PHOTO DUMP

I'm making this photo dump primarily for my mom, because I'm Skyping with her right now and she's pissed because she can't see my pictures because she's too lazy to get a Facebook. I'll take these down eventually, but here are my favorite photos from my life in Tokyo so far.

Hey, Mom, because you're kind of computer retarded--if you click on the pictures, they'll open up bigger in the same window. Also you can comment as an anonymous user at the bottom of the posts if you want. Godspeed....I know it's hard.

My progress on the plane.

Women's restroom....welcome to Japan

This is my face in the bathroom mirror

Me and Alec and Rory on the train after the airport

Rory is..........very tall. Momoko, Noriko, Keiko, and Sakiko....kokokokoko.

ASIANS

Japanese McDonald's

Yuka and Momoko at Yodobashi Camera

This hat says "Stompy Ruffers"...

At karaoke being hardcore

Diana, Yohei, and Atsushi on the escalator

Shinjuku at night

This is what I see every day

Harajuku

Diana in the world's most adorable costume

Yohei and I

I tried to be elegant for 5 seconds

Diana and Atsushi

I'm in a kimono eating cotton candy whoohoo

Diana won the enka contest yayy

STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKEEEE

Rory showing off his massive tattoo for the ladiez

WE WENT TO HELLO KITTY LAND

THIS IS THE INSIDE IT WAS AMAZING

Crazy bitchez dressing up in Harajuku

Cola shock has some unpleasant side effects

They cooked dinner...it was amazing

I just ate more strawberry yogurt than the average human being should probably consume in one sitting

Don't forget about all the random links strewn about the blog. If it's dark pink, it'll redirect you to a photo someplace.

"Icky thump, with the lump in my throat, grabbed my coat and I was freakin', I was ready to go."

I have spent the last two days wandering around downtown Shinjuku, a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tourist, clutching a water bottle and sporting the remains of a horrible sunburn bestowed upon me during one boiling Harajuku afternoon. 

After having my senses constantly barraged by music and flashing lights and people screaming advertisements and people walking and talking and yelling on their cell phones and babies screaming and old people sneezing, all I want to do really is take the happy private line back to Tanashi, close my door, and have it be silent.

Shhh.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Quiet.

Thaaaaaaat's it.

Unfortunately CRAZY PASSIVE-AGRESSIVE GIRL won't stop running up and down the stairs in her crazy slippers that make an obnoxious clapping noise and echo throughout the building. What do you possibly need down there? Couldn't you have made one trip? Here, don't bother, I'll get it for you, just stay the fuck up here!!!

In other news, more cultural observances from the home front.

1. Man Purse

It has come to my attention that the majority of Japan's hip male population between the ages of 16 and 45 have developed the curious trend known only as the man purse. Coach, Guess, Givenchy, and more are common household names among both elegant ladies and their male counterparts, who feel more than confident getting on a train with something like this, this, or even something like what our friend Robert Downey Junior sports on his day off. 

Yohei has one similar to our friend Bob's here, with the brand name Adidas across the side in big brown letters, with a pink bear claw he won from a crane machine dangling from one of the straps. You can call it a messenger bag if you want, but especially if it's hanging off your shoulder with two short straps, you're just damn lying to yourself. After being around it so much, I guess I can see the functionality of it. Can't fit your oversized cell phone in your pocket? Man purse. Have too many large bills of cash to cram inside your wallet? Man purse. Your perfect Japanese hair won't stay in place and you need some emergency hairspray? Man purse.

2. Tank Tops

Tank tops--there are none. Yeah, you can buy them in department stores. But I have yet to see one Japanese female who is sporting only a tank top. Even in this 95 degree weather, the girls are almost always buried in ridiculous layers like this, and somehow manage not to sweat. Unfortunately, tank tops and jeans are essentially the only clothes I own. So upon getting on the train looking like this, minus the puppy, I get stared at for being a whore for even longer than I normally would. Which brings me to:

Reasons I Get Stared At On The Train

1. I'm white

2. I'm wearing a tank top

3. I'm eating a muffin 

4. I have huge tits

5. I have facial piercings

6. I dress like a character from The Crow

7. I use excessive profanity

8. I usually have a guitar on my back

9. I'm silently busting out some wicked air guitar with my headphones in

I already got stared at for reasons 4-9 back in the states, so as long as nobody gets on my back about it, I'm totally cool. Sub number 3 brings me to main number 3.

3. Eating Outside

Eating outside--you don't. If there's a cafe with outdoor seating, by all means, go ahead. But if you were to order a hot dog, take it outside, and walk along the city streets cramming it into your face, my bet is that you would receive a plethora of horrified glares and hear angry mumbling within earshot before your second bite. The Japanese are too polite to tell you so, of course, but eating outside is almost as bad as taking a whiz in the middle of an alley. If you're not bothering anyone else, who cares, right? These guys care. If you buy a slice of cake from a cake stand, you take that motherfuckin' cake home and you eat it. If you buy some takoyaki from a street vendor, you either stand right there until you've finished it, or find the closest table and don't leave until you've cleaned your plate. Today I ordered some kind of tropical smoothie blend from Excelsior Cafe, and because I didn't feel like sitting around inside I walked around with it. I already get weird looks, but they were even weirder at that point. Fuck off, I thought, as I swung my waterbottle and adjusted my tank top straps. I'm a foreigner, I can do wha ah want. 

4. Hair

The hair in Japan is both fascinating and sometimes horrifying. In adults ages 30-50 I guess, the hairstyle is standard--black and just below shoulder length for women, cropped short and slicked back for men. But for the teenagers and young adults, shit has been known to get kinda out of hand. A recent trend for women is something clean and simple--piling all of your hair on top your your head in a bun so you uncannily resemble Buddha. Otherwise it's usually one of two things--pulling your hair back into an oversized scrunchie (yes, they are still very much in style here...if you don't have one that matches your outfit, you're lame), or just letting your hair dry after you get out of the shower and be done with it. The women tend to put basic effort into their hair, but seem more focused on the fashion aspect of their daily look. Men, however, go for the gold. A fair amount just kind of grow their hair out and let it dry--these are usually the kinds that you find with an oversized backpack, tattered converse, reading a book of manga on the train--but most of them have customized their hairstyle to defy gravity and shock and awe those they walk past. Mostly their hair is dyed, anywhere from a chocolate brown to a light blonde, just above the shoulders, with either pieces individually flipped and curled, or teased to all hell. It's ridiculous, no doubt. But I'm not gonna lie, 90% of the time, it's hot as hell.

Cutural comparisons and emo sorrow

Two more new entries below this, yowmean.

"I don't know any lullabies, I don't know how to make you mine....but I can learn."

This post is a strand of intercultural observances I have made regarding romantic social interaction in the Japanese culture and also an excuse for me to bitch about my problems.

So, it is more possible than not, that in my last 4 or so years of formal 'dating' I have gotten the wrong idea of the general routine. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but in North America, it generally goes a little something like this:

- Co-ed meets co-ed

- Flirting ensues

(optional step - gossip churns among friends and it is confirmed that both parties share interest in the other)

- One co-ed asks the other out on a lunch or coffee or dinner date

- The other co-ed agrees and a date is had

- Subtle hints are dropped

- MANY hints are dropped 

- At the end of between 1-4 dates, one co-ed kisses the other, confirming their attraction and their desire to be with the other person

- You kind of talk about being in a relationship, but are mostly too giddy to, and start holding hands or something as a mostly unspoken confirmation that, yeah, you're more or less 'together'

From my observation/personal experience, this is the way shit goes down in Japan:

-Co-ed meets co-ed

- Flirting is attempted by both parties but is more or less thwarted by awkwardness

- One co-ed asks the other out on a lunch or coffee or dinner date

- The other co-ed agrees and a date is had

- Subtle hints become swallowed in a sea of awkwardness

- At the end of 1-4 dates, one co-ed walks the other co-ed home, and leaves because no one knows what to do

- The female of the party confesses her attraction to the male party

- The male party considers if he'd like to make a jump on the offer

- If so, he confirms the fact that the two are officially dating

- It's now okay to hold hands and kiss each other

Now, call me ultra-modern, but I'd rather deal with dumb ass American dating routines then with the passive-aggressive, super-awkward, unspoken social boundaries that the Japanese operate within. Whereas in America it's generally easy enough to slide through steps 1-5 within a few days, I am and have been stuck in Japan's step 6 for weeks now because there are no hints to consider and no signs of reciprocated attraction. 

I would call myself crazy, but I have more or less received confirmation that this is so from numerous females who have shared the same experience. I'm not asking anyone to leap out of their skin and get down on one knee, but the simple phrases of either "I like you" or, "I don't like you" would speak volumes in this particular situation and be more appreciated than an insulin shot amidst a rampant diabetes attack. I suppose relaying my own personal experience would be the best way to convey my confusion:

A few weeks ago, I meet a guy. Tall, gorgeous, kind of a snarky jerk, and thus grounds for my immediate attraction. For some reason that I cannot fathom, he seemed to take interest in me. So he asked me on a date. We went on a date, and it was kind of awkward, especially considering the language barrier, but overall I'd say it was a success. He got me a guitar catalogue. A good chunk of time and a few double-dates later, I got him a ridiculous t-shirt that has a bunch of gundam robots on it (long store) and he lol'd extensively. I chat with him on the internet every night, which kind of gives grounds to open up more because it's a lot safer--it also allows more time to look up words the other person is using that you don't know in an electronic dictionary and respond accordingly as to not look like such an idiot. It's always weird when you can talk to someone via text on a level that you probably wouldn't even dare to approach in person. I think it's that way in America, too. Anyway he didn't seem to mind hanging out with me too much yesterday, and gave me a protection charm from the temple he went to the day before.

He hasn't touched me, he hasn't really given me the slightest hint that he's actually interested in me, and I'm ripping my hair out trying to figure out what's going on. I'm down for step 7, but seriously, you can't expect me to confess how I feel about you if there's absolutely no way I can neither confirm nor deny that you are interested in me at all. I don't claim to be a charmer--good lord. When I was 13, I had pigtails and braces and wore my pants too high and never got a second glance from anyone I would even fathom being interested in. I'm still that awkward 13 year old freak, knocking things over every 5 minutes and snorting when I laugh. But I'd like to think that I've maybe dated enough in America to kind of know my way around the arena, whereas here I'm just dead. Lost. 

And I wouldn't be as frustrated if I didn't care way too much, which is a problem that hasn't really presented itself since high school. You kind of figure out that you dig a person way more than you probably should, and when sometimes when they smile it makes you want to die, but also makes you want to live forever because even if you weren't the source of that smile you'd rather they just be happy.