Something to be said for the little things

Funny how little things can change your mood so thoroughly.

I woke up @10:30 after going to bed @6am that morning, dreading the planning I'd need to do for 25HR's final exam as well as English summer camp prep and finally grading the journal entries for my regular ninensei students. My mood was not helped by feeling guilty and ill-prepared for my violin lesson that afternoon, since I hadn't practiced at all the past week, and my intention to hang out my laundry was foiled by the rain that comes on like tap water in the summer months.

However, I was determined to get some practice in and to do my best during my lesson so that my teacher wasn't so disappointed in me. Somehow though, things quickly turned around. At first, I told her that I was having trouble with stacatto, a method of applying pressure on the bow at the beginning of the bowstroke and then releasing it for the remainder of the stroke. She observed, pointed out that I was putting too much pressure and corrected my technique. I quickly got the hang of it and she praised me, saying, Wow, you must've practiced a lot! (^_^;) but still, it was good. Then she showed me the new measure (my homework for the week) to develop rhythm and let me try it out. I tried to mimic her and again quickly got the hang of it, which prompted her to praise me for being a quick study! So we left it at that, once again feeling like, I CAN do this, all I need is practice and I'll be able to play.

After that, I headed back down to the basement of Parco to buy a couple snack items, since something in the deli caught my eye as I was walking to the elevator on the way to my lesson. At first, I saw that what had originally looked tasty was really just a Japanese-style beef stew, but I spied some marinated olives that I thought would be a yummy snack either tonight or tomorrow for lunch. I intended a quick walk-through just to see what else they had in the way of foreign foods since I'm well-versed in what Kaldi at the station has in stock.

I was pleasantly surprised to find white balsamic vinegar and herbes des Provençe vinegar and went back for a basket when I realized I might need one...It kind of went downhill from there, but in a good way. A very good way. I picked up some truffle oil and truffle pate, and then found the cheese corner where they were having a small sale. The cheese lady offered me a taste of one of the cheeses when she saw that I was scoping it out. It was good, but a bit like cream cheese with herbs (suitable for the Japanese palate since they don't like strong cheeses), but a bit weak for me. I continued to look some more and she kept offering me samples of them. I finally gathered the courage to ask her which one might be good with the Chablis I bought the other night, and she tried to help me. I'm not sure that she was that knowledgeable about cheese-wine pairings, but she was still really nice and friendly so I bought some cheese and said that I'd probably stop by again in the future.

After that, I was going to call it quits when I thought I glimpsed red globes of radishes in the produce aisle. Radishes, thanks to the French and blog writers, have become my new addiction, and I only had three left in my fridge, so I thought I'd pick some up. Again, it turned out that my far-sight was wrong and they were only cherry tomatoes, BUT above them was a GIANT zucchini and a more normal-sized summer squash. I had to have both. I rounded off my impromptu grocery shopping with a super-long baguette (a real one, not one of the Italian loafs that they pass off for them in my normal grocery store) from the bakery and left for the eki. It was then that I realized, many girls tend to medicate themselves with retail therapy after feeling down, and that while I do like to shop, for me buying good, quality food trumps all the stylish clothes in the world.



The icing on the cake was that, as I got to the station, I got a peep at the outside sky and whereas I had gone into Parco amidst grey clouds cloaking everything in their perpetual dreariness and threatening to drop more moisture from the air, the skies had almost magically turned clear and bright blue. Absolutely lovely, and suited my lifted spirits.

The End...

Unfortunately, no happily ever after involved.

I finally did it. Or I guess we finally did. What you may ask? The other big milestone in a relationship, after the L-word and the engagement leading to that happily-ever-after: the breakup.

It happened a few weeks ago. It was pretty good as far as those things go: no recriminations, no bad feelings. We simply realized that we weren't getting what we needed from one another and that if we were to stay in it longer, the good will we had for each other would deteriorate into frustration and resentment, if not worse.

So, we ended on a good note, and we're still 'friends'. Though I am relieved that one of the benefits of having a long-distance relationship is that now, we won't accidentally run into one another on the street. As things stand, we don't have plans to see one another until August for a concert.

I've broken down a few times, but usually I'm fine. I don't know if it's because I'm blocking it out, living in denial because I don't have to deal with it. I don't have to see him. I've definitely been acting out afterward, but in a much healthier way than I used to previously. No making out with random boys, just starting violin lessons and going to badminton every week.

I still have feelings for him, but I know that it would be pointless to try to get back together, at least not while the situation remains the same: living hours and prefectures apart. Who knows what might happen in the future? Maybe we'll end up living together in France, maybe we'll end up together after all. But it's a future I'm not holding my breath for. Rather, I take one breath after another with each subsequent day helping to heal my bruised, but not broken heart.

Missing You

Pin likes to tease me about growing up in Seattle and wonders how I'm still alive, because "doesn't everyone kill themselves in the winter?" This year, I spend most of my time with friends from the warm, sunny places of the US: California, Florida, Hawaii. It was with not unreasonable envy that I looked over their photos from Christmas break and saw sunny, clear blue skies, while I sat stuck indoors because of a foot or more of snow. But that was freak cold weather, at least for Seattle.

The last few weeks though have presented me with the cold, gray, overcast/rainy days that I come to expect from the winter season. The days I was familiar with. The ones of my childhood.

Today was another such day. It assailed me with an overpowering sense of homesickness. Or maybe not homesickness as much as Pat-sickness. I was looking through my photos and I saw some from Christmas '07 and then ones from this past Christmas. I can't believe how quickly the time between them passed. All those missed months, moments, memories...

I know that it's my choice to stay out here, and that it will continue to remain my choice to stay away, but sometimes it sucks. It sucks that my best friend is half the world away and that I talk to him infrequently at best. It sucks that he isn't here to see all the things that make up my life in Japan, or meet the people that populate it. That we can't go out for a cup of coffee or a drink as our ritual and share our troubles with life and love.

But, ever-the-optimist, I search for the silver lining, no matter how elusive it is, especially in clouds as slate-grey as the ones outside. I have hope that our friendship is stronger than the accumulated experiences we share; that we remain connected despite the distance; that we are more than the sum of our parts.

I guess that's the answer to Pin's question. What else would it be but Hope?

The Value of No Planning

I think I'm starting to feel old, as my crazy acts get spaced farther and farther apart. I remember in my first year heading off to Tokyo, clubbing all night and doing it again the next one, simply on a whim. That same year, Albert and I took a midnight walk across the bridge to Fuji, two towns away. Last night (and a girl from Australia) reminded me of how fun it is to be impetuous.

For the last week and a half, my former Australian exchange student, Jessica, has been staying at my house. She was the exchange student in my first year and she and I got along and managed to keep in touch since then. She arrived with her friend Kay last Monday, and though Kay went back last Saturday, Jessica's still here as my temporary roommate until the end of the month. Despite being 7 years younger than me, we get along well and it's fun having another person in the house. Back to last night...

I had come home from work amazed that it was Thursday yet again, and wanted to spend a quiet evening indoors due to the rainy weather outside. I was planning on making soup for dinner, watching a movie and catching up on the sleep that I seem to be constantly missing these days. Things didn't go according to plans, to say the least.

First, though I had laid out my ingredients for the soup I was going to make, I kept getting distracted by entering into conversations with Jessica about people at Ihara, friends and friendships, and differences between Japan and Western countries. Eventually, I got to the point where I didn't want to make the soup after all and was contemplating busting out one of the instant Korean ramen packs that I had purchased at Kaldi over the weekend.

Jess brings up sakura-ebi (the tiny cherry blossom-colored shrimp that my little town is famous for) and how she wanted to eat it. I mention wanting unagi (grilled eel) because of passing by the unagi restaurant the other day and seeing the bentos (boxed lunches) that the teachers had ordered yesterday from the place.

We decide to see if we can get them to deliver to the house, since they have both sakura-ebi and unagi, but since I didn't have their number or didn't remember their name, we embark on an online search for the restaurant. Somehow, we manage to find it and miraculously, they have a website. We spend some time looking at the menu and trying to make out the items listed. Finally, we call the place, but they don't deliver at that time. However, they ARE open for another 40 minutes. I suggest the possibility of taking a cab and we run with it. I call a cab, change in a whirlwind 5 minutes and we're out the door and on our way.

We were the only two people in the place, but we paid no attention and enjoyed the deeply satisfying meal. We left the place realizing how close it was to Shin-Kambara station and that we could've saved ourselves the cab-ride and just trained it, but such is hindsight. We begin walking back to the eki, feeling full and accomplished, but I spy the sign for 696 Cowboys and point it out to Jessica.

I had told her about it a little: it's the only bar in Kambara, cowboy-themed (yes, I did say that: COWBOY-themed), and owned by a friend of a friend who loves Elvis. She wanted to check it out, so we head in. She falls in love with it and we decide to get a couple drinks. The drinks multiplied and before I know it, Yan (the owner, who is a professional caricaturist) has done caricatures of the both of us, and managed to get me up on stage to sing "Born to be Wild" and "Country Roads" with him, the waiter (who plays drums apparently) and some other customer on bass.


We headed home on last train. Jessica's decided that she's going to make it her regular haunt while she's in town and I'm definitely planning on coming back again. Sometimes, spontaneity pays off.

The good, the bad, and the children...

I've had several conversations with different boyfriends over the years about realism and idealism. These discussions have helped define and refine my own beliefs about people and their natures.

Bryce was a steadfast realist, which caused a lot of tension in our relationship. One thing that drew George to me, and I to him, was our shared idealism. Travis reminds me of Bryce, but he's pointed out a particular difference between them: He is a realist with strong idealist leanings. It's a good compromise. Pin and I are both idealists, but I think for different reasons. Pin has, what I believe, is an idealism rooted in nostalgia. He believes that we are born innocent and good, and that it's life's lessons that harden us, that screw us up. He points to children as models of what we should strive to be.

As Travis and I discussed an article I sent him about a new genetic test that can be used to determine which sport(s) your child might be best suited to, I found what lay at the heart of my idealism. It's my connectedness to other people. I don't think that I'm that different or special. I believe that, if I can come to think a certain way about something, I don't see what's stopping other people from coming to think the same way as well. Granted, things like education do come into play, but that can't eliminate a HUGE percentage of the population, like my realist friends seem to believe. They believe that it's preposterous to expect more from them; that people are actually intelligent.

I feel it's preposterous to think I'm the only one that thinks thus. Wouldn't more people think this way? It's not just limited to the way people think, however. It's the same with wanting to be a good person. Or being 'nice', as many of my friends have described me. They tell me that I'm so nice, and say it with such...surprise, that I find myself amazed at that. Have they really met so few nice people? And why would you choose to be otherwise, if given a choice? That's one thing I can't fathom. Yes, people make mistakes, and we don't always do the 'nice', the 'good' thing all the time. We're not perfect. But I believe that for the most part, people are good, that they WANT to be.

I disagree with Pin. I don't think that we are born good, I think that we can only be truly good when we have knowledge, both of good and bad. We are not innately good. We CHOOSE to be good. Life, and its lessons, do not confuse us. They teach us. We learn, we grow, and I believe, we become better people.