I was daydreaming and fell down the motherbleeping stairs.



Actually, I just missed the last step coming down to the ingress of my apartment building as I was thinking of how I wanted to write about the used bookstore that was once catty-cornered to the entrance (they only had a tiny English section, but it was still fun to browse). Daydreaming daydreaming daydreaming and...I was abruptly mid-flail, then violently skidding across the ground, skinning both my knees (I just HAD to wear a skirt today and ruin my new pantyhose GUH) as my purse and all its contents crashed loudly on the dirty, not-quite-cement-but-just-as-hard tile.

Oh yes. I totally, totally biffed it.

As I scrambled up and collected my things/self I saw the black high heel from the foot that hadn't missed the step had remained on the stair above in perfect placement, like someone had been walking and just up and vanished, which I guess is what kind of happened: I vanished from the land where I had pride and didn't have the injuries normally sported by 1st through 3rd graders.

There had been people walking quite a-ways behind me and though I don't think they caught the initial tumble, they definitely saw the shame-infused aftermath, and definitely definitely heard the series of curse words I immediately bellowed post-impact.

I only took a picture of one knee because the other wasn't nearly as dramatic and gooey. I so can't wear my fleece pants tonight.

There's a new ramen shop in Hakata named The Noodle of Prejudice. My favorite co-worker (the only one I've been able to tolerate as of late -- I don't know what it is but either I need to become less irritable or they need to KNOCK IT OFF -- seriously, anything they're doing, they just need to stop it and become less annoying*) and I debated on whether the namesake implied that:

a) we gaijin wouldn't be let in, or
b) we could only be let in if partook in prejudicing.

He was for the former; I was for the latter and gave some examples which shan't be repeated here because I want as few possible written examples of evidence for my descent into hell. (Although I'm really excited to have just used "partook"!)

And I'm still not ill, despite feeling that it might be the end of my mostly healthy days last night. Apparently my body fought enough through the evening to make it through another day without allowing whatever is brewing inside of me come to full force -- and though I'm not full-on ick with sick, this body battle it has left me completely wiped. I was supposed to run some errands before work this morning and while I technically got up early enough to do so, I was moving so slowly that had I NOT gotten up when I did I'd have been late for work. Folding up my futon and blankets took like ten minutes. And don't even get me started on putting on pants.

*or creepy! I'm not going to name names, but here is part of an e-mail I sent a friend about...well, let's just say it rhymes with "slew Mapanese bo-merker": "I have a ______ who is bat[expletive deleted] insane and tells me things that are related to nothing. The other day I was grading some homework and she said "I'm good at those" and when I looked up she was pointing to the paper cutter. And we had said nothing of the paper cutter. And nobody had been using the paper cutter. She's probably going to kill me, and NOT with the paper cutter, because that might actually be connected somehow." I just said "congratulations" to her paper-cutter comment and went right on grading, which, yeah, is bitchy. But after a couple weeks of being uber-polite and overly-forbearing I decided that was enough of that when the weird comments just never stopped (and always came -- and are still coming! -- when I'm trying to work). Sigh. And actually, save for the slew Mapanese bo-merker, I really do like everyone I work with...just not this week.

PS - Caucus is a funny word. And I'm out!

I expected to get sick over the weekend since I've had a perpetual sore-ish throat for days and days now -- I could feel my body fighting something and I was fine with just going ahead and succumbing to the sickness but NAY, it wouldn't give in.

Now, though, it's the beginning of the workweek, so I've rescinded my initial being fine with feeling like crap into really not wanting to be ill at all, which probably explains why I've been going downhill, health-wise, all day long and now feel like utter and absolute bollocks.

*throws something dramatically*

I got 12 out of the 13 things done on my To Do list for this weekend. That's got to be a personal record or something! Usually I don't even get 1/4 of the tasks on my weekend (or any) To Do lists done, even when I list To Dos like "1. - Make a To Do list." (Seriously, I put that on there . I know, I know.) But all the ones for this weekend were legitimate To Dos! And boy did they get done! Except for that one that didn't. That one was to give my bathroom a good scrubbing, but eh. I did all of my laundry which wasn't even ON my To Do list, so it's not like I was spending that time...in...torpidity. (Thanks, dictionary.com.)

Honestly I think I've mentioned doing laundry in this blog more times than would be considered normal, especially since it's probably normal to mention doing laundry in your blog about living in Japan zero times. Perhaps it's because I used to do laundry with such astonishing infrequency that the fact that I've (mostly) kept up on it here, and do it at least once or twice a week even though I hate it, continues to amaze me.

Stop it, Lauren, stop talking about laundry.

...ok. Anyway. Go out and do stuff day was good, although I left a bit later than planned due to a glitch on my iPod that wouldn't sync any bands that started with the letter "O" which conveniently housed the only band I really wanted to listen to today (Of Montreal, and yes, I know how late I am getting on the bandwagon with this one but cut me some slack I live in JAPAN and my pop-culture skillzzz aren't up to par and if it helps I'm now completely obsessed which I'm realizing is a term I keep throwing around a little too much and should probably stop since it will devalue those things I am claiming to be obsessed with should there be too many) whilst commuting downtown large parenthetical break. I restored it and it fixed it, but not before a lot of cursing and the like.

Now I'm going to put on some socks and go to bed.

Laundry!

It was all rainy and windy and freezing out today -- AGAIN. Now, I love me my rainy days, but this is the third weekend in a row that's been right crappy out and it's making me cantankerous. And though I usually stay confined to the japartment on the weekends anyway, I kind of miss having the choice and declining to go out. Makes me feel powerful.

So instead of walking to the far-away grocery store (there's peanut butter there!) as was my plan before the outside ruined it, I talked to Carl on Skype:


And whilst talking saw a cute pigeon on my balcony:


Normally I hate the pigeons that come to my balcony, but this one just seemed so cozy, hiding out from the bad weather, tucking its little pigeon chin in into its little pigeon chest, and not defecating all over the place. WELL DONE, PIGEON, WELL DONE WITH THE CUTENESS AND NON-DEFECATION.

It did stop raining later in the day, so I bundled up and did that spot of shopping as my cupboard was bare, save for the ten cans of tuna I impulse-bought months ago at Costco that I will probably never open. I always forget that I don't really like tuna. On the way back it started OH YES pouring once more, so I just looked up at the sky, squinted my eyes, and shook my head disapprovingly. It just kept raining. Ah well.

I've dubbed tomorrow "go out and do stuff" day, whether or not it's crap weather or not. YOU SHALL NOT DEFEAT ME, CLOUDS. I was originally going to go to the Chinese consulate to apply for a visa, but I haven't been issued an e-ticket yet by the travel people so I can't. Well, I guess I COULD still go there but...yeah. With the pointlessness and all. Think I'll just head into Tenjin and do a bit of shopping or head to a cafe or some such leisurely business -- mmmyes, mmmyes, I'll be a lady of leisure -- perhaps I shall wear my lace gloves and monocle -- mmmyes.

I took my TV out of the closet the other day and hooked it up, wondering if Japanese television had changed since I initially shelved it during my first month in japartment land. It hasn't:



Think of how useful having that giant red conveyor belt could be. Like, you're stuck talking to someone you don't really like and they just keep going on and on about whateverthecrap they're going on about and you give the signal and *whoosh* they're out of there.

And I love that every kind of variety or comedy show (of which there are many -- the same in maintaining their CONSTANT noise level and carnival-like sets) always has like a panel of people watching the show (even if they aren't judges, like in this clip), so not only are you watching the show, you're watching people watch the show. Even a news program I saw at the airport had two hosts, and whenever one was doing an interview or something, there was always a little bubble at the bottom of the screen that was showing the other host's reaction while they weren't even in the room, or totally off-screen, and generally not participating in any other way than you are by watching!

However ridiculously hilarious Japanese TV is, though, I still can't withstand it for more than a few minutes -- I feel that if anything was ever was going make me have a seizure, that would be it. Plus GOD the NOISE. So the set went back in the closet, and I started daydreaming about a panel of Japanese people watching a TV show of my life --- they weren't amused.

Bad news. Every thought you've ever thought you thought was clever or individualistic or fantastically observant was already thought by Marcel Proust. And not only did he think thoughts you thought were your thoughts, he recorded them beautifully, masterfully, in detail, like they were nothing at all but commonplace -- which they are, and were -- and that's horrifying and humbling and, sometimes, oddly comforting.

I've been reading Swann's Way now for months. It used to be that the only time I had to read it was on the train to and from work, but now it's my rule. I can only read it on the train to and from work -- and so the months have added up -- but it kind of has to be my rule, because it's so detailed and involved I need a certain level of distraction (noise and crowds and being tossed about by insensitive train conductors) to keep un-distracted enough to read it. I've tried reading it, several times, in my apartment and at a few cafes -- but it's too quiet, too focused . I can't explain it, really. But I'll bet Proust frickin' could've, that talented bastard.