By the time you read this I'll be basking in Communism

A life in lyrics: (props if you can figure them all out…I’m still working on that one...oh, and if you make it to the end)

“I want to be someone else or I’ll explode, floating upon the surface for the birds.”

“This is the story of the boys who loved you, love you now and loved you then. Some were sweet and some were cold and snuffed you. And some just lay around in bed. And some, they crumbled you straight to your knees, did it cruel, did it tenderly.”

"Bat your eyes girl. Be otherworldly. Count your blessings. Seduce a stranger."

"I'll tell you who I am. Just another stupid American."

“Entre caricias, levidad y sabor, echo, sonrisa, realidad y dolor.”

“Fallen woman in dancing costume.”

"I’ve given all I can, it’s not enough, I’ve given all I can but we’re still on the payroll.”

"What's puzzling you is just the nature of my game."

“For a minute there I lost myself.”

"I’d love to change the world, but I don’t know what to do, so I’ll leave it up to you.”

"Unfolding enveloping missiles of soul, recall senses sadly. Mirage like soft blue like lanterns below, to light the way gladly."

“Everybody seems to think I’m lazy. I don’t mind, I think they’re crazy.”

"Everybody thought that she was boring, so they never listened anyway.Nobody was really saying anything of interest, she fell asleep. She was into s&m and Bible studies. Not everyone’s cup of tea."

"Is this really living sometimes it's hard to tell. Or is this a kind of gentler hell."

"I wanna live life, never be cruel, I wanna live life, be good to you. I wanna fly, never come down, and live my life, and have friends around."

"All of the beautiful colors are very very meaningful, gray is my favorite color. I felt so symbolic yesterday. If i knew Picasso, I would buy myself a gray guitar and play."

"And I’m feeling so bohemian like you."

"Sometimes I give myself the creeps. Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me. It all keeps adding up. I think I'm cracking up."

"Bonita la paz, bonita la vida bonito volver a nacer cada dia bonita la verdad cuando no suena a mentira bonita la amistad, bonita la risa bonita la gente cuando hay calidad bonita la gente cuando que no se arrepiente que gana y que pierde, que habla y no miente bonita le gente."

"Will you make it in the end, through all the twists and bends? Will you fulfil your dreams - not as easy as it seems."

"We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year. Running over the same old ground, what have we found, same old fears."

And now....I'm off for China. Ciao.

Far be it from me to keep you waiting Scott

The latest installments:









I went for a walk today around lunch time, largely to avoid being hassled into actually eating, but also to leave my desk for once and enjoy the weather that is bound to turn shitty soon enough. Technically, I think I'm prohibited from leaving the building during work hours, unless to attend an elementary visit. But I'm not really caring anymore. Imagine that...me...apathetic. Anyway, it felt completely awkward. Unknown. To a degree it is...or at least, was. Like having a mid-day orthodontist appointment in grade school and your mother being to preoccupied with errands to actually return you to school afterward. So she either drops you off at home to save herself a twenty minute drive back to that horrid center of brainwashing known as Catholic school or you accompany her on various errands until you can stand it no more, proceed to bitch and moan, piss her off, and she finally gives in to pleas to be dropped off at home. And it's weird. Walking around, free, like a convict having just completeld a prison sentence. I'm not used to experiencing afternoons on the outside during the week. The roads are empty. Not isolated empty. Just less frequented empty. There's a stillness that hangs in the air, with no one around to break that balance other than yourself. You almost dare not move. It's like a premature escape. Granted, it's practically equivalent to a weekend afternoon...but still, there's just something about that typically off-limits period of day that makes your day seem like a series of stolen, puerile segments.

Butler's Lambda Chi Alpha chapter has it's own Flickr account. What is this world coming to?

There, out of my system. Now I shall retract every negative, cynical, blasphemous comment ever made about Japan. Friday night my supervisor drove me to what I can only assume is the technological weighstation servicing alien visitors. The motherload of all that is technologically advanced and superfluous to existence. But I bought into it...and I bought a new camera. And it's love. The customer service rep. gave me a 40% discount because her father is the principal of my school. Yes, it pays to know people. I'm just now figuring this out. She also threw in a tripod and 1GB memory card for free. Did I say love? Not strong enough.

Orgasmic. Yeah...yeah that's better.

Starting off red

They're just...so damn photographable. Too bad the little fuckers broke the camera. I'm off to buy a new one (aka sign over my highly underrated left arm as collateral.) Yeah...mixed emotions.

High Fidelity style

Top 5 Hangovers of All Time

1. Cadiz, Spain: 72 hour hangover after a night of Carnavale binge drinking, varied illegal substances…which I purchased on the steps of a national cathedral (irony) and stealing hats off the heads of passersby. Largely provides the rationale behind my restraining order on rum and coke. Snuck onto a train for the ride back to Sevilla, managed to get sick all over the guy next to me, who was quickly replaced by another ignorant passenger…whom Brandon managed to tarnish as well. Ah…always smart sitting two alcoholics across from one another. Returned to my room only to get smacked by my senora, aka Hitler, and find her son traipsing about the apartment in women’s underwear. I’m pretty sure that all happened. Hamilton can back me up here.

2. 22nd birthday, Indy: Travis thought it’d be a good idea to force a keg down my throat, and I didn’t seem to mind. Same night I fell down a flight of stairs (pre-inebriation, I should add), offended a Norwegian exchange student and spent a good hour raving about Ken Kesey to Lyndsey, who, to this day, is probably frightened of the consequences One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest will have upon her sanity.

3. Shot for shot with Matt, DC: Matt wanted me to talk, which requires copious amounts of alcohol apparently. When the vodka ran low he switched to water, and I continued to finish the bottle, because I’m an alcoholic. I have this theory that people like to get me drunk so I’ll tell all kinds of incriminating stories I’d never dare release sober. That was the night I likened Laura to Conan the Barbarian. But she’s not. Laura, you can drink out of the faucet anytime…you’re not a Neanderthal…at least, not completely.

4. Hall and Oates, Vegas: The night of free alcohol, provided by the drummer of Hall and Oates. A jerk, if I might add. I don’t remember most of it, other than toppling over in the middle of the casino, flirting with a man at least three times my age, and wondering how in the hell this guy still had any claim to fame left in him. Should you ever find yourself in a similar situation, do not, and I repeat, DO NOT, divulge to your friends (while, invariably, in another drunken state) any details of said night, for they will find it humorous to publicize your antics with ridiculous amounts of Hall and Oates lyrics in magnetic poetry across the fridge…which your parents will read. Thank you, Rob.

5. Tie. 5a. Valentine’s Dance, Dayton, OH: If I may say so myself, I make one damn fine drunken date. Arrogant, obnoxious, klutzy. Stellar. No other words to describe it. Although, I can build my own beer-a-mid, and for that I know you are envious. Again, I managed to fall down, breaking my heels and ripping a large hole in my knee cap…that was nice to wake up to. Several drunk dials were made. To whom, I can’t recall. I spent most of the night blacked out…but still able to drink. Liz, if you ever need a date again, maybe you’ll think twice before you ask me.

5b. Vodka and red wine time, Lex, KY: Friends shouldn’t let friends drink from a bottle of vodka. Especially after they’ve finished a bottle of red wine, that is, after returning from Marika’s. Yeah….thanks, guys. That was fun. I’m convinced that left to my own devices, I would most certainly drink myself into the stages of alcohol poisoning, and succumb to a disorderly death. Fortunately I did not die. But I did wake up utterly sick two hours later, managed to drive myself to work and put in a good six hours of bitching, before succumbing to the hangover of the century, and food poisoning. A trip to the doctor was in order. A bottle of Excedrin was downed in the span of 24 hours, and my mother’s brand new carpet was ruined. She will never forgive me.

Have some sympathy

As much as I love Dream On…and I do (I can even play the first four chords…envy me) and as unequivocally hot as Joe Perry may be, and always will be, and I mean DAMN, he’s hot…the Rolling Stones will always top Aerosmith.

I watched with glee
While your kings and queens
Fought for ten decades
For the gods they madeI shouted out,
Who killed the kennedys?
When after all
It was you and me
Let me please introduce myself
I’m a man of wealth and taste
And I laid traps for troubadours
Who get killed before they reached bombay
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name,
But what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game.

Just as every cop is a criminal
And all the sinners saints
As heads is tails
Just call me lucifer’cause
I’m in need of some restraint
So if you meet me
Have some courtesy
Have some sympathy,
and some taste
Use all your well-learned politesse
Or I’ll lay your soul to waste.

My fate...

Email from the uncle:

"Remember, Condi Rice was once just an intern at the State Department and now she runs the place!"

Remember, Monica Lewinski was once just an intern at the White House and now she designs purses to make up for the fact that she's an untouchable, social outcast with bad fashion and the mentality of an Eastern State escapee.

I'll take my chances.

Besides, the State Department's ugly.

How not to advertise

"New Books by Nicholas Sparks, Jane Fonda, Dean Koontz and more"

Yeah, I'm clicking away.

Barnes and Noble...you are dead to me.

Chasing sheep

"Sitting on the sofa drinking whiskey, blown on softly by the air conditioner like a dandelion seed wafted along on a pleasant breeze. I stared at the electric wall clock. As long as I stared at the clock, at least the world remained in motion. Not a very consequential world, but in motion noetheless. And as long as I knew the world was still in motion, I knew I existed. Not a very consequential existence, but an existence nonetheless. It struck me as wanting that someone should confirm his own existence only by the hands of an electric wall clock. There had to be more cognitive means of confirmation. But try as I mght, nothing less facile came to mind." - Murakami

I haven't changed

I still watch cartoons. I still sport vintage t-shirts and shredded jeans. I still jump at the sound of the doorbell, stupidly check the mailbox everyday, avoid social situations. I still deny the existence of Iowa as a separate state. I still don't get physics. I still wear my hair in pigtails.

I haven't changed.

I'm the same girl that refused to smile for portraits done by anyone other than her father. I'm the same girl that cringed in haunted houses. I'm the same girl that played in the rain, tap danced across the linoleum, prank called strangers, put on piano concerts for her family. I'm the same girl that drank from the carton and licked knives. I'm the same girl that dyed her hair fire-engine red on a whim.

I haven't changed.

I still hate wearing dresses. I still get weak at the sight of blood. I still drink too much, make a fool of myself, throw parties when the parents are out of town, set things on fire. I'm still anal about organization. I still slack on my work. I still rat on my brother and bite my nails. I still don't know who framed Roger Rabbit.

I haven't changed.

I'm the same girl I was at eighteen. The same girl I was at six. I just cuss more.

Memo to all coworkers

Sake is not an admissible lunch beverage.

We do not belong to some rendition of a diminished capacity Nazi regime. Whistles are not required for bowing. Bowing isn’t even required. Get over it. I make more money than you AND I don’t pay taxes. I’m not bowing.

There will be no more playing “Let’s get the American drunk and bombard her with shoddy English questions about food she’ll never eat because it still has a pulse and lies bleeding on her plate while she convulses.”

I will not tolerate questions about my piercing. That’s what the first eight months were for. The last four months are dedicated to my continual quest for a suitable hiding spot within the school.

NO I WILL NOT SHOW YOU MY NAVEL!

Roren Hogurando is not my name. Hey…you know what? Not even close!!! Try again.

If you see me open the Lonely Planet guide to Japan at my desk, don’t assume I’m doing some light reading. Ask if you can help me. You, undoubtedly, won’t be able to do jackshit, but the offer might be nice.

I won’t hold your baby for a photograph…especially if I’m the only one in it…please keep this in mind. Unless, of course, you’re fully aware of the consequences that your child will suffer irreparable damage and require more than affordable long term therapy.

“Bye Bye” is not Japanese.

Ask me to juggle AND DIE!

Wearing the same pair of pants two days in a row IS acceptable. Three days, debatable. Four….WHAT? Do you not own pants? Let them breathe.

I like to be informed at least thirty seconds in advance prior to giving speeches…especially when they’re in Japanese. I don’t know…maybe I’m funny that way, and probably the only person in the world…but bear with me.

Giggidy giggidy giggidy

Auctioner: Our first item is a pair of panties confiscated from a prostitute.
Quagmire: Fifty bucks.
Auctioner: She had nine STDs.
Quagmire: Forty-five bucks.
Auctioner: And when we caught her she wet herself.
Quagmire: Fifty bucks.

I think the principal just looked up my skirt

So......no one's dead (yet.) If it's not the rain, it's the earthquakes. If not the earthquakes then the green tea. If not the green tea it's the gall of JPII dying before my mother had a chance to make it to the Vatican. I tried to tell her his blessing transcends the physical, from my experience to hers....but she doesn't buy it. Right now I have them climbing the largest active volcano in Japan with the help of two of my least English speaking conversation students. Yes, yes I like where this is going.