i like people :)

I'm going on a ski trip!
Yes, I am. A five-day trip with about 70 other kids from my school. I'm excited, except for one thing.
None of my "close" friends are going, which leaves me relatively friendless and alone. Well, a few of my friends from other classes are going, but they have their own close friends that they'd rather hang out with. And it's not that everyone else is completely vile and unapproachable - they're just all busy with their own friends, which is understandable. Fine. The only issue is rooming. Apparently, we get to choose our own roommates - but I had nobody in mind! Soooo, when we had our first orientation the other day...come room-assigning time, I was quite apprehensive.

I ended up deciding to room with these two girls in the class next to me that i kiiind of know. Not very well, and I'm kind of nervous about it, but I'm willing to give it a shot. You can't make new friends if you don't get to know them first, right? My main point here, though, is how thoughtful and caring my friends from the other classes were. They were all really worried about me, and even though I'd assured them that I'd be fine, they all ambushed me later being like, "Did you find someone to room with? Are you okay? Sure?" It was really sweet.

People are awesome.

Roses are red...

Valentine's, shmalentines.  I don't think I've ever actually experienced a romantic, flower-filled Valentine's Day.  The extent of my Valentine's cheer is wearing something pink/red, and eating about a pound of cookies and chocolate at school.  Finito.

Valentine's Day 2009 was no exception.  But.  This year, I got to experience the Japanese Valentine's Day.  In Japan, on February 14th, it is customary for girls to give the guys they like chocolates or homemade sweets.  The guys, in turn, must return the favor on March 14th, called "White Day".  Just to clarify, I'm talking about the general Japanese high school population here.  I have no idea whether the adults partake in this frivolity...but whatever.  High-pitched, short-skirted, ditzy high school girls make up the vast majority of the population anyway.  

I got to school this morning, wearing my perfunctory pink cardigan (I realized too late that I was uber-clashing; I was wearing my painfully bright red jacket over the cardigan.  Seriously.  My jacket will sear through your corneas).  I was suddenly ambushed by maaaybe 13 girls wielding cutesy pink bags containing the most adorable Valentine's sweets I have ever witnessed.  Ever.  Oh right, I forgot to mention that a lot of girls make "Tomo-choco" (translation:  friend chocolates), either because they are too embarrassed to profess their love for a boy through food, or because they just aren't interested in anyone.  Works for me - I get a lot of candy.  But for real, these things were insane.  People didn't just make the usual heart-shaped cookies - they made madeleines, brownies, chocolateflakecrisps (whatever the hell they are), mini chocolate pies, mini cream puffs.  Further more, they were all wrapped beautifully - each "serving" of cookie/madeleine/pie/puff was wrapped in its own individual transparent bag (printed with hearts and arrows and cupids and whatnot, of course) and tied with a pretty ribbon.  Some even had shredded colored paper inside with the cookies for decoration.  WHAT THE HELL.  I have two major issues to address here.  First, why is everyone so intense and OCD.  Second, how does everyone know how to bake delectable Valentine's treats.  I think that was my main question.  It's one of the many puzzling things about Japan - people seem to have this weird innate knowledge about certain things.  It drives me crazy, because most of the time I don't have it.  

But anyway.  Throughout the day I received about a dozen more aesthetically perfect bags of sweets.  I giggled to myself as I recalled the mass-produced Valentine's cards traded at school in the U.S. - you know, the ones with the lame little rhymes on them, complete with a mini box of Nerds or something attached.  Hardy har har.  The difference between the two cultures is kind of ridiculous...honestly though, I'm not sure which I prefer.  I mean, sure, the homemade sweets are incredible, but...being one of the few people who didn't bring anything in (I was studying for a math test! ......ha), I just felt really bad just eating all the food.  I think a bunch of Japanese traditions are explicitly designed to make people feel bad.  Or guilty.  Or just fat.

Eh.  I didn't feel that bad, though.  In the end: Stomach > Conscience.  I'm really glad that I've never had a romantic Valentine's Day standard for myself - it makes the holiday a lot more fun.  Instead of freaking out over how I would give my chocolates to the Homeroom Cutie, or just being superbly bitter over my lack of love, I simply sat back and enjoyed the scrumptious storm my classmates had baked up.  At no cost, mind you.

All in all, it was a very pleasant V-Day.  :)

:)

I love new friendships.

2008

I suck.

I really wanted to post a "Read about how 2008 was for me! You probably don't care but read it anyway!" blogpost, but I couldn't find one that suited my fancy. Wow I don't think I've ever said that before. Anyway. Apparently I had some sort of Goldilocks complex, and couldn't choose. Lisa's was too profound; it only works when someone legitimately intelligent fills it out. And I didn't have nearly enough smart-sounding things to say about my year. Then I started browsing Facebook notes...and the ones that are like "In 2008, I...kissed someone new? Went sky-diving? Made out in a car? Got drunk?" were just ickypoos. Although I do enjoy filling them out when I'm bored, I always feel like a complete tool so I tend not to post them. Of course, I could just sum up my year myself and make that my 2008 post, but I lack the necessary brain power.

Ewww. Thus ends my 2008-blogpost search. And unfortunately, this little bear didn't find one that was "just right". So...

2008 was pretty cool.

yay.

AHAHAHA I heard the funniest announcement today when I was riding the escalator in a department store with my friend.  Japanese escalators are superbly annoying in that they have totally unnecessary warnings and reminders on replay...some sad little woman mournfully beseeching any escalator riders to "please hold the hands of young children", "please stand in the middle of the step" (which is actually very, very bad advice, as I will kick you to the side if I happen to pass by), and to "please hold the hand rail".  Whatever, lady.  

Then right after that:

"Terrorist attacks are strictly forbidden.  Explosives are not permitted in the store."

Well, actually, I was planning on carrying out a terrorist attack...but hey, you know, if the monotonic lady says it's forbidden - better respect her wishes, right?  I'll go get rid of my bomb.

Oh, also, I'm taking a 7:50 am bus to the airport tomorrow!  New York City, here I come.

a little hypocrisy...

I have to wear my uniform tomorrow.  And to make it half-decent, I have to roll up the skirt so it doesn't look too frumpy.  

I know, I know.  I know I always rag on the middle-schoolers for rolling up their skirts so high you can see their asses, but I swear that I am only taking the necessary measures to save myself from the humiliation sure to accompany bad style.  Plus, I won't roll up my skirt that high.  I hereby pledge not to look like a slut.

Besides, we have to wear royal blue blazers and uber-tacky greenish gold ties, so...hell, I wouldn't be able to look like a proper slut if I tried.  Sluts do have some sort of fashion sense, don't they?

I am, however, going to indulge in some toolish behavior after school.  My friends and I are planning to go take purikura (you know, the magical Japanese photobooths) to celebrate the end of school...and our super-awesome/atrocious outfits.  

I will admit that I genuinely like the knee-socks.  They are a ton of fun.

There.  Confession complete.

daddy dearest

Oh my God.  My dad is such a baby.  Jesus Christ.  I nearly cried at his ridiculous childishness just now.

So both my parents spent the entirety of dinner yelling at me.  Apparently I was supposed to have emailed Chouks a long time ago, but I neglected to do so...cue the yelling and the lectures.  You'll never get into college if you don't get Ms. Choukrane to notice you, you need to be more ambitious, we can only support you, you have to do this on your own.  Blah blah blah.  Whatever, guys.

Anyway, because they spent maybe an hour lecturing me, I figured, hey, maybe I should actually do what they tell me to.  Plus, I was kind of angry at them for being so incredibly annoying (I realized for the first time how insufferably slowly my dad talks when he's arguing.  Whether he is doing it to make the lecture even more excruciating than it already is, or just because he has no idea what to say next and is buying time, I do not know.  All I know is that I HATE it).  So after dinner I just stomped off to my room.  Then I felt guilty, and went back to do the dishes.  My dad was nowhere to be seen.  It's generally understood lately that my mom cooks, and my dad and I do the dishes, so my mom was like, "Aren't you going to help her?"  My dad returned reluctantly to the kitchen.  Hahahaha.  Snap.  But by then I'd already done over half the dishes, and only a few pots and pans were left.  So I told him, "Here, do these pots and I'm going to go type that email.  Fair?"  

And he freaked out.  First he flipped out over the fact that I'd asked if it was "fair" - he declared that household chores were things we all had to do, and it was wrong for me to determine what was fair and what was not.  Then he was all, "But I set the table!  You didn't do that!  So your job is to wash the dishes!"......What am I dealing with here, a six year old?  Jesus.  And he was scolding me about "fair".  Right.

So I told him to calm down and that I'd wipe the dishes.  Jeez.  Aw, I'm so mature.  Ugh.  Parents are so....ick.

Update (11:36 pm.):

My father just spent an hour editing and re-editing my email to Ms. Choukrane.  It is now perfectly perfect and written with such proper phrases that I am really afraid to craft my next email to her.  I feel like it has to be just as perfect and humble and intelligent-sounding.  Gah.  She'll probably think I'm an obsequious kiss-ass.  Oh well.  Maybe I am.

....