Well, I'd been going through a "down with Japan, I want to go home" phase for a couple weeks but I've snapped out of it and am back in a "I love Japan, my job is awesome" state. What does still suck is that I didn't get to see my little sister graduate from college last Friday. I'm upset at not having been there, however, pictures I've seen from the event suggest that I may not have even recognized her anyway -- whomever was in those photos was far too adulty and womanish to have been my little sister. Finally, though, it seems we may both be at the same maturity level.

(Congratulations Lil Sar-Sar! I'm proud of you!)

My, what a splendid day! Good show, gov'na! Hear, hear! Capital, capital! And whatnot.

Woke up at a semi-reasonable hour and was delighted to see an illustrious rainy Sunday was on northeast Fukuoka's weather agenda. Goody! Rainy Sundays are one of those instant mood-uppers - like puppies. Or hugs. Or hugging puppies! Daw.

Talked to the pops (aka birthday man) and then Carl. Did some good milling about as well as some slight dilly-dalling around before deciding to take a trek from Hakata to Canal City -- a ginormous shopping center/theater building/architectural oddity -- to find a yoga mat. (Been doing a lot of yoga/Pilates-ing lately and needed a more stable surface to balance on than my futon and a more comfortable place to stretch on than my incredibly ouchy hardwood floor.) Please enjoy Canal City's homepage and note the header -- apparently I went to the ONLY place that is new and interesting in Fukuoka. Guess that means it's all downhill from here.

I navigated to the monstrosity well enough but actually finding the mat was a bit of a needle-in-a-haystack experience. Seriously, the place is huge. More good news though is that since I hate being "THAT guy" (in girl form) who keeps taking out a map and scrutinizing every street choice, my employing the "walk 'til I get where I'm going at some point" approach both there and back garnered the discovery of some absolutely charming places around Hakata that I had no knowledge of before. (Although I do realize I run the risk of thinking that merely because everything is pretty damn charming on a rainy Sunday. Also if you're thinking the alternative to being "THAT guy" in girl form probably closely resembles just being pretty lost and wandering, you're probably right.) Also passed two shrines and a temple thanks to the non-map route which will definitley need more exploration when I'm not carrying a giant, crinkly-noise-making bag with a kind of heavy thing in it, a purse, and an open, soaking umbrella.) Photographs shall be taken in the future if I can manage to take a similar path -- I quite intend to try. Charming, I tell you!

Anyway, then home for a nap. I wasn't particularly tired -- but it WAS a rainy Sunday and would have been practically sacrilegious not to embark on a sleepy-time endeavor, all cozy and such. Upon waking from crazy nap dreams that I can only WISH would have been about hugging puppies (although Crispin Glover did make an appearance) I made dinner and bought some new music with my fancypantsy gift card (thanks, babe!) Now will listen to said music and drink tea: rainy Sundays's's's's official beverage.

I made it rain by doing my laundry and hanging it outside to dry. All this time I could have been saving energy and money by putting my wet clothes on the balcony at night and waking up to them still wet due to the cloudy-skyed morning downpour! Awesome!

Actually I didn't really care because the rain meant it cooled down.

But then I guess I did actually care because then I couldn't complain about how hot I was and had to find something else to complain about. That something was not knowing what to eat for lunch.

And you thought Japan would turn commonplace. Puh.

booya

Pre-Hawaii Flight-Related Events
Lauren's students look like this when she informs them she is afraid of flying, particularly the several who work for various Asia-based airlines. Fear remains.

Midst-Hawaii Flight-Related Events
All flights (China Airlines Fukuoka to Taipei, Taipei to Honolulu, reverse and repeat) are successful and not death-inducing at all. Lauren even thinks some American pilots could take a couple of tips from Chinese pilots on smooth take-offs and landings. Fear subsides a bit.

Post-Hawaii Flight-Related Events
Lauren reads news about a China Airlines Taipei-departed, Japan-bound airplane and is torn between being horrified about the circumstance or delighted to be able to be all HA HA IN YOUR FACE, STUDENTS, NOW WHO'S THE COMPLETELY RATIONAL ONE!? Fear resumes, ten-fold. Students now look like this.

I am extremely lazy today so there shan't be a super awesome back-from-Hawaii update. My bad. May I offer you some pictures instead? Way cool!

Gather 'round, my children, and I'll tell ye a tale. (Or three.)

Tale One
The Big-Ass Cockroach vs. Lauren

I've never actually seen a real cockroach save for those safely encased in a bug box at Denver's Butterfly Pavillion. This probably explains why my glasses-free eyeballs didn't immediately recognize the big black being attached to my wall as one of the free-range variety. The moment inside my head went as such:

Doo doo doo I'm just minding my own sweet business...nothing special going on, no SireeBob Lauren's brain tra la la ho hum...hey...HEY...what the...HEY HEY HEY wassat? Wassat WASSAT!?? Is that...no, no it can't...my GOD and FOR THE LOVE OF MOSES. Ew ew ew EW EW EW EW EW EW I HATE MY LIFE I HATE MY LIFE I HATE MY LIFE I HATE WALLS WITH FIST-SIZED BUGS ATTACHED TO THEM WALJDFKJDSLFKJLKDJFLKSDLFKJL JESUS HELP ME.

Also included were roughly four to five air-depleting gasps, a lot of peering of the disbelieving persuasion, and several "ew there's a ginormous bug in my apartment and I don't know what to do" dances. And after warding off a couple major panic attacks, then came the Plans.

Plan A consisted of burning down the Japartment but I ran out of matches.

Plan B was to fly my Dad out to take care of the bastard but I had to scratch that because I didn't want to pay for the taxi ride back from the airport since the trains close at midnight and cab fares are ridiculous.

[Plans C through Q edited out for graphic language and action.]

Plan R is the one that finally took.

It included attaching a long piece of packing tape over an empty cardboard jewelry box leftover from the birthday-present-getting-extravaganza of yesterweek to trap the roach's unwelcome behind in and to be taped to the wall (the box, not his behind). Round 1 didn't fare so well as the force with which I slammed the box on the wall made the sides ricochet off and ALSO effectively dislodged his hold on the wall causing him to drop, bounce off my chest, and continue, unharmed, to the ground. It also effectively caused the most banshee-inspired howl I've ever let out accompanied by another icky bug dance. Really, I had no idea I could scream that loud. I wondered why my neighbors didn't immediately start knocking on my door inquiring about my status of aliveness when I realized they were likely dead due to their blood curdling and all.

Plan R.2 proved a failure in the form of a brief, wince-filled standoff with him behind the curtain and me waiting for him to show his buggy self. It ended with me finally shaking the curtain and icky bug dancing some more. At least I got some good cardio in.

Thankfully, Plan R.3 proved successful as I gently (lesson of too much force learned) rested the cardboard dungeon over the roach's head and then dropped nearly 800 pages of weighted protection over it thanks to my newly finished-copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Chalk it up to yet another evildoer finished off by Potter 'n friends. The roach is no more.

Tale Two
Marked Territory

Coming across other Western-world foreigners isn't an anomaly here. I work next to a large train station and bus terminal and am often in the downtown area where the cool hip foreign-people-attracting happenings happen. I pass one or two taller, fatter, lighter-haired people per day, giving a polite nod or purse-lipped smile not intended to communicate anything other than "you're probably just as confused as I am, ol' Chap, too bad, eh? Watch out for seizure-inducing robots."

Last night, however, I spotted a foreigner in a spot where I've never encountered another of my ilk -- at the grocery store one station away from mine. It was surprising as 1) I've really never EVER seen another foreigner there and I frequent the place twice a week, 2) the area around the station is developing and akin to boonie-ville, and 3) he was wearing a large traveling backpack, suggesting a brief stay and not a permanent residence, so why the heck would he have been here?

Once I recognized the intrusion I sort of balked in front of the store's sliding doors, not knowing whether to perform my usual "yes-we-both-recognize-we're-outsiders-isn't-that-hilarious-hee-hee jovial times" facial expression or to grab the nearest pitchfork and run after him shouting "get off my property!"

Honestly it really, really weirded me out. Throughout my shopping I kept seeing his head bobbing as he walked quickly up and down the aisles, clearly with no set path and obviously retracing steps already taken, searching for familiar brands no doubt, probably being startled at the minuscule jelly jar sizes and their equally humongous prices. I thought of offering help. "The shredded cheese is over here!" I could have yelled. "It took me seven trips to recognize the packaging! And here's the best ramen brand. Stay away from that one with the goblin-looking thing on the front - it tastes like rotting pencils!"

But I didn't. Instead I got more and more defensive at his infiltration of my precious marketplace, getting all shifty-eyed and perturbed, thinking I'm the one supposed to be squeezing by the always-in-the-way elderly locals and making the check-out clerks nervous -- how dare he just barge in here like that and rifle through my marked territory! I didn't pee amongst the lemons and lotus roots for nothing you know. Next time, I'm out for blood.

Tale Three
Heh

The other night I was on my way home and on the train spotted a girl playing a sea-foam green Nintendo DS that perfectly matched the shirt she was wearing and I didn't know if it was kinda cute or totally totally lame. After staring some more and going back and forth for a bit on the decision (admittedly 14-minute-train-ride-thoughts aren't on the most weighty of topics) I was leaning greatly toward totally totally lame until I looked down at my red iPod that matched my red nails...and...red undershirt and...red purse.

Final decision: coordinating (purposefully or not) technology with one's outfit is super super uberifically awesome and not lame at all.

(But boy was my face...also red. Dang.)

Hello my name is Lauren. You may remember me being born in such decades as the 80's.

I thought I would be all freaked out about turning 24 and all but then I received some totally bitchin' packages. Unfortunately the sweaty mail guy delivered them on Saturday -- a full two days before my birthday -- and they were staring me in the face all the live long weekend. Heavens!

I held out long enough to make some tea on Sunday and take my time unpacking the contents in preparation for midnight.

See here's me being trying to be noble about it -- still at the callow age of 23 -- so naive, so unruly! Lord how much I've wised up since 32 hours ago!

Loot, loot, glorious loot!

What an awesome birthday! You may think it might have been lonely sitting there and opening my presents without a friend or family member in sight -- but really I was surrounded by all the care and love from all the people I care about and love. (Plus I started talking to whatever newly-acquired lovely gift I'd just opened as if it were the person or persons who gave it to me -- even made the cards talk by making them flap open and close just like a mouth HAHAHA 24-YEAR OLD LAUREN IN JAPAN IS CRRRAAAZZZYYYY!!!!!) Observe:

Thanks, card!

(But really. Thank you to everyone for making my birthday just as special as it would have been were I back home. I love you all so much and it just proves once again how unbelievably lucky I am. 24! Holy crap!)