Japanese 101

It's as if I'm living in the ultimate Middle School fantasy. When in the seventh or eighth grade, all I could think of was anime, manga, and learning to speak Japanese because it was holy crap, so cool. Everything about Japan was epic and amazing but blah blah blah. At thirteen, who could ask for anything cooler?

At twenty-three, the obsession to learn Japanese is now a life-long Elephant In The Room. It's not so much I'm going to be going to Japan anytime soon as much as it is I can just say I learned how to speak it outside of "SUGOI" and "kawaii kawaii neko-chan! >^___^<". It's sort of a goal I've had for ten years - how many other people can say the same thing? The guy in Fever Pitch doesn't count.

My friend finally took pity on my poor ass and purchased me Rosetta Stone. My cousin used it once he entered the military to learn a language and he said it was absolutely excellent, that he'd use it to learn another language if needed. So here my nameless friend comes, with declarations of Japanese and learning it and expensive as holy snap software. What else could I do but go out and buy a microphone?

This was a while back. I'm in Unit 2 now, Greetings and Introductions. Unit 1 made me repeat 'jitensha' to the point where I flew into a near-murderous rage. Yes, Rosetta Stone. Yes, it's a goddamn bicycle. Oh, awesome. It's now a yellow bicycle. Kiiro jitensha. Yes. Yes. Shut the holy hell UP.

To my shame, anime and my former weeaboo status has made Unit 2 ridiculously easy thus far. I started out with a knowledge that "boku wa" and "watashi wa" had appropriate times and places, even knew what those are, and I know the words for various members of the family. Dear lord, I've called people "oneesan" before - quite a few! It's amazing that school can actually help you out at some point.

My favorite word cropped up - tomodachi. Friend, good friend. Some variation of that. I'm trying not to define the words and phrases too much into English as that apparently just messes you up but, yes. Favorite word, if only for the meaning.

It's going well so far. I'm looking forward to continued improvement. Updates later.

Unit then!

Food Om Nom Nom

I'm becoming worried on my eating status. I've started cutting portions and eating better which is, overall, a very good thing. I've gained weight, actually, and can manage to fit into my older jeans - the 6's. It turns out that fat is probably that new ass-muscle that I've been working out, bringing things away from my hips to make me not feel so disgusting.

But, when I'm alone. I don't eat. Most days when I'm alone, I'll eat nothing but granola bars (maybe two) and a lot of tea. That's it. When Mom is home and makes dinner, I'll have some small portions and eat some more the next day, if we have leftovers. I'll eat maybe half of normal restaurant portions, eat the rest the next day, ect. It's not a bad thing. I think. Well, the lack of eating entirely is. I've started eating about an hour and a half, maybe two, before I go to karate. I'd started getting dizzy.

This last weekend, I ate. I went out for sushi, ate lunch with my sister, had pizza with Jordan, things like that. We had food during the 4th of July (a holiday that was much better than expected, actually). That's when I'm with people. Alone, not so much. Without people asking me to eat, I just don't get hungry. It's not something that happens. I get caught up in cleaning or writing, maybe a series I was watching or timing when I can and cannot put my contacts in - Rosetta stone, maybe. Who knows, i just don't think of food.

Today, I had four cups of tea, about two cups of rice + broth, and two slices of toast with a little butter. It was delicious. I drank some water - have more waiting for karate and all that good stuff. I don't think I'm becoming anorexic? I'll eat when asked, I'll eat enough to be full. I take vitamins. Make my own food.

Maybe it's being cloistered up int he house like this. I'm thinking that when I can afford it, I'll fill up my tank, drive as far as I can get on half of it, and park somewhere soft, relaxing, and have my own personal little picnic. Maybe I'll even draw.

I just don't want to keep eating the same deep fried and sugared crap I had been. does this make sense? I'm not quite sure if any of it does.

Either way - I have a swim test for a lifeguard job coming up tomorrow. Tomorrow will be full of light and good for me foods.

Crude. I need to buy a bathing suit.

Hangovers and Relevations

Last night I drank way too much. The next morning after falling asleep at four in the morning, I woke up at nine and dragged my butt to karate. I almost passed out and/or vomited during the forty jumping jacks and the knuckle push ups. Ugh. I can't even imagine.

After coming home, though, I got hit by that big depressive 'what NOW?!' thing as usually after a night of hard drinking I tend to get into a funk and be an overall depressing and depressed person. It's always one of those days where the medication doesn't help, I don't know why. It just doesn't.

But! Today! I decided. I felt very alone, very upset. Ashley came over and helped me with it by sitting here, listening to me rant, and watching Heroes with my lame self. Before she made it over here, I came to the fantastic decision that, screw it, I will be getting to Virginia as soon as I can, even if Daddio is still in a hotel. I need to get out of here.

Now is when I have to talk to him about it, though, as my happy butt can't just drive up there without telling him. It's utter suckage.

This post has no other meaning than to write this out and put my emotions on paper. Rock on, my friends. Rock on.

Gay Boyfriend

After my parents divorced and my mother, sister, and I moved from out house, mom got this boyfriend. I guess he was nice enough although according to stories afterwards he was this total psycho. He wasn't bad to Kelsey and I, from what I remember. He'd buy us stuff, I guess to make sure the kiddies didn't verbally attack him to Mom and get him booted from her life.

It worked when he bought me a punching bag! From what I've heard, I've had violent tendancies and mood swings since I was nine years old. Before that I, apparently, smiled, laughed, played, and otherwise interacted like any kid. That says all sorts of fucked up things about what could've changed that but that's a completely different therapy session. Either way, he bought me a punching bag and set it up for me on the porch. It was one of those heavy duty, thick and black sorts, hung from the ceiling by this hardcore chain. He said it'd be a good way to get out my frustrated energies whenever I felt I needed to.

I never used it much, weirdly enough. If I had it now, totally, but back as a kid I'd get all but scolded for using it. My sister and I got into this big fight once about something completely stupid and I got so mad that I saw red stars infront of my eyes. Now in case no one knows, that's a Bad Thing. It means one is going to do one of two things: pass out or beat the mother-loving crap out of someone. I didn't pass out and luckily for my sister, I had that damned punching bag.

Instead of ending the fight with a fist to my little sisters face (again, something totally dumb, I completely mistreated that poor girl during our childhood and teen years; I'm surprised she forgave me and we became friends. i wouldn't have forgiven me), I went outside to the porch and started whaling on that thing. At fourteen, I had this bag the same style as the one in my dojo the black belts use swinging back and forth, denting a bit. Fourteen was two years after I dented a metal door at school by punching it in order to get in. Strong kid, yeah.

Mom came out and started getting mad because I had been "picturing [my sisters] face" on the punching bag and how it was wrong. Unlike most bad-asses my age, I didn't keep up with the punching but got mad at her instead. The punching bag was there so I could get out my anger! So what if I saw my sisters face - which I hadn't been. I had been seeing this black bag because I was messed up but not a total psychopath. When he'd installed the bag for me, her boyfriend specifically told me he purchased it for me so I would be able to take out my anger on something that would satisfy and help me. Looking back on it, I think he was the only one in my childhood/early teens who actively knew just how messed up my head was. Everyone else assumed it was anger at the divorce (although I had been told I was a freak by not showing any emotion throughout the entire ordeal) and anger problems in general.

Instead of getting in a second fight with my mother, I stormed to my room, closed, and locked the door. She didn't know about the lock-pick at the top of the door frame and pounded for a few minutes while my sister cried in the living room. She always cried a lot, more than I would admit to being something I did to her.

To this day I don't understand why it had been bad to hit that punching bag. Maybe if I hadn't been made to feel bad about getting violent at it, I wouldn't have hidden it all to myself. Maybe someone would have seen it earlier.

There's no grudges! Who wants to know their kid or niece or friend is violent and possibly dangerous? I wouldn't want to. It's hard thing to come to terms with. I still get violent urges to this day although they are, in my belief, well justified. You mess with my friends? You're damn straight I'll get up in your face. You touch my tit while I'm at a club? I will punch you and get those bouncers in your face.

But I have karate now! Also, medication. Not so much therapy but that comes next, when I get the money.

So this is my little story for the day, Blog. I'm not sure where it came from but there it is. Now I'm going to go play housewife, clean, and dance around to Aqua, Lily Allen, and Disney.

Until next time!