postaday – Page 35 – hannah ananas

Bedtime Stories and Serenades

In college, a few friends wanted to hear me read Harry Potter to them in French one night. So, I grabbed my book and started reading. After only a couple or few minutes into it, they all agreed that, while they didn’t understand anything but the names in the story, they still loved it. Why? Because they found my voice and reading style to be so comforting. They said that it was the perfect kind of bedtime story, and so asked me to keep reading.

Within ten minutes, the room had fallen asleep peacefully.

Thus began my days as a bedtime story-reader for others.
And, until last night, that was the extent of my aiding others to fall asleep.

Last night, however, as I was humming some song quietly, getting into my bed at our hotel, a friend asked me, and in a somewhat odd way, if I could sing the opening song to Beauty and the Beast. After a few moments’ thought, I began the song.

I left out a handful of lines somewhere in the middle, of course, as it isn’t one of my top-known songs, but I made it through most of the song with ease. When I finished, I thought that I would be going to sleep. Naturally, since I’m telling this story, that was not the case.

Thirty to forty-five minutes later, I finally dozed off, as the requests had slowly ended with my roommates falling asleep. I had gone through songs from Mulan, Pocahontas,The Little Mermaid, and still other Disney musicals in my seemingly endless list of requests. I felt like, perhaps, it would be a good thing for me to join in the princess parties a couple of my friends do, because I found myself really enjoying this Disney singing. I wasn’t sure if my roommates particularly liked the singing, or if they just thought it was fun and silly, but I obliged, because I liked music and singing well enough to keep singing at each request, and I was too exhausted to evaluate the situation more clearly.

When hanging out in the room the next day, however, I discovered the answer to my unasked question of their enjoyment at my singing. One of my roommates specifically mentioned that she has to have my singing again at bedtime tonight.

‘Really?’

‘Yes! It was so good, and so soothing. It was just what I needed for going to bed.’

Wow. Well, okay, then. I’d be happy to oblige again!

Then, as I was later in coming back than my roommates, I got a slew of text messages, wondering when I would be back to our room. When I walked in the room, they instantly started expressing relief at my arrival, ‘because we were so worried – we thought we might not get your singing tonight.’

As I’m thinking about all of this right now, I recall two other recent occasions of my singing for people on the phone. Talking to a girlfriend one night, she wanted to shower quickly, but we didn’t want to bother with hanging up and calling back. So I said I would just sing to her while she showered. So, I did, and we both loved it and the silliness of it.

A day or so later, a guy friend called me on his way home from a late dinner and drinks. When he arrived home, he contemplated a shower, but said that would be too difficult, and besides, he would have to get off the phone for that. To which I replied with the incident with my girlfriend in which she showered and I sang, for those same reasons. Not as a suggestion, but simply a factual statement of options for showering while remaining on the phone with someone. He decided against the shower nonetheless, but requested a song anyway, declaring it unfair that I would sing for another friend and not for him, so I had to sing for him in order to be fair amongst my friends. Okay, okay. So, I sang. And what happened? He fell asleep. Completely passed out. 😛

So, I suppose that was actually the first time I sang someone to sleep. However, last night and tonight were the first occasions of my having someone request for me to sing him/her to sleep. 😛

Anyway, … I know all of that must be a mess, because I’m exhausted and in my phone, but I’m just going to leave it for now. Perhaps I’ll fix it when I’m back home Tuesday. Perhaps not. 😛
Post-a-day 2017

an outlook saving the day

Sometimes, there are days when everything seems to go perfectly, and yet I feel dreadful (mentally). And then there are, on the other end of the spectrum, days when things continuously seem to be going wrong, one thing after the next, and yet I feel, somehow, totally okay (and sometimes even quite good). Today was one of the latter type of days.

Thing after thing went wrong and went ways I utterly disliked, and I was even borderline crying over some of them (for various valid and ridiculous reasons). I actually did cry at least a couple times today. And, somehow, everything worked out such that I’m feeling quite well right now, as I prep for bed at 8:16pm. I am exhausted. And I’m doing okay anyway.

One thing I noticed throughout the day, was how I kept honest and open with myself about my frustrations, and I talked through them each time they arose. ‘This is what I have (this situation). Now, what can I do with it?” Sure, I occasionally had the angry and unkind words in response to this inquiry, but I always was able to let them go, and to find an actual remedy to whatever the situation, be it a mental attitude switch or an actual exchange in something regarding my at-the-time circumstances.

So, I am here, freezing my feet and extremities off, wondering if I’ll be able even to function tomorrow after the near-constant beating I received today from my second day ever (first day was about ten years ago) snowboarding. And I’m okay.

Yeah. I’m okay. 🙂
Post-a-day 2017

St. Patrick’s Day

Today has been St. Patrick’s Day. In Japan, however, it couldn’t have been a more standard, everyday kind of day. People hadn’t even heard of it when I mentioned that St. Patrick’s Day was today. Crazy.

Still crazy, I guess is better to say. I know that my holidays and celebrations are either nonexistent or incredibly differently celebrated here in Japan. That in no way changes this to-the-core experience of oddness, like a cat’s hair being brushed up the wrong direction (but while it sleeps) – it’s just weird, I guess – at the fact that something with which I so strongly identify just doesn’t exist here. It creates a sort of sensation that, because no one around me knows about any of these things, these things – these holidays and celebrations – don’t exist for them, thereby making it as though a whole bunch of the bits that make up me don’t exist either. In other words, with these holidays missing, going unacknowledged, it is as though parts of me are going missing, too. One holiday at a time, ya know?

I wonder if I’ll be a super-celebrator of all of our holidays once I’m back in The States… not only would that make sense, but it would be totally fun. 😀
Post-a-day 2017

career planning like child’s play

As I pondered about today at work, with no actual work to do, but tons of pastimes to pursue at my desk, I somehow came to the idea of thinking like a child. I think I was inspired from the fact that a girl in this one movie was about to become a full-fledged lawyer, and I found myself somewhat envious. It got me thinking about how, as a child, I never really wanted to be anything specific when I grew up. Sure I said singer/actor, but that was kind of a ‘just ’cause’ answer, not an impassioned one – my heart was certainly not in it. It just sounded fun to be famous and super talented, you know?

So, as I was thinking about how kids have these people they want to be when they grow up, and how ridiculous those things sometimes sound, and then how boring of jobs those kids typically eventually end up getting when they are adults, I got into the crazy-ish idea of, “Well, if I were a kid now, what would I want to be when I grow up?” And that’s when the fun started.

It didn’t take very long for me to come to my conclusion. Fully-passioned and excited, I felt a need to share the news with the world. I didn’t think much beyond that – sharing it – other than how fun it sounded, and how silly it would be should I actually somehow become such an individual. Why? Well, I said that I want to be a cello-playing ballerina artist who does astronomy and physics stuff for fun.

So, I posted about it on the beautiful world of Facebook. After seeing a few of the comments that friends made, however, I began actually thinking about such a career path for myself. Part of the whole reason I started thinking about it, was because I thought it crazy how kids, who can do next-to-nothing about it, are so passionate about what they want to do for their jobs, and yet adults, who have all the ability to do something about their current jobs, tend to be so dispassionate about their careers. So, here I am, taking on a child’s passion in terms of career direction/choice (really, choosing freely (as a child chooses) what I would do, if I could do anything I wanted), and I suddenly realized that I am one of those adults who is in a position actually to do something about my career.

Wow. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how easy it could be for me. Yes, it is loads and loads of hard work. I know. But I’m talking about practicality of the situation. I’ve recently re-begun ballet lessons, I’m picking up my own art supplies next week in order to continue in my student-taught art lessons I’ve been receiving, and I’m working at a school with lots of musical connections (likely with links to a student of some age who could start teaching me to play the cello). And this is all just in my small town in Japan. When I move back to my big city in the US this Summer/Fall, I’ll have innumerable resources at my fingertips. And, without even realizing this earlier today, I have made specific progress towards this goal for the Fall: I now recall that I have already spoken to a sort of art expert to help me find some appropriate art classes for me to take this coming Fall.

Life is looking beautiful on the career path front. I in almost no way have a ballerina’s body. And that’s okay. I don’t want to be on the main stage. I know that. But I want to be dancing ballet. 🙂 (I’m so excited about this, I can’t stop smiling and having a little delighted shudder race through me every so often as I think about it all.)

My cousin commented about my career goals being similar to the career of Hedy Lamar. I had to look her up, though I recognized the name. As I was on the phone with my mom, I asked her what she knew about Hedy. Just that she was a black and white actress, very gorgeous 30s look. When I found her Wikipedia page, I read it aloud to my mother, and we both were amazed – she was fabulous, and my cousin was exactly right in comparing my career goals to the career of Hedy Lamar! Check her out. She was awesome. She and the guy from Queen (Brian May) who has a PhD in Astrophysics. They rock.

So, yeah… that’s today’s ponderings that I cared to share here. 🙂 Peace out, yo.

Post-a-day 2017

Umbrellas at Night

People look at me like I’m crazy as I walk down the street. I know I get looks a lot of the time, and oftentimes for good reason, but today/tonight has been particularly ridiculous.

Sure, I’m using an umbrella when it’s not raining, but all it takes is a little logic (or perhaps I’m just a bit too creative and/or crazy for the average Japanese person?).

So, it isn’t raining. What other reasons might someone use an umbrella? To block the sun. Okay, but it’s a clear umbrella. And sometimes it’s even nighttime when I’m using it. So, the sun thing doesn’t make too much sense. Okay, why else might someone use an umbrella? It is usually for some sort of protection from the elements, right? So, what elements are at play right now? Ridiculously cold temperatures. Wind. Hmm… I wonder if those have anything to do with it?

As my hair rests calmly halfway beneath and halfway behind the umbrella, you’d think people would grasp the fact that I am using the umbrella to block this frigid wind. But no, they really don’t seem to get it. They just stare at me like I’m totally nuts. Which, by the way, is quite a different look from the usual one I get as a foreigner. Just saying. 😛

Post-a-day 2017

What to write…? a poem

What to write…? What to write…?

Of legends? Of thoughts? Or of tonight?

Do I analyze something maturely,

Or speak from the heart purely?

Shall I cry or weep with relief,

Or in a blow of deleaf… defeat?

What is the point (Shall I write about that?)?

My efforts feel pointless, and quite often, in fact.

But what does that matter, when the measure is of others, not myself?

For this is not just another trophy for my nonexistent shelf.

It is whole and complete, and perfect, you see,

for it is meant as a place to express for I, myself, and me.
Post-a-day 2017

Enough is Enough…?

At what point do we say that enough is enough? What determines that point for us? Is there a common criteria, or is it drastically different for each person, determined by the nuturing of one’s youth?

Do we have a say in how we manage the rule throughout life, or is it set in stone, once it has been established?

Or is it all relative, to where no situation can be upheld to the same standards as another, where each enough is enough is different?

Just wondering…
Post-a-day 2017

Saturday Mornings

It is nights like tonight and weeks like this past week that have me wish for a Friday night and Saturday morning with my cat. We would typically stay up way late on Friday night, because I finally had no desired bedtime for once, although I was exhausted already from my week. And then, on Saturday morning, we both would sleep in.

It was always a sort of drowsy mix of hanging out and deep sleep, all the way to midday or early afternoon. I’d get up to use the bathroom now and again, maybe even put on a movie for a while before falling back to sleep, and off and on snuggle with my kitty cat. He would move around on the bed as he wished, sometimes putting good space between the two of us. However, for the most part, he would snuggle right up to me, usually against my head or neck (and sometimes actually on them), a sort of loving, pillow-like comfort, which I felt brought me a special sense of ease and calm similar to hot cocoa and a fire when it’s cold out.

Yeah, I miss that right now. I’m even nervous that he won’t really recognize or like me once I’m back home. Or that he’ll be lonely without other cats (his lives with three right now). Not much for me to do about that until I get back to the same town as he, right? Right.

Anyway, the point is that I want to sleep in tomorrow, and snuggle off and on with, I guess, my cat as I do that.
Post-a-day 2017

An Ode (or something like it) to My Underwear

I did some brief research on odes (“Hey, Siri. What’s an ode?”), and discovered that there is much too much remaining for me to learn about them in order actually to create one in the appropriate fashion. Therefore, I shall simply follow the idea of an ode, and express my love for and delight in my underwear on its worst of days.

My Underwear

Oh, dearest friend, how I love that you are mine!
Forever at my side, and front and back alike,
You give me comfort that cannot compare
alongside perplexity in your name: pair.

You come in oh, so many forms, from sport and short to lace and warmth,
I could never be bored by your ever-changing personality.
From your “Workout Wednesday” to your royal purple silky,
You empower and encourage in a secret just for me.

Sometimes I long to show you to the world, to let you out to see the sun!
Alas, the world cannot handle your greatness as of yet,
for fear of what their minds might create at the sight of you,
for, whether scraggly or sublime, you have an overpowering view.

‘Tis true, there are days, like today, I must say,
where you decide to keep an eye on things out here, in the world.
Not just the casual peek-a-boo you often do,
but a day-long stretch of you watching the world, and the world most certainly watching you.

In fact, perhaps those are the days I enjoy the most,
though they are seen as somewhat sultry or uncouth.
I get to share you with the world in an odd and subtle sort of boast,
for there is nothing I can do, but to enjoy the looks and to let you do you.

For though there is much other clothing to express parts of my spirit,
it is perhaps in you whom I delight the most.
As I change an outfit, or slip off my clothes at the end of the day,
it is you who greets me with surprising creativity, and in the funnest of ways.

So, fare thee well, dear underwear. I never like to see you go.
It is as though we become the best of friends together, as I’m sure you know.
You sometimes get too close or cut in on my blood’s efforts at flowing.
I love you nonetheless, oh, underwear, especially when you’re showing.

I am silly, aren’t I? ;D

Note: I feel a need to share about the fact that underwear also is very helpful in situations of forgotten swimsuits – on various occasions have they aided me in my swimming efforts, without causing offense to others nearby. 😛

Post-a-day 2017

A Window of Opportunity…?

“I have a question of morality… Is it morally sound to go out my window, and climb this scaffolding, to figure out where this guitar is coming from?”

A minute later, after a chuckled reassurance from my mother, that it was not an issue in terms of morality, I was off the phone and climbing out my bedroom window. The air was cold and smelled of rain and incense. Things were still wet in places from the day’s rain, but the scaffolding against my building – I think it was put there in order for the windows all to be replaced, but nothing seems to have happened yet, and it’s been up for a couple or few weeks now – was mostly dry. I slipped on my sandals as I stepped onto the scaffolding, and began my search for lights.

You see, I have been hearing this guitar playing these past few-ish weeks, and I haven’t been able to figure out from where it is coming. At first, I wasn’t sure if it actually was someone playing guitar, or just a recording that I was hearing. Actually, the very first time I heard it, I was already falling asleep, and so couldn’t fully register whether it were real or not. That is, of course, until I heard it while I was still awake one night. Then I knew I wasn’t imagining things. Sort of, anyway. I still could only hear this guitar late at night and from my bedroom. Whenever I opened my window to hear better, the noise from cars outside made it almost impossible to discern the source of the sound, let alone hear it. So, I still felt like I might have been just making up the guitar, because I so wanted to have someone nearby be a guitar player.

Until tonight, that is. I was on the phone with my mom, and I could hear it at the edge of my living room. I went into my bedroom, and it was even more audible. I checked the wound outside the window, and there were few enough cars, with space enough between them, that I could hear the guitar playing… and singing with it! So, I ditched the phone, grabbed my shoes, and went out.

Have you ever been in the middle of doing something, and suddenly wondered to yourself how you could have been so stupid as to do whatever it was you were currently doing? I climbed up decently well enough, and I even checked to make sure my legs could reach all the right places to be able to get back down. But the fact that it is 8 degrees (46 F) outside right now, and this metal scaffolding spent its days being rained upon, had me wondering if I weren’t just being incredibly stupid, climbing up it in my sandals and bare hands.

I discovered two windows with lights on, and quickly figured out from which one the sound was coming. I had to climb up two levels of scaffolding to reach the actual window, but I managed it. Of course, once I was pulling myself up to a point where I could just start to see inside the window, I wondered how terribly this could go, should someone inside see me. Screaming, shouting, and possibly objects being flung at me were certainly possibilities. Being kicked out of my apartment for being a stalker/total creep was another. And any chance at explaining myself was unlikely, as I could not have shed almost any light on my situation by using Japanese, and I knew I had a weak argument anyway – it is definitely abnormal to be doing what I was doing. I mean… come on. This is the stuff you find in movies. Stuff the stupid character does, and always gets caught doing.

So, I decided just to peek enough to figure out what kind of room it was. If it were a bedroom with doors shut, perhaps other people were sleeping. If it were a living room, sleeping people would be less likely. And, if it were a layout like my apartment, to where it would be a bedroom, but it had the door open to the living room, then it was quite likely that no one was asleep. And, if no one was asleep, then I could go upstairs and knock and be all, ‘Hey, let’s be buddies and play and sing music together.’

My concern of getting caught left me only figuring out that it was a different layout from my apartment, but that the room seemed to be a small one. What looked (based on windows and walls) to be the potential living room had its lights off. So, I climbed back down and into my bedroom (slipping off my sandals as I slid in the window, of course), and went to start some laundry and take a quick shower, so I could mull things over a bit.

After showering, I could still hear the guitar playing, so I dressed in pj-style clothes and my rain boots, and went upstairs. It turned out that what I had thought to be two apartments above me was actually only one, and I could hear my washing machine as I stood on their landing. (Odd that I can hear that, but almost never hear anything else, and neither do I get noise complaints of any kind.) Unfortunately, because of the sound of the washer, I couldn’t hear the guitar. At least, I think that’s why I couldn’t hear it anymore.

I was too concerned at just knocking on the door, when I wasn’t certain that the guitar was still being played. The lights were off just inside the door, so it was certainly possible that the player had actually gone to bed in the past few minutes. It was already after 11pm, after all. So, I went back downstairs, and checked to see if I could still hear the guitar.

Nothing. At least, I couldn’t quite tell. But, when my washer stopped a few minutes later, I didn’t hear the guitar anymore. (Gosh, this guitar thing is a complicated sort of mystery, I swear.) 😛

Now, after having laid out my clothes to dry, all the while thinking over my situation, I decided to wait another few days. If, by next week (I’m gone all weekend this weekend), I haven’t heard it again, I’ll put a note on their door. If, however, I do hear the guitar, I’ll go up as soon as I hear it, and knock on their door. Hopefully, I will be accepted and admitted, and wonderful jointly made music will ensue. And, hopefully, they (I think two people live upstairs) will be understanding, should they ever happen find out about my scaffolding adventure… or maybe it’s best that they just never find out… yeah…

Update: It is 00:18, and I am about to turn off my light to sleep. The guitar has suddenly returned, and in full force, with male singing. I’m exhausted, so I’m going to sleep. Plus, I’m already out of normal clothes and into my Sulley onesie. Next time. Next time.

Post-a-day 2017