When Hippo Flies

Fall

2008-02-12T22:26:00.000-08:00

Today, I fell.

I parked off-campus, a bit far, thinking I needed some exercise. Since I try to bring lunch every day now, I had bought a lunch bag at Target, of a size that can fit a tupperware, an apple, and a water bottle. I held it with my left hand as I got off the car and started to walk. In my right hand was my cell phone. I was trying to check the voicemail. Then the tip of my new shoes, the left one, stumbled on a bump on the asphalt, and I fell.

I rolled onto the ground in slow motion, like an action hero, trying to save my head from hitting the asphalt with my right arm while keeping the cell phone firmly in my hand, and to save my lunch bag because it was minestrone and I didn't want to spill it all over.

I lay there, and looked around. Nobody seemed to have seen me trip. It's kind of nice. No embarrassment. But kind of not nice. Nobody came running to help me up. So I got up on my own. I looked at my right hand. The lower part of my palm and the back of my middle and ring fingers were scratched and bleeding. Other fingers escaped injury. I looked down. A big rip on my left knee--on the H&M jeans I'd just bought. Okay, they were on sale. They cost only $19.99. But it doesn't mean they can be ripped on the second day I wore them. And don't jeans in general have more endurance? It's not like I gave a big diving. Not only the jeans, but my skin was ripped. I could see red in the hole. Red and indigo blue of the jeans rubbed into cuticles.

I had no emergency kit, so I went back to my car, drove to somewhere closer, went to the bathroom to wash and wipe the wounds, and went to class late with the rip. At work, Kathy gave me mother-ly comfort and treatment with a big band-aide. Everybody who noticed the rip or I told the story to looked shocked and, at the same time, almost amused. "Are you okay?" they asked. I was. It hurt a little, but I could walk no problem. But I was mentally affected by the fall. Like my friends, I was shocked, and amused.

It's been more than a decade since I last fell. At least this hard. I hadn't seen what's under my skin for a long time, the redness and wetness, how dirt and fabric gets into it. I hadn't experienced the moment of losing balance and the world turning up-side-down around you before you knew what was going on but with your body already reacting somehow. It felt like a new experience. That newness was what shocked and amused me.

Grown-ups don't fall, and--have I ever thought about this?--I'm a grown-up!

Back to Blogging

2007-09-16T23:17:00.000-07:00

So I'm back to blogging. Again. That means I was gone again.

While I was gone, I went back to Japan to see my family. My mother recently had a surgery and was recovering at home, so the main purpose of the trip was to take care of her. Nice thing was that she was doing better than I'd expected and there wasn't much for me to do. So I got to hang out with friends, get drunk, eat good food, and do some shopping of Japanese clothes. Clothes and food is something I can't help spending money on whenever I go back to my country. I know people think Japan is expensive, but actually you can get better food and clothes for less. It's true.

I spent three weeks there, missed the plane on the day of my departure, went home to spend another night, and finally got back here on the next day's flight.

If you're interested in some records I kept on what I did in Japan this summer, please check out the other blog.

After I came back to the States, I read a lot. In Japanese. Because I bought some books in Japan. I read a lot about death, which has always been one of my top interests. After my mother's surgery and being in my mid-20s, the idea of death interestingly felt more familiar and realistic. But then it seems you never know what it's like until it's really there. So even though I've read and thought a lot about it, I'm not really getting any closer to it. Death, you're strange.

So that's what I did while I was gone; going back to Japan and thinking about death. I also tried to write. I'm always trying to write because I feel I'm supposed to, but it's been kind of hard since school started. I'm taking 4 Linguistics classes and they give me so much to do. I miss being an English major, reading novels as textbooks and writing stories as homework. But it's nice to be in classrooms where there are other foreign people. It seems to be even cool to be able to speak another language in Linguistics classes, and there actually are people who are learning my language or are at least interested in doing so. It's interesting after two years in the MFA program.

4th of July

2007-07-08T00:44:00.000-07:00

To celebrate the birth of America, I went to visit San Pedro.

I've been to San Pedro a few times, but this time I went to see the sites they shot the movie GHOST WORLD. It's one of my biggest favorites; it makes me laugh and depressed every time I watch it.

But it wasn't the best day to have this short trip. Stores were closed and streets were pretty empty. We didn't get to get off the car.

And yet we got to see some places that appeared in the movie. Yay.

Next time I'll walk in front of the wall and pretend I'm Thora Birch. I think. If I'm not too shy to do so.

There's always IKEA to visit on holidays with not much to do.

We then went to a used bookstore in Torrance and I got a memoir by Kyoko Mori for one dollar. I keep buying cheap used books recently in hopes of finishing them before the summer ends, which usually never happens.

For dinner we were thinking about a favorite Vietnamese restaurant, but, of course, it closed at 5pm, and we ended up getting some food from Famima! and ate it on the beach watching fireworks. It was pretty though it ended too soon.

I always wonder why it's illegal to do fireworks in most cities here. I used to do it all the time in Japan. With friends, sometimes without parents. I feel like such a criminal for having done that.

And there was one thing I noticed about American people on this day; wherever is green is a place to sit and relax for them. Anywhere there's grass, in the park, by the beach, on the sidewalk, in the small grassy areas around parking lots, there were people on chairs they'd brought out, with their drink, food, or/and dogs. How can they relax on the grass around parking lots? But then, why not, because there's grass. That's all that matters.

Thus went my Fourth of July with a new piece of knowledge I gained about American culture.

Umeboshi

2007-06-28T18:33:00.000-07:00

Umeboshi is a pickled plum. It's sour and salty at the same time, and really good with white rice. Just looking at this picture makes me drool, because I've been eating it for my whole life and my brain remembers its taste.

Thursday, I brought one for lunch with my rice balls.

"What's that?" Karen asked.
"A pickled plum."
"What? Are you lying to me?"
"No! Not this time. It's a pickled plum."
"It's fruit, right?"
"Plum? I don't know. I guess. Maybe."
"It doesn't look like fruit."
"Well, because it's pickled."
"But it looks like rice in seaweed."
"What? Oh. Yes, I'm eating rice in seaweed."
"What, you said it was a plum!"
"Oh. No, you're talking about my rice ball! That's the rice in seaweed! The plum is this one, on the side!"
"Oh!"

So she was looking at the rice ball I was eating while I was talking about umeboshi on the side. I found it amusing; what I thought was so obvious wasn't obvious at all for someone else. Because we are from different cultures. I was too familiar with rice balls and pickled plums and differences between them and, so naturally, Karen wasn't at all.

It was like what happened when I first visited America (it's almost ten years ago!). When my hostfather's brother asked me, "Do you want a Lifesaver?", all I thought of was those swimmers who are stationed on the beach or by the pool to save people who are drowning, not the tiny colorful candy rings on his palm.

I cherish those confusions and puzzlements because once you know, you cannot wonder how a plum could look like rice in seaweed, why someone is asking you if you want a swimmer that saves people's lives.

Inspiration

2007-06-24T19:08:00.000-07:00

I just finished Memories of My Melancholy Whores by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and didn't like it very much. It was my very first Marquez experience, and since I heard this book wasn't the best of him, I'll probably try something else, maybe One Hundred Years of Solitude.

What this book did was make me wonder about the meaning of the word "inspiration."

In the winter when I went back to Japan and was looking for some good Japanese books to read, I remembered a friend of mine talking about Yasunari Kawabata's short story, House of the Sleeping Beauties. The way she talked about it, it seemed like really a sensual, good story, so I bought the paperback, read it and loved it. I read it slowly, indulging in such powerful and beautiful sensuality of Kawabata's writing--yup, it was all about indulgence.

So I was very thrilled when, after finishing the story, I learned Marquez wrote a novella "inspired by House of the Sleeping Beauties" and it just came out. I'd always been told Marquez was a wonderful writer--and I do think he is--so the fact one wonderful writer wrote something inspired by a story I really loved was very exciting.

But, as I said, I didn't like the book as much as I did the story by Kawabata. I could see some of the things Marquez must've gotten from Kawabata; the main idea of an old guy spending nights with a sleeping beautiful girl; the description of the sleeing girls, the sourness of her breath; sexuality and the approach of death at the old age. I was disappointed, though, because while it felt "similar," what was in the center felt so different. It didn't have much of what I really liked about Kawabata's story. It felt more sentimental and beautifying love too much.

Of course, it should be different. It's by a different author, and after all if it weren't different it'd be pretty problematic. But when you say you were "inspired," I would imagine you have been inspired by something to the core of the work, which seemed lacking in Melancholy Whores--then again the core of the work could be different for different people?

I Don't Know Why I Wrote This But I Didn't Bleed While I Did

2007-06-22T16:29:00.000-07:00

Wednesday I had the worst headache in the morning and couldn't get out of the bed. I missed work and slept for a few more hours, and when I woke up blood was dripping out of my left nostril. It was kind of scary and I had to google "headache" and "noseblood" after I called in work to apologize for my absence without notice. I got webpages that described brain problems and high blood pressure, which also scared me, but because after all I knew my nose bled often and the headache was getting better, I decided not to worry about it.

My nose bleeds, especially the left nostril. I've had it bleed in workshop a few times, and it was pretty embarrassing when it happened. Especially in the first time it did I didn't have cleenex and had to run to the bathroom while one of my workshop-mates was reading his work. When I came back, panting, Ray asked me what was wrong. I whispered my nose was bleeding so that nobody but him would hear me and he replied, in a booming voice, "YOUR NOSE BLEEDING?"

I learned to carry cleenex everywhere I went and to sense the liquidity in my nose that wasn't stoppable by sniffing. And as my nose bled more and more, I realized how it was related to what I was doing at that time. It happened when I was reading something, or listening to lectures, anytime when I was very much in concentration, or when I was emotionally moved; in other words when my brain was working very hard, trying to fully function. It probably brought blood up into my head and it would flood out from, somehow, my left nostril.

So it's very simple; when my mind is pressurred for some reason, that comes out as blood from my nose. I liked to feel the connection between body and mind and decided to take my nosebleeding as a message from my body. And to think about I've been under some stress recently the headache and the bleeding is pretty reasonable.

Thus, everything makes sense and I like that it does.

How to Spell My Name

2007-06-05T18:34:00.000-07:00

It was a surprise when I went to Starbucks in the US for the first time and was asked my name. We don't put names on cups at Japanese Starbucks. We just call out the name of the drink you got; "Tall caramel frappuccino!" But then what if four people got tall caramel frappuccinos at once? Writing names on cups makes sense to avoid confusion.

I imagine, though, it must be hard for the people who work at cafes to get the customers' names right. There are all kinds of names and spellings in the US. I know some people with non-English or uncommon names who say they just spell out their names or give fake English names. I've always been attracted to the idea of making up my own English name, but since I haven't done so yet, I usually just give my name as it is, "Kana." Some, not many, get it right, and others don't. It's my secret pleasure to look at the name on the receipt or the cup to see how my name was spelt--HANNA, HANA, CONNA, CONA, KANNA, KARA, KALA.

There's a girl working at The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on campus, where I almost always went to get a small iced coffee after lunch on Monday and Wednesday in the spring. She never got my name right; she always put KARA or CARA. Toward the end of the semester, she seemed to start recognizing me. She would smile and nod a little when she saw me.

Yesterday was my first day at work for the summer. I went back to the Coffee Bean to get a small iced coffee and it was her who helped me. She typed something on the register without even asking me. She asked me if I wanted my receipt and I said yes. She tore it off and gave me with a smile. I looked at it. It said CARLA.

Maybe this can be my English name. As I said, I've always been interested in having one!

Shocking Fact

2007-06-03T18:07:00.000-07:00

So I was writing in this blog until August last year and stopped writing because 1) I got busy and 2) it'd been a while since I'd stopped getting comments from people. I was sad people stopped paying attention to me--no, it's not entirely true, but I thought nobody was really reading this blog anymore. That was why I stopped.

And now I came back, thinking about writing something since the MFA program is over for me and I don't have to write anymore stories (I know I do but not for classses!); and I found out I had to publish the comments people left, or they wouldn't show. I also found a bunch of nice comments my friends left on my posts and felt so bad I didn't even read them until now.

I'm sorry!

But it was kind of nice, like receiving postcards that have been lost for a long time.

So I think I'm starting to write in here again, to keep myself writing. After finishing the first draft of my novella, two short stories, a nonfiction piece, and rewriting a short story for the end of the semester, I feel there's no story stored in me right now. It'll probably be a good way to start again.

By the way I also found out I used to call Jonathan as "Jon." Because it was easier to pronounce. It sounds strange now, though!

Movies, movies, movies

2006-08-07T05:03:00.000-07:00

We had a workshop at my place Saturday and finally all the second years got together. It was quite fun, and after workshopping all the works we kind of lingered and talked. We had some discussion on movies, and many titles came up that I hadn't seen or even heard of. I felt like I was missing so much that I had to take notes on which movies to see.

I'm always amazed by how popular movie is in America. Not that it's not in Japan, but Americans produce (if not always create) way more movies and it seems as if people are always catching up with them. It's also a surprise to me that everyone seems to have their "childhood favorite movie," for it means they have been watching movies since they were kids. When I was a kid, I didn't really watch movies, except cartoons. My main entertainments were TV, books, and comics.

I started really watching movies when I was in junior-high. One of my best friends, a huge movie fan (and Leonard Dicaprio fan), introduced me to the pleasure of watching movies. We went to see Titanic together, and I dozed off a little while she cried next to me. She was also into English and American culture, and told me watching American movies was a good way to learn English, the idea that still haunts me so I still tend to choose movies in which they speak in English over other languages for my linguistic practice's sake even though I have some European or Asian movies on my movies-to-see list.

I don't know if watching movies in English has really helped me improve my English ability, but it certainly has been a good barometer. The first time I came to the US, I saw Armageddon with my host sisters. And I has absolutely no idea what was going on. I understood Liv Tyler was with Ben Affleck, but then later Bruce Willis said something about his promise (that much I caught) to Liv Tyler and I wondered if she was actually in love with Bruce Willis. It wasn't until I saw it again, dubbed in Japanese, on the plane back to Japan I knew what actually happened in the movie. It has been about eight years and now I can understand most movies in English without subtitles or dubbing Japanese voices. It's a good thing because if not I wouldn't be able to enjoy any movie life while I'm in the US (well I could use English subtitles, but I usually don't like reading them in English, it tires my eyes).

After everyone left my house Saturday, I was thinking about the movie discussion and how they all seemed to have their own recommended movie lists. So I thought of my own, and here are ten movies that will definitely be in my DVD collection if not already (in no particular order);

-Fried Green Tomatoes
-Ghost World
-Spirited Away
-Welcome Back, Mr. McDonald
-Hedwig and the Angry Inch
-Cabaret
-Mulholland Drive
-Cinema Paradiso
-Farewell My Concubine
-Girl, Interrupted

Not all of them helped me with my English practice, yet I loved them all.

Between Two Languages

2006-07-03T15:20:00.000-07:00

I have stayed home or spent time with Pecha for most of the summer so far, which means I have been speaking much much more Japanese than English. It has clearly damaged my English ability. Now there are more "Excuse me?" "What did you say?" "Huh?" in my conversation in English. It takes more energy and time for me to start writing my story because I need to switch from Japanese to English. I am seriously worried.

Not only that, my Japanese ability is also declining. Because most people I speak Japanese here understand English I started to mix English words or direct-translation of English words in Japanese. Once I was speaking to my mom on the phone and kept saying "airport...airport..." because I couldn't come up with the Japanese word right away. She repeated "What?"

It's not a good thing because it means I don't fully respect either of the two languages. When I speak Japanese I should really speak Japanese, and English, English.

I'm trying to do both E/J and J/E translation too, and it adds to the confusion. When I translate English into Japanese, I have to be really good at outputting in Japanese while fully understanding English, but then since I've been getting myself used to understand English as English, it becomes a tough task. Then when I finally feel comfortable with it, I switch to Japanese/English translation and there's a whole different problem lying in front of me; understanding Japanese and expressing it precisely in English. The "precisely" part is really hard for I'm used to speaking and writing in my own English, which is largely influenced by Japanese. To be a translator, I need to silence my English voice, pretty much.

So, yeah. I feel lost. I don't know which language I should focus on. I really want to be naturally fluent in English but I don't want to lose my Japanese. But if I try to keep my Japanese it'll be very easy to forget English since it's my second language (and there's a huge gap between my first and second languages). Do I feel this way because I started learning English pretty late? Is my brain just too rigid to switch back and forth between two languages? Or is this not uncommon among bilingual people?

Now I feel like starting some research on bilingualism, but I'm not sure in which language. Seriously.

Everything You Need to Know When You Go Eat Sushi

2006-06-23T20:29:00.000-07:00

Wow now I know how to post a video on my blog.

What I Did On One Day Trip to Riverside

2006-06-12T23:34:00.000-07:00

Saw a funny truck on the way.

Ate good Mexican in downtown Riverside.

Took a photo of FedEx trucks on campus of UCR.

I imagined what it would have been if I had been accepted to the school. I walked around the campus, which was huge and diverse. It would have been nice to live there. I would have probably liked it. But looking at the brown mountains that surrounded the area, I kind of felt glad they had dumped me. I would definitely prefer the beach to the desertish mountains. And I realized how hot it was there. I first thought it was the day, but probably it was the area. It gets way too hot in Riverside. I'm very glad I didn't go there.

Yeah, the grapes were sour. Really.

What Good Would Writing Do?

2006-05-26T14:08:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine is planning to go to a grad school in the UK. I'm hoping he would come to the US, to California, but it's not the point of this entry. He aims to major in International Development, Conflict Resolution, or something similar because he's been interested in removing the inequality in the world.

We are never equal, he says. Because we cannot chose where to be born. We were born in a developed country just by chance. We need to remove the inequality to make a better world. That's our mission.

I was impressed. It made me wonder about what I'm doing. I write, because I was born in a country where I could learn how to read and write. There were books in my life even before I learned how to read. I could enjoy different kinds of art. I could go to university and study English so that I could write in it. I write in English now because I was born and raised in this environment.

But what good would literature do if you don't read? If you never have an opportunity to learn how to read? If you don't have time to care about art or books or anything other than surviving? Would you read when you are starving? Would you read when your baby is dying?

Some writers say they don't like to be political. I don't like to be political in my stories either, but I am political, meaning I care about the society, the world, the situations people are in. I believe in changing the world for better. I like to think I can contribute to changing the world by writing. I like to think creativity and imagination can make a better world.

But what good would writing do to people who are forced to survive through life?

I want to be hopeful, but sometimes I feel helpless because I can't find the answer. I don't want to believe writing is a mere self-satisfying masturbation after all---but is it?

Non-native speakers

2006-05-17T03:13:00.000-07:00

Do not necessarily want to sound like "Apple Pie Americans." So Carmen Faymonville says. I kinda wish I could sound that way. But maybe not. That would be too American. I want to keep some of my accent. I want to be an "Apple Pie Japanese."

Slipping Tongue

2006-05-13T14:16:00.000-07:00

I haven't slept much recently. I usually go to bed at around 5am and wake up in the morning next day. It's all my fault. I have been too lazy now I'm paying for it.

When I don't have much sleep and I feel tired, I start having a problem with communication. My mouth stops working properly. I start not being able to pronounce words in the right way in English or Japanese.

Yesterday I was at a property management office for apartment-hunting. I wanted to ask "Do you have two bedrooms?" But what slipped out of my mouth was,

"Do you have poo?"

I really don't understand why I pronounced "t" as "p" and why I stopped there. If I had said "Do you have poo bedrooms?" The front clerk would have known what I meant. Instead I just asked her if she had poo and closed my mouth with a sober face. I hope she didn't hear me, for she didn't change her expression at all.

Then Pecha, who stood next to me, began laughing and I couldn't hold myself either. Seeing us both burst into laughing the front clerk smiled a little, too, but I still hope she didn't hear. She probably smiled to be polite because we were both laughing. I'm sure she didn't hear me.

I'm embarrassed.

I was enthralled

2006-05-04T18:11:00.000-07:00

By the MFA second years at the reading Tuesday, and by how cute Ray Zepeda was in his youth (and in fact I think he's still hot, with a kind of John-Irvingish wild look.)

Seriously, it was great. I loved to indulge myself in the all-so-different-but-so-imaginative worlds by the fictionites and enjoyed different aspects of poetry performing. Jeremy's kung fu performance was so impressive and Eitan's performance cracked me up even though I didn't know the meaning of the word, "Wakko" (I don't even know if I'm spelling it right).

The gathering we had after the reading was a lot of fun, too. I hadn't drunk much lately, so only two glasses of beer hit me good. I get huggy when I'm drunk, and I certainly did this time, too, demanding a hug (or more) from everyone. I felt so affectionate. And it's great that I always become a happy drunk whenever I drink here; it wasn't like that when I was in Japan. I sometimes became a grumpy drunk or sad drunk. Or I didn't really get drunk at all. Maybe because of the fact I usually had to expect a long train ride back home from Tokyo. Or maybe I'm more off-guard here. I feel more vulnerable because of the lack of my language skill. Language protects you, really, if you know how to handle it skillfully. If you don't have the skill but want to communicate, you have to open up more than you might usually do. So yeah I'm more open here and the openess means less suppression and less suppression means a happy drunk. Though I don't know any more if I'm making sense. Am I?

The point is...yes, the point is, I had a wonderful time Tuesday night.

And that I'll miss all the second years. Yeah. I think that was the point.

Inspired

2006-04-26T22:03:00.000-07:00

Today, I felt inspired on the way home. I don't know why. Because of the conversation I had with Jon and Ayn or what we discussed in class or something. I felt inspired and wanted to write both my story and my paper. I really wanted to write. I felt I had great ideas. I couldn't wait to type them out. And when I got home, I cleaned the bathroom.

I cleaned the bathroom because I am moving out in a month and we have to start showing the place soon to find someone to take over my room. I cleaned the bathroom because I haven't done so for the past two months and it's been in a desperate need of cleaning. I did such an elaborate cleaning, wetting my t-shirt and pants, hurting my eyes from chlorine, that the bathroom now looks so clean, shiny, and white. I am satisfied with my job, but sure enough, my inspiration is gone.

It is sad how you have to clean the bathroom when you feel you are inspired. Or maybe you feel inspired because you have to clean the bathroom. Either way, it's kind of sad, things don't always work out as you want them to. But at least I have a clean bathroom (and no writing done) now.

Fante Might've Visited Gaytonia

2006-04-23T02:46:00.000-07:00

Reading Full of Life, the biography of John Fante, I underlined some mentions of the addresses where Fante himself or people who were related to Fante lived so that I could visit those places sometime, maybe over the summer. Among them was this place on Quincy street in Long Beach, where Helen, the older woman Fante dated, the model of the woman, Vera, in Ask the Dust, lived.

A while ago, I decided to pay a visit to this place, for it's not very far from where I live, and found out it was a huge castle-looking building called Gaytonia. I was very intrigued. I wondered what kind of place it was. Is this like a gay-utopia? Do only gay people live here? Did Helen really live here? The questions remained unanswered until today, when I got to talk to a woman.

When Pecha and I drove by, the door of the place was open; so we stopped, thinking of exploring the inside. As we got off the car, the woman came out from the door and said hi to us.
"Hi, do you live here?" I asked.
"No, but my friend lives here," She said and told us it was a pretty luxury apartment.

"You know, the person who built this place was named Gayton. That's why it's called Gaytonia, and at that time, the word didn't mean what it does now..." She explained and said something about it appearing in a gay film.

So it was just a really nice apartment. Not a castle of gay people. I was glad to know the truth, but it was a bit disappointing. It would've been cool if Fante had come visit his girlfriend who lived in a gay-utopia, especially after how Dr. Cooper told us about Fante's extremely heterocentric perspective. But then, if it had been the case, Dr. Cooper wouldn't have missed it in the biography. Shoot.

The woman said we could just go in and look around if we liked, so we did.

The inside was gorgeous.

Who knows, Fante might've opened this door.

The place was built in the late 20s to the early 30s, I later knew from some internet research. If Helen really lived here, she might have been one of the first tenants Mr. Gayton had at the castle. She must've been pretty rich, and Fante must've enjoyed being able to stay at this luxury place.

It was exciting to imagine my now-favorite author might have really been there. It reminded me of the sensation I felt when I realized that I was on the train line which my favorite writer wrote she used to go to high school and that she must've seen the same view from the train window I saw at the moment.

My next goal, as long as Fante concerned, is to visit Bunker Hill.

Sorry Mr.Carpenter

2006-04-19T20:46:00.000-07:00

The story I'm writing now is about a woman who lost her husband. He was a carpenter and died in an accident at his work (meaning, falling off the scaffold).

To confess, I hardly knew anything about what it is like to be a carpenter, or to have a husband who is a carpenter. I did some research, but as I wrote there were more things I needed to learn to write about. I had some of such questions the other night and wandering on the internet to find answers. The internet is the only place I can get resources on Japan, in Japanese (They hardly have any Japanese book at our university library--not even Murakami in Japanese!).

Finally I found a good website run by a man who says he's been a carpenter for more than twenty years. I got most of the information I needed there, but I needed a few more questions answered, small things like what they wear, what they bring to work and such. The webpage owner seemed to be a nice man, so I thought I would ask him if he could give me answers to my questions.

I was very happy, because he e-mailed me back quickly with more information than I expected. But he said in his message, "What kind of a character would he be? A drunk guy or something? I can't really imagine any good image of a carpenter in stories..."

I wanted to tell him it was not the case. I wasn't going to make the carpenter a drunk or anything negative. I wrote back telling him so and with a short synopsis of my story.

He wrote back to me and said,

"Oh. He dies..."

Well. Yes, he does.

I replied to him, "Yes, I'm sorry..."

I felt bad. But I promise you, Mr.Carpenter, that I won't make my character a drunk; and next time I have a character who's a carpenter, I promise I'll let him/her live long.

Serial NO. 3817131

2006-04-11T23:40:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine told me about Rachel Papo's photo project called Serial NO. 3817131. I loved them even by looking on the web, and knowing it's now shown at Paul Kopeikin Gallery , I decided I would have to go. So I went, and really enjoyed it even though they didn't display some of my favorites on large print.

Papo photographed young Israeli female soldiers, one of whom she used to be when she was eighteen. It was impressive to see those girls in military uniforms, with huge rifles. I wondered how heavy a rifle is, especially because I've never held even a gun. And I loved how moments in their "ordinary lives" were cut out on the photos.

The exhibition is on till April 15th at the gallery. Worth going!

Loving My New Camera

2006-03-24T18:40:00.000-08:00

I received my new digital camera on Wednesday, and have been playing with it since then. I'm very excited. I even brought it to Beverly Hills last night, where Carmen, Shanna and I went to hear Dr. Cooper talk about the Fante biography, though I didn't take any picture of him. We sat in the very front row, so appealing our presence to Dr. Cooper. I loved to hear him talk about the book, and it was great to get a personalized signature on my book. Fun night.

Anyway. I got off track. About the camera. Yes I brought it and Carmen and Shanna let me take pictures of them, knowing how eager I was to use it. I could have even made a book of their photographs if they allowed me to though I decided to be reasonable and just took a couple of photos. I might even try to bring it to school, but, as small as it is, it'd still be a little conspicuous to sneak shots in class.

Ah. I'm like a little kid with her new toy.
Tired of taking pics of myself from the same angle, I decided to pick a better subject, but there isn't much in my room that would look good in pics (including myself).

　

So here's what I found. The fox from "The Little Prince" by Saint-Exupery. He is my favorite character, along with the elephant-swallowing boa. I got him at the Little Prince Museum when I took a one-day trip to Hakone with my mother before I came to the US. A pretty museum in a beautiful place. And good hot-springs, too. Anyhow, these are the two best shots of him I've got so far on my messy desk.

Well. Time to go back to the papers.
But maybe tomorrow, I'll go out and take more pics.

I've Got Some Free Time (But Not Really)

2006-03-21T20:34:00.000-08:00

Workshop is cancelled today.
Tomorrow's class is cancelled, too.
And today Dr. May told us his class is cancelled Thursday.

What's going on this week? Where are the professors going?

Though it's great to have more time to catch up with reading and writing I'm so behind with right now, I kind of miss my classes. Especially workshop. Even though I never speak in it (and I'm trying and I'm going to, really, so when I do please don't laugh), I always look forward to it. And when I have more time I waste it on surfing the internet, writing blogs, looking at people's myspaces and loving Shanna's kiddie pic...

I love to see how people looked like as kids. We should have a kiddie pic day and bring in photos of ourselves as kids. As for me I used to be cute up to four years old, after that I was mostly a fat, silly kid who rolled to everywhere.

On Rides

2006-03-20T23:31:00.000-08:00

Chad gave me a ride home tonight. He has done that so many times. Not only Chad. I realized just more than half of the people from our workshop have given me at least one ride on the way home. And some more from other classes. Such nice people! Really. I so appreciate them. I even feel bad sometimes.

I often get frustrated with my own immobility. It's so true you can't live in Los Angelse without a car. Where are those good old trains I used to commute on in Japan? No, the city is too big for them. One of my New Year's resolustions was to finally get a driver's license and be able to offer rides to people. I know I couldn't do that without a car, but I will think about it after the license.

Even though I feel bad sometimes, and feel like I'm so useless without a car, I kind of like getting rides from people. Not because it saves me walking from the bus stop to my place late at night, though it's certainly something I really appreciate, but because I get to talk with them. People I've met here, they all are cool people with interesting stories and I always want to listen and talk and get to know them better but the thing is there hardly is time between tons of things to get done. I can't believe how I used to plan something fun for almost every weekend when I was in Santa Cruz as an undergrad exchange student. Well I even went out drinking on weekdays in Japan. Now with so much to do even on weekends I hardly have time to be social.

So those little times I can spend in the passenger's seat of my friends' cars are precious to me. And I love to see how different people's driving styles are. I think your driving reflects your personality. Really. Mine will be slow and distracted.

I thank all the people who've given me rides and who are willing to give me one. There are things I will certainly miss once I get my own license, and car.

Maybe I shouldn't get a license after all. Or maybe I should, but not buy a car.

New Digital Camera

2006-03-17T14:54:00.000-08:00

I bought a new digital camera. It's supposed to be a gift from my family for my birthday even though it's still a month away. I wanted to have it earlier so that I could take more good pictures of my precious days here. I bought it, but haven't held it yet, for I bought it online. I know it's not the safest way to shop, but I don't have a car to drive me to Fry's; besides, it's cheaper.

So I spent quite a lot of time doing intensive research on which camera I wanted and which store sold it for the cheapest price, when I should have been reading or writing, and finally decided on one camera and one store. It's a small, Canon camera, a much better one than the one I've got now. I was happy, too happy to read the reviews on the online store closely enough.

It was only after I pressed the submit button for my order that I noticed the store required me to call them to verify my order. Well, it might be good, I mean, it's always nice to make sure, I thought. But then I found other people's reviews saying that they would try to sell you more stuffs when you called. Hmm, I might not like that.

But I called anyway. And an answering machine said they were closed. I checked the store hour in the confirmation e-mail from them and called again the next day. They were closed.

Ah, what was going on?

I called again the next day and they were closed again. It made me angry. I was even PMSing. I sent them e-mails to cancel the order. Yes, e-mails. I sent my requet for cancellation to two different addresses they provided.

I waited for a day, but didn't hear back from them. I was quite furious already. I was even PMSing. I called them again, then, finally, someone actually answered the phone. He asked my order number and I told him. He confirmed my address and said the camera would be shipped in a day or two. I was going to cancel the order, but now that I seemed to be able to get it I thought, well, I could take it. I didn't want to go through the research again, and after all they offered the best price. So I told him to go ahead and process the order. He said okay, happily. I was so ready to hang up when he continued, "By the way..."

Instantly I knew what was coming, and it annoyed me again. When he began talking about how much I would need another battery, I thought I missed something, I couldn't catch his English, because he said the battery that came with the camera would last only for twenty minutes.

"Excuse me," I asked, "How long, did you say?"
"Twenty minutes!" He confirmed.
"Twenty?"
"Yes, TWENTY!" He was thoughtful enough to pronounce it very slowly and clearly so that I could understand. "That's why you need another battery! If you buy it from us, it's only ***(I forgot) dollers, 50% off!"
"But..." Twenty minutes. That probably means the camera is broken.
"50%. Fifty. Five, zero."
He was obviously trained to be nice to customers who didn't understand English well, but unfortunately fifty means five and zero together wasn't what I wanted to know.
"But the battery that comes with the camera is the standard one, right?" I asked.
"Well, yeah, but many people complain about it. That's why they recommend you get another one. And the SD card is also very small..."

It was enough. I had been already mad when I called, but now I was even madder. I interrupted him, "You know, I am BROKE! I can't buy anything else!"

It made the guy unhappy. He mumbled okay and said he would process the order, and I said please. And we hung up the phone.
He might have wanted to ask why I was buying the camera if I was so broke but he didn't. And the point was that I didn't need anything he was trying to sell me, which I guess I made pretty clear.

The thing is, do not try to push to sell things too much to a woman who's PMSing. Had he been in front of me, I might've bitten. But I usually try to be polite to people. Really.

Now I'm waiting for the Canon camera to arrive. Hopefully the battery will last for more than twenty minutes.

White Day

2006-03-15T19:20:00.000-08:00

It's already over, but yesterday, March 14th, was the White Day, and as part of the White Day culture, I feel obliged to introduce the day to the world.
So, what is the White Day?

It's the day boys return gifts to the girls who gave them gifts on the Valentine's Day.
In Japan (and in Korea, Taiwan and some other Asian countries if I'm not mistaken), the Valentine's Day is the day for girls to give gifts and/or chocolates to boys they like/love. Yes, only from girls to boys.

So girls give boys chocolate.
The boys return the favor to the girls a month later.
Or they don't.
My understanding is that if he doesn't like the girl, he doesn't have to give her anything on the White Day. But maybe I'm wrong. He might have to give something, like marshmallows or candies.
If he likes her, that's great. Or if he's already with her. Then the girl would get something nicer, a necklace, a ring, wine and dinner, or something like that.

It's a cute day.
But it can be called as another commercialism.
And...it's always only girls who have to make the first move.
Girls have to spend money first.
Boys wait.
Then girls might not get anything back from them.
It's only from girls to boys. And from boys to girls.
If you are gay, you have to creat your own rules.
How partiarchal! How heterocentric!

Now I started hating the White Day.
Why don't we just celebrate love on the Valentine's Day like in America?

OMG, I've Never Thought About That

2006-03-08T21:07:00.000-08:00

That's how I always feel in our fiction workshop. It's really amazing, how people read and point out what's there. I get especially amazed whenever we read my own story, because, they always notice something I've never even known I wrote but to think about it I seem to have. It's great. And spooky. How do you know about me better than I do?

I guess it's one of the funny things about writing. When you write, there'll be someone who's conscious of your unconscious.

But then, maybe it's just me being too unconscious of what I'm doing. Maybe I should pay more attention. Or maybe people in the workshop are specially sensitive and careful. I don't know. I just know I'm so glad to be in this workshop. Amazing.

The Oscar Goes to...

2006-03-06T01:22:00.000-08:00

Today I spent four hours watching the Academy Awards so now I have to stay up till four in the morning to get the reading done. But it's something you need to do when you live in America. In Japan you can't watch it real-time unless you have cable and I didn't.

I was pretty disappointed that Brokeback Mountain didn't win the Oscar. I thought it was a good film, though, of course, I cannot compare since I haven't seen any of the other nominated films. Besides, it is based on a short story. I would have liked to think that the best picture had been first written as a story by a writer. It was another disappointment to me that they never showed Annie Proulx on screen. I always want to see the writer's face when I like his/her story.

Also, I thought Reese Witherspoon talked way too much, and too boring. If I'd ever win the Oscar, I would never give a long speech, never ever try to thank everybody I know. Here's what I would say if I won the Oscar...

Well, I'll think about it when I am more certain about my winning the Oscar, I guess.

Hina Matsuri

2006-03-03T21:52:00.000-08:00

March 3rd is the Girls' Day in Japan. Parents buy hina dolls for their girl(s) and put them (dolls not girls) out of the closet every year for hina matsuri (hina festival)...I guess to wish their girls' happiness. It is also said that if you don't put them back in the closet at once when the day is over, the girl might never be able to get married. I don't know why. But it kind of sounds like a curse rather than blessing.

These are my dolls, which I have had since when I don't even remember. I think my grandma bought them for me, and she still keeps them at her house. My grandma's house is like a big closet itself, everything that cannot fit into anywhere in my parents' apartment is stored there. She put them (dolls not the things that cannot fit in my parents' apartment) out in the living room every year, and I would try to come see them before the third of March. I often didn't get to, and the dolls often remained there for a while even after the day was over. The curse is probably upon me already so I better give up the hope of getting married.

And yet, it's pretty nice to just own the dolls. They are beautiful, so elaborately made, and every time I look at them closely I'm amazed by the details.

Happy Hina Matsuri!

What Makes Me High

2006-03-01T22:42:00.000-08:00

A cup of coffee.

There are two kinds of drinks I never really liked in Japan but started to drink since I came to the US; beer and coffee. I never ordered either in Japan. But it seems to me that America is a country of beer, coffee, and movie (and bacon and freedom, I guess), so I decided to try those drinks. Beer is almost my favorite drink now, though depending on which kind.

But, coffee. I'm still not sure about this one, although I do enjoy ones with lots of milk and suger and sometimes whipped cream. Frappuccino has been always my favorite, and I often have cafe latte these days. I even started to talk about which cafe has good coffee. But not without milk and suger. What happens if I drink a cup of coffee without anything---I get high. I get excited and restless, my heart starts pounding, and I feel like I wanna talk to someone, anyone. It's a bit like when I get drunk. Or when I smoke weed, except I never have.

That's what happened to me today, before my afternoon class. I had a cup of French Vanilla, today's flavored coffee, at the Coffee Bean and it hit me. I was reading while I drank the coffee but then I noticed my heart beating faster than usual and I began feeling not at all like reading about rhetoric and composition so I talked on the phone and walked around on campus for a while till I decided to sit down and read again. Even then I felt a bit weird and it didn't stop in class either. Had I gone to class drunk, I might have felt more calm.

Never underestimate coffee. The drink has such a power.

Finding the voice

2006-02-26T05:56:00.000-08:00

It's six o'clock in Sunday morning. The reason I stayed up so late (or early) is, yes, for sure, I was writing. I thought I found the voice of my main character in my head and couldn't stop once I started writing in her voice. Not because I was so involved but because I didn't want to lose her voice again. It's always hard to find the right voice in my head, for there are so many others I got from reading too many stories that I have to read for classes. They are strong voices and strong stories. The small voice of my own characters can easily be lost among them. It's funny, once I find the character, I feel like she's always in myself, doing something, living her life, but when I try to hear her voice, what she has to say and how, it's kinda hard. I need not only to listen but also to coax her into talking. Maybe I should wait till she starts to speak, but when you are in a writing program, you don't really have time to wait!

First Entry

2006-02-22T20:56:00.000-08:00

I decided to write a blog in English, hoping it'll help me improve my English writing skill.

I announce: I'm not going to try to write anything funny or witty.
If I tried, I would just spend time in front of my computer screen, thinking and thinking till I get too tired to write anything.

This is my practice space for thinking in English, switching between Japanese and English. P-R-A-C-T-I-C-E. I'm telling myself, otherwise I will try to be funny or witty, wanting to sound smart. No, I will not sound smart. I will sound dumb...well, I hope not, but I will certainly not try to sound smart.

That's my goal in writing this blog.