I have fallen head-over-heels in love with a little Japanese woman. She smells like Asahi beer and stale cigarettes.
Her name is hard to pronounce so everyone at work calls her "Mama." Her jeans have rhinestones on them and her t-shirts are always black or white, sometimes her nails have glitter on the tips. My first week in Japan I was sick and Mama came knocking at my door.
'Here, this for you!' She handed me a carton of orange juice, a red apple with the skin carefully peeled and cut into tiny slices, and a little packet of white powder that looked suspect.
'What's this stuff?' I asked shaking the powder around. 'You mix in warm water with hot tea drink get rid of sickness! Now back to bed!'
I felt like shit but I obediently mixed the powder into the bottom of a tea cup and poured hot water. It tasted awful but I chased it down with orange juice, ate the apples and went back to bed. The next morning I woke up feeling great. My headache was gone and my nose wasn't running anymore. I showed up for work that day and Mama seemed pleased.
'Here this for you!' she handed me a baggie full of green pills. 'What are these?' I asked shaking the green pills around 'Full of protein and seaweed protein pills for you good you need to eat more!' So I started to take the protein and seaweed pills and by the next week my skin was glowing.
The next week Mama handed me a bagel and a plant. 'Bagel you eat, plant for room!'
The week after that she gave me beautiful blue and white lace curtains. Mama has been so sweet and warm since I got here. Not only as a boss but as a neighbor/ friend of my father's and just an all around sweetheart.
When I grow up I want to be just like her, and that is why I'm in love with her.
Starting to feel nauseous whenever I think of you. There are so many things about your skin I thought were good, but now when I think of your teeth my shoulders just feel heavy and I’m always tired.
Like the time you told me you wish my collarbone stuck out more. Or when you'd tell me you didn't like the freckle above my top lip.
During this particular time we were sleeping together, when we were "in love" I was absolutely adherent to the idea of you always being my best friend. People would say "maybe you just need time apart" but it's been a dozen months a handful of weeks and last night, after a hot bath where I shaved my legs, I came to the conclusion that you were never anything special. You just got there first, And that you were never special, you were just always right. And there isn't anything fucking special about always being right.
I never asked you to coddle me when I was having a bad day. I never begged on my knees when you told me I wasn’t good enough. When I whispered in your ear “Am I the one, do you think I could make you happy forever?” And when you said “I don’t know.” I knew it was over. I could feel it on the walk home.
I was close-hauled on my way to Japan. When the plane took off my heart lept into my throat and I thought “If I die right now the coroner will see my stretch marks.”
I left the last picture you sent me tapped to my bedroom wall. Four walls all painted that ugly pepto pink with the frameless bed and the dirty rug. I left all your songs, all the records, the books the clothes, threw away all the underwear you bought me and set a match to the coalescent idea of “you and I.” The memory box of you and I is more like a tomb that sits on the top shelf in a room I plan on never seeing again.
I made up my mind that from that day forward I would never stop loving you, but that I didn’t like you anymore.
I’ve found the difference in the way you tried to write me emails, detailed and speaking so highly of yourself. Awesome, you’ve finally made it.!
I made up my mind that I would never denounce your last name or pick apart your smile. You were at one point the very first thing that popped into my mind when I woke up. Your hands got me through an entire year of feeling like I wanted to die. The mornings you’d get up before the sun was out, you’d kiss my forehead goodbye and I’d lay in your bed for hours just smelling your comforter because every last bit of you made me feel so warm. I would wash you away from my skin and feel so sad. I wanted to keep every part of you deep into my pores.
I spent the summer sweating you out of my system. I made mistakes and whenever I felt like I missed you I reminded myself that shit changes and learning to love yourself is hard, and thinking you could love anybody else before you reach that point is impossible.
Off and on is what we want, what we want is off and on.
I keep trying to think why we react the way we do. What puts us in these sour moods where we're unable to climb out, get over it and just walk into a door that is bright without moth eaten curtains and something sticky on the floor. I think for me it's too soon. I'm still the sad girl inside her ugly pink bedroom hiding from everything. Here it's bright and big and people are friendly with eyes that light up whenever I talk.
You really figure out who your true friends are when you move across the world. I guess I was just never important to you, it was just something convenient to pass the time and I'm not bitter about that. We are adults and adults can see things children cannot; I can reach snacks hidden on top the fridge, I could smoke if I wanted (but smoking is disgusting.) I could drink if I wanted but we all know I'm hopeless and hate the taste. I could do anything I wanted but for some reason I just couldn't give up on you.
Being American here in Japan the first thing Japanese girls (the guys never speak to me) ask is "Do you have tattoos?" Aside from my best friend back home everybody I'm friends with as at least one tattoo, if not a few. I have absolutely NOTHING against tattoos whatsoever. The dude I'm seeing now is completely covered in tattoos and I literally drool all over his arms. My female friends with tattoos all have bright beautifully colored pieces of artwork across their bodies and it's mesmerizing. I in no way shape or form think tattoos on girls take away from anything, I think when done correctly tattoos only add to the beauty of a womans body.
Almost every Japanese girl I've met here in the past 8 days has a traditional Japanese tattoo, usually around her arm or on her lower back. In America we'd call that a "tramp stamp" but the girls here are a little behind and still consider this shit to look trendy or whatever. A girl I work with who's seriously adorable showed me her tattoo on her upper arm and it was a band of four leaf clovers. I was a little confused thinking "well, are you Irish?" She laughed and said "no it just means good luck!"
Then the girl proceeded to tell me I needed tattoos. I did my usual lip bite, eyes to the side "ahhh I don't know..." she laughed at me "why not! you're young! you need one!" Aside from the whole pain aspect (I'm irrationally afraid of all needles) I'm just too fickle. I change my mind every three seconds. One minute I want to wear tights and shorts the next I want jeans and a white t. One day I want to be super fem and the next day I just want to wear a band t shirt and throw my hair up. I'm a complete headcase in my own body and I know the minute I get a tattoo I'd probably regret it.
Or knowing my luck I'd be allergic to the ink.
So I'm expecting more "do you have a tattoo?" questions followed by the "why not" followed by "you should get one across your lower back!" Japan, Japan.
Japan is great, my new job is fun a little stressful because I'm still learning. Walked out with close to 30yen in tips, plus I'm being paid by the hour. I'm in love with Lemon Tea in a carton and finally bought Milk Tea because my one friend kept bugging me to try it. My dad bought me a coffee pot so I'm starting to feel more at home, with my mud brew every morning.
Here are pictures of my new space :
The natural sunlight is perfect and I started to hang some of David's portraits he gave me on the wall. There are bits and pieces of my friends scattered on my window sill. I told my dad to extend my ticket so instead of 2 more weeks we're planning on 3 more months. I miss Rashi a lot and I miss being able to take the china town bus up to see David and walk around Nyc drinking tall arizona t's and just laughing, but everyones busy doing what they love so i'll just give Japan some more time. I'm still adjusting but it feels more like home everyday.
I've been in Japan since Tuesday afternoon. I'm still having a hard time sleeping but besides that I'm enjoying everything. The weather here is really nice, breezy and blue skies and just cool enough that all you need is a t-shirt and cardigan. My dad and I have gone out exploring pretty much everyday, and I finally went out yesterday afternoon by myself to the convenient down the street to buy iced tea and chocolate covered almonds. I walked around listening to Best Coast and kind of took everything in by myself, for the first time.
It's hard (or maybe just more annoying) being a vegetarian here. Almost everything has some sort of animal in it.. (beef or chicken stock in the brother for noodles, the "red" sauce in you mix in with the quail egg of course has meat in it, fish everywhere, shrimp) etc etc. The bar down the street makes American food like nachos. Coincidentally this is the same bar I start working at Saturday night, so I have a feeling I'll be eating there a lot.
The bar is an old Baptist church (in Yokosuka.. I know right?) and is owned by an American "lifer" who works at the ship yard like my dad, but married a Japanese woman who he can't stand. They avoid each other at all costs. The head bartender is a 46year old Japanese woman who looks like a model and dresses like she lives at the Jersey Shore, but despite her appearance she's very sweet and even a grandmother.
(View from my bedroom)
Tonight my dad is taking me out for a traditional Japanese dinner with a few of his friends, it's supposedly cost a lot and is very fancy (two things I'm not familiar with) so I'm already wondering what I should wear. Everyone over here dresses nice, at all times. You never see girls rolling out of bed in sweatpants, it puts more pressure on me to make sure I look my best since I already stand out as the 5'7 foreigner with the big black eyes.
I think when I'm done eating this apple I'll tacked the tedious task of finally washing my hair. My dad doesn't have a shower head, it's just a traditional Japanese bathroom with a sink, washer, and a little steam room that has a tub in the middle of it. The toilet is in a little closet kept separate. If you know me you know how much I hate washing my hair (especially when it's bending my head under a little faucet) but I'm pretty such I can handle it. Maybe I'll eat some peanut butter for extra protein provided I'll need all the strength I can get trying to tame this wild mane.
Here comes the girl with the ice cream cone Who says she didn't get A scoop as big as mine Does it hurt to force a smile to my face? Does it burn to wish you were in another place? I won't look to you anymore
I've got this scar on the back of my arm from when I fell through a swing. I've got this scar above my right eye from a surgery I swear I remember, but my mom tells me "shit, there's no way a 4month year old remember something like that." Technically I was dead for 3whole minutes, my heart stopped beating and I remember white lights and feeling warm. Maybe you can't fully appreciate life until you've rubbed elbows with death, I guess I need to live a little because my heart feels dead.
Remember that time when I drove my little red car to the dock, we sat and took pictures while I twirled my ring and the wind blew my curls in my face Remember that time I didn't wear socks with your sneakers? It was the hottest day in the city that spring, my feet were covered in blisters. You took off your sweaty socks, handed them to me and I put them on my feet before we stepped onto the subway Remember that time I missed the last train into the city? Instead of leaving me stranded at Wilmington station you came all the way to pick me up and drive me to Philadelphia Remember that time when I told you I had no sense of direction and you laughed and said "walk four blocks up, take a right," but you were actually wrong. It was four blocks up take a left Remember that time you got really close to my face, kissed all my teeth and told me you loved my smile? Remember that time ..
your memory has all the power. you are completely fucking helpless inside your own head. your heart is a prison. you'll be busy going about your business when suddenly something from your past will flood across your eyes; colors and feelings all forcing you to remember, and even if you're screaming with your hands up "just let me go, I didn't do anything wrong," your memory will make your throat tighten and your insides churn. it could be something sad or something so small and beautiful. your hands will shake because you couldn't believe you'd remember something that happened so many years ago. you'll be in the shower washing your hair when suddenly you remember hands on your elbows pulling you in at a bus stop, concerned and asking why you look so sad. something so small and tender will drip like beads of water across your eyes and your blood will run cold. during an important test you'll hear a sound that will ignite a match inside your ears, setting off a toxic fuse of teeth and a mouth connected to a laugh you can remember so clearly. the click of a typewriter will make you think of a train ride up state, the chorus of a song will make your mouth water. welcome to prison.
Looking past the fire in your eyes I kiss your railroad spine, secret freckles that conduct my mouth I pull my hair behind my ears, ash-brown curls spilling over my shoulders sudden bones I've never met. My skin is warm and you smell like soap. Cheek to shoulder, arm to waist - these sheets will either sink or swim this night will either happen or it won't. I try not to think too much because when I start thinking my heart starts sinking, I try to remember this moment; soft eyes touch kiss take a break, oh wow "is this really happening?" "yes, yes hello" bovine eyes meet you eyes.. pillow break socks off, shirt off, suddenly I'm aware of my own heartbeat. You bring my hand to your chest "you feel that?" I did, and I do.
It's funny how listening to old songs can always bring up that emotion. I'll hear Regina Spektor and think about a friend when I was 18 who had long hair and smoked cigarettes. She had a cool tiny car with leather seats. We were the "outlaws" because neither of us drank and we'd listen to indie music and sit at diners and draw on the back of place mats with oil pastels. We'd drive to this one church and sit in the parking lot painting (seriously) with her car doors open blasting WHY? and we'd did this for an entire summer. That was the summer I felt like I belonged somewhere, that was the summer before we moved and I felt completely content.
Her and I were together every single weekend and we'd fall asleep talking in her bed and wake up to the smell of her mom cooking us pancakes. I still remember the day I felt like she was pulling away from me, it was right around the time I met my first boyfriend and she got really distant. I tried to come up with reasons why she didn't want to be my friend anymore wondering "What did I do?" and after ignoring me for weeks she finally came up with a few poorly worded excuses, which behind all the passive aggressiveness evened out to "I'm just over our friendship."
We never talked again, three years later we still have mutual friends but it's pretty obvious that what we had was something better left in a memory. I'm not jaded from the whole experience because obviously handfuls upon handfuls of friends have done pretty much the same thing as she did, but in theory she was the first. She was the first real taste of how a friendship ends and before her I'd never been friend-dumped.
[hits the nail on the head...]
I'm happy I've grown up and I'm moving out of Delaware. I'll miss a few people and I have no enemies, but there's a lot of heartbreak and family ties that have me eager to get out of this. I feel like certain events that have taken place with my family in the past few years have stunted my growth emotionally.
A few years ago I asked a friend of mine who had a similar family situation as me, why she chose to attend a College three hours away from home. Her response was "I knew that if I stayed at home I'd do nothing but try and take care of my family. I'd be going to community college and waiting tables doing the same dumb shit I did my entire life, I'd slowly start to die." That always stuck with me for some reason and I've finally realized that I'm that girl.
You forget how to take care of yourself because you just want to make it easier on your family. Nobody wants to see people they love hurt, and nobody wants to seem like a martyr so they keep it all inside. Because of this I've turned into a miserable shell of a little girl who is just waiting for people to fuck me over. I never wanted to be that person, so when it's time I guess you know it, I know it.
I've accepted my fate as a 21year old who sometimes scribbles thoughts onto the backs of napkins at a diner. I find little scraps of paper hidden between books I never finish, stuffed between the cracks in these walls or tapped to a dirty mirror where a four year old painting sits. I go through phases where I feel things so I want to write them down. I go through phases where I feel things so I want to knit and sew or mix paints, turn on music and create some bullshit that I'll shove in my closet a week from now. I have phases (or maybe these are just moods) where I think about how much can change and it makes my head feel lopsided and all I want to do is melt in a warm shower. I'll never understand why I push those who struggle to stay in contact with me away, and sulk for the attention of those who are already shoving me halfway out the door. I don't mind if you forget me.
I go back and forth between wanting to keep this blog starting a new blog (fresh start) or just taking a break from the blogging world all together. I have a good amount of subscribers (xox) and I realize that at times my entries are about as taxing as blowing bubbles, but I'm having a hard time figuring out what I want to keep this thing around for.
I sort of started this as a big girl version of my livejournal (I know .. I know..) I'm still pretty active in the lj world it's my guilty pleasure. It's a million communities all dedicated to fashion and makeup, saving money and healthy eating. I have my ~*lj friends~* who I get insight into their most intimate and private moments. Some of my "lj friends" I've been following around, journal to journal since I was 14! Now that's some serious dedication. I figured I'd make a blog just as a place for my creative writing different interviews/album reviews/a place to express new songs I'm loving/incessant babbling/etc etc. But unfortunately I'm in one of the biggest transitional phases of my life at the moment, and my head is all over the place.
I'm having a hard time finding my niche with this thing.
Every morning I wake up thinking about the same person. Same arms and feelings blah blah blah all these things I can't seem to get out of my head, they run through my eyes and drip down the back of my throat. I'm doing my best to stay realistic and not get so jaded about the situation, but to be perfeclty honest everything kind of hurts. And when I'm sad it's hard for me to write. I'm the type who keeps everything locked between my chest, I don't know how to express myself (imagine that) so I guess the writer in me isn't all it's chalked up to be. I try to articulate and make sense of my feelings but I just feel numb.
I'm in this constant haze where I have to keep asking myself "when will I stop feeling so fucking boring?" I can't believe half the things I'll be doing in the next few months. It scares the shit out of me, but that's good. I can feel change digging it's anxious claws into my stomach, turning my intestines and making weird noises whenever I think too long about my 13hour flight. I discuss the possibilities of earthquakes with my mom and we both laugh and say "well shit, I hope that doesn't happen." I sleep with my dog ever single night because I know our days are numbered and it breaks my heart.
For the first time in my life I'll be living in a house (an apartment actually) with no animals. No dogs. We have three dogs now (I even work with dogs) It's going to be insane not having a little booger following me around ready to cuddle whenever I'm sad. But I guess it's just one more thing that's going to be different, amongst the huge pile. C'est la vie.
happiness is sitting on a train alone, watching the gray February sky (that makes everybody hate winter) and knowing that Spring is waiting at the next platform. happiness is knowing that in two weeks this too shall pass happiness is falling in love with a song and listening to it over and over again, because you've always been the kind of girl who plays things out happiness is falling in love with a perfume and wearing it over and over again, because you've always been the kind of girl who sticks with a scent happiness is eating chocolate when you know you shouldn't it's having a nana who sends you text messages using abbreviations and nicknames that have stuck since childhood "luv u sweetie u r my cats meow!xo!" (wish somebody still called me cats meow) happiness is accepting that it takes shit to make bliss, so cheer the fuck up! happiness is fat free cream in your coffee that doesn't taste like it's healthier happiness is hearing your dogs snore happiness is the sun setting (pink) on a field of glistening snow i think i get it.