I am a silly person.

There is a Chapter 5 test in Japanese in about 12 hours.  If studying involves more than showing up for class and opening the book a couple times tonight, I have not studied.  There are two readings I'm supposed to have done for Japanese Foreign Policy tomorrow.  I downloaded one of the PDFs, but I didn't get any farther than the first page.  I need to do the two readings for my last International Organizations and Law class and the two for tomorrow.  I don't even know where I access these readings and could possibly not own the books yet.

But I don't care.

I don't care because I'm happy.

10 years.  10 years of planning.  10 years of waiting.  10 years of studying, of preparing, of saving, of applying, of convincing, of worrying, of looking forward to, of dreaming, of anticipating.  10 years have lead to this.  I've finally come to Japan.  I did everything I could to keep myself from having high expectations.  I worried for so long that I'd play this stupid country up too high in my head and be miserably disappointed when I finally arrived.

I don't think any expectation I could have let myself fancy would have been able to touch the magic I am sitting in.

I think I've brought up the beauty and magic of the street and area I live in before, but this is not a point I can express enough.  So long as you avoid the buzzing, smoke-filled, mechanized palace of a pachinko parlor near the train station, this entire area has the most magical aura.  Lights are strung everywhere: from lamp to lamp, around and in trees, dancing from building to building creating this canopy of wonder and warmth.  They twinkle at night, welcoming you home.  Welcoming you home, and, yet, beckoning you to this exotic, far-away land where everything is so different and foreign and yet so comfortable and familiar that you've felt you've lived here forever and want to continue to.  If I didn't live here, I wouldn't believe it to exist.  This street is simply a picture book, a set created to make foreigners gasp and travel here on vacation.  There is no way that this could be an everyday thing.  There is no way this could be real.

But it is.








But it is.









Young men and women stand outside restaurants that seem to have been owned by a family for a few generations, calling in passers-by for a warm meal.  Cooks continue to practice their craft they have been perfecting their entire life.  They serve their customers from behind the counter that only seats 5 at a time.  Children aged 8 or 7 or 6 wander home from after-school studying at 8 or 9 o'clock by themselves, like they do every night.  Like they do safely every night.  Young girls pull out money from their purses and count it while walking around alone at 11PM.  An old couple open their kitchen up to strangers for two hours every afternoon to serve udon to those that want a good meal.

I'm waiting for the credits to roll on this 1950's sitcom.

The credits aren't rolling.


So here I am.  Sitting in my room in Japan.  Florence + The Machines sings her beautiful heart out as I write this entry and dance like an idiot.  I look back in my head at the time I've spent here.  I think of the times I've made mistakes.  I think of the times I've gotten lost (intentionally or not).  I think of the times I've embarrassed myself.  I think of the times I've been confused.

And I giggle.

And I look forward to 9 more months here.





Ok... Now that you've gotten through all that semantic bullshit, I'm sure all of your are thinking "ok, cut the crap, I wanna know what you've actually been DOING, stupid!"  Fine, fine, fine...


Akihabara really does live up to what you hear of it.  Girls with cat ears and maid costumes stand handing out fliers and coaxing people to their establishment, listing the reasons it's so much better than the others.  I finally went to one of these extraordinary dens of cuteness and absolute glee.  AKB48 played over the speakers as myriad Japanese girls performed different cheers and, I suppose you could call them, rituals for their patrons.  Each and every girl had her own special charm.  They decorated their own outfits with the things they liked to give themselves that unique flare.  You aren't allowed to eat the food they serve you until they've personally decorated it and you've performed a small dance-thing (OISHII, OISHII, MOE MOE KYUU~).  If a man orders a girly drink, he is then shamed by the girl asking everyone to help her perform a special cheer for him.  This cheer consists of everyone referring to him by a girly name, clapping, and praising him for a good 2~3 minutes.  If it wasn't so expensive, I would definitely love to become a regular patron of one of these places.

I WON MY FIRST EVER MATCH OF BLAZBLUE!  Finally I had returned to the arcade I like here in Akiba.  I noticed a Jin playing.  He also didn't look bad, so I was kinda scared.  I destroyed him.  I won both rounds, and by a pretty good margin.  I beat my first Japanese player.  This probably seems so stupid and trivial to nearly everyone reading this, but to me this is practically the equivalent of a lifelong dream.  I thought that maybe, MAYBE after practicing a good bit and possibly finding someone to really teach me the game that I could beat a Japanese player by the end of my time here.  Winning my first match, though.  I would question it ever happening if it weren't for the two friends that came with me.

To be honest, I've always been kinda iffy about the Castro.  It's nice, but unless you're 21+ and just want to drink and hookup, I don't feel like there's that much to do.  People stop and chat to those they know, and unless you're up on the night scene, you don't tend to know that many people.  Once in a while, there is a street festival or something, but even that is just people from all around the city converging on that spot.

It doesn't hold a candle to Nichoume.

Nichoume is like the Castro, but with a more cozy, friendly, small-town feel.  The clubs are smaller and more intimate, the alcohol is cheaper, and the people...

The people!

Everyone, EVERYONE is friendly and simply willing to chat.  Walk by a local bar and say hello to the people sitting in front of it.  Stop and have a half hour conversation with them.  Don't be surprised if someone walks away with their contact information just so they can chat some other time.  A famous drag queen fresh from her recent television appearance will stop to compliment your hair and talk to you about how she gets ready and how she got where she is now.  The people having a picnic in front of a restaurant in the middle of an alley will be glad to say hello and joke with you and any other passersby.  Grab a drink and go for a walk.  It's not a very big area, BUT IT'S ALIVE.  People are there, people are moving, people are talking, people are laughing, people are LIVING.  Whether you've been going there for years or hours, it is a community and you are part of it.  That feeling of magic and wonder I described earlier, it was overflowing and effervescent.  It was as alive as the neighborhood and the people within it.



Don't get me started on the food.  I could probably live on any one of these dishes, but I get the option of any of them.  Curry, katsu, udon, donburi, soba, raamen: and I'm only describing the selection at my school's cafeteria.  I can get a FEAST from my local noodle shop for 400 yen.  A bowl of KareeDon with pickled vegetables and tempura and miso soup.  I had to struggle to finish all of it, but never did I actually want to stop eating any of it.  It was less than 5 dollars. 

An elderly woman with a pink streak in her hair sits on your right on the train.  The girl to the left of you is decked out in a lolita outfit more complicated than even the fanciest doll you've ever seen.  You can't see out the window through the see of suit-clad business men, v-neck and vest wearing boys, and girls whose outfits look like they took hours to plan but were really just a combination of things they had lying around.  Every woman is wearing heels.  So are a few of the men.  Every pair of hands has a cell phone, and every pair of hands is manipulating it at a frantic pace.  Strangers heads' drift onto the shoulder of the person next to them as they doze off.  when the train hits a curve, goths, punks, salarymen, lolitas, jocks, otaku, children, and the elderly all sway in unison.  All sway as one.

I reiterate again that I have many readings I have fallen behind on.  It's a quarter to midnight.

Something tells me I won't be doing these readings.

I don't think I'll be paying too much attention to many of the things my classes will be trying to teach me.

I have far too much learning to do to pay heed to them.