A Day In Japan; Rolly Slide Park

I was unsure about exploring when I set out yesterday. It was a sunny day compared to the past few dreary days and I didn’t want to waste it. But I was feeling a little bit lazy and didn’t think I would really find anything.

I didn’t expect to find what I did.

Actually, I’ve been here before. When I last lived in Okinawa. It wasn’t nearly as beautiful as it was when I found it. Perhaps it was the rare burst of sunshine we were experiencing that made the word "Wow" fall from my mouth. Maybe the joy of finding something when I thought I wouldn’t made it so breathtaking.

I was a little cautious to walk up the mossy steps. The turtle graves and statues of ancient legends in traditional Japanese dress told me that a white girl with frizzy hair wearing headphones with a cigarette dangling from her lips should not be here.

But the open-close sign painted on white wood gave me an excuse, so I snuffed the cigarette and turned off my music.

The stairs were shrouded in coral walls, trees, and tropical plants. I was expecting grave sites, broken logs that serve as stairs on dirt paths, and mystery. But at the top of the stairs, my view was opened up to a large soccer field. To my left were large grassy steps blocked with stones that I imagined would serve as seats during games. This day, it is empty. To my left is a sitting area with a traditional Japanese roof, sitting high upon a hill.

I am immediately greeted by a pack of Oki-mutts, their curled tails raised happily towards the sky with intrigue. They bark, but don’t come too close. They’re curious about me but I continue walking. The sight of a wooden playground indicates that this is the place that I hoped someday I would find.

I ate curry with my fingers with my best friend here, years ago. We talked a lot, but now I can’t remember what we talked about. Probably bras. In our adolescent girl days, we talked a lot about training bras. The rolling slide is still here. I decide to give it a go for old time’s sake.

There are steps and paths leading into the small forest that I decide to venture on. Dog bowls and small shrines litter the path that I’m not sure I should be walking on. The coral rock formations fascinate me. They look like naturally formed houses for small imps. I imagine that this is where tales of kijumuna are born.

It's deserted here, probably because it’s a Friday afternoon. I must be the only person on the island who doesn’t go to school and doesn’t have a job. It suits me fine, I like being alone. I feel awkward enough as it is, almost like I shouldn’t be here.

This park is a perfect mix of the old and the new. The playground hasn’t been touched at least since I was last here. Yet it’s extremely clean. I think the people decided that it is perfect the way it is and didn’t want to cover it with cement and rubber. It seems to have a touch of old Okinawan structure and yet, nothing is broken. There are vending machines, but then again, those are everywhere.

And it’s exactly what I love about Okinawa. Renovations haven’t been done in years because there is no need—people respect their surroundings too much here. Natural and traditional sites aren’t ruined, seeing as I’ve already found a handful of small caves and grave sites are untouched. It is hidden and therefore peaceful and quiet.

Artists; Dedication, Failure, and Support.

My good friend Jordan is currently going through a period that all artists go through. It doesn't really have a name and it's much more complex than writer's block. I'll describe it like this.

Your notebooks are on the shelf, and for a little bit, you don't notice that they're no longer in your bag for spontaneous inspiration or hand while you sleep, passed out from excessive scribbling. And then one day, it hits you.

"I haven't created anything in a while" you say to yourself.

You begin to panic and wonder why you stopped writing or drawing in the first place. You try again, you scribble something. You sketch something, you pick up an old story or an old drawing that you left because it was finals week, or you started dating somebody, or the holidays have kept you busy. But it's not good, and you panic even more. Bodies are disformed and dialogue is awkward and all of your ideas seem mundane and boring.

So you decide to punish yourself and make horrible goals for yourself.

"I'm going to blog and sketch ONCE A DAY FOREVER!"

"I'm going to write 900+ words everyday"

"I'm going to finish a novel in three months"

"I'm going to lock myself in my room until I finish this"

You try making up for abstaining from your art and a week later, you find that your impossible goals aren't working.

Dejected, you think you've failed. Some of us artists will fall into a period of nothingness where we don't create and we don't think about our art since it's too painful. Some of us rise above, set more realistic goals, and create masterpieces.

But it happens all the time, and it's the worst feeling in the world.

I've always admired Jordan's art. We met on a forum years ago where she was the resident fan-artist. I was a young writer at the time, and had stars in my eyes for everyone with talent. I guess you can say that I still have stars in my eyes for Jordan because she is just so damned talented. And she loves drawing, and I love anybody who loves art.

In her most recent blog posts A Realization she reforms her goal of blogging about a sketch everyday and has brought it down to sketching once a day, whether she blogs about it or not. She has realized that you don't have to create a masterpiece every day, you just have to practice.

I realized this earlier at the beginning of the year. In fact, it was one of my New Year's Goals. Jordan is going to sketch once a day, whether it's good or bad, man or animal, funny or serious.... she's just going to do it.

I'm taking a page from her book, since that's what we artists do--we bounce off of each other. I'm not an artist, but I am a writer, and who's to say that Jordan's rules can't apply to me as well? So from this day forth, I am going to write something once a day, whether it be a blog, an essay, a poem, a piece of fiction, or even word vomit in my journal. Some of it will be displayed here, and some of it won't, depending on the personal level of the piece.

I went through my sabbatical, and now it's time to pull myself from it. No longer will lack of confidence be an excuse for me to be lazy. I'll write every day for a year.

I encourage you to follow Jordan's blog because I know she'll be posting some great stuff on there. Here are some of my favorite's of hers that are available on her blog. Though my favorites of hers are Syhindlar fan art that I'm sure she's retired for a long time.

Guest Blog; Kate Thoreson's Magically Versatile ModCloth Coat.

Yeah, I know a lot of you are saying "Ok ok, I get it Jenny, you're growing up, it's sad, blah blah blah". Well, I'm still in a bit of a funk, so I'm going to let Kate take the wheel today. Remember her post about mascara?

Kate is my go-to for fashion since I think that granny sweaters from thrift stores are hot shit and would wear them for ANY occasion. Often, her and I will cruise modcloth.com and I will try to put in my opinion, which she always knocks down. I mean, it's not like I deserve it, sometimes I just pull things out to keep conversation. Things like "That would look great on Jenny Lewis", in which she educates me by saying "No, Jenny Lewis is a rockstar, this is too drab for her".

Well, now you're about to get educated.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I talk about wearing this coat, since I live in North Dakota, I am speaking in very futuristic terms, as it is very cold here. However, I think it is the happy medium of coats—it isn’t ugly and puffy like so many coats I see, especially in this area, but it isn’t totally sleek and impractical or drab either. I think it looks regal and professional, yet also stylish and fun. Here are some suggestions as to what to do with this coat:

Date – I think this coat could be worn on a date, particularly if the date is going to take place outside in the spring or the autumn at any point. I suggest a walk in the park with someone who isn’t on particularly passionate or serious terms yet; I’d go so far as to say that this is a good choice for a date with that coworker you’re not supposed to be dating. ;) My reasoning is that it’s not particularly flirty or bright, but it makes a strong statement that you’re not frumpy and boring. I’d wear it with something comfortable, but not something casual. What I mean by this is, don’t just throw on a t-shirt and some jeans and your gross flip flops from Old Navy that cost you $2. Wear it with black pants (skinny jeans would be hot, but don’t try too hard if you’re not into them) and your favorite kitten heels.

Hanging out –When you’re with a group of friends, you can wear this coat just about anywhere you go with them, but I’d suggest wearing it when you have a fun time in the early evening to attend. I guarantee that everyone will think it is adorable, but the early evening is the best time because when you’re having fun at night, nobody really cares about your coat if you get my drift. Wear it earlier than that and it’s probably almost too cute for your friends. In this situation, I would wear it with a cute romper, provided that you have the legs for a romper. If you don’t have the legs for a romper, I’d try the same approach that I used for the date section, although instead of kitten heels you could probably wear sandals.

Work – The workplace is oftentimes a nightmare as to dressing creatively, but this coat would be a useful tool at work if you have to go about often. Professional and classy, it would make a very strong impression on clients who would happen to see you in it. Of course, most people never have to wear coats when they work, but if you do, this would be a good one. I’d dress it conservatively this time, with a skirt that comes around ¾ of the way down the thighs (a pencil skirt with a blouse tucked in would be awesome if you have the right kind of figure), tights in a power color besides black (the general consensus is that power colors are dark shades of blue, green, red, and brown), and pumps.

By yourself – When you’re alone, you could be going anywhere. However, I envision this coat, again, on a walk. If you dress casually when you walk over to the bookstore to pick up a copy of Les Misérables, then I’d wear it with your favorite jeans and a pair of sneakers. I’d probably choose my black Converse for mine. If you dress to impress at the bookstore (it sounds silly, but it isn’t—there are many cute boys to be found at Barnes & Noble!), then I’d wear it with sunny yellow tights, a basic and demure dress, and cute black shoes. If you simply like to feel adorable, then go crazy when you pick out a miniskirt. The rest is up to you in that case, because an adorable miniskirt will work with and above anything. J

This coat can be found at http://www.modcloth.com/store/ModCloth/Womens/Outerwear/Resistance+Fighter+Coat. BB Dakota never ceases to amaze me, and if you have any burning questions for me, you can contact me at enterthematrix713@hotmail.com any time you wish!

Tales of an Affair with a Food Processor

The weather in Okinawa has been horrible. I know that most of my readers have no sympathy because they're either in Buffalo or Northern Michigan, but 50 degrees is still cold. I don't care if it's snowing where you're at, I still can't go outside.

Cooped up inside once again, I decided to do something I've been aching to do for ages...

Use a food processor.

I've been aching to feel the purr of the the processor beneath my fingers that demand it to chop. I've been begging to taste the creamy dips that would come from our love.

Searching my parent's house, I found it. Covered in dust and hiding on a dark shelf, it was wanting to be used as badly as I wanted to use it. It needed love and I needed a food processor. I lovingly recovered it from its spot and placed it on the counter.

"You look beautiful in this light" I told it. It didn't reply, so I continued to romance it. "You and I are going to do beautiful things. I've been wanting to do this for so long..."

And for 30 awkward minutes, I fooled around with the food processor. As expected for your first time....... using a food processor that is, I had a hard time figuring out where things went and things were spontaneously erupting.

But it was joyous, and the result was even more joyous.

"I would love to do this again food processor. That is, if you would like to do this again with me..."

I made edamammus--hummus made with edamame. I highly recommend it. Click for the recipe.

Break Up Note to My Childhood

I wrote this sestina poem for a creative writing group. It's actually my first attempt at poetry since my angsty high school freshman poetry and my most recent fail: "there are dishes in the sink, but I'm too tired to think". I think it's an improvement, even though I'm not going to take this as my cue to start writing poetry. I still suck at it.

---------------------

Dear Childhood,
I hate you and to tell you the truth, I always have
I couldn’t wait to get rid of your ugly face
You were rotten, immature, and stupid
And you are no longer any fun
So this is me saying to you—goodbye

But I’ll speak honestly and say that it hurts to say goodbye
You were a big part of me dear Childhood.
Back in the day you were enjoyable and fun
And I really wish it didn’t have
To be like this. Writing you this note is stupid
But it’s your fault. I no longer want to see your face

Remember when you were there for me to yell in the face
Of troubles? When there were so many goodbyes
You helped me make new friends. You were innocent, trusting… and stupid
But were always there for me dear Childhood
What happened? Why did you have
To leave me? We had so much fun.

The truth is that you left me. Tell me, was it fun?
Breaking my heart and laughing in my face
“Grow up” they say. And so you left. Adulthood is all I have
You left so suddenly, without even saying goodbye
I woke up and you were gone dear childhood
I’ll admit now, wishing you were dead was stupid.

Dear Childhood, I hate you. I have
Been struggling without your laughter and stupid
Yet simple and easy way of handling situations. Why didn’t you say goodbye?
Adulthood beats me and calls me names. People see the bruises on my face
They know that you left me dear Childhood.

You left your shit at my house childhood.
Pick it up or I’ll burn it. I don’t want to face
Your posters and stuffed animals. They’re stupid.
This is me breaking up with you. It’s no fun
But then again, you already left me. You have
Hurt me and abandoned me. Goodbye

You have to admit though, it was fun.
I’ll miss your stupid, ugly face
This is goodbye forever Childhood.

The Death of The Childhood Dream.

I am holding a funeral. A funeral for my childhood dream which has recently died a pathetic death of disillusionment.

I will miss it. I will miss the days when I would lay in bed thinking about being a superman-less Lois Lane [because unlike Lois, I need no Superman to be a noteworthy character] and climbing to the top to be Ms. Editor-In-Chief. I will miss searching for newspapers that I can intern at, and I will miss wondering exactly what kind of journalism I will be doing.

Most of all, I will miss the way the dream of journalism wrapped me in its arms and said "It's ok, I am what you are supposed to be doing". This childhood dream made me a confident and goal oriented person. With its death, I feel like I am nothing once again. I feel like I am wandering the career and educational world like a dirty straggler that nobody wants around.

How could it just die like that? And with no warning! How could it leave me to pick up the pieces and find a new life mate? I find myself cursing at the heaven where all childhood dreams go, and I also find myself thinking that I personally killed this dream and it is bitterly looking down on me saying "How could you do this to me? I loved you so much".

Dear childhood dream, I don't know how it happened. I feel betrayed that you died and left me lonely. And I know you feel betrayed when I look at other options so soon after your death, but you have to understand that I have to move on. You were great to me, you gave me purpose and comfort when everything went wrong. I will miss you.

When you break up with first true love, it's hard to love again. And when you lose your childhood dream, it's hard to dream again as well. But there is one I'm thinking about.

The Dream of Business.

A cafe.

A dream I've had since I was 12 years old.

A childhood sweetheart.

I am tentative and I am stepping into this relationship slowly.

I'm taking Intro To Business Management for our first date.

Wish me luck!

The 2012 Olympics logo is wack.

And let me explain how wack it is....

My mother, whom you cannot mutter a sexual joke around without her being confused or offended and I had this conversation after I found the group called "2012 OLYMPIC LOGO LOOKS LIKE LISA SIMPSON GIVING HEAD"

Me: "Oh my God..."

Mom: "What? What?! What's wrong??"

Me: "Oh nothing, it's inappropriate. It's this group on facebook"

Mom: "They have inappropriate stuff on facebook?"

Me: "Well... yeah"

Mom: "I thought everything on was censored on facebook"

Me: "It really depends on who you're friends with"

Mom: "Oh..."

Me: [not wanting my Mom to think I had horribly disgusting and perverted friends] "Well I guess I'll show you.

Mom: [slowly reads the title of the group] Oh wow.... well, I guess now that you mention it.... They need to change it.

Even my mother noticed how offensive this is. And she doesn't understand a lot of offensive things.

London 2012 Olympic games officials absolutely love the design. They think it's hip and vibrant, and attracts the younger crowd because it's magenta.

No, it attracts the younger crowd because the younger crowd is obsessed with sexual jokes.

Chairman Sebastian Coe says:

"We weren't going to come to you with a dull or dry corporate logo that will appear on a polo shirt and we're all gardening in it, in a year's time. This is something that has got to live for the next five years." source

Well, Sebastian Coe may be 100% correct, seeing that it looks like a 12 year old classic cartoon character performing fellatio.

I smell a conspiracy.

Especially since the animated logo causes epilepsy source