wall. Carefully, I helped myself upright and stared into space. Looking at blurred, picturesque pixels of white, I found out that I must have fainted. 

Time flew, it seemed. I felt like a blind animal caged and locked in a cargo plane. Only that I also felt that I was going to be locked in here forever. I couldn't see, I couldn't eat, I couldn't drink, I couldn't anything. Three days have past, I felt, since I was first locked in here. The diamond ring must have some power. Asami must have done something to me. I think I was on the floor, cringed into a ball again. Shutting my eyes took me into a world of blackness, and opening them would take me into this white, blurry world. The difference in contrast was epic, and it wasn't so healthy for my vision. Thus I avoided shutting my eyes. "What was wrong with the world," I said out loud. 

"Good question," someone said out of nowhere. 

Reality stopped when it produced a sound. The air suddenly felt thicker. A faint hush of unnatural wind scurried towards my direction. Something grey was getting bigger and bigger. Slowly, it took into the shape of a human, its head, its body, its arms, and its legs all formed rather accurately. But just by thinking about where I was, the odds of it being a human was very low. In fact it could be some alien or some unidentified organism. I rubbed my eyes but I couldn't see any clearer. My eyes must have gotten worse by the minute. I moved back, but the grey blur did not change its size. It was probably moving forward whenever I stepped back.  

"You must wonder where you are," it said.

It was no humanly voice. It sounded very artificial. Not clear. Not eloquent. The pauses between the words were unnatural and had no flow. I had no intention of replying, but I felt that I needed to. I was tired, and my  entire body was hunched in sheer exhaustion. Just opening my mouth made me want to throw up, but I carefully replied,

"I've been trying to find out where I was for a long time."

"You have been here for a long time," it said. "You must be starved."

"As if I wasn't." I said. "Can you just tell me where I am?"

The gray blur seemed like it moved its right hand and tilted its head. After, it replied, "You are in a mirrored realm in a cloned planet." 

"I am in a what?" 

"I'm sure it is very hard for you to grasp what you are hearing from me," it said, "but it's something that you will need to know for general reference."

"Well talk."

"You see, you are not in that planet where humans are mainly associated in."

"Earth, you mean?"

"Yes, Earth. You are not in Earth; you're in another planet orbiting around somewhere else. It's a very special and secret place where it is impossible to locate. Not even the top researchers in NASA could even find out about this planet, because it is completely hidden and unidentifiable in human existence."

"Fabulous. Absolutely fabulous."

"You and I are in the mantle of this planet." it continued. 

I could think of nothing else but to stare at the unfocused gray blur. 

"This planet also mirrors your conscious actions," it went on.

"Which is why I can't see?"

"Exactly," it blurted. "Your natural features are for you to be able to clearly see things with your eyes. But in this world, it is mirrored. In other words, even though things may, in some cases, seem the same, everything is flipped and is the complete opposite. That's why your vision is blurred."

"Can you explain, then, why I can clearly see the diamond ring?"

"The diamond ring is the soul of this planet. It is what keeps us alive in a continuum. Without it, we would die immediately. So it is essential that it is visible to us so we will be able to survive in this world."

"What would happen if it got crushed or suddenly became blurred from our vision?"

"This world would fade away, and we'd die in an instant."

"Who's ring is it?" I said.

"For now, we have no idea. But it has been passed around to several different organisms who possess special qualities."

"Wait, what do you mean 'we'? How many people are present in this planet?"

"Just the two of us. I am the person who makes sure the planet is fine. I watch the ring for the most part and keep the planet in healthy condition. As I told you before, this planet is hidden. Nobody could automatically come here. If it weren't for the ring you have discovered, you wouldn't have been able to get here as well." 

"What about Asami? Is she affiliated with this world?" I asked.

The grey blur remained silent. "That is something I cannot tell you right this moment."

"Why not?" I said.

No answer.

"What are you?" I said, trying to change the subject.

"I am a resident of this planet," it said. "I was born here."

"From whom?"

"The diamond ring. With the mixture of strong magnets and momentum inside the diamond, I was able to become existent. The diamond decides when it wants to create these substances. After all the diamond created this planet. It does all the work. I am technically a substance native to this planet."

"So am I considered to be a substance just like you then?"

"It appears so," it said. 

"That's just wonderful."

"Don't fret," it said. "The more you stay here, the more you get used to the mirror and eventually, you'll be able to see everything much more vividly."

"You mean you can see everything perfectly? Even my face?"

"Everything."

I continued to stand in front of the grey blur, pressing my blurred temples with my blurred fingers. Then, I told it, "Is there any way I could get myself back to the real world? Earth?"

"The likelihood is very low, but you may have a chance." 

"Please explain."
"Destroy the diamond. Don't get me wrong, though. Breaking this ring is harder than it may seem. If you somehow are able to destroy it, all life in this world will also be annihilated, which means that you might also be affected. In other words, you and I might die when you destroy it."
"Isn't there any other way?" I said.
"I'm afraid not. There is absolutely nothing in this planet but rocks and sheets of white. This planet does not follow any calendar, nor does this planet ever need to. It's a world of nothingness. If you are extremely eager to get out of this planet, you're going to have to find out a way to destroy it. Nothing else."

ショートストーリ

ヘイ！！
ブログにいっぱい英語で書いてあるポストは何だ、って思っているみなさん、こんにちは。そうですね。いっぱい英語で書いてあるポストはショートストーリなのです。いつも英語で書いてすいませんでした。はっは！！まぁ、あやまる理由無ねーけどさ笑
でも今回は日本語で新しいストーリを書いてやってみました。間違えがほとんどあると思いますけどトライしました。フィクションです。どうだ。



僕はそのまま彼女の顔を見てた。彼女はその時僕の光ってる目を見、赤いスカーフを首からとって僕の首にぶら下げた。私達は代々木公園のベンチに座ってた。すごい涼しい天候で、彼女のやわらかい毛が風に飛んでい行った。顔がいいフィーチャーズがあったし、お化粧丁度よくつけてたし、ファーコートもすばらしくスタイリッシュだった。髪の毛が風に動いてるってモデルがファンの前にポーズしてるみたいだった。時計みたらもう夜の８時だった。夜の寒い風がどんどん強くなった。「スカーフいらないのか？」って僕行った。彼女は僕にニコニコして私達の手をつないだ。目当たったらそっちの目の方が光ってた感じがした。「いらないわ。これは君にあげるのよ。」って彼女が行った。僕が首にこのスカーフを巻きながら彼女の目を見た。「ありがとう。」って恥ずかしく行った。彼女のにおいがスカーフにあって天国にいるみたいな経験した。なんといいにおいだなって思ってた。「それじゃ、来週の昼会う予定だよね。」って僕に訊いた。「うん、そうだ。７時ね。ALTAのテレビの前で待ち合わせね。」

つづく

Shimabukuro's concert sold out

NOOOOO
Jake Shimabukuro's concert at the Highline Ballroom tomorrow is sold out! Are there really THAT many people interested?!! JEEZ.

なんでだぁ～！
ジェイクシマブクロのコンサート売り切り。

I placed the box where she was sitting and stared at it, its contents full of wonder. A jewelry box? I imagined what its color was, what its shape was, what its material was. But nothing clear popped in my mind. The only possible way to know was to merely open the box.

Grasped in my left hand was her business card. When I took a look at it more closely, her phone number was slightly smaller than her name. Its print reminded me of the eye-sight test. As I continued to blankly stare at the card, I pondered who she gave out her card to. Who did she work for? What did she work for? The more I stared at the card, the more these type of questions attacked me. 

I shoved it in my pea-coat and stared at the grass. Norah Jones came back to me, but not as vivid. I started to get a little cold so I decided to head back home.


I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking more about her. Was she an entertainer of some sort? I really didn't know. Asking her was no point, since she wasn't the type of person who'd tell me so easily. She was an anonymous woman who refused to go further in the depths of vision, like a camera reaching its maximum zoom.  What if she was at the airport and I was a passport security guard? I would've seen her name, and her personal information seconds after she hands me her passport. If I thought she was suspicious, I had the power to not let her through security check, I thought. I wish I was an airport security guard.

I checked the clock at it was past twelve. With nothing else to do, I decided to open the box. Even though I knew what was inside already, I needed to see what it really looked like. In fact, hearing about things 100 times was not as great as seeing it once, according to Zhou Chongguo.

I grabbed a xacto knife and a pair of scissors from my desk. I cut through the strong wrapping paper with the knife and was able to unravel it. The box itself was a mikan box. It read, in hiragana, みかん, although I was 99% sure that there wasn't going to be any mikan in this box. I cut the tape that attached the flaps, and opened it. In it were peanuts and bubble wrap. As I dug my hands deep in the box, I felt a hard, rather metal object. I grabbed it, and brought it out from the package and out came a glazed, mahogany jewelry box. The size was rather small, almost equivalent to the size of a 5x5 Rubik's cube. As I looked at it more closely, it seemed similar to a ring box than a jewelry box. Curious as hell, I opened it and slipped inside was a note folded in half. Without any hesitation, I unfolded it and read it. It was handwritten.

Can't you ever make your own decisions in life and stop taking orders from people?


There was something else in the box, though. Securely resting in the box was a shiny piece of jewelry. A shiny piece of jewelry? I carefully inspected it and finally came to realize that it was a diamond ring, its karats sparkling. This wasn't one of the cheap kinds of diamonds; this was a diamond that was worth more than one could imagine. Only a wealthy, decent, and brave person would ever consider getting this. It looked very much like a proposal ring. How much of a dream it must be for a woman to receive this ring from her fiancee. On the note read something else on the bottom.

P.S, you may wonder why you received a diamond ring. I'm disclaiming you on this. I am not trying to propose to you (In fact, it would be more manly if a man proposed to a woman anyway.) I feel that you are just a responsible, trustworthy, and, I don't want to say this to you straight, but, a gullible being. Please keep this ring for me. I want you to have it for a while. If I feel the need to take it back, then I will tell you so. But for now, please keep it in a safe place. 


Asami


I read this note over and over again and couldn't grasp her words. Why is she giving me this? I thought. First she told me that I couldn't make my own decisions, and now she gave me a diamond ring. Did she receive it from her husband? Did she even have a husband? Was this ring even her's? Accumulating questions kept on bugging me.

I took the ring out of its case, and examined it like I was a diamond worker. It was glittering like the stars on a clear, windless night. The diamond itself was no bigger than the eraser attached to a pencil, but its quality was striking and powerful. Just by slightly moving my fingers, the diamond sparkled. I put it on my ring finger to see how it would look on me. It shone, nothing changed. I opened and closed my hands to really see the diamond shine. It was the first time I'd seen such a beautiful and pleasant thing in a while. The meticulous craftsmanship of this diamond was phenomenal, and its weight was perfect. It securely slipped in my finger, and the construction was very durable. There was no flaw in this ring, although it very subtly seemed as though it has been worn for some time. The only possible person would be Asami, I figured. But all in all, the ring was perfect.

I continued to stare--frozen, actually-- at the ring. I was like a student stuck on a math problem, not willing to come back to it later. Staring at the ring somehow seemed to relax me. It gave me peace, pouring away all the excess stress that had been rooted in my mind.  It was my inanimate shrink.

But it did not hold up as I expected it to. As I stared at the diamond, I began to feel a little gloomy. It might have been the fact that I slept too much, or the fact that I was suddenly shocked by Asami's call right after I took a refreshing shower. Whatever it was, it spun around my mind like Saturn's rocks and distracted my conscious. My head got heavier, and my body felt stiff, as if I got a nasty fever. I might've stared at the diamond for too long. I shut my eyes for some time, trying to get my mind back on track. Carefully, I opened my eyes, almost like a woman seeing herself in the mirror for the first time after her makeover, and examined the room. As if I was in a natural hallucinogen, things surrounding me started to get blurry, the diamond the only object that was focused in my vision. I raised my eyes away from the diamond and looked around me, but my vision was blurred. Things started to feel weird. I felt I was hypnotized and sucked into a different dimension, a dimension full of mystery. The diamond was controlling me.

I continued to examine the room, like a customer inspecting an open house, but things continued to not seem right. At this point I thought I couldn't get back to reality. The dining table started to move to and fro, nobody was moving it but it was moving. Somebody was moving it. I looked under the table and saw something similar to a hollow. It was a mixture of sky blue and white, and it was floating. I looked closely at it and found out it looked awfully similar to Norah Jones' head. Its expression full of nothingness. It made eye contact with me and we stared for a while, my face expressionless while simultaneously in shock. Then, as if loathed by my presence, made its way out from under the table and floated around the room and became bigger and bigger, and disappeared somewhere, possibly into a wall or some sort. The room started to wiggle and flop around, like a swimming pool after someone had jump in. But I wasn't moving. I was able to be still, like a statue. I closed my eyes, in fright, trying to wake myself up. Perhaps I was having a bad dream. But I wasn't. I knew that I wasn't. I felt it. I scratched my eyes with the front of my thumb fingers and looked around. But nothing changed. Everything seemed twisted, not right.  Everything was cringed, like it had been sucked into some kind of vortex. Then my vision started to transition into a white sheet of blankness. I couldn't see anything but white, or, maybe grayish white. I couldn't tell. Whatever the case, reality faded away. Whiteout.

Surrounding me was the color white. It wasn't snow. It wasn't anything but the color white. I couldn't tell if I was looking up or down, whether I was standing or floating, whether I was upside down or upright. I was brought into a world of nothingness, as if I was a text that had been imprinted on a book. There was no sound, no wind, no nothing. Just my breath and my heartbeat beating faster than a fat man walking up the steps. I couldn't move forward, I couldn't even talk. I stood there, in the middle of nowhere, frozen. I looked at my blurry hand and the diamond ring was there. It was clear. Nothing seemed blurry or obscure about it. It was very clear in my eyes. But my hand and everything else wasn't.

The diamond began to project a thin beam of light, and wobbled to and fro my left ring finger. Frightened, I flung it off my finger and threw it on the floor. It shook more rapidly. I stood there, frozen, looking at the diamond. It was just the diamond and I in this white world. 

photo

Developed my first film in photo class!
Here are some of the negatives.

And here is one of the pictures I developed in the dark room.

Her high heels brushed the fallen leaves as she walked towards me.  Her hair was brown, straightened, and smooth as chocolate milk pouring into a glass. She looked as though she was in her late 20's, but her hair made her look younger. As she shuffled through the leaves, I felt my body cringe. Not physically, but mentally. Her fur coat was that of an animal. I couldn't tell exactly what kind, but I knew it was from some wild, exotic animal, preferably a bear of some sort. Her eyes glared around the park, like a survelleince camera, looking around the lonely, quiet park, it seemed.

Her appearance reminded me of a friend back in college in Japan. Her name, I couldn't remember. She always used to wear fur coats, zebra blazers, among other creative, hipster-like apparels. Her hair was brown, but she told me once that she died it; her natural color was plain black. She kept it brown for the entire four years of college. Interacting with her was very strange. We had a couple of classes together during the day, none of which we talked much. If we even did talk, it was just casual. Extremely casual. What's for lunch? What class do you have next? can I borrow your pen? sunny day outside isn't it? and the like. The conversation topic never went further than that. But on the inside, we were considered to be friends. Close friends. Whenever we were together, though, we never really acted as though we were.

She told me once during a typical lunch period that she didn't have any parents. She mostly grew up herself, learning about the life around her. We were eating donburi together at the university cafe, and she told me her experiences of being alone at such a young age. Her sister was enrolled in some community college up north near Akita, and her parents abandoned her when she was young. Exactly why, she couldn't remember, or, she just didn't want to tell.

Every weekend, wearing her hipster clothes, she'd take aimless strolls around the campus to adjust to her surroundings. After all, she felt that she wanted to observe others. Their presence would soothe her. A couple of male students wanted to hook up with her, but she would refuse, lying to them that she already had a boyfriend... me. Most of these men were also too wimpy for her. And even if they tried, they looked like nothing but fools, she would say.

The woman in the fur coat looked at me in the eye and decided to gently sit down next to me. About three feet away from me, she stared at something directly across from her, possibly a squirrel that was resting on a branch. Her woody fragrance floated around the secluded area. It smelled fine. Could this be my friend from college? I wanted to ask, but something about her made me hesitate. She crossed her legs, leaned back and nonchalantly glared around the park like a tourist observing Times Square. She then finally took a look at the box. The silent air suddenly got punctured by her soft, feminine, tone.
"A package?" she said.
"Yeah."
"What's in it?"
"I haven't a clue," I said. "I'm kind of having trouble opening it."
She brushed her hair back. "Who's it from?"
"Some woman named Asami, I think. That's what it said on the return address."
"Just her first name?"
"Yeah."
Her eyes stared right into mine. "Interesting."
The birds chirped and the wind swiveled its way towards us, brushing the woman's hair and my skin. With her fingertips, she gently stroked her hair out from her eyes.
"Do you know who Asami is?" she said, almost in a whisper.
I looked at the handwritten name on the box. "No," I said.
"Well why don't you take a guess."
With her legs still crossed, she put her elbow on her thigh and propped her chin on her hand and smirked at me, waiting for an answer, it seemed.
"Are you Asami?" I said.
"Well," she rolled her eyes. "what do you think?"
"Yes?"
She slightly nodded.
I re-positioned myself, resting one foot over my other thigh. "Okay, well," I didn't know where to start. "Let me get this straight. You were the one who called me earlier this morning, and told me to open this box without using anything but my very own hands, right?"
She uncrossed her legs and sat back with a short sigh while staring back at the squirrel. "Who else in the world would order you to do such a thing?"
I didn't know what to say.
"Say," she said, looking at me. "Have you tried opening the box yet?"
"Uh, yes, that's why I am here."
"You're here under the rules I gave you on the phone."
"Yes."
"How stupid."
"Hunh?"
She tried to look for the squirrel, but it wasn't there anymore. "You follow an order from someone who is a complete stranger to you."
"Well, I mean, the way you spoke was very convincing and the demand just made me curious as hell."
"Can't you ever make your own decisions in life and stop taking orders from people?" she said.
"I do."
"Then explain why you are grasping that box right now."
"Because I am extremely curious as to what is inside this thing."
"It's a jewelry box that contains a note describing what I just said."
"Which is?"
"'Can't you ever make your own decisions in life and stop taking orders from people.' What did you think it was?"
"I dunno, some kind of chain letter or something." I said.
"Mister the more you think about these bizarre things, the more you start to lose yourself in reality." She said, locating the squirrel running down the tree branch.
"Tell me about it."
"The way you live is totally up to your instincts. But the more you accept anonymous and/or mysterious orders, phone calls, whatever, your life may get obscured."
"Okay wait a minute here. Slow down with your philosophical ideals. You're confusing me. I need some clarification. First I get a phone call from you telling me to open the box. So I claim the box and head outside on this spot, and attempt to open it, however it is so ridiculously taped together that it's nearly impossible to open it without using any scissors or something. Then I actually see you here. I mean, how the hell do you know where I am? Am I being controlled by you? What's the meaning of all this?"
She gave up staring at the squirrel and stared at the tree branch. "You're not being controlled; rather, you are controlling yourself, like all of us do. We control ourselves; we know what's right and what's wrong. Our superego tells us the wrongdoings of life, and serves as the moral compass. Everyone should have that when they become adults. In a way, our minds hesitate on the things we experience that are foreign to us, or, things that are mysterious to us, like the phone call I gave you. It's all a matter of how you control your instincts, and how you deal with them. You just happened to deal with the situation the wrong way. It's as if you just let a stranger in your home. What if he was a serial killer? Sure, you might say that you can beat him up, but your mind would be too shocked to fight. Our reaction time slows down the more we are surprised or shocked. Are you with me on all of this?"
"Yes, I understand all of this, but how did you find me here?"
"Mere luck, I guess."
"No really. Don't you have some special GPS tracker or some type of gadget that spies on people?"
"Nothing."
"Don't you ha--"
"Nothing."
"And the things you said on the phone are actually not true, right? That you are affiliated with any gang member or anything?"
"That is for you to guess and me to tell you whether you are wrong or right."
I tried to change the topic. "Where are you from?"
Sitting, she extended both her legs and stretched out her arms and sat back normally, her back straight as a models. "I am currently on a business trip."
"From where?"
"Tokyo."
"Positive?"
"How much positive can I get?"
"True."
This woman was tough to bear with. Sooner or later I had the feeling that she was going to break into my apartment. It was very possible after she knew where exactly I was in the park. It was as if we were positive and negative magnets. Really uncanny though, that she looked gorgeous.
"Do you want me to leave?" she said.
"No, you can stay."
She nodded.
"Just tell me, though," I said. "Out of all the people, why and how did you choose me?"
"Your name just stood up to me," she said. "I'm afraid I cannot tell you why."
"Ugh, you're such a pain."
"I try."
We sat in silence, taking in the park's ambiance.
"It must feel weird to you sitting next to a woman you hardly know at all," she said.
"Tell me about it."
"But you know, " she continued. "unless a person holds something special to you, you're never going to see that person again in your life... forever."
"How are you so sure?"
"It's just how life operates," she said. 
I sat there, plopped on the bench with the package resting on my thighs. For a while I thought about her remarks. She checked her watch, and moved as if she were about to leave. 
"Anyhoo, I have to get going soon," She shuffled her hand into her inner fur coat pocket and pulled out her business card. "This might come in handy."
There was nothing but her first name and a phone number.  Even her last name was anonymous. Black font, san-serif, white background. Bland, yet extremely helpful. After all, it is best to go for simplicity. 
"If there's anything you need to talk about, call this number," she said. 
"Thanks. Anything you say?"
"Yes, anything."
She got up and started to head her way back.
"Wait," I said. "What do you want me to do with this box now that you told me what's inside?"
She stared at me for a few seconds or two. "You have to think outside of it."
I nodded and turned away from her, trying to locate the squirrel she was looking at. A couple of minutes later, I looked back at the path and she was gone. 

nyc marathon

NYC Marathon today. Watched runners. This was one of the signs my friend had. It was for the Japanese runners.

今日はマラソンだった。４０，０００人以上のランナーが走ってるって聞いたけど。すごいです。このサイン逆やけど日本語だぞ。母さんの友達がparticipateしてるみたいです。

college applications

明日やる事山ほどあります。
新しいカラスが明日から始まるんだ。
そして先生達に大学の事を聞かないとな。
全くめんどくせ～なぁ。大学決めるのつかれちゃうよ。
どうでもいいわ、って時々考えます。

Oh, was today Halloween? I forgot with all my stressful college applications. Sometimes I always wonder why the procedures in getting into colleges is so disorganized and stressful. True, if one can handle the procedures as smoothly as possible, it won't be as disorganized or stressful. But in general, it seems like there's a lot of work to go through. In a nutshell, the procedures sound simple: send in undergraduate application to colleges along with the additional supplements, payments and forms, and boom! Applied. Yeah, it's easy to say, but actually doing all that takes so much time and effort... and luck. It just frustrates me. Getting into college is not as easy as it may seem. But once everything is turned in successfully, and on time, it should go smoothly. I still have so much work to do before I send in all my stuff to colleges. Bleh.

I feel that time is running faster and faster. Deadlines are approaching. Every minute I spend has to be productive, I feel. Wasting time is the worst thing to do. Like Buzz Lightyear always said, "there's no time to lose!" He's right. There really isn't. And if I do, then luck'll bring me down. It seems.

asldkj;asdklfjiwe...  <--- letting out anger.

Don't worry. I'll think on the bright side.

"My favor. Don't you remember?" she said.

Her monotonous voice made me realize how much sleepier I was. My eye muscles weakened, barely able to be kept open. I felt like I was listening to a computerized female voice giving me options to press a key. 

"I don't remember, sorry," I said, wiping my eye with the back of my left index finger. "I don't even know who you are."

A slight pause. I imagined her feeling shocked, both hands on the phone. 

"You were lost somewhere in the street near Broadway," she said. "I gave you concise directions. That's how we met." 

After those words left her mouth, my face turned peculiar, my eyebrows shifting down near the top of my squinting eyes; a Clint Eastwood classic. 

"I would never remember something as minor as that," I said. "And how can you conclude that we met? You only gave me simple directions, right?"

"I gave you concise, and very clear directions," she said, sounding as if correcting me. "I was like an ace classmate teaching you how to do an equation in Calculus class."

"Are you calling me dumb?" 

"You aren't dumb if you don't question that you are."

"Hey, well giving me directions is not the same as telling me your name and getting to know each other," I said, switching the phone to my other ear. 

There was a brief pause in our conversation. With the phone up in my left ear, I walked towards the window and stared at the drifting clouds. The sky still looked unreal. Far above in the distance, a jet airplane was smoothly flying its way south, its roaring engines barely heard. Who knew where it was going. 

After seeing it glide away from my vision, I said on the phone, "Who are you?"

"I told you," she said, like a woman trying to calm down her frustrated husband. "It is not important in the matter. All I need from you is to do me one little, effortless favor."

Sooner or later, I was thinking about hanging up the phone. This woman was creeping me out. The more she said the word, 'favor', I felt the urge to just punch her in the face. Unfortunately, she was on the other side of the line. 

"Please," she continued, "it requires very little effort."

At least that'll end this conversation, I thought. After all I needed something to do in my life. "Fine, what do you want me do?"

"You live in an apartment, yes?"

"Yes."

"Just so you know, I'm about to give you a whole lot of information, but all you need to do is follow along and you'll do absolutely fine. It's not like I'm making you save the world from aliens, or anything," she said.

"Alright, shoot."

"Okay, all you need to do is go downstairs and tell the doorman that you have a brown, shoe box-sized package that you want to pick up. There is no doubt that the package will be there. Once you receive it, I want you to take it outside and open it. Don't open it in the lobby, or your apartment room. Open it anywhere outside, but preferably where nobody is around. Open it with your hands; don't use any sharp objects to help you open it. There is nothing to worry about. The package is not some kind of bomb or anything dangerous. It's something, however, that cannot be handled roughly or dropped, so be careful. I am giving you a responsibility and it is up to you to handle it successfully.That's all I want for you to do now. And again, don't worry. I am not tricking you. I am not a criminal, nor anybody who intends to commit murder or rape or anything violent. I am not affiliated with any gang member or anything. Just grab the package and open it. Capish?"

"Wait," I said. "How do you know where I live?"

"That is not important. Do you understand me?" she demanded.

I couldn't think of anything other than to nod my head, but realizing that that's totally meaningless, I responded with an unassertive "yes".

"Good," she said. "And after we hang up, I will never call you back again. There are reasons why I won't, and you will find out, but I thought I would let you know beforehand."

"Wait," I said, again. "what do you mean that I will find out?"

"Aren't mysteries exciting?" she said.

"I need to know, though, since you're never calling me back again."

"Look, I am here to just tell you what I want from you. That is all. I am like an object. No matter what you ask, and how you ask them, I will do nothing but ignore your questions. Just do your task, and you'll know in the very, near future."

"Will the box reveal anything?"

"I can only say this," she said, her soft tone sneaking into my ear canal. "when you find out what's inside the box, give yourself some time to bear with what you are seeing in your very own eyes. You will not need anybody to help you, including me. You will know exactly what to do when you see what's in the box. But take your time, and really examine it. Now try not to waste anymore time. Goodbye."

She hung up. I held the phone up in my ear, listening to the stand-by sound. I slowly put the phone back, and walked towards the window again, gazing at the outside world. Why, in this peaceful morning, must you get ordered from a stranger to retrieve an anonymous box? There goes your day, or even you life. The clouds were drifting away with the wind as the sun healthily shone the entire city. What a beautiful day.

Whatever was inside that box, I did not want to retrieve it immediately. I spent some time watching the view. I stared at the cars driving by the street, the people doing their daily routines, walking their dogs and buying their breakfast. It gave me a sense of relief that I wasn't the only one in the world. After staring at the outside for a while, Norah Jones' beat came back to me again, but not as pleasant. The artificial voice of the strange woman kept haunting me.

I washed my face in the bathroom, sat down on the sofa, and ate some peanuts that were left on the coffee table from yesterday. After chewing down the bland taste of peanuts, I stared into space. Whatever I was thinking, I tried not to think about the box. But it just would not work. The box never escaped out of my mind.

I put on my black peacoat, grabbed my keys, and my phone, and decided to head down to the lobby. I needed to know what was inside of it, or else my mind would explode. Curiosity, if you think about it, is really painful to bear with. If you don't know the answer to something, whether it be a math problem or a question from someone, you start to get so frustrated you can't stop but thinking about the truth.

Because it was the weekend, the elevator came in ten seconds, I counted. I was not alone. There was a middle-aged man, around his fifties, early sixties, holding a leash to his dog. The dog, looked similar to a dachshund, moved around in circles, sniffing the ground, and eventually my foot. The man looked straight ahead with absolutely no expression on his face, unaware of the dog sniffing my foot. He wore a blue windbreaker with navy blue pants. His jacket reminded me of a trader at a stock market. No way he was one.

When we approached the lobby, I let the man go out first, his dog racing outside. I slowly head my way towards the doorman. The middle-aged man, like any other person residing in this apartment, said hello to the doorman. The doorman, whose name was Mike, responded with a hello and a smile back. When he saw me coming, he did the same. Mike was around his 60's, just doing his job, protecting the tenants, notifying them when a visitor or food delivery was here, talking to them about baseball and how the Yankees lost against the Tigers, among others. He had this job for a while now; I always thought he would suddenly quit and retire one day. But it didn't seem so yet. The only thing about him was that he talked slowly. Sometimes, I could already tell what he was trying to say. And sometimes I couldn't.
     Usually he made me relaxed since he protected the building from strangers and criminals. But at this moment, I felt the exact opposite. He was the one who would hand me that package. That unknown package. He was sitting on his stool, while reading the morning newspaper. I walked towards the counter.
     "Hello, my friend," he said. "A good morning to you!"
     "Hey, Mike," I said, almost as a sigh. "Do you happen to know if I have a brown, shoe box-sized package waiting for me?"
     "A brown shoe box-sized package," he repeated, as he looked at the list of apartments that have packages, his index finger guiding him. "Ah, yes you do."
     He went to go get the package from the other room. My heart pounded faster than a horses' footsteps at the Kentucky Derby. Just what the hell could be inside?
     He brought it back and handed it to me like any other package. The box was, just as she said, a brown shoe box-sized package. It was wrapped nicely; too nicely that there seemed to be no opening. On the center read my name and address, and the sender on the top corner. Handwritten. It read, Asami. No address, not even her last name. Just her first name, it seemed. How in the world could the post office recognize this? I thought. Well, my address and name were exact. This was starting to freak me out.
     I asked Mike, "Hey, do you find it peculiar that the sender only wrote her first name on this package?" I said.
     He grabbed the package from me and examined it. His mouth was open in confusion, it seemed.
     "Hmm," he said. "It doesss seeemmm peculiarrr. Do you knowww this, Asami?"
     "Well, I think I just talked to her on the phone. I asked her who she was, but she refused to tell me."
     He continued to inspect the package, flipping and turning it around, like a neophyte Rubik's cube solver examining a cube before attempting to solve it.
     "Hmm. It is neaaatly wraaapped. It doesn't look suspicious to me."
     I nodded.
     "Do you want me to opennnn it for y--"
     "No," I said. "It's okay. I got it."
     He handed it back to me as I headed my way outside.
     "Hey wait a sec, my friendd!" he said. "Where areee you going with that packaaage outsidee?"
     "She told me to open it outside."
     He opened his mouth again, nodded, and looked back at the morning paper. It seemed he didn't care. The guys got more than a hundred people to take care of. He doesn't care about me.
     With the package tucked in my arms, I headed towards Riverside park, and sat down on one of the benches. This allowed me to stay away from joggers, and morning bikers. It was the perfect place for privacy. Get a room? A couple wouldn't need one if they came here.
     Surrounding me were just a bunch of trees and bushes. Birds were crying as the chilly, fall wind swept my skin. The package was resting on my knees. The more I looked at her handwriting, the more it freaked me out. There was definitely something mysterious in here. The package wasn't really heavy, but I knew there was something in here that would surprise me. I tried to look for an opening, but at this situation it was almost impossible. It was sealed with sticky tape. Hence I used my nails to rip off the tape, but it was no use. Maybe she was trying to make me use my brain to try to open it with my hands. She might've only said it was fragile so I wouldn't slam it on the ground to try to open it. Perhaps my hands were the only hope in opening this mysterious box.
     Minutes past and I'm here trying to find out how to open this package. No pedestrians, however, walked past me. Thank goodness. They would laugh when they see a man trying to open a package outside in the park. I looked around and saw nobody, and heard nothing but the faint sound of cars passing by. I tried using my teeth to rip off the tape but it would not work. Puncturing the package would only go against her rules of opening this package. What a joke. I spent some time just staring at it, wondering what was inside. I couldn't shake it, like what a child would do to his/her wrapped Christmas present. This was frustrating. I placed the package next to me, brought my hands on the back of my head, and rested for a while, observing the tree branches wave to and fro with the wind's momentum. Looking up, I heard the sound of rhythmic footsteps. I looked to my right and saw a woman in a fur coat walking towards me. Her presence was yet to be discovered.

Footloose

Recently saw Footloose. Mild Spoiler Alert: A high school student from Boston, Ren, moves to a small town in the southern U.S, and finds out that dancing is prohibited after an accident that happened a few years ago. Ren's rebelliousness eventually triumphs.

Now I don't want to give a spoiler here, so I'm gonna stop here. But overall, it was a very uplifting movie. I enjoyed almost every portion of it. Julianne Hough was extremely good-lookin', and the music was great.

フットルースを見ました！いいです。みんなダンスが上手かったです。八ッフもすてきだったで。おすすめですよ～ん。

late night party

今ナイトクラブパーティから帰ってきました。学校のやで！ へぇ、つかれた。寝るかぁあ。
Oh what a night. Just got back from the halloween party. time to catch some zzzz's

snow

It's snowing... heavily... in October.

Supposedly there's going to be a party this evening. How am I to go in this weather?

school volleyball team

Today our school's girls volleyball team faced another. It was an away game, and the championships. I, and my other school friends spectated the riveting game. Unfortunately, we lost, taking second place. But way to push through.

やっとアメリカの１Ｑ８４ゲットしたぜ！今日発売！

Right then, the phone rang. The transition from humming a slow, mellow rhythm, to listening to a loud, attentive ringer was really unpleasant. I headed for the receiver, but before I picked it up, I stood there, glaring at the number keys. It reminded me of Punnet Squares.

It rang about three or four times.

I quickly sighed and picked it up on its fifth ring, expecting nobody to respond.

"Hello?" I said.

Yeah, nobody. I couldn't hear anything. But it wasn't completely silent. I pressed the mic in my ear to try to hear the background noise. I heard the sound of footsteps. Like those high heel clicks. It was maybe some kind of insurance agent calling me from her office. I didn't know. Was the footsteps coming from her? Well, I knew that she was a woman at least.

"Hello?" I said again.

Not even a clearing of the throat. The whole reason why I was never fond of having a receiver in my home was because of this, exactly. I always hated how mu--

"Oh, hello?" a soft voice spoke from the mic into my ear canal.

"Who is this?" I asked. "And how do you know my number?"

"That is not important right now. What I need from you is to just accept my favor."

My mind switched its mode into confusion. "What favor?"

There was a pause.

... to be continued

last cross country

Tomorrow is my last cross country race in high school. It's the championships. The top five runners who finish from our team gets their times combined. Same applies to the other teams. Whichever team gets the lowest time overall are the champions. 

Our school'll get first!

SM town at the garden!

SM Town performs TONIGHT at the Garden @7!! I would so, love to go, but here I am at home, writing a 4 page essay. Tickets are pretty darn expensive too.

SNSD is, I don't know if it's true, coming to the GMA studios tomorrow. I hope they perform, but that's very unlikely. Still, I'm going to get up in the morning, turn to GMA (I always do) and look out for them. They are supposedly giving away 50 signed CD's to whoever comes to the studios first at 9. I would, but hey, can't skip school! Damn.

少女時代がニューヨークに来たぞ。今夜ＭＳＧにコンサートするべきなんだ。僕行きたいけどこのクソ宿題があって行かれなーんだ。それと、まぁ、チケットも高いしね。

でも明日、ＧＭＡのスタジオに来るってみんなが行ってたけど、本当かしらない。朝の９時に来るって行ってたな。行きてーけど学校あるからいかれない　Ｔ＿Ｔ

no title for this story yet

As I was taking a shower, I hummed that mellow beat and began to wash my hair with shampoo, the water from the shower head, fiercely hitting my body. Lazy, I decided not to clean anywhere else. I stopped the shower, wiped myself dry with a towel, and dressed into my clothes while humming Norah Jones. 

I opened the window and swallowed a gulp of the morning air, and exhaled back outside, giving carbon dioxide to the plants. The crows were at their usual, crying in the sky. The blue color of the sky was so light that it seemed artificial-- as if a huge, god-like artist painted over the real sky and showed it to the world. If he'd ask me, I would say it was brilliant. As I kept looking up, I imagined how clouds weigh so much when all they look like are puffs. I began humming the rhythm again, trying to match each rhythm with the slow movement of the clouds. 

to be continued...

Water and Seltzer

"You know what I hate?" he says, after he takes a sip of seltzer.

"What?" I say.

"When you think what you're about to drink is not what you expected it to be."

I nod a few times.

"I thought this was Sprite," he continues. "but it turned out that it was seltzer."

"What's wrong with that feeling?" I blurt.

"Well, before you drink the glass, you get all excited for that sugary, lemon taste, but when you drink it and realize that it's just bland, tasteless, carbonated water, you feel weird because it's just... water, you know?"

I kind of knew what he was saying. "So like mistaking water for shochu?" I tried to stick with the conversation.

"That's another example!" he says. "Although I've never had any shochu so I can't tell the exact feeling."

"Or what about apple juice and p--"

"I don't think that's the best way to go," he says.

some notes

You can't admit to yourself that you're perfect. If you do, then you have no purpose to live. We are surrounded by countless imperfections, and live to tweak those imperfections to strive for perfection.
-------


After I see some extraordinary performance by someone, my mind blows. I would just sit there, imagining how much time, effort, and commitment they were willing to spend in their lives. The feeling when that person performs in front of a crowd must be one of the greatest feelings ever.
-------

The mellow rhythm of Norah Jones' Chasing Pirates was stuck on my head as I headed for the shower.

... to be continued.

Sophocles, Freud, and Murakami

While studying for a psychology test, I've noticed that Haruki Murakami makes so many connections to Greek myths. In his novella, Hear the Wind Sing, he mentions in the beginning that Greek myths are worth reading. Hence he writes Kafka on the Shore which strictly follows Sophocles' story of Oedipus. In a nutshell, Oedipus the King is a story about a naive king who unconsciously marries his mother and murders his father. Kafka on the Shore is about a teenage boy who runs away from home to possibly search for his family. Although the reader cannot exactly tell if he actually did (typical Murakami), it seems that Kafka Tamura kills his father and has a sexual affair with his mother. In fact, Kafka explains how his father left a prophecy that Kafka will kill him eventually.

Freud was inspired by Sophocles' story and thus he called one of his terms the Oedipus Complex. This term is when the child begins to loathe his/her (but typically his) father, and love his mother. The reason why he loves his mother is because the mother is whom the child first gets his desires fulfilled. First and foremost, the child comes from the mother's womb. This means that the child would have a closer relation with the mother because it came from her! Secondly, what the child initially desires first are oral-related, such as thumb-sucking. So it makes sense that sucking on the breast fulfills the child. As the child slowly realizes that the mother is drawn towards another person (the father), the child would start to hate on him and store in his mind the act of murdering him. It is then that the child starts to learn that he cannot get what he always wants; things in life aren't always free and there for you. 

By looking at these realizations, I concluded that Sophocles was some writer! His story of Oedipus still lives on today and has made famous writers, professors, doctors, scholars, among others, to become inspired.

Now, let's take a little break from Sophocles. It seems that Murakami incorporated other Freudian terms in his works, namely dreams. Freud described that dream-work had two different steps: the manifest content ( initial understanding of dream) and the latent content (hidden meaning behind the dream). In Murakami's Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, the reader observes one of the characters 'dream-reading' skulls in the library, attempting to find the latent content in them. Interesting. 

Garbage

"Everything in our world requires some sort of work. Things don't just magically happen. There comes a time when we absolutely need to do the work ourselves in order to achieve something. Even if they only require the littlest effort, we will later realize that they are crucial in our lives."

"Can you give me an example?" he said.

"Well," he cleared his throat. "If you had a garbage bag sitting in your home, would you take it out as soon as possible?"

"probably not."

"That's my point. Your id tells you that you don't want to take out the trash, but what I'm telling you is that regardless if it's a pain to just grab the bag and throw it out, you need to take it out because that's what life is all about. Getting things done the right way. That's how we live today. We understand our essential tasks and we do those tasks. Don't you go to school everyday? Don't you wash your hair with shampoo? Don't you brush your teeth everyday? Don't you feel the urge to just punch me in the face right now? that's life, bud."

bug bites suck

You know what really grinds my gears? When mosquitoes, gnats, and other annoying bugs bite me everywhere. One might ask why I'd get so many bites if I live in the city. Well, it's because I go to the woods during cross country meets. Each time I finish a meet, I itch. Where? It changes from time to time. Sometimes my skin itches around my leg, my arm, my neck, and even at the bottom of my ankle. I mean, how would a bug bite me at the bottom of my ankle in the first place? My sock was covering it! Furthermore, I usually get multiple bites. And that is not a pleasant feeling. 

I would assume that itching is the first phase of the mosquito/gnat/whatever bite. I try not to itch, but I just can't. After obsessively itching for quite a while, the red, round bump starts to form. That is an obvious sign that tells me that I just got unlucky and got owned by a tiny little stinging bug. It sucks if I just think about it. 

I feel that I get more bites than any other person I know. Also, I feel that my skin reacts the worst whenever I receive a bite from an insect than any other person I know. A few days after the bite, it turns more red, swells up, meaning that the lump gets bigger, and starts to itch a lot worse. Fortunately, Cortizone is there for me when I need it, but still, it sucks to get so many bug bites in so little time. Teammates were yapping about bug bites but they didn't seem to get so many, and even if they did, it didn't swell up, let alone having the need for Cortizone. 

I have another meet tomorrow afternoon and my bites on my arm from a few days ago are still itching! It's embarrassing to show my bites! They'd say something about it. It's really unpleasant in so many ways. Not only is it embarrassing, but it's also distracting. Sometimes I can't concentrate that effectively because my body itches. That being said, I loathe bugs of any kind.

1Q84

Around 2009 and 2010, a sensational novel was published by Haruki Murakami in Japan. This novel was released in three volumes, totaling around 1000 or more pages. He called this novel, 1Q84, supposedly putting a twist to George Orwell's masterful novel, 1984. In fact the story takes place in 1984. Also, the "Q" is obviously pronounced "Kyu", and that, in Japanese, actually means the number 9. Regarding the distorted title, Murakami is perhaps implying that the story goes parallel to the present 1984, and takes the reader beyond reality. Similar to his previous works, such as Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World and Kafka on the Shore, the book basically takes on two seemingly unrelated stories that eventually clash together in the end. Thus there are two main narratives: one character named Aomame, and the other named Tengo. I don't know the complete details of the characters yet.

Now the U.S version of this grand novel is expected to hit shelves October 25th. To tell you the truth, I am excited. I've waited for probably a year. I've attempted to read the Japanese edition but unfortunately I couldn't read all of the characters so I just gave up. But on October 25th, the U.S will be able to read his latest and one of his most ambitious works yet. It is totally worth the wait.

１０月２５日に村上春樹さんの人気の本、「１Ｑ８４」がアメリカに発売する予定です。日本で発売した日に全売れ桐した本がやっとこっちにくるのってすごいですね。待てねーな。

Japan Korea Block Festival

Such nice 81 degree weather. Goin' back to those summer days. I had a decent time at the Japan Korea Block Festival too. I got to eat okonomiyaki, pork, and takoyaki-- although there wasn't any tako in it. Some shrimp.

There was also the mimic contest. One contestant was Bae Yong Jun. Cool.

今日の天候暑いですね～夏がもどってきたか～
今日は日本・韓国ブロックフェスティバルだったやで！
なんかちいこかったけどお好み焼き食べて、とたこやきもたべた！でもぜんぜんたこが入ってなかったけどね。えびが入ってた。
ものまねコンテストもあったな。一人のコンテスタントはペヨンジュンだった笑

Steve Jobs

Steve Jobs memorial are being held at most of the Apple stores around the world. Here is one of them.

A Singer and a Worker: a short story

"I'm a singer," she told me, staring at me deep in the eyes.

We were sitting at a coffee shop. I took a sip of my cappucino and carefully placed it on the table. I wrapped both my hands on the coffee as the steam slowly billowed in the air like a spirit. I imagined a singing co-worker.  "A singer..." I said. "What do you sing?"

She traced the tip of the coffee mug with her fingertips. "All sorts," she said, staring at her mug. "I sing a variety of genres."

"Can you tell me some?" 

She stopped tracing the tip midway, and stared at me. "What kind of music do you like to listen to?"

I paused. Then smiled. Then quickly looked down, and back up in her eyes. I blushed, but I couldn't really tell. "Well... I like to listen to smooth jazz."

"Oh, come on!" she blurted. "Nobody could sing that! We're getting off topic here!"

"Right," I said.

"So? What kind of music do you like to listen to, besides smooth jazz?" 

I thought about this for a while. In fact I didn't really listen to music all that much. The last time I listened to music was when I was at a pharmacy buying essentials. After much thought, I came up with an answer. "I like Tony Bennett."

"Tony Bennett?" 

"Any problem?" I said. I think it was him that I heard at the pharmacy. 

"No..." she said. "Just so random." She took a sip of her coffee, then sighed without opening her mouth, settling in the warmth that just entered her body. "Any others besides smooth jazz and Tony Bennett?"

"Give me a break!" 

"Tell me," she said. It seemed like she was playing with me. "it's important."

"It's not like you're going to sing for me my favorite genre or artist right?" I was curious.

She stared at her mug. "I guess I won't anymore."

I made sure to choose the right words. "No, please sing for me. I love it when people sing. Whenever anyone sings for me, doesn't matter if it's sung by a boy or a girl, it always soothes my heart. I don't have a legitimate reason why, but that's how it just feels to me."

"Then how come you won't tell me your favorite type of music?"

"It's because I only like listening to people I know," I said. "Listening to people I don't know sing is like listening to a stranger sing. If I know that person, I can connect more with that person, or understand him. It's just natural for me. That's why I don't listen to a lot of music that are on the charts. I mostly listen to the songs my friends sing."

She sat there silently. 

"To me, you aren't a stranger anymore," I continued. "Although this is the first time we've met, I feel that you told me enough about you." 

"That I'm a singer?"

"Yep." 

I could tell that she was gripping her mug tightly. We didn't say a word. She took her time, almost to the point where I would've forgotten what I said. Suddenly, she recrossed her legs and finally seemed settled. "You want me to sing to you any song then?"

"Yes."

"Here? In this coffee shop?"

"Uh-huh"

She nodded a few times. "Okay." 

Surrounding us was the sound of coffee blenders and other office workers talking among themselves. She took a sip of her coffee and gently placed it down. She swept her hair back from her eyes with her fingertips and sat there innocent, silent, like a balloon that freely floated in the air. She took a breath and began to sing to her heart's content. 

The purity of her voice came so freely that it muted the background noise. For a minute I couldn't hear anything but her beautiful voice. I couldn't pay attention to which genre she was singing. I couldn't tell which song. Her voice echoed in my mind, and blocked out all the excess noise. I felt like I was in a dream. I sat there, listening to her beauty. 

to be continued...

end of the season for the Yankees

An upsetting loss for the Yankees yesterday. Curse the Detroit Tigers. Yankees blew their chances, A-rod was 0-4 with 3 strikeouts. An absolute disappointment. 

In fact they started the season facing the Tigers, and ended with the Tigers.

Whatever, though. That's that. 

Tonight the world has lost an innovative man, a man who has changed us. Steve Jobs, rest in peace.

Greetings

Recently I've been attacked by so many college application handouts and paperwork! In fact these upcoming months are the most important. Early decisions and all that start to take place in the first week of November. Time flies, really. It strikes me how much time I cannot lose.

Here is a quote I wrote right off the bat:

Although it may seem like a bad idea, I don't plan out what I'm going to write when I'm writing stories. Even if I do, they'd just turn a totally different direction. I find it to be utterly useless in my process. Instead, ideas seep into my mind, like dust being swept by a Eureka vacuum cleaner. The minute I have a vague idea about something, I type it on a document and before I know it, I would write thirty pages about it.

Morning Mist

I checked the time and it was a quarter past 6 in the morning. The outside was dark with no lights on anybody's windows. No bird chirps, no cars zooming by the block. It just seemed cold and dark. I got up from my bed, went to the bathroom, and quietly sipped an OJ while watching the early morning news. The only news that pretty much caught my attention was a ferris wheel accident.

I quickly ate three pancakes and cleared it down with some milk. I needed to get to the test center by 7:30, so I knew that I had to get out of here no later than a quarter before 7. I changed into the most comfortable, yet still fashionable clothes, applied deodorant, grabbed my belongings, and headed out. 

The chilly morning mist splattered on my face. The sky was beginning to turn royal blue. Nobody was walking except me. I felt like I was in the middle of the deep woods, or some kind of abandoned town. I couldn't hear anything but my calm breathe, and the wind occasionally swaying the leaves. I put both hands in my hoodie pocket and headed for the train. 

The subway came in about ten minutes. Uncanny how it was crowded. Where were these people headed on an early Saturday? I thought. 

Most of my school friends were already at the test center talking to each other. As I looked around, several other test takers were randomly standing, staring out into space, while others listened to their ipods. Another girl had her mother with her. They were probably talking about last-minute testing strategies or some ritual. But there was a reason why we were all gathered around on an early Saturday morning: to get the whole thing over with so we could go home as soon as possible. At this moment, we couldn't even go inside yet. We all waited for the security guard to let us in, but there was no sight of her. It was a bit early, but still, early was better than being late. 

About ten minutes past when a chubby school officer unlocked the door to let us in. She wore a typical police-esque attire: sky blue collared shirt, a belt with lots of dangling metal objects, and long dark pants. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail. With a "I-don't-give-a-fu@# about this test" kind of expression, she told us all to take off any metal objects and put them in our bags to get ready for security check. 

After security check was the line. When waiting, a proctor told us all to put away our phones or else we would automatically be disqualified from the test. After all I didn't bring mine. Smart move. 

I took the test. When taking it, I felt like being on a airplane: I sat for about four hours, it was quiet, and there was limited legroom. No windows. That was a problem. And then there was always that one person who would obnoxiously cough throughout the entire test. There wasn't only one though; there were several. Regardless, I minded my own work while I bubbled in answers surrounded by the sounds of buttons being hit from calculators, clearing of throats, turning of pages, and footsteps from the hallway. 

あしたのテスト

明日テストです。
がんばります！

More quotes from meeee

If we change our sitting position while working on some paper work, we begin to work less effectively. When we approach different levels of comfort, we tend to have a moment to get used to the comfort before we can say it's comfortable or not. During those moments, our minds focus more on the comfort than on the work, and it sort of distracts the flow of our thinking.

The ones who you should trust are the ones who try their hardest.

It's better to go for simplicity.

For some reason, taking a standardized test is like being on a four hour flight.

Sneezing is .5 seconds of an orgasm.

When I see you there, all I see is you. The natural you. But when I put on some type of music, let’s say, one of Eminem’s catchy songs, I don’t see you anymore. I can imagine you just dancing to the rhythm. The music fits into you. It livens the mundane world we are all consciously used to seeing. That’s why we can never live without it." She stared at the passing scenery. "It's as if confetti sprinkled on you. That's what it feels like to me when I see you while listening to a rhythmic song."

"Walking on the crowded streets alone is a frustrating yet satisfying experience. Frustrating because I have nobody to talk to, and satisfying because I often get stared at by attractive women."

He raises one eyebrow and crosses his arms. "You think you're cool?"

"It's just the way it is," I say. 

"Well they might've looked at you because you looked funny, not because you looked cool," he blurts.

"Dude."

"What?" he says, curious. 

"Your fly is down."

Comedy stuff

If the captain's last name was Crunch, would the workers in his ship call him Captain Crunch? Earthquakes happen on Earth. But what if they happen on Mars? Would it be called a marsquake?

Our Comedy teacher today was out, and she sent in her sub. He taught us so many great things about comedy, and gave a short lecture on the science of it.

Why is comedy so funny? Because it's true. Like the phrase, "funny cuz it's true."

And when I think about that phrase deeper, it all starts to make sense...

I think one of most effective ways of making people laugh is making unexpected twists to everyday conversations. I see this idea in several Japanese manzai (comedy), such as Taka and Toshi and Sandwich Man.

Was Sick

I've been sick for the past week, and now I'm finally feeling a little better. My throat started to feel a little funky last Friday, and then the symptoms got worse. After the sore throat, I started to get a runny nose, then a 101 fever, then coughs.

Still, last Monday evening, I took a practice test when I had a runny nose, which was not pleasant. This was when I got even more sick. I checked my temperature when I got home and it was a shocking 101. I immediately went to sleep. I changed into at least three shirts during the night because I was sweating profusely.

Tuesday morning came and my mom and I vacillated on whether or not I would go to school. In fact, I have never missed a day of school since seventh grade. But... in this case, I think I might just have to. I thought. "Don't think about your streak when you're actually sick," my mom said. I was actually thinking about not going. I even dreamed about it that Monday night. Would the teachers be shocked? How would I catch up on my classes? I thought.

Eventually I went to school and although I was feeling a little gloomy, I was able to bear. I even had my first meet that day, which didn't really turn out so great. The night I got back, I had a 101 fever again.

I slept around 10 and hoped that I would get better the next day. I did, but coughs have come!

Then I got better as the days went on, with only occasional coughs. I still have a stuffy nose.

I haven't been sick for a long time. So long ago that I missed what it felt like being sick! For some reason being legitimately sick reminded me of my childhood when I was shivering in the sheets for warmth.

My Quotes (notes)

Reading a book is like meeting a person. At first it is a mystery to you, but the more you spend time on it and read it, the more you get to understand it, almost to the point where you see it as your close friend.

"The best books are the ones that tell you what you know already." Orwell

Partnering up with a girl I like during pad drills gives me the feeling of being on a date with her. The pace, the sense of being together.

You know, unless a person holds something special to you, you're never going to see that person again in your life... forever.

Picking an instrument is like finding a girlfriend. I need to first see it in my very own eyes, and feel it in my very own eyes, and meticulously consider if it is the right one. Testing the instrument is like taking it on an evening date.  If I like the way it sounds, and pretty much fits my desires, it resembles pure love.  

sore throat

Damn... I have a sore throat and a runny nose. I probably got it from watching Bocelli on a chilly, rainy late afternoon. Or from my English teacher, who also had a sore throat and a runny nose. 

Bleh. 

Andrea Bocelli

Yesterday my mom and I went to Andrea Bocelli in concert. Unfortunately the weather was terrible-- rain all night. Thousands of people gathered around the lawn, sitting in the grass while holding up their umbrellas. It was freezing; not even a hoodie would keep me warm. Because this happened on a regular weekday, I left early. Mom saw the concert until the end. Celine Dion and Tony Bennett were special guests, it seemed.

It got extremely cold all of a sudden. I must wear a hoodie or some sort of long-sleeve shirt now. I do not like the cold. I am more of a summer person.

Waste of precious time

ARE YA FREAKIN' KIDDING ME?!
So cram school decided to cancel the session at the last minute. And there was no email regarding the cancellation. So I've literally wasted an hour for nothing. I walked home while drenched in sweat.

ほんまアカンわっ！！
６時半に塾の予定だったんだけど、行ったらキャンセルだった。
イーメールもなかったのになんでいきなりキャンセルする？
１時間むだになっちゃったじゃねーか！Ｄ＜

ヘイ

ち～っす！！笑
明日はめちゃ忙しいぞう。
学校のあとジョギングで、そのあとは塾 (-_-)
遅い時間に帰ってくるで。アカンわ、宿題をやる時間がなくなるでぇ～！！
そんじゃ、またね。
ＺＺｚｚｚ。。。。

ChocoLe to debut this winter

An all 14 year old trio idol group, ChocoLe, is set to debut their first single, Milk Chocolate this December. Now let me get through this again... 14 years old? High school freshmen becoming an idol group? You cannot even audition for American Idol.

These girls aim to "follow the footsteps" of Candies, a famous trio back in the days.

This trio must do something differently in order to gain enough attention to the public/media/fans. Because, like I stated in my previous blog post, there are just too many of these idol/sister groups. And regarding AKB48 literally monopolizing the entire all-female idol groups, it would be extremely hard for them to even get introduced, let alone being able to perform.

In order for ChocoLe to receive widespread fame, they need to implement a distinctive punch to their songs; they need to deliver a new theme to the jpop scene.  It can't just be the typical jpop where they monotonously and obnoxiously sing in unison.... Because there are tons of idol groups around the nation that do that, such as AKB48. And succeeding against AKB48 is almost an impossibility.

U.S Open Final

After a long and riveting 4 hour match, Novak Djokovic has won the U.S Open Men's Final against Rafael Nadal. This match started about the time I got out of school, and when I got home my eyes were glued to the screen. Both these guys played a tremendous game that really got the crowd going. Nadal's unforced errors may seem to be one reason that weakened his game.

It is Djokovic's first U.S Open title, and is currently undefeated against Nadal, 6-0.

JKT48: Another Sister Group Yet to be Established

Once again, I simply do not understand the mind of Akimoto Yasushi, the producer of the AKB48 world. According to Tokyohive, he is planning to introduce the first overseas sister group, JKT48, an abbreviation for Jakarta 48, by the end of the year. Yes, you heard me, Jakarta 48. Auditions will be held obviously in Indonesia.

There are two audition sessions, each that run for about a week or two. Those who pass will likely be the first generation JKT48.

But why would Akimoto create yet another sister group? There are already AKB48, NMB48, SDN48, SKE48, and that minor rival group, Nogizaka46. And he still is not finished?

If I were to argue the issue of producing too many sister groups to him, he might surely say that each sister group is different in style-- SDN48 is meant to be the more sexy version of AKB48. Or he might in fact state that he is doing this to create a powerful AKB48 nation.

But rest assured that the creation of these groups are just plain immaterial. Akimoto has become in the habit of constantly creating new groups, and if he continues to do so, he would eventually erase the significance of AKB48.

Go to Oricon right now and check out the CD sales. Although sister groups released albums too, AKB48 CD's sell more. In fact they are number one on the singles chart. And what does that mean? It means that the sister groups are... yes, you guessed it! Immaterial.

But then again, it was Akimoto who wrote the lyrics for Jero's Umiyuki, one of my favorite songs. How ironic.

9/11

It has been 10 years since the twin towers collapsed and many lives were lost. But this moment can never be forgotten. Together we pray.. And god bless the United States of America.

Bryant Park held a tribute to 9/11, placing 2753 chairs in the center of the park. This resembles the 2753 lives lost on that very day. I wrote a message to them.

teachers have homework too

You know what utterly grinds my gears? When teachers don't hand you back your completed assignments.

The papers that students hand in are for nobody else but the teachers. It is not for their parents, relatives, or friends. When writing the paper, the student would work his hardest and aim to earn a decent grade. The student would meticulously proofread his/her written work, making sure that the paper is polished. After hours of writing, the student would hand it to the teacher the next day while simultaneously being inpatient and extremely curious about the grade.

Now how would you feel if you didn't receive your paper back that you worked so hard on? Especially when that teacher is no longer teaching at your school? And you told her beforehand that she still has not given back your paper? And you sent her an email about it as well?

And what do I get? Nothing. I am a senior, and I still have not received an assignment that I have written in my junior year. And you know that colleges suggest sending in graded works. This assignment is worth sending, but what's the point if the teacher doesn't give it back?

Teachers have their own homework too: to grade the student's homework and hand it back in time!

Day 2

Finally relieved that it's the weekend, but the fact that I have cram school on weekends just ruins the moment. Cross country practice yesterday was tiring, according to most of the members. Last week there were only two members, including me. But yesterday, we've increased by ten. Probably due to the start of school. 

We did a mile run around the park, and I finished second

はぁ、学校楽しいたいへんやぁ！

心理と漫才がいちばん面白くなるかんじがする。

やっと週末だけど週末に塾があるから一日の休みがねー　(-_-)

ほんで、昨日はジョギングの練習だったで。

１２メンバーで俺２番だったぜっ！ｗ

the start of school

First day of classes was today. I don't feel like a senior yet. I feel like there's still a grade above me. All these years there was always a grade above me; I wasn't at the top of the roof. But as time flies, here I am in my last year of high school when I was just drawing and playing with blocks in middle school. Finish school strong, I say to myself.

ありえないけどもう高校３年生になりました。今日から学校始まったんですよ(._.)

宿題はまだあんまりないけどこれからほとんどいっぱいあるのが感じる。

最後の学年ですね。まぁ、がんばるしかない。