Adding to the Bucket List?

“It’s not ON my bucket list.”

“Well, then add it right now.”

We laugh.  I consider, and then accept.  We all take a photo or video or two, and then Richard asks, “Who’s first?”

“I am,” I say.

“Okay, are you ready?”

“No, but go ahead anyway.”

As the suction cups grabbed hold of my tongue’s taste buds, I reacted with small and sudden shudders, but kept calm and chewed away.  Thank you, God, for allowing me the gift that is my life, such that I be granted this experience.  Thank you for the gift of this animal, and thank you for the camaraderie and friendship that its life has developed within this group of people with me now.  The taste and texture were quite acceptable, and the only movement I noticed was due to the fact that it kept grabbing my tongue in different spots, somewhat sporadically, with it’s tiny suction cups.  And then the live squid was no longer live, and it went into my stomach.

Only one other person (I believe) had the suction cups grab at his tongue, but most everyone tried a bit of this wriggling, writhing squid that somehow reminded me of maggots – a fact I happened to mention aloud just as we were about to begin tasting.

So, that was a fun thing to add to and then check off of my bucket list.  The mental one, anyway.  I actually have a written one here at home.  It’s rather in-depth, I think, and I only occasionally have anything to add to it, as I spent so much time initially thinking things through as I began the list in the first place.  Anyway, straying from the topic…

 

Another thing that I suppose I unintentionally added to and then checked off of my bucket list was changing clothes.

We were doing a little tour around town (Seoul, South Korea), and that was the reason for the squid in the market.  Before we arrived to the market, however, I found that I much needed to lose my pants and to switch to my shorts.  We were walking outdoors and in the sunlight a bit more than I had expected.  However, I had prepared by putting my shorts at the very top of my bag, for easy access.

My being who and how I am, and thinking as I do, I had already considered various ways for me to change into shorts, should the need arise.  Therefore, as we were going through the subway station, I announced to a girlfriend that I needed to change into my shorts, and what did she think?  We were easily on the same wavelength, and she lent me her sweater that she’d been wearing around her waist.  I tied her sweater around the back, and my own around the front, making a sort of two-toned skirt-type garment.

Standing in front of two of our guys, – and I must say that it seemed to me that they were rather unaware of the events unfolding directly in front of them – I calmly and quickly defrocked my lower half (shoes included), handed the pants to the girlfriend, slid up my shorts, and slipped on my shoes.  It was a beautiful and near-flawless performance on both our parts, the girlfriend’s and mine.  Essentially, it was just about perfect.  The only thing that could have improved the matter, would have been someone’s noticing that I had been in pants before, but was in shorts the rest of the day.  However, it was still worth the fun for the two of us, despite no one else’s having noticed anything… at all.  😛

 

Anyway, this feels to be poorly expressed, but I feel myself to be in a somewhat poorly state – think extreme exhaustion.  Therefore, I accept this story-telling as it is.  I hope you still enjoyed it, despite my feelings of its being utterly insufficient.  Peace and love.  Beware of squid suction cups, and go do something fun and crazy for yourself this week.

 

Post-a-day 2017

 

How to go home

I feel like I am going insane right now abouts.  I was talking with a new acquaintance today, and I came to saying that I think I am afraid of going back home to the US, after I’ve gone through so much development and transformation as I have this past year (with  all the depression and life experiences and all here).

I really think that I am afraid of being myself as I know myself to be now.  Or rather, … well… I’m afraid of being myself and being rejected, unwanted.  However, I think I already deal with that in the first place, and I have for a good chunk of my life.  So, that’s nothing new, then.  Therefore, I can keep that same concern as always, and just be myself anyway.  This way, I am fulfilled in who and how I am, and the people who do love me get to love me for who I truly am.
Sounds good to me.  Let’s do this, banana.
Post-a-day 2017

What’s my type??

People always seem to ask me my type.  Possibly, this is more of a recent thing, as it is one of the top questions Japanese high school students ask, and I don’t really remember having considered the question’s answer more than once or twice before this past year.  Nonetheless, it has been on my mind for quite some time now.

The deal is that I have never really known a type for my own interests.  I find attractive to be attractive.  Period.  However, I have been recently distinguishing even further the difference between being attracted to someone and that of wanting to be with someone.  On this distinguishing inquiry, I have at last found one definite common factor between men when I instantly find attractive, and with whom I always want to develop a relationship of some sort (even just a friendship), and often actively pursue.  That factor?  Being tall.  It’s not that I don’t find men I average height to be attractive – I definitely do find them quite attractive on a regular basis.  However, I tend to have a quite strong desire at least to be around handsome men who are also tall.  I have found shorts men to be handsomer than taller men, and yet the taller attractive guy always holds my attention much better.
Just something I discovered/noticed this weekend.
Post-a-day 2017

Dance breakthroughs

Tonight, I had a breakthrough.  Rather than be embarrassed and feel like a lazy fool, I took on a pointedly new mentality, and I did an amazing job dancing in contest.  I was so comfortable and pleased with the dances afterward (including after watching the videos), that I realized how I didn’t even mind how we placed in the final ranking.

It was and still is a wonderful feeling.  I competed in a level that joined my level and the level above me, – which is usually the case – and I was incredibly happy with my dances.

However, it is 7:27am, so I’ll go to bed and to sleep now. Sweet dreams, all.  I’ll count sheep in my sleep, now that I’ve been to the sheep cafe.
Post-a-day 2017

Still Awake at 6am

I’m sitting on the bathroom floor, eating bagel-shaped bread (that is not a bagel), stretching, occasionally gulping water, and writing this.  My two roommates are asleep already, it is 6:05am, and I have spent the past many hours dancing.

The ballroom sort of closed around 4:30, but I was having such a great time dancing, I didn’t want the music and dancing to stop.  Plus, I hadn’t gotten to dance with one friend who was still there, and I had been wanting to dance with him since I’d first seen him at the dance event earlier tonight.  So the DJ – he also happens to be the event director – said that just the friend and I would be dancing, and everyone else would watch (seeing as the ballroom was closing and all), and announced us as though we were a couple in a competition from earlier tonight.

For whatever reason, everyone, as they gathered around in the floor, ended up encircling us, and stretching out their legs so that they formed a very large star around us on the floor.  As we danced, they clapped along and cheered us on.  When we finished, everyone agreed that another couple needed to dance, now that we had started this whole contest idea.  The DJ, glorious in his will to be ever-spontaneous in order to suit the current situation, allowed and rolled with the idea.

So, another couple danced, and we cheered them on.  And we went through all five couples sitting on the floor, plus the one girl who had been recording, over to the side.  One of the other girls and I traded off dancing with her, since the DJ declared that he had to remain DJing.  (Cough-cough, though really I enjoyed getting to lead in his place.)

We didn’t do an all-skate at the end (where all the couple dance one song together).  Most everyone was too tired.  But that’s okay.  We had an amazing Superstar dance contest in the middle of a human star, and that’s more than fine with me.  😛
Post-a-day 2017

I’m Here!!

Well, I made it to Korea.  A lot happened today to make one question whether 1) I really Am in Korea and 2) I am not just plain crazy.

I have found myself extremely stressed and preoccupied lately, and, as a result, today, for the first one in my life, – and do recall that I have been on likely hundreds of airplanes – I forgot my passport.  Not just that, but I didn’t even consider it until I walked through the train barrier at the airport.  I had a weird feeling about my flight, and it turns out that I didn’t take them after all.  I had to rebook with a different airline, and for half as much more.  However, the booking company did me a solid in refunding the whole airfare to me.  It took forever to figure out, because the airline cancelled my flight for me before the flight happened, so that I would be allowed to get a refund.  But that then removed the ticket information for the booking company to see that Inhad purchased anything at all.  Four hours later, I was back at the airport with my passport and a swimsuit added to my baggage, and crying after I heard the news of my full refund.  As I ate my victory bunch of bananas, the security checkpoint officer was somewhat in a state of awe as he watched me avidly.  It isn’t every day that someone eats the bunch on her own, and definitely not in Japan.

The point is that I am here.  And, truly, I love it.  The vibe of the streets in this part of town is great.  The public transit is wonderfully clean.  They sell all sorts of things next to the underground train stations, from sandals to electronics to freshly made, delicious pastry breads.  (I finally got a pair of headphones that might fit my ears!). The crosswalks and streets are all funked up with little potholes and the likes.  The buildings are colored with rainbow lights.  There’s significantly more English than in Japan.
Okay, it’s 3am.  I’ll sleep know.

All-in-all, this place feels great.  Period.
Post-a-day 2017

Korea and dancing

I think I am going to Korea tomorrow.  To Seoul to be exact-ish.  We shall see how this airline check-in works – it makes my breathing short and nervous, to say the least.

But I am looking forward to wandering the city in search of various forms of KimChi (Is that how it’s written??), and dancing all night each night.

I think I am actually really excited about this trip.
Post-a-day 2017

My Dating Life

A friend of mine suggested I write about dating life in a foreign country.  However, I cannot entirely speak to the subject, because 1) I have not dated anyone here, and 2) I haven’t really dated people back home either.

However…., I do have some interesting dating and dating-ish stories I could share.  So, I’ll do that instead.  🙂

We’ll begin with my first date, as it was, indeed, an odd beginning to an odd history of dating.

 

Date #1

My high school boyfriend and I split up the summer before college, out of being reasonable.  How it happened is a story for another time, though, as it is well worth telling, but just not now.  We remain to this day friends, and so were on good terms as the summer neared its end.  One day, when we were in the same place, John (that’s his name, you see) did something adorably wonderful.  He asked me on a date.  No, I do not remember the exact words he used, however, I remember that he did use explicit words quite similar to, “Would you go out on a date with me?”

While we had been a couple, we had often laughed at the fact that we had never been on a single date.  Every time we were arranging something that would have ended up as a date, we found ourselves desperately longing to invite so-and-so to come, because he/she would just LOVE it, or something like that.  It wasn’t that we didn’t want to be alone together.  It was merely that we love our friends and we are generous.  Also, a good amount of the time, my mom would be with us for things.  She often would be planning something really neat, and I would be going with her, and one of us would think of how John might enjoy the activity, too, and then either pick him up or have him meet us somewhere to join in the activity.  A lot of people found it odd that my boyfriend and I (and often my friends, too) did so much with my mom, but it was just way fun for all of us.  That being said, most John’s and my one-on-one time was spent standing outside his house as I was about to drive home at night, and never on actually going out to do anything (i.e. dates).

So, he asked me on a date.  The plan was to go out to dinner at this great vegetarian Indian restaurant near my house, and then to go to see a musical together downtown.  John was driving (and not I for once).  When he came to get me for dinner, it was sprinkling beautifully, and we somehow ended up going swimming (or at least playing in the backyard in the rain) instead, and my mom went and picked up food for us.  The three of us then had dinner at my house together.  At the musical, the two seats that John had purchased (with the help of his father) turned out to be across the wheelchair section from one another, leaving a gap of about a meter between our two seats.  I squat on the ground next to his seat for a bit, and then I think we eventually moved to a couple of other empty seats, so we actually could sit side-by-side.  It was a fabulously tragic date, which we both absolutely loved, because it was so terrible on paper, but so delightful in experience.

And that was date #1.

 

Date #2

A few years ago, I attended something called VIRTUS Training.  It is essentially a seminar for people who will be working at schools, for them to learn about identifying child sexual abuse.  In other words, it was a seminar on child sexual abuse.  It was at this wonderful seminar that I met my second date – or so I believe it was my second date, anyway.  He was sitting near me in the training, and I think wasn’t even in my discussion group.  However, we exchanged various faces at different things throughout the evening, and ended up in conversation afterward.  After probably a good half hour of talking outside afterward, he very beautifully expressed that he had enjoyed talking with me very much, and would I like to continue talking over dinner some time soon?  I agreed, and I gave him my number in order to arrange the dinner at another time.

For the dinner, he told me that he was “old fashioned”, and so was it alright that he pick me up for the date?  I originally agreed happily.  However, my sister told me it was a terrible idea, and got me all nervous, because I didn’t really know this guy, and what if it went horribly?  (It went wonderfully, but still, she got me nervous nonetheless.)  But my worries proved pointless, because, as I had just purchased my new car the day of our date, I had to take it for my family to see (and test drive, of course), which put me behind schedule for our date.  Since that was the case, I just met him at a restaurant midway between where I was in town and where he lived, so he didn’t have to wait so long nor have to drive all the way to my house (which was quite far for him).

I eventually ran into him again while I was still working at Starbucks, but it was quite busy at the time, and so we really didn’t get to chat (though I totally wanted to do so).  I had not saved his number, and so couldn’t call or message him again after that.  (Sometimes, you just don’t plan on getting a new phone before you’ve saved a number, ya know?)

And that is what came of date #2, when I met a guy at a child sexual abuse seminar.

 

Date #3

My third date, in my opinion, is the best of the three – yes, there have only been three – and also the most uncertain.  It is uncertain, because I simply hadn’t known that it was a date, and I’m still not certain as to whether it was a date.  You may judge for yourself as to whether it was a date or not.  😉

In France, there is a wonderful carpooling website, which helps anyone travel almost anywhere normal in France (and even to nearby destinations in neighboring countries).  I used it constantly for travel while I studied in Toulouse, and therefore used it again when I went to visit a couple summers ago.  It was in this carpooling from Barcelona to Toulouse that I met this party boy.

We didn’t talk much on the drive (I slept mostly, and he talked with the other passengers.), but we did a bit near the end, and he asked for my Facebook.  I felt no aversion to the guy, although I knew that we led very different lifestyles, his being a party boy and my being…. well, just not.  I like dancing and music and all, but not the drinking like crazy part.  He had even offered me a section of his sandwich on the ride.  because, I know you, so, of course, we’d share your sandwich.  😛  I liked the guy, despite our obvious differences.  He was just really open and friendly and honest.

And, as a bonus, quite handsome.  Think tall, dark and fancy hair, tanned skin, and quite fit.  Yes, he could carry me quite easily in his arms.  (I have no idea why that is something I notice about guys – whether they could carry me or not.  I just always notice it.)

Turned out that his apartment was literally the next street over from the AirBnB where I ended up staying.  Via texting, he asked if I wanted to get a bite to eat with him one night.  Yes, of course.  (I’d be eating alone otherwise, and he had been great company already.)  ‘Do you want to meet me somewhere, or should I pick you up on my scooter?’  Scooter, please.  (One of my dreams in life has been to ride a scooter with a cute guy in Europe, thanks to MaryKate and Ashley.)

So, he picked me up on his scooter, and drove me to a cool restaurant in a part of town I’ve always loved.  We sat outside, and it was fabulous.  I had him order for me whatever he thought was best to have.  I’m usually more of the raw vegan diet type, but I roll with the culture these days, so I graciously accepted a delicious and innerly-pink steak.  We chatted and had a great time, and when he went in to pay, I followed a bit behind, and asked what I owed.  He, a bit surprised, said that I owed nothing, as he was paying for everything.  It was my turn to be surprised, but I did not even consider that this was a date – perhaps he’s just really nice to the foreigner girl visiting his hometown.

And so, we went and got some beers from a store, and he showed me around his huge, old-fashioned apartment, which he shared with this rich guy with a really nice car, as he put it (I don’t remember what the car was, but it was legitimately a very expensive car.).  We hung out and talked, and it was totally great.  When I finally reached home, and told him that I was home safely, he sent me a message that had me suddenly see the evening in a slightly – meaning entirely – different light.  It was in a light and friendly way, and even with a wink smiley face, so it was not meant to be nasty or inappropriate.  However, he said that ‘he would have preferred that I had stayed there.’  Oh, my…  At last I came to the sudden idea that this might actually have been a date.  I then got super excited that I was not only on my third date ever (Whoohoo!), but on a date with a gorgeous French guy, and IN French.  How cool is that?!  Way cool.  Seriously.  It was awesome.  Dreams fulfilled that I hadn’t even dreamed up yet.

And that was date #3.  I think, anyway.  😛

 

Those have been my three official-ish dates (I’m still not sure about that third one).  They were each wonderful in their own ways, and I find none of them to be too standard (slash at all standard).  I loved each and every one, and I look forward to raising the bar each time to more ridiculous scenarios surrounding my dating life.  (I need to share about my coffee dates and the likes, too.  Those have been fun, for sure, and very international.)

I’m super tired now, so I’m going to sleep.  However, I plan to continue with the coffee dating and other date-related things that weren’t actually dates.  🙂

 

Post-a-day 2017

 

 

Our Stories

“Share your story here…”. Share your story here.  Share your story here?  What is my story?

Tonight, my story is that I am like Rapunzel, locked on my own in a tower, merely dreaming of what life could be if only I weren’t stuck in this tower.  I want to cuddle up and cry with my despair and loneliness.  The earth just shook long and low beneath me, deepening my unease for a handful of seconds.  I don’t want to turn off the light – there seems to be a certain power in its being illuminated (and I do not mean the electricity), a power to keep me safe and okay and able to handle things.

Tonight, my story is that I am lonely and alone, and, though I am so close to being in a place I could and do call home, I feel as though I am in the point A to point B race where you constantly only go half the distance, thereby making progress toward the desired destination, but never actually arriving there.

Also, that just reminded me of how much I love Patrick Swayze.  I wish I could have been in the film “Dirty Dancing”.

Anyway… I want to cry tonight, and to let it all go, leaving me to wake up refreshed and excited and capable in the morning.
Post-a-day 2017

The power of words

Today, I was told that something I had done was “really scummy”.  The truly unfortunate parts of this statement were the actions it was describing and the fact that they were falsely linked to me.  Put another way, I did not do what the person claimed that I had done (the action that was then, by that same person, declared to be “really scummy”).

As I absorbed the words, I felt a sort of shock and denial.  No, this person couldn’t be thinking straight – this must be coming from a state of panic of some sort.  It makes no sense otherwise.

And yet, here I am, hours and hours later, still with an underlying desire to cry desperately.  I did not do it.  I did not do it.  And I even took extra efforts ahead of time for the situation to go across as the exact opposite – I asked for help from all over to make sure what I would do would be fair and reasonable in every way possible.  I did not behave in a “scummy” fashion, and I did not do what I was declared to have done.

That person’s words affect me nonetheless.  To my dearest insides am I filled with a sense of desperation, sadness, shock, smallness.  I was helping freely, voluntarily in a situation that desperately could use some help from me in particular, and the one being helped spat on me.

I do not know if I will remove the help from the table.  Perhaps.  I merely know that those words hurt and were inaccurate, making them hurt even more, making their effect last.

I already cried on the phone to my mom, which was a somewhat unexpected occurrence.  While that cry was helpful, I still have an uneasy tightness within me, welling up, and dripping on my pillow in the form of salty water droplets.
***Oddly enough, this was in my bedtime reading tonight.  How coincidental, right? 😛
Post-a-day 2017