Look Ma! Two Posts in One Week!

The snow kinda melted today. Which was sad. But there is still plenty in the lawn, even if it's damp and unpleasant to play in. It's 3 a.m. and I'm finding myself staying up to see when it snows again. It's supposed to snow tonight. Last time it snowed at 5 in the morning, so I guess that I'm up for a long night....It'll be worth it, though. I love to watch the snow fall.

This holiday seems to have been a long one. It's only Friday, albeit rather early in the morning on Friday, and I've only been here in Yakima since Monday, but it feels like I've been here forever.

My cats, my t.v., my new bed, my blankets....they seem like a washed-out dream from far, far, away that can barely touch me anywhere but in my dreams. The warm heavy feeling of my polar fleece blanket and the gritty crumpled feeling of my sheets are fading into obscurity. My back isn't thanking me for my sojourn, however. No matter how well I've been sleeping at night, an air mattress isn't the best choice in the world to sleep on if you are prone to back problems.

It's interesting: I really can sleep anywhere. A desk, a bench, against a wall, on the floor, on an air mattress, in a damp and freezing tent. But when I sleep next to someone, I almost always wake at the crack of dawn. Whether I go back to sleep or get up depends on how thoroughly I awaken, but I always do this.

Why don't I when I'm in a stranger's house sleeping alone?

I wish I knew.

I hate that feeling of dislocation. That feeling you get when you wake suddenly, like someone shook you, and you have no idea where you are, or why, and you have the sudden urge to hit whoever comes into view first. Sometimes I wake up for no reason, and sometimes I have the dire urge to pee, or get a drink. But I always fling my eyes open like something's startled me. I won't move, I won't sit up, I'll just lie there and wonder "Why? Why is this happening?"

Sometimes I'll get fed up with it, stalk out to the couch, and sleep there. Others I wake up, resigned, and either watch t.v., or read. Occasionally, though, I lie there under the sun comes up, or until I pass out. Whichever comes first.

I kind of wish I've been having this feeling in my Aunt Jackie's house, in her spare bedroom, sleeping on the slowly leaking air mattress: then I wouldn't feel like I'm slowly leaving my life in Monmouth behind.

Regards,

Monica

The Holidays

I've been feeling rather ho-hum for a while, so sorry for not writing.

Also, I did National Novel Writing Month in November (NaNoWriMo) and was very busy trying to churn out 50,000 words. I hit 52k, good for me :) The book isn't actually finished, though, so I should probably be using my free time to add more to it, but I just haven't been able to look at it, let alone touch it, since the last day of December....That's twenty odd days of ignoring, and trust me, I'm pretty good at denial.

This will probably go on for quite a while.

Classes are over. Finally got to sign up for Winter term (You don't even want to know about the Financial Aid fiasco this year) and I'm a little disappointed at having to take four courses....

I get pretty stressed pretty easy, and it's actually quite hard for me to do a lot of stuff, consecutively, without getting tired and having to sleep.

I've been napping fairly often, recently. Nothing so crazy as a two hour nap everyday at the same time or anything, but still.

I'm just worried that I'll have too many hours to spend at school and I'll start sleeping in classes again. I managed to keep it down to four occurences (Twice in two different classes) this Fall term, and I don't want my pride at staying awake for school to be blown away by more classes.

Doesn't help that I signed up for a twice a week three hour drawing class *sighs*. Yeah, I know. We all know how thatwent last year. Although it was quite satisfying :) The only thing that really irks me about that class, though, is that it's from 3-6 p.m. Tuesday/Thursday which pretty much nixes the idea of a night job. Not that I'll find one, but one can always hope! But I suppose it's better than the 6-9p.m. one I took last year...

Signed up for Spanish 202, and I even managed to get the same teacher: Gonzalez-Viana. Best teacher I've had so far, actually, even though I did enjoy Watts....But I like him more. I learned a lot, even if he never understands my questions, lol.

Taking two literature classes this term, I could shoot myself. But I'm only doing it so that I don't have to take three next term. Then I really would kill myself... I'm taking the second British Literature course, and the second American Literature course. I was going to take them 12-2, 2-4 on whichever days they were that they were back to back...but I accidentally clicked buttons to sign up for two 12-2 classes on alternating days, which is actually nice because then I can take that art class and I don't have to sit through two literature classes right after one another.

Then I reallywould sleep through my classes...

The art class, btw, is a figure drawing class. I wanted to take the uh....I forgot what you call it but you learn more about perspective and architect type drawing (I'm actually not bad at that, when I have a ruler and...systems! That's it, it's called Systems in drawing...), but my Spanish class would have cut off the last hour of that class, and it's two days a week rather than four (like Spanish) so I deemed Spanish more important and chose another art class...

Sad, I really wanna take that class.

I'm in Yakima right now, visiting my dad. Well, I haven't actually seen him yet: I traveled up here as a surprise for him, and didn't get in until midnight last night and he goes to sleep pretty early. So I bunked at an Aunt's hosue across town.

She's pretty cool.

It's snowed here, but it's not too deep. Guess I'll have to unbury my snow driving skills *cracks knuckles*. It's been a while, but I'm sure my "faithful" readers have faith in my....

Sadly, her car doesn't have four wheel drive, studs, or chains, but there's not much ice and they have pretty regular snow-plows, so I should be all right. She's got all-weather tires, though, and that's better than what I had with my Buick Park Avenue on Christmas '08 when I was driving everywhere in the snow and ice with absolutely no idea as to what I was doing.....

It's weird, though. I was here for Christmas last year, and everything just feels the same. Like I never left. Took the same route over Snoqualmie Pass (even though I tried my darndest not to), ended up at the same station around the same time, all the buildings are the same, there's a thin layer of snow everywhere....

Yup. Yakima is pretty boring, and there's definitely snow everywhere which slows pretty much everything down.

Well, I have holes in my shoes, and a dad to visit, so I'm off to shop and see him...

Happy Holidays

Monica

Crummy Memory

It occurs to me, rather belatedly, that I never bothered writing a blog about what classes I am taking this term. Which is odd, considering that I signed up for them last Spring.

I am taking British Literature, Spanish 201 (Year two class one) and a writing class called Rhetoric.

Don't ask me what Rhetoric is, at this point, I know even less than I did before I started taking this class.

You're probably thinking that it doesn't sound like I'm taking very many classes, right?

I'm not.

I'm only taking 12 credits. I wanted the time to work. But sadly, I've made out 14 applications and only got one interview. I had hoped that because of the specific classes I have to take, and the fact that I managed to take them all before Noon this term that I would be able to do the same thing next term.

No such luck.

I need to take the second half of American Lit. and the second Brit Lit class and they are both only offered after Noon. Which bites.

How am I supposed to get a job?

My roommate has applied to at least 30 places.

Everyone, including family, keep telling me that I should just keep trying and what the news says about the crummy job market isn't necessarily the truth.....

It so is the truth.

The job market bites.

I started writing this entry with the purpose of explaining my classes and teachers and etc. but I find that now that I've started I'm not too terribly interested anymore.

So...

Regards from Purgatory,

Monica

Jack Frost Nipping At My Nose....

Deja vu, much?

No Aunt Charity, I'm doing just fine with scarves and those hand warmers. Although I imagine I'll need to start stocking up for this "bad winter", soon.

School has started.

My cat came back, after being missing for 24 hours. And after me spotting her perched on a fence post 5 patios down and me fence....crawling....to try to go after her. Ended up not catching her until midnight the night after she got out because I went downstairs one last time to check the patio and she was curled up pitifully crying out there...

Ha. Serves her right.

Needless to say, she's not allowed anywhere near the patio anymore, now that she's learned how to climb fences!

It's Sunday night and once again I've procrastinated enough on my homework that I had to make a late night trip to campus. I would've gone to the computer lab only two blocks from my apartment, as I have since last Christmas when I moved, but I wanted double-sided copies so the Library it was.

It's chilly outside.

Fall came early this year. No Indian Summer for us. The trees aren't burnished gold, yellow, or orange. They are green with damp brown pathetic leaves smushed to the sidewalks. Nothing pretty about this Fall. There aren't many squirrels, either, although I've had MANY encounters with Chestnuts....

I should've known what they were right away. I knew years ago that Chestnuts had an intimidating covering that you couldn't get into until it was brown and not green, but it didn't occur to me until just the day before yesterday (when I tripped on a particularly large one and almost fell face first into the pavement) that the weird spiky balls of Hell littering my street were actually tasty nuts.

I picked one up for Chulee, my squirrel back home, but I accidentally washed it in the wash with my laundry yesterday....It's now smooth and feels (and smells) like detergent. Probably not healthy to eat :)

It's 9 p.m. and it's damp out because it rained quite a bit today. 4 Bicyclists passed me by, two joggers, a strange black man with sparkling white teeth that glowed in the dark so hard was he smiling at me, a posse of giggling girls (6), and a few brooding emo boys.

Sunday nights are busier than Fridays and Saturdays, here. In fact, the library is open until 1 tonight, whereas on Friday and Saturday it's only until possibly....6.

Weird, yeah?

So it's cold. Nipped my nose and everything. Actually had to keep my hands in my pockets. The trees aren't pretty, and leaves clutter the gutters and stick to my sneakers. My breath rasps and my nose stings.

For some odd reason, all of these feelings shot me right back to last fall when I lived in the dorms. I kept thinking: I better hurry home to Miki. I can't wait until I'm back in my dim dorm with the amazing heat. I should turn here for the parking lot and cross it at a diagonal. I wonder if anyone is in the rec room.

But she's not there.

Someone else lives in our dorm now.

I don't live on campus, I live farther away, even though I seem to be more timely (not by much, mind you) than I ever was when I lived ON campus. But doing this midnight jaunt to the library on a school night in a (near) rush to finish homework really catapulted me back.

I remember late nights in the Art Building in my drawing class and trudging home in the mist and chilly/damp nights to our steamy dorm room where my glasses fogged up right away. I remember skirting around the dead construction area on shredded bark and tripping across a damp lawn by the smoke shack where everyone always waved hello.

The path I took every morning is gone.

The shack has moved.

The construction fence is torn down, a building replacing the gigantic whole in the ground that I woke to every day for nearly 3 months.

Nothing looks the same. Nothing feels the same. It's cold outside, and I feel like there's nothing out there to warm me up.

So I'm going to sign off, print out my rhetoric assignment, walk home with my shoulders hunched against the cold, and huddle under the fuzzy purple blanket that Miki left behind and try desperately to read my homework.

Instead of letting my mind reside in the past.

Regards from Purgatory,

Monica

Sunny Skies With 100% Chance of Rain

Marin is gone.

My kitten, I mean. The little one I posted photos of months ago. My roommate calls her Molly, it's easier for English speakers to pronounce, I've found.

Last night there was the oddest sound coming from the neighbors house, and it was giving me the worst headache. I thought for a while you could hear it throughout the whole house, so I didn't bother getting up and moving elsewhere. But Audrey came down and called me crazy so I stood up.

And couldn't hear it anymore.

In my searches as to where I could hear the sound, I checked on the back patio. The cats were back, Audrey was next to me, and there was no noise. Checked to make sure no cat made it out, shut the door, peered through and didn't see a cat, then twitched the curtains shut.

Shortly therafter I moved my laptop up to my room where it was warmer and where I couldn't hear the noise anymore. Ryou, my older cat, joined me. I thought it was odd that Marin didn't, but Audrey still had her door open so I thought that possibly she was bugging her, or laying in the hall, or was passed out downstairs.

I didn't think anything of it.

I had nightmares last night. I tend to dream a dream, then dream it over and over again over the years. Otherwise I don't dream much. There are like, three or four dreams that I've repeated since I was a small child and they usually snare me like a spiders web and refuse to let me go. As a direct result, I overslept my class this morning. With ten minutes to go and I wasn't dressed, fed, or even awake, I didn't bother trekking the ten minute walk waaaaay across campus to my Spanish class. There was just no way I was going to make it, anyways.

The only cat in my room was Ryou.

Now that is odd. Marin usually chases Ryou out, or Ryou sleeps in my laundry, or downstairs. She very rarely sleeps on my check or in my bed, and only if Marin is otherwise occupied.

So I ran a quick search through my house.

Nada.

Not in the cupboards, not in my room, or the bathrooms, or the kitchen, or the living room, or even on the back patio.

She was gone.

I went to my ten to noon class, but barely paid attention.

I've been all the way around the neighborhood, now. I've barely talked to the neighbors, only the ones that were outside, but I don't hold out any hope that anyone will see her.

She's small, for one, and two, there are upwards of 50 cats in a block radius of my house. And that doesn't count indoor cats. We have a HUGE feral cat number around here. She'll prolly get ripped to pieces. Although, mebbe not, considering how much of a bruiser she is.

On the other hand, I've met more ppl living around here than I have in the past 8 months. The guy across from me that keeps Japanese drinks in his kitchen window is a paraplegic, for instance, and said he'd keep an eye on his back patio while out smoking for my cat.

Leaned out my window a minute ago because I heard meowing and the new neighbor kitty corner to me (also out smoking) said she'd keep an eye out.

Turns out the neighbor directly across from my bedroom window has two cats that sit in the patio window and stare at mine. No wonder Ryou likes to sit in my window so much...

I just wish she didn't knock my books off of my bookshelf all of the time!!!

So, if you're a local here in Monmouth, please keep an eye out for my cat.

It's That Time of Year Again...

Sorry about my Japan blog, it's on Hiatus until I get my head screwed on straight....

School starts on Monday. I'm just as bloody terrified as last year. Will I get my financial aid in time? Will they realize that I checked the box "Taxes are filed" hoping to get them in by the time they read my application and I still haven't sent them in yet? Will the Spanish class that I bullied my way into end up being too full? How in the WORLD am I going to pay for the $200 book set I need for Spanish, when I ended up finally receiving LAST YEARS for free? 0.o

All sorts of things have been running through my head....

But I've had good news on several accounts :)

Number one: My roommate is totally and utterly moved in. Even got the internet bill out of her this month.

The downside is that she wrote the check for that over a week ago and I just found it this morning.....But that's all right >.<

Number two: We get along pretty well! Our personalities actually clash a lot less than Miki's and mine did (although depending on what side of the fence you're one, that could be good or bad) so so far it's been all rainbows and kitties *crosses fingers*. She doesn't exasperate me (too much), nor make me angry, so life is good.

I severely miss Miki, though...

This week was new student week. I did lots of things I didn't do last year (like a few of the "Mandatory" sessions that I had skipped.....) and didn't do some of the things I had done. For instance, I went to Laser Tag and LOTS of info sessions on anxiety and testing, and the Non-Traditional group (technically I qualified for that last year, but I chickened out because I wasn't 35 with 3 children and a husband....), but I skipped the hypnotist and the comedian and I don't think I'll go to freshmen bar (non-alcoholic) tonight because I've got the sniffles and I think that guys hitting on me there will just depress me.

A very very very good friend of mine that I met at the bar last year (it was a rave), has just been diagnosed with two types of cancer.

He's very depressed, and very....dreary, I suppose. He sees no point in anything at the moment. And it distresses me.

So no bar.

I did go to a few socials, and met new friends! I had a goal of meeting at LEAST two ppl this week (Audrey, my roommate, boggled at me and said "Twoooooo?!" like that was a humongous number and she could never do that....), and I met three!

Well, a girl named Rosie and a married couple named Stephen and Erica.

They are all pretty awesome.

Bathed the cats two times with flea shampoo before Audrey stepped in. She found cheapo flea collars at Waremart (WinCo) and so far the cats are only scratching at the scabs they had from their earmites a few weeks back. It's still an uphill battle with the Ringworm (theirs AND mine) but the fleas are losing.

Last night I vacated the place and deactivated the smoke detectors (I relished taking screwdrivers to them, the stupid things go off when the pizza's done for goodness' sake...) and set off bug bombs. It smells funny, and the cats are now enjoying their first trip onto the patio in a month (The door is finally shut AND it's like 80 degrees outside) and I'm sniffling my way through a large fry from Mcd's.

I know, right? It's the perfect sicky food :)

BUT, something AMAZING happened today!

I opened my mailbox, and all there was in there was a key. Now, I've been feeling rather abandoned because ever since I got back from Japan, Miki hasn't written, emailed, gotten on FB....well, besides the week directly after I got back, and I was actually quite worried. Expecting a package from my Dad (*coughs* Which I really NEED *coughs*), or even the cookies my mum promised me, I jammed the key in the lock and yanked out the box.

My first reaction was an honest to God full belly laugh.

Miki addressed the box with her address in the center, and mine in the corner, and the poor mailman wrote arrows all over the front :)

Hilarious!

That alone made my entire day.

Then I went to thinking that she only sent me stuff because she felt obligated because she said she would (They make this amazing Udon and Ramen in a cup that comes CURRY flavored! that you can't get here....), goodness knows why I thought that. Miki isn't like that at all. If she feels forced, she goes POOF! Like a fairy to never return.

I respect her for standing her ground in her own way.

So I open the box, expecting the worst, and the first thing I see is the curry....

She drew little piggy faces on the spines with various expressions and wrote *MILD* *HOT* and *VERY HOT!!!*

With star ratings below and everything :)

That's where I knew everything was going to be all right.

It's really hard to find the kind of ramen I decided I liked while in Japan, just as hard to find my soda *cries*. But she managed to hunt down four variations of the same flavor :)

WOOHOO!

Then I got a very nice letter that blew all of my disappointment, worry, and self-degradation out the window and now I've got it posted to the wall.

Apparently she's having such a hard time finding a job, that she started working at a Bento factory, or, a lunch box factory. I am not sure whether she is making the boxes, or packing lunches for convenient stores......

But apparently it's so bad there that she even used a bad word in her letter! :D

"I've been working really hard at a factory, making Bento thingy. It's like a HELL. I've taken several interviews for part-time jobs this week...hopefully at least one of them will call me back and save me from the Hell Bento Factory.....

I laughed so hard I thought I'd be sick.

Am probably going to write her an epic letter back (all the while scowling at her perfect handwriting) and hope that I can make her smile too.

Will let you guys know about classes later....

Regards from Purgatory,

Monica

EPIC MAIL FAIL

So that electricity bill I went to harass city hall about that they told me didn't make it to me because "I" had lost it?

Yeah, it just came in the mail.

Today.

For some odd reason it says "Retour Inconnu" on it, for all I know it went to France or something. But someone did me a favor and circled my name on the front and it ended up back in my box.

Woohoo!

Yay for the postal system. Two months late :)

Regards from Purgatory,

Monica

Learn Something Every Day

Yeah yeah, I'll get back to the trip log (eventually. No idea why I'm being so lazy about it). But I have urgent news.

Been in this apartment for eight months, right? Learned my closest neighbors idiosyncrasies, pretty much, even though I still don't know any of their names (I'm just glad I haven't been roped into babysitting...). The two ladies on my left have guys come over that I never see. And an indiscriminate amount of children. I can't figure out whether it's two or three but I think they are between the ages of 10 and 14. Your guess is as good as mine. They are never home. I mean, like never. It's not a case of me noticing that they are gone once in a blue moon, it's me noticing that they are there once in a blue moon. And I don't mean that they are quiet: They are loud. Screaming, t.v., instrument practice, talking loudly on the patio, kids banging up and down the stairs, fights, smoke alarm going off (for a while it went off once a day. But that was in a phase where they were actually THERE every day), someone leaving the bathroom fan on better yet both fans on.

I'm kinda glad they are never there. Unadulterated noise from them would drive me nuts.

I think they come by about once a week, at this point. Lord knows why.

On the other side I have a small Mexican family. Husband (nice guy), wife (hates my guts), a toddler who runs out of the house on a regular basis but naked, and a baby that I've seen so few times that I can count on one hand. I think they used to have a cat. And the baby used to have colic, or something, he cried ALL of the time. The cat was nuts though: sounded like he was having a darned cat fight with himself in the middle of their living room. But then, he might have been underneath the complex....

The baby hardly cries anymore (thank goodness), no more crazy cat, the wife has toned down on her neuroticness (seriously, who needs five different kinds of vacuums, and who uses them at two in the morning? 0.o), but I just heard the weirdest thing:

Someone snoring loudly enough, in their living room that it was quite literally rumbling through my wall.

I could even hear it over my laptop playing music.

*facepalm*

Regards from Purgatory,

Monica

This Old Dog...

I've learned something very important today:

Food left in the fridge for months doesn't magically go away. Neither does it magically stay in good condition. In fact, chances are, the longer you leave it in there, the more desperate the situation gets.

Did you know that Jello left in the fridge for 2+ months gets as hard as glass? After growing some spectacular mold, of course.

It's kinda like resin, really. I've tried the oven, a spoon, a paint scraper....Here comes boiling water!!

Regards from Purgatory,

Monica

Side Note 1

Train Cards

Now, don't let the currency fool you. Sure, 100￥（yen) doesn't seem like a lot because it comes in a coin about the size of a quarter. But you have to remember: exchange right now says that it's 80￥ to $1 USD. So use your money wisely.

The trains?

They cost anywhere between 120￥--400￥ depending on what train you take (rapid, rapid special, local, or metro) and how far you go. These numbers are just from my experience, mind. You might think that $4+ is way spendy for a 20 min. train ride, but what you don't understand is that I traveled from Shibuya to Harajuku in 20 minutes by only one or two trains, and that's 150 km at least. (93.2 miles according to google)

Trains are FAST here. Way fast. So yes, they are spendy. You have two options, buy a ticket that will get you from one place to the next (and you better have lotsa fare on it, because if it runs out the toll machine just eats it, lets you through, then you can't get through the next), or a card. There are two options from there: Suica, which can buy everything and your mother. Or ToMe, which is short for Tokyo Metro and will only get you on specific ToMe trains in the Tokyo area. I think there is Pasmo too, but I'm not sure of the difference between Pasmo and Suica.

Heck, you can even use Suica on the DRINK machines!

As far as I can tell, Suica and Pasmo can be used interchangable, although there seems to be trains that only accept Pasmo passes (I never had any problems with that, although I did see train lines indicating that) and the websites say that Pasmo has a 500￥deposit and a 210 charge for cancelling. And you can get passes with your name on it.

Okay, Pasmo is only for Tokyo area, Suica can go just about everywhere north east and west of Tokyo. Not all the way to Kanto or Hiroshima, but far enough. Which is awesome.

I'd link photos, but I can't read Japanese and I'm having keyboard problems >.<>

You slide it over an electronic reader, tickets get inserted and spat back out, and it'll either flash blue for OKAY! Or red, lots of noise, and the gate closing for NO! When you make it through, a little display screen tells you whether it charged you (if you haven't ridden a train yet, it won't), and how much money you have left.

Neat!

They are convenient, because the gates only accept passes or tickets, not money, but you don't get any discounts. If you use a Pasmo or Suica card on a bus, however, you'll get bus points that will be used to further bus trips later.

I have a Suica! Look it up, it's got a penguin on it. I suspect it's a spare card of either Miki's sister, or herself, since she has a student pass with her name and photo on it.

Btw, Suica stands for Super Urban Intelligence Card. No joke.

Oh, and on the train?

You have to be QUIET.

The first time I realized this was an actual rule, and not that everyone was boring, I was shocked. Only some line speak or have signs for stops in English. And one informed me "Please put your phones on vibrate or turn them off, and do NOT make any calls on the train. And please, no talking."

Wow!

No wonder everyone glared at me for chatting with Miki>.<

Pretty much they ALL play games on their cells (or text), read, or sleep. Yes, sleep. 80% of one of the trains we rode was full of sleeping ppl. Even when it's so crowded ppl are standing, ppl sleep. (And yes, I became one of these weird ppl. I couldn't help it, I was tired!!!)

Regards from Purgatory

Monica

Day One

Airports are nerve wracking. First thing off, they slam you with parking ticket. What? You're already charging me money?

EGADS!

To get into the parking garage, you pull up to a metal sentry with a huge green button that somehow reminds me of jabbing a clown's nose.

Ahooogaa!

It should honk, really, it should. So out pops a ticket, like a tongue, and you hafta snatch it quick! Otherwise the jerk behind you will start honking his horn.

NOT like a clown's nose.

Also, there's the red and striped bar in front of you, that supposedly stops you from going anywhere.

Hullooooo!

2 ton car totally trumps flimsy bar that will snap like a twig when I drive through it.

According to the movies, though, this causes all sorts of bells and whistles. I suspect these are just because the special effects crew is bored. It is very likely.

The next it is old hat+ park the car, ride the elevator, almost get trapped in the revolving door, approach the ticket counter.

I don't think we could've entered the building farther away from Alaska Airlines if we tried.

The electronic kiosk was a bust. And yes, I mean the colloquialism that means "dead end" or "bad choice". Even though it says Monica (middle name Millner on my passport, the electronic signature only read the Monica Millner bits. My plane ticket is for Monica (middle name Millner, so the kiosk thought my passport was for the wrong person. I told it to ignore that, and we moved on.

Then it asked me how many bags I was checking. Apparently this was a trick question, because next to my name it said checked bags allowed for this ticket (0).

When I pressed two, and hit enter, I fully expected the glitchy thing to light up and start wailing like a bumped arcade machine.

ERROR! ERROR!

Then it went black, flickered, welcomed me to Alaska Airlines and do I need a ticket? Touch the screen to start

Stupid kiosk.

So I got in line for the counter.

Lemme tell ya, flying to a different country makes this part interesting. They quiz you about all sorts of things. Like....have you smoked, practiced safe sex or done drugs?

Just kidding :)

It's more like they type in whatever country you're flying to, and double-check that you fulfill all of their requirements. If the country requires vaccinations, or a visa, you better have proof!

Luckily Japan loves visitors. Visit all you like!

*menacing voice* But don't you dare try and stay here, you white person!

Unless you stay more than 90 days, a visa isn't needed. So all I need is my handy dandy passport :)

In its pink kitty case.

Next was the check point. The lines for A-C were looooong. So long, everyone bunched up altogether and security had to keep straightening people out into separate lines. One suck misinformed security personnel informed me I could go through express since I was "going through Seattle".

The pug-faced guard at the rope convinced me otherwise.

Great. My ride had left because John and Melanie thought that I was all-clear, and I was back to the end of the supermondo long line Luckily, I was informed. I cut through the big bunched up line, and got in a shorter one hidden behind it.

It still wasn't moving that fast.

By now, I was panicking. It was 9:40, my plane "started boarding" at 9:25, and left at 10:05. I was never going to make it!

Then the line shuffler came back and started informing newcomers "Go to the check point for D&E. It's going much faster.

Man, I was off. I wanted that! That check point was just around the corner, so I ran too it and boy was it going fast. So fast, I couldn't read the carry-on rules sign. I had to lean over ribbons, snag a zip-loc baggy and sneak-a-peak while moving. I didn't have much stuff for the little thing. Stuffed in some ben-gay and another cream, fumbled out my passport and boarding pass, and next thing I knew a new station was being opened.

"I can take someone over here!"

I was first there. Booya.

I love ticket checkers. They get such an intense look on their face while reading your information. And no one EVER addresses a single woman, because they are afraid they will get my title wrong.

Well, shucks. It says 'miss' right on my passport!

All the men get "Have a good flight, Mr. Johnson."

And I get "Uh, here. Have a good day."

Thanks.

Well, this guy didn't say much. Just wielded his orange highlighter like an out of control light saber all over my pass.

Shing! Shing!

They've gotten much better at this x-ray thing. Empty your pockets, take out your laptop, liquids 3oz or less only in a zip-loc, shoes and jacket off, carry-on off and dump it all in tubs.

Put my passport in the bin, waltzed through the metal detector barefoot, arms swinging, and made it scot-free.

My stuff on the other hand...Not so much.

Here, and I thought I should be worried about my epically awesome "police line do not cross" bag with all of its junk shoved in...But apparently it was my camera bag that was offensive.

A man took the tray, and left me standing coatless and barefoot. That wouldn't have been a problem, except this is Portland we're talking about and I was wearing a spaghetti strap dress.

I felt like a waif.

They ran it through three times, then submitted my poor camera through a "random search."

As I retrieved and put on my coat and shoes, the man explained that they actually had a running bet that it was a tripod that was making everything all wonky.

Well whatdyaknow. I've got a mini metal tripod! Unfortunately, it was hidden real good and time was ticking to catch my flight.

Aargh!

Happily, he ran the tripod through all by itself, then came back smiling.

"Here you go!"

Then he left me standing with the innards of my camera case strewn all over the search table.

Thanks bud, thanks a lot.

So I jammed everything together, slung it over my shoulders, and took off at a fast clip. Not an easy thing to do while on the phone.

The guy who redirected me: He LIED. He said that it'd be easy to get to gate A from the other checkpoint....But even though the two checkpoints were super close to each other, gates D and A were NOT.

I ended up running all the way across the Airport whilst reassuring my gramma on the phone that yes, I was at the airport and no I can't hurry any faster! There are some pretty abandoned sections of that place, lemme tell ya. I get there, just as my plane is boarding, and find out why it was so bloody far away.

That plane was tiny.

I think it was smaller, eve, than the shuttle I took to Jackson Hole Wyoming when I was 14

Although, that airport was a log cabin. Literally. And there was barely any room for the ticket counter and baggage claim. The whole place was crammed.

So I went up the five steps into the tiny plane that gave me an instant feeling of claustrophobia and proceeded to bang my head several times.

Take off was awesome. We taxied for only a tiny while, then we were off! My seat was cool, a window seat. I got to see the propeller start up. I've sat in wing seats before, but in a small plane, it's an experience. When we took off, we shot straight up like a cork bobbing to the surface.

Did you ever do that science experiment where you create a cloud in a bottle? It's wispy, and hard to see through. It's different than cotton candy, but you know that if you put your hand in it it will be tangible. It will flit about your hand and spark nerve endings.

When we hit the first puff of clouds, it was magical. We went through them fast, in and out like a fish. It was dizzying.

The little low ones were fun, then we hit cloud cover. When we rose through it and skimmed over it, it was amazing. Little planes skip over the top. I saw a rainbow in the clouds! It was just a short segment, but I was it from above. It was super neat.

There seems to be a weird prism affect way up in the sky. Which makes sense since clouds are made of water. Water reflects light, right?

The plane left a shadow on the clouds which was super cool because it looked so tiny. It had a circular glow of rainbow around it.

It's totally unexplainable.

The flight to Vancouver B.C. was the shortest flight I've ever been on. Only 59 minutes! That's crazy.

When we hit the tarmac, it was all wet from the rain. The propeller spraying the water on the pavement was the cool too. It rippled and sprayed weird, the pressure from the plane affecting it in funny ways.

We got the leave the place all willy nilly like a train. From more than one door. We all piled out, then stood there like idiots. On short jumps, bags you don't need (because the plane doesn't have any carry-on space, pretty much) get stowed underneath. They called it carry-out.

I was one of the few that didn't have a bag stowed. So I just left.

They're really determined to keep us foreigners separate until customs. It was like a rat race: long winding empty tunnels that led nowhere. I could see the airport and other people through the glass walls, which made me feel insanely segregated. This hall funneled me up, over, and around the main floor. Two people met me, and sent me farther.

"Oh, you'll find it."

I think I'd prefer a mirror maze at the fun house over this maze of glass. Everyone was looking in on me, but I was still all alone.

Super weird.

I got sent down halls, up escalators, across sky bridges, on floor overlooking the main part of the airport...

I was nerve-making and uncomfortable.

So I get kind of...herded into a glass walled room of sorts. I had to go through several jigsaw halls to get the the desk I was sposed to go to: even though i could see it perfectly clearly from ages away.

Around the last corner I had to cross a bridge. Literally. Like, a wooden hump bridge you'd find in a garden over a stream. It even had potted plants, and chances were, they were real.

This is a ridiculous item to have, because after the bridge without a stream, all there was was a HUGE room with one table, and a booth in the far corner.

And a ribbon to keep you from getting "lost." Incidentally, to also make you took the longest route to that booth.

If the Canadian government was aiming to get me dazed and confused, they succeeded. In fact, I was so overwhelmed the customs form made absolutely no sense to me. So I closed my eyes, scribbled some stuff down (pretty much verifying that I wasn't bringing any alcohol, cigarettes, or food into the country.)

Heck. I wasn't even staying in Canada! What is wrong with this world?!

I suppose that Canada didn't want to get in trouble for harboring (for two whole hours!) a minor who was trafficking alcohol...

Pft. Yeah right. Me? I don't even get invited to alcoholic parties!

After that fiasco, I was home free.

B.C.'s airport was...eye opening.

PDX is a respectable size. And it's always packed. But B.C. was huge! End EVERYTHING is written at least three times. Once in English, French, and Japanese/Korean/Chinese (take your pick. They sure did. They weren't too consistent, really...)

When Miki announced, all excited, that she and Yuki were going to Canada for Christmas, I was skeptical. I mean, how in the world is that romantic? Well, the airport was too big to be crowded, but MAN were there a bunch of Japanese! 8 out of every 10 people I saw were chattering in Japanese. (And giving me the stink eye).

Well, I guess that Miki's belief that Canada is awesome is a pretty popular one in Japan.

I counted. I think I saw 4 school groups. Japanese school groups. One of them was made up of like, 10 8 year olds. And they all started singing.

Woohoo!

Apparently, I can't count.

My ticket said the flight was JL017, so I wandered about for several minutes before I realized that the gate numbers only went from 40-70.

For a moment, I was consumed by panic.

Was I at the wrong airport?!

Sometimes I wonder if I've only got quarters rolling around in my head. At least then I'd have money.

So after I opened my eyes (and squinted past the French) I realized that on the same board that told me what ti,e my flight boarded, it told me what gate my flight was at!

Dur!

That short little flight? Didn't even give out nuts. They gave out a "sunrise" packet that had a grand total of 3 pieces of cereal, 4 small banana chips, a nut.....and that was it.

Srsly.

So when a cute Japanese girl waltzed by with a personal pizza, I about attacked her.

So I followed the hordes of Japanese girls, got my pass, and made a beeline for Pizza Hut. I had 5 minutes to eat that pizza. And I was starving. I wolfed that thing . I think one dude snapped a picture of me with his phone. I was snarling and everything. I was ferocious, and they were all staring at me like I was a freak show....

And you know what?

I was too hungry to even care.

I think I was the only white girl in the entire waiting area. That was one excuse for ppl to stare. Another was that I was alone.

*gasps*

Cute Asian girls travel alone, Miki did it tons! So why is it such a travesty when a white girl does?

I had been so proud of my outfit, too. Rather pretty/conservative, I thought. And then (with the help of a few pointed stares I realized that a sun-dress that shows cleavage isn't considered conservative in most countries.

Ah gosh darn it. I like the dress because it's pretty. I think it's the most revealing item I have in my wardrobe, in regards to my boobs (which isn't saying much). And also, because of the style, there's no way to wear something underneath.

So, I ended up zipping up my jacket and feeling ashamed of myself. which is ridiculous. It doesn't show THAT much! So I looked pretty, but was too ashamed to be confident.

It didn't help that all of those tiny Asian girls had amazing style...

Grr.....

They all wear bright colors and crazy patterns. Also, why in the world are there so many in B.C.?

Srsly. Wtf?

I'm easily entertained, I swear. My section boarded first so I excitedly jumped up and hurried over...to block the tunnel to the plane and take pictures.

It was a double decker!

I've been on one plane that had three rows, but never one so big. It had different doors to enter depending on your section, and everything.

Which, after I sat down, kinda freaked me out because I watched Flight Plan recently. Makes me glad I wasn't traveling with anyone. That movie's a nightmare inducer for sure.

First thing I noticed was that, obviously, the "flight attendant” memo had not reached Japan.

All were friendly, pretty, and wearing knee length skirts, white blouses, blazer type vests, heels, and these really neat neckties (around their neck, not their shirt collar) that were tied to the side and kinda....frothed over their vest.

They looked like silk and had lots of patterns on them.

Every single seat had a t.v.! Like, your own personal one where you could watch movies (there were like 10 to choose from, listen to music, or play games. I slept first, actually, and did all those neato things later. I had an aisle seat and two very proper young men sat next to me who refused to talk to me at all.

Lovely.

I looked around the plane. I spotted 5 white people, all men, and two non-Asian women, but they spoke some other language and weren't white. Being the minority makes me wish I were some other race.

(p.s. I got to talk to a little old lady after the plane landed, who was blond. Was a teacher that lived in Japan for 40 years! She was nice :))

When you're American, you're ignorant, without tradition, and directionless.

I don't like it.

We got our first meal 2 hours into the flight. Suffice to say, I was surprised.

Food?

Of course, I could still taste pizza in my mouth, so I wasn't all that hungry. Isn't that how it always goes? They showed me (and my silent compatriots) a "menu" with two pictures on it that meant nothing to me.

"Chicken?" the stewardess chirps. "Or feeeesh?"

Chicken, definitely chicken.

My neighbors all dug in, but I didn't think I was quite prepared for the culture shock, actually. It was chicken in this weird brown sauce, and rice that had freeze dried peas (yuck, I avoided those), carrots, and scrambled eggs. There was a side dish of green noodles, they were okay. If slimy and vinegary. And cold.

I avoided the unidentifiable substance (vegetable?) on top of the green noodles.

The other dish I thought was potato salad: until I realized that it was made with something like creole mayo.

Spicy.

Slimy.

Cold.

And I don't think the potatoes were potatoes. I gave up on that one. I'm proud to say, though, that I used my chopsticks just fine! Although, it was probably in my favor that they were super short....

Have you ever seen chicken cooked to look like beef?

Lemme tell ya: it looks and tastes odd. But good. Very very good.

Think...curry chicken :)

A few of the traditional types on the plane took off their shoes and put on slippers. Which was interesting. The majority took their shoes off, but I was in an aisle seat and didn't wanna chance my poor toes.

I got ran over by carts often enough as it was. Oh! The dinner plate had a warmer under it. Queer, huh? It was really hot at first.

INTERJECTION!

My stereotypes have been entirely swept to the ground where they've proceeded to shatter, just now. I just saw a transvestite flight attendant waltz by. A Japanese transvestite. With pretty rainbow eye make-up (unless he was a transsexual?). He had an ascot thingy too, and man was he tall!

Well, not taller than I...but for an Asian, definitely. Kinda...older, though.

End Interjection

Lunch was unidentifiable.

It was a sandwich, with an odd filling. There were carrots. And fish, I think. It tasted suspiciously like a veggie bun from Uwajimayas, 'cept those don't have fish.

And now I've completely caught up with my day! (Took half my 10 hour flight...

I just finished my customs form, which was easy. Although I had to declare Miki's textbooks because 1. they were "asked to be brought to this country" and 2. they were so bloody expensive! Hafta declare anything that costs more than 10000￥ (roughly $100).

The immigrations form was fun. Fudged up my name. In pen. And somehow...the number MIki gave for her parents house is in a XXXX-XX-XXXX format so it didn't quite fit....I hope it's not wrong.

That would be my luck.

Oh, did I mention?

My birthday (Aug 11th) gift this year is visiting Mikiko in Japan!

And we're touching down very soon...

To Be Continued in Day One Part Two

Regards from Purgatory,

Monica

Murphy Strikes Again

City Hall has been running us through the ringer.

I first suspected that something was wrong when the 5th of the month passed and I still hadn't received my electric bill.

Now, for those of you that don't receive these mysterious things, they usually arrive between the 1st and the 5th and you are expected to pay them by the 15th, just like clockwork, every single month.

So after a few days of truancy, I swung by City Hall. There were many things wrong with this idea, though.

1. I was walking with my new roommate and her best friend, and we were eating ice cream. Short attention span much?

2. City Hall was jammed full of people. Normally I'd shoulder my way in and "patiently" wait my turn, but you don't really understand: Monmouth's City Hall has about 3X7 feet of standing room, and two "friendly" secretaries (isn't it funny how they aren't that friendly at all?) and there was a growling dog, 3 wailing children, two ladies in pajama's, and my postman was attempting to force his way through the door.

I don't think so.

3. I decided to ask my postman if he knew what had happened to my mail, or if they were running late because he appeared to be carrying 100 letters in his hot little fist.

I love my mailman dearly, I think his name is Ben. Cute accent, blue eyes, very friendly...Sadly, he is blond and there is absolutely nothing going on up there. I thought it was uncanny how it was so easy to make small talk with him! Turns out, he's just desperate to talk about things he can follow. You try something complicated like "Do you have a hobby?" And you've lost him for the count.

Needless to say, asking him about my mail didn't go very well.

"Hey Ben, how are you?"

"uh...Um...Oh! Hi!"

"Are the electricity bills running late?" *points at letters* (Oddly enough, he clutches them to his chest like a child trying to protect his stuffed animal.)

"Uh...What?"

"The electricity bills? Mine's running late. Have you already delivered them?"

"Oh, uh...Um...I think these are shut-off notices." *shifts awkwardly* "Uhm..."

*sighs* "Have you delivered the electricity bills already, then?"

*blinks dazedly* "Maybe, uh....you can ask inside?"

We both peer at the ruckus and rear back a little.

"Uhm...I'll see you later, Ben."

And I kept walking.

So a few days later, I jumped the other mailperson, a woman. The first time I met her, she was quite unfriendly I tell you. But now? She's my beeeesssteeessst frieeeeend!

She helps out when things go wrong. Like when two weeks after Mikiko left I was still getting her mail even though technically it was supposed to be being forwarded. We had our doubts, but when Miki filled out the card we specifically asked the Post Master if it would be forwarded even to Japan, and he assured us YES. Definitely YES.

Well, the hospital bill I delivered to the nice lady (whilst I was in my pajamas) delivering mail across the street testifies otherwise. She said she'd take care of it, so I figured she'd be the next person to talk to about my bill.

She was on the corner several blocks from my place, and to her credit, she still recognized me.

Well, Ben can spot me from four blocks away and wave (while shouting) at any point in his route, but not everyone can add up to that, I should think.

So I asked "So if theoreticially my electricity bill had two names on it, and one of the people named on there had moved and were having their mail forwarded...If their name came on the envelope first, would it have been forwarded as well?"

She said yes, so when by the 13th I had no bill, I attacked City Hall.

"I need my electricity bill."

Type type type type. "Yes?"

"I need my bill, it never made it to me."

Type type type type. "Address please."

I gave it to her.

"We mailed it."

Continues typing.

"Uhm. I still need it. It never made it."

"I sent it myself. It made it. You must have done something to it." Pauses. "Why are you bothering me if you did something to your bill?"

I made a heroic effort at not rolling my eyes. "It must've gotten forwarded. My roommate moved out and her name came first. I definitely don't have it."

This stops her entirely, and I got the death glare of doom.

"Bills go straight to your house. Not the person. You must have lost it." She shoves her chair back. "I would've gotten it back if it was ruined or you dropped it in the box by accident." Then she proceeds to tear through her filing drawer, in a temper.

So suddenly this is my fault?

"Wait." Death glare of doom is on my face again. "You're roommate moved out. Her name should be no longer on there. So it's your fault."

I stare. "Well...That's another thing I need to take care of."

"She....he.....This Mickey person will have to come in and take care of this themselves. Good day."

She started typing again.

Oh for the love of....

"Ma'am." I lean across the counter. "When we made this account, we asked if I could take her name off without her being here, and the desk lady informed me I could." I pause. "I will have to assume this person was you. Did I hear incorrectly?"

"She has to do it herself. Can you ask her to come in and do this? It needs to be done right away."

"She's in Japan."

Holy cow she has stopped typing again. It must be Armageddon or something.

"Can you ask her to come in?"

It's official. I have met someone more dense than my postman. Sorry Ben.

"Look. She is in Japan. She is not coming back. If there is paperwork she has to sign. I can mail it. Heck, I can give you the ADDRESS to mail it to her. But she's not coming here."

She blinks. "We can mail it?"

"YES!"

"She needs to give us a call, then." type type type. "Then we'll mail it to her. Have a nice day."

I'm about ready to strangle her at this point, but I knew this was as good as I was going to get. "Could I at least have my electricity bill?"

She opens her mouth, shuts it, and good Lord she's stopped typing again. "Yes."

She prints it. And I leave.

Pulling teeth, I tell you.

Made me wish I had had my checkbook with me at the time.

Well, I told Miki, and she tried calling them for three days straight. Poor Miki. I'm not certain exactly what was going wrong. But she had no luck calling them. Her email back to me was quite distressed.

Now I feel guilty >.<

The good news is, I received my electricity bill on Saturday!

The weird news is, that was the 31st. Paranoid much? Miki's name is still first, though. I'm sure my roommate will love that when she finally actually moves in. She hasn't, yet. Not until Mid-August I'm thinking. Maybe late August.

With my luck she'll turn up after I've been gone for several days and the cats will ahve done something unforgivable.

Thank you cats. I love you dearly.

The same day as the electricity bill, I got a notice from my loans. I had gotten one early in the summer, right after school got out, but I had ignored it. After all, I'm still in school, yeah?

Well, apparently not: This was a notice of late payment, and $45 in interest.

What The Heck?

The nice thing about school loans is that they don't charge you interest or require you to pay anything until you are out of school. But when I last checked, going into Senior Year and already being signed up for Fall Term does not qualify as being "done with school".

So why is my loan coming up already?

I hate bureaucracy.

Regards from Purgatory,

Monica

p.s. Have I mentioned that i'm running late on my Financial Aid again? Don't even get me started on my taxes. Let alone my mother's. Love you Mom.

Family

Number one reason why I love my Mom:

I just told her I ate Lays for brunch.

I.E. I didn't eat breakfast or lunch but I did eat a bag of vending machine chips at some indiscriminate time.

You know what she said back?

"Plain or BBQ?"

:)

I love my mom.

Regards from Purgatory,
Monica

It's a Miracle

The most amazing thing has happened!

Since I've moved here, the Jehovah's Witness must've knocked on my door ten times. But almost every single darned time they look at me and say "Oh. YOU'RE not hispanic. Estupido." and then like, leave.

But this morning, I responded automatically "Buenos Dias!" and even though I could barely understand his darned accent, and have no exactly what exactly he was saying (besides something about "his name", is this important?" I smiled, said thank you, and took my very first Jehovah's Witness pamphlet (you know, the ones with the pretty pictures) in Spanish.

Silly, I know. But I realized a few days ago that even though it would've cost me lots of money and lots of time I REALLY should've signed up for Spanish class this summer, if only to get in the practice. So if I'm lucky, they'll put me on their door to door list, (or more likely I'll keep having lost people knock on my door expecting a Mexican, I suspect the last tenant here was Mexicano....) and maybe I can brush up on my poor dusty language :D

Adios,

Monica

Summertime

Did anyone else notice that my last post was my 70th?

WOOHOO!

I figure, that I haven't been writing this blog for a year, yet, and there are 52 weeks in a year, yeah? That's a pretty g00d ratio, even though I haven't been writing much lately.

It's July. I've been alone in my apartment for....three weeks now? Give or take. I regret not being able to go to the airport with Miki. And I don't blame myself for shutting myself into the house directly after she left and sitting there staring at my laptop pretty much doing nothing all day long. When I came out of my stupor, I cleaned. Like, deep-cleaned.

And the next morning I did even more.

Every week, or so, I've been doing major cleaning. It's amazing the little things that Miki did everyday that kept this place from being a wreck. I've got a little ways to go (*coughs*the dishes smell nasty*coughs*) but I've improved a lot from even since she left.

Although, for the third time, Marin has knocked my hanging plant off the shelf. This time it upended directly into their water dish (which I had just filled, because they had been screaming at clawing at my door for a while) so there was a mud-tsunami all over the floor.

The plant was un-salvageable. Which pissed me off because I had worked hard on nurturing that silly thing!

Oh well, I guess I still have my spider plant, yeah? And I must've bought the hardiest African Violet on the planet, because I haven't watered it in a week, give or take, and it's got the biggest flower buds opening that I've ever seen.

They're pretty, I'm pleased :)

I signed up for a fiction writing class for this summer, I can't remember if I mentioned that previously *is too lazy to check*. It's fun, actually. We got homework on the first day, but that didn't irritate me because it was the most interesting first-day of class I had ever experianced. You know how boring the first class always is? How you always wish that it was the second week already so things would quit being slow? Well, the professor jumped straight in and it was so challenging, and made me think and I really appreciated it.

I wish every teacher taught like her!

Even if she is a tad too perky. Like, scarily so. Sometimes her smile outright scares me. I wonder if she's on uppers, or anti-depressants or something? I wouldn't be too terribly surprised.

We only have to write one short story for this class. Some people are clearly taking advantage of this. I.E. the people that assume short story means a quick exposition that's only 5 pages or less long.

I say, that a short story should only be that short if it's
a. super good
b. super dense
c. all of the above.

After the first couple weeks of in class writing exercises and reading assignments/write-ups we're doing...little progress report thingies, I suppose. You bring in your finished/unfinished story, read it to the class, and we workshop it. Talk about the likes, and the things that can be improved (besides spelling and grammar, just the big-stuff) while you aren't allowed to talk.

No one wanted to volunteer. It was silent for 5 solid minutes, so I jumped and raised my hand. Of course, as soon as I did that....the rest of the class jumped to volunteer next.

Thanks guys!

So I went first. And no, I'm not gonna tell you what my story is about! I had no fears about telling the class, and the teacher, because they are oblivious about the undercurrent of my story. At least, they will be until it's finished. And maybe they still will be afterwards! But anyone that knows me intimately will know that this is an important narrative for me to write, and I don't want to spoil it before it's even finished :D

I did my workshop on Wednesday. I had 5 pages ready, I believe. Maybe a little less. After the workshop, I added 2 or 3 more, which was an awesome feeling. And I don't mean to the end, as in writing more of the story. I mean, like, improvements. Added descriptions and scenes. Yesterday I went to the writing center and worked more on my story, and when I took the suggestions home and worked on the story last night....It cut off a half-page or more. >.< Darn. Seriously?

But I wrote more in the park today. In the super hot weather.

It's been 90+ degrees all week! It's been crazy. I'm not sure I've ever experienced a heatwave like this. I'm also not sure if I can ever remember being comfortable in short sleeves (tank tops, even!) and shorts, without getting chilly somewhere or getting prickly arms or too cold toes...

I like the feeling :D

Even if this wretched heat has been setting off my migraines like nothing else...

So I only have two weeks or so until the end of this class. I have 8 pages written, and I predict it should be around 20 pages long.

Do you think I'll make it?

This thing is coming along a lot slower than most of my stories. I think it's because I've been so...deliberate with it. Making choices that have real purpose, dumping extraneous information, misleading the reader, adding in hints that mean nothing until later.

It's a blast, really. And writing this story proves to me that I have the talent to do something better than the silly little scribblings that I've been writing all these years. 6, to be exact. It pushes me out of my comfort zones, expects me to experiment and think, uses my brain.

No longer do I let my fingers run away with me, or even my brain, for that matter. I make conscious decisions, insert ideas that are relevant and slowly build the story. All of it rushes to my head and gives my fingers life. Slow life, I've slowed down. Whereas I normally pump out 20 handwritten pages a day, I've meticulously arranged these 8 typed pages over the span of the last couple of weeks.

I think I have something going for me.

I don't want to flop.

I don't want to write something that has the potential to be good, but falls short. That rushes at the end and leaves you unsatisfied. I want a polished piece that you, the reader, wants to come back to and read over again and try to find something new, something more interesting. I want to write a work that has hidden nooks and crannies that you have to dig deep into for the things you need, that cause you to think. That cause you to question. That cause you to wonder if your life will ever be the same.

If I cannot do what I want with this piece, then I don't think I'm cut out for this sort of thing. But I think I can do it. I know I can.

Because I'm faaaabulous! :)

Someone workshopped yesterday, that obviously wanted his whole written piece ready to show us. A nice though, but a little rushed. It read a bit like an essay a junior-higher wrote for a contest. Good, might even win, but not to college standards. Or printing standards for a short story. It had so much potential, that it nearly hurt my eyes. And I saw exactly where he went wrong: He wanted so badly to finish, that he quit focusing on the story and what he could do with it, what the story itself could do, and looked only to the finish line. He saw the ending in sight and sprinted for it leaving his team straggling behind him, out of breath and left behind.

I want so badly to see him focus on his story and make something amazing of it. It's such an important and intimate topic for him that he could really pull it off. I want to see him do it, and I think I'd do anything to get him there.

In fact, after he wrote his amazing first line, I helped him translate it to first person (because that was exactly what his story needed) and gave him an equally strong second line. And because I'm such a nice person (not even being sarcastic here) I even let him use my exact words for that second sentence, and let him write around my suggestions. He had such a strong and interesting beginning, and the rest piled up like a train-wreck. I was a bit disappointed.

But you know what disappointed me more?

I made an effort to find something I liked about his story (he had amazing detail that I'm actually jealous of), and gave him some well-meaning advice on how he could improve...And nearly half the class sent him flames in response to his story.

Don't know what a flame is?

Straight from Wikipedia:
Flaming (also known as bashing) is hostile and insulting interaction between Internet users.

In my experience, this is where a person ignores the rules of constructive criticism and simply bashes you about the head with a metaphorical baseball bat and calls you an idiot and stupid and a poor writer. One person's response said "This isn't a junior-high exposition", and another said "You shouldn't have bothered," I swear that Kenny was near tears.

And when he turned to me and told me that people weren't too nice, my first response was to say "Well, it happens," Mostly because I wasn't paying attention too terribly much. But I caught the words in my mouth, turned my full attention to him and said "It's best to ignore people when they're being rude without provocation, because those aren't the things you need to hear. You aren't going to improve if they bitch you out. You probably just shouldn't pay any attention, and only look at the honest critiques that tell you how to improve. For instance, I can promise that mine is clean."

And although his smile was strained, he thanked me and shook my hand. Of course, I didn't say things exactly like that, because I have an interesting dialect that doesn't directly translate into writing, and I was a little rude about these flamers, to be perfectly honest, but I spoke my honest mind and told him that he had a lot of potential.

He does. And honestly, it's amazing how far he's come. He's a cancer survivor. A few years older than I, but he's been in remission for five years. I think his cancer came upon him in elementary school, so it's doubly amazing how far he's gotten. And that's what he wanted to write about: A character fighting the fact that he could get sick again at any moment, and that no one thought he'd get through elementary school, let alone college, and him stressing out about a term paper.

Good idea, lots of details and facts and interesting things, it's just that the dismount was a little sloppy.

I wish him the best of luck!

So, I love how I've lived in this neighborhood for 7 months, and I'm only now meeting neighbors. Not just the people next door (I met the mexi to the right my first few nights here, and the ladies on the left I see at the mailbox all the time...), but like, in the area.

For instance, a guy that I see all the time walking to school or from school (usually directly across the road from me while I'm walking) lives two doors down from me! I saw him enter his door for the first time 3 weeks ago...

But then, he must not have lived there long, because I think that's the place where the pipes burst a few months ago when Dad went upstairs to shower and mum went downstairs to vacuum and she's the one that got the shower....I had wondered why it looked empty for a while. I think they moved out right away....I wonder why that never occurred to me? :D

LOL

Well, several months ago, a girl that I had met in my Fall Lit. Studies class (i.e., how to critique things) drove me home from Poetry. She wasn't half bad, she wrote a cherry blossom poem I rather liked, actually! Well, she drove myself and another guy to the same street and dumped us on the wrong part of the road, and I had just assumed that he lived across the street at the College Manor apartments, which was weird because I never saw him in the area, like, never ever.

Still hardly don't, unless I'm deliberately hunting him down.

But it turns out that he lives on the corner....Next door to that crazy guy with the whacko hair, rucksack, and orange sweatshirt that I thought was a homeless man!

His name is Kevin. And he doesn't live directly next to Dan. Right next to Dan is an unfinished apartment. But since the stairs on the other side of the building are unfinished (and until a few weeks ago stopped in midair) he walks up Dan's stairs and through the unfinished pad into his.

Which is kind of weird.

But yeah, Dan is the dude that lives across the street from me. We are in fiction writing, the second class we've taken together.

At first, I thought he was kinda weird. Well, not kinda: VERY. I'd feel him looking at me, so I'd look over at him with an eyebrow raised, and then he'd give me very...gross and twisted looks. Kinda like "HUH?!" on crack.

And then I'd ask "What is that for? Why are you looking at me?"

And he'd say "You're the one looking at me! Why are you looking at me funny?!"

So I'd throw my hands up in the air and turn away whilst he gave me more disgusting looks.

Drove me absolutely bat-shit.

Thankfully, he doesn't do that too often if you hang out with him a lot. He just tends to be....nuts....in class. Today, he actually told me that he looked at me a lot because the very first time he really noticed me was when I sat down right next to him in class, and proceeded to spend 10 minutes very focused on deliberately poking his hat.

And then ignored him for the rest of the class.

I guess it was like some lightbulb that got switched on and told him "She's interesting!"

So when he saw me in class with him, he bought me lunch (with his roomie) and I found out that he lived rather close, actually.

So now we eat together. Which is good. I get to bounce story ideas off of him, and get free food in the bargain. Even with Miki here I never remembered to cook too often, and only occasionally got to mooch off of her, but my eating habits have gone rather downhill since she's left, so it's nice to have somewhere to go to mooch eggos or pasta or something :D

I still have my own problems with listening to other people, some sort of weird lack of patience. Which makes no sense because I can listen to annoying people natter about their problems for like, an hour in grocery stores and other assorted places...But I can't listen to friends, family, and intimates?

0.o

But I guess we're learning together, because I get to talk, and I get to listen etc. It's nice having an impartial listener, a friend. And someone who might have an idea what to say back. Yup, it's nice.

Not the same as a boyfriend, though. Which I'm glad for. He's not that, that's for sure!

:D Sorry Dan :P

So I got a roommate. Sorta. I think so. I also think that there's been some sort of miscommunication somewhere. She's that type that's super paranoid about roommates. Afraid they won't pay rent. Afraid they'll steal things, or will be hard to get along with...But so far she's moved in her stuff, dodged all talks about rent, and has told me that she has no money and won't be back until the end of July.

And did I mention that her stuff is up in the small bedroom behind her newly locked door? Yeah. She went out and bought a doorknob so that she could lock it. To be fair, I can't complain: My bedroom door has a lock and key. A few months ago I had a key fall on me in the hall closet that didn't fit the front door, and I only figured out that it went to my bedroom a week or two ago. So now we match.

But I only ever lock my door if I'm inside and only shut it when I want the cats out. I never leave it wide open, but I rarely shut it either. I've always liked having my privacy (comes from sharing a room for 10 years give or take), but living with Miki really made me fond of being able to see the person I live with.

I'm not sure what bugs me more, the fact that the door is closed and now the hall is dark and gloomy, or that she assumes that I'll steal stuff, when I'm the one with all of my stuff vulnerable around the house and she's gone and moved in without even bothering to help me with the rent!

I'm not the only one that can see the problem with this picture, am I? Needless to say, I am probably not sharing this blog with her. Which means I should probably refrain from posting the link on my Facebook anymore...No worries, I haven't done that in months :)

Dan and I built a garden on the patio the other day! Like, literally. He had a wooden frame, so we (meaning I watched and he sweated) nailed landscape fabric to the bottom, and filled it all with dirt.

He bought seeds, some of which are way out of season...

Here they are:

Roma Tomatoes
Romaine Lettuce
Spinach
Rosemary
Sage
Basil
Cilantro (which mum says, btw Dan, to go right ahead with. It'll grow just fine right now.)
and Chives

I just killed my Basil, on purpose because I couldn't get rid of the aphids. And let Miki's lemon mint thingy die for the same reason. I shoulda put the second one outside, though, because (2 weeks later. darn.) now my african violet has them....Anyone have coffee grounds? My roommate drinks it...But since she's not here and her coffee maker is locked upstairs I can't make weak coffee to spray the darned this with!

I have dying chives and a hardy rosemary outfront. Might plant the chives in the back in a few weeks and pretend they grew from seeds...Oh wait, did I say that out loud? :D

But the rosemary is in a nice pot, and is blooming, with all of my lavender, so it's fine.

And apparently I have dastardly luck with Pansies....mine petrified. But my primroses are making a gallant attempt! I should probably move them out back, they get waaaay too much light out front.

Poor things.

Regards from Purgatory,

Monica

Photos

Miki got a henna Tattoo with Kody!

Imagine my surprise when I saw this sign at an Adult Theater right next to Voodoo donuts. I didn't even know they played hentai in the U.S.! The hilarious part? Miki had no idea what hentai meant when we were giggling over it...(it's a japanese word for naughty things, usually naughty cartoons. Their anime's are pretty creative...)

Keepin' Portland weird as we waited in line for Voodoo donuts. A line that went down the sidewalk and across the street!

He amde her a balloon hat for free. Miki was so excited!

This was the back of a business card at a T-shirt shop at the Saturday Market...I bought one. It's says (with little pictured) Hexagon, Octagon, OREGON! lol

Miki and I went out to dinner this last friday! Do we look nice? And MAN that shirt was much shorter than I expected >.<

That's it for now! I seem to have run out of room in this entry, it won't upload anymore....

Spring Term

It was fun.

I'll forever be grateful(to myself) that I only signed up for 3 classes. Spanish had enough homework as it was. And I'll never be brilliant at Linguistics no matter how much I study. I just don't have the talent for it. It's interesting, yes, but I have problems memorizing the simplest things.

Like for instance, someone told me that the part of the sentence I was focused on was the preterit, and I had absolutely no idea what that was...

Poetry is sometimes good, and sometimes torture. I'm pretty good at writing threatening poems (in secret) about my teacher to distract myself though....

I still hate poems. I can say this truthfully without a twitch. I still despise Emily Dickinson, but I have been able to admit to myself that not only do I like two different death poems she wrote, I tend to favor her style of writing.

Which is interesting considering before I took this class I couldn't understand why someone would write such short lines that made no sense. But I seem to be waffling between Prosey poems, Dickinson style (with interesting punctuation and everything), and narrated poems.

All of which are interesting, and so different from one another that I wonder if I even have any sort of particular style.

Impulses

I’d like to stab your eyes out

—Just so you know—

For every “innocent” comment

You direct my way.

Especially when you repeat them

Two, five, ten times,

In that gentle manner,

Like you seriously believe

I’ll fall apart right before your eyes.

I’d give you “fall apart”,

If I wished to be convicted of manslaughter.

—But I don’t—

So I let you bumble along

In your delusions

And keep my impulses

To myself.

It was hilarious how everyone interpreted this poem. But not as interesting, I think, as the interpretation of my previous poem. But my teacher loved this, funnily enough, which is odd considering it's about him....I'm pretty good at reading it aloud. I practiced. I needed some humor, and straighforwardness, and venom to make it entertaining. It was lots of fun! Everyone was so surprised when I got up to read my two favorite poems at the end of class and I could recite this one without looking....

That's because I read it aloud on my way home everyday for a week to practice getting my cues down perfectly. The Professor was right about one thing: poems do sound much better if you practice reading them aloud first!

Got my grades back just this last Friday.

I think I did pretty well!

Linguistics: C+
Spanish: B(was it a plus? I can't remember.)
Poetry: A

Woohoo!

Go me :)

I had to sign up for Fall term already...That was fun, lemme tell ya! I registered for British Lit., some writing intensive class, and Spanish 201. I think that's all I'm signed up for. It better be. I'm not up for taking much more than 12 credits anymore, it's a surefire way to burn out, that's for sure.

Although I need to take some sort of art class, but the one I need is already full. If I decide it's absolutely neccessary by fall term, I'll sit in on the class and see if I can get in. If not? I'll not worry about it. I'm going to have to take an extra year here at WOU anyways, I have a bunch of misc. upper level credits to aquire, over 20 credits, and a bunch of required classes for my minor (which the school has somehow managed to erase from my records, a problem I need to rectify), which is Fine Arts.

Ah, who knows: I might take a vocal class just for kicks! Nah, I need to finish school sooner rather than later, so no fun classes for me! That reminds me, I should probably pick up an application or 5 for jobs around campus that hire non-workstudy students so that I have a job this upcoming Fall....

Wish me luck!

Regards from Purgatory,
Monica

Portland part 3

After the donut shop we realized that there was a third section to the Saturday Market under the bridge next to the park.

It was huge!

And the booths under there were MUCH nicer, with lots of space in between them. It's amazing the things we found under there, even though we had delayed so long that the market was closing by the time we had a look see.

I bought a bar of Lavender soap for Miki. But I put it in the shower, pretended to use it a few times and said she could too.....

It's gotten much smaller :)

On the sidewalk near the train stop I saw the weirdest thing...It will take me a bit to find the photo (I plan on posting a blog with just photos from this trip veeeery soon) of a man begging for money. He was rather...forceful about getting me to donate so that I could take a picture, but then he laughed it off like he was joking.

I rather doubt it.

But luckily I only had 45 cents in my pocket so I gave him all I had and took a few crappy photos, and then he hunted me down and let me take a better one in the light :) It said something about his kid being hunted by ninjas and needing karate lessons or something. I laughed SO hard!

Kody and Ai had to ride the Max in the same direction we did, so we got on altogether. The difference? I got distracted a stop or two from where we needed to go.

How did I manage that?

I saw a bookstore >.<

So we leaped off the train to our friends' shocked faces early and waved through the windows.

Poor guys :)

I did get some cool books, though. And I bought Avatar! That movie is amazing. I've watched it 5 times at least, by now.

Which meant we were cutting it a little close to get to the Greyhound station...Even though we had gotten bumped earlier in the day, Miki hadn't been able to get her tickets refunded since she had bought them online. So she was still booked for the 6:15 bus. I on the other hand had returned BOTH my tickets because, apparently, if you buy two tickets at once you can't return just one, you have to return both. Really, I should have bought a return ticket as soon as we reached Portland, but Miki was so worried about making it to the airport that I put it off.

After we left Borders we ran to the Max stop because there was a train there, but they wouldn't open the doors! So we had to wait 15 minutes for another one.

Luckily I had a book to read as I sat on the sidewalk....Miki stood.

When we got to the Greyhound station, life through me a curveball. Miki had been grumpy all day. Things had kept going wrong, or funky, or crappy (other than the amazing weather, 80 degrees at least) but nothing had been able to rid me of my amazing mood. Nothing. Well, someone was certainly trying.

Right outside the doors of the bus station, my flip flop broke. Like, literally. It fell to pieces.

Well, that was annoying.

And then we opened the doors to find that there was a cardboard sign screaming "6:15 bus overbooked!"

Crap.

So I shoved Miki towards the line, assured her I'd find my own way and took off.

With only one shoe on my foot.

Brilliant!

I got into the train station, and....it was empty. And when I say empty, I mean empty. They were pushing all of the benches against the walls and the counters and there were no clerks to buy tickets from, so I skittered around the ppl dusting the floors (man it's huge in there!) and bought the first ticket I could find on the electronic teller. I thought: if I can get there around the same time, Miki's ride can pick me up too, right?

One little flaw: I couldn't figure out whether it was a bus or a train, and I took so long finding someone to help that I missed it.

Because it left at 6:15 too.

So they shuffled me into a back lounge, a nice VIP place I had no idea existed. Weird.

Why was the station empty? Where was there a photo shoot being set up in the back?

Where was everyone?

As far as I could tell, I was the only passenger loitering around. It was super weird.

Until I was put into that nice, comfy, and warm lounge. There weren't a ton of people, but it was obvious that all the passengers were being moved into the back. I wondered why, because this didn't seem normal at a train station, you know?

Well, first thing first, I had to exchange my poor ticket >.<

So I got in line and while waiting attempted to communicate my problem to interested parties. I had a friend in Salem that was willing to get me home if I made it to Salem first, but then I had friends waaaay up in Astoria freaking out and wanting to drive down and get me. Especially when they found out that the train I would be taking would leave until 9:15. Apparently they could make it to me sooner than that.

Well, 9:15 was better than the only bus that Greyhound had offered me: 11:15.

WOWZA!

I wasn't gonna sit in the creepy Greyhound with one shoe in a breezeway for 5 hours for a bus!

So not gonna happen.

So I got my ticket (I was not so secretly pleased to ride a train again) and called off the Coast Guard and sat down for a wait.

Apparently I was a novelty. Because even though I'd been kicked off a bus, had to walk to the train, had to put up with a boyfriend (not mind) being indecisive for an hour in the airport, the crowds at the market, a broken flip flop, an overbooked bus, and missing another bus, I was still cheerful and excited to ride the train.

I had lots of people looking at me funny. But apparently they were suprised/glad I was in good cheer, because I had plenty of people willing to chat and tell me about their escapades!

For instance, the man in front of me booked his train ticket over a week ago, but when he went to get on the train they told him no he'd have to catch the next one.

He was going the same way I was.

Most people were, actually. And most wanted to ride the train.

I never realized how popular the train was! Apparently people like the comfort of it, a lot, and it's not that expensive.

Whereas I paid $18 that morning to ride it (although Miki had to pay $21 for some odd reason) for a night train...I only paid $12!

How cool is that?

So I sat down with my book (a good one at that) and tried to ignore the man across the room desperately trying to flirt with me. He was super excited for the bar car (the coffee he said) for some odd reason and was a little annoying. But I didn't mind too much. The excitement, at least.

The only problem was, I was facing the windows into the station, and the photo set was on the other side of the glass. I'm a photographer, the poofing lights don't bug me when I'm using them. I'm a model, and they don't bug me when I'm under them.

But seeing the light flash around the gauzy curtains just about made me claw up the walls. That and it gave me a lousy migraine.

So I drew myself up(in one flipflop) to see why the heck they were taking so many photos and why they were playing such crappy music (loudly) in the middle of a train station.

I peered around the door frame, and the first words out of my mouth to the tuxedoed chaperon standing next to me was "Why all the beautiful people?"

There were a lot of beautiful people. All the girls had long hair with those wavy curls (the blonder the better) in silky looking sheaths with no backs, tiny clutches, and heels that gave me palpitations even thinking about them.

He blinked at me, eying me a little warily, and told me it was a high school prom.

Prom?!

What the heck?

Who has that at Union Station, of all places?

Prom, who woulda thunk it?

I can honestly say that although not many people showed up, and no one wore such pretty dresses, and it was in a gym, Prom my senior year was much cooler.

Specially since my cousin arranged so much of it *hugz Samantha* she's so awesome!

Although, at my school it was really called "Junior Prom" because the juniors put it together for the Seniors, who were the ones a part of the royalty...or is that homecoming? Urgh >.< Who knows :)

Back to the VIP lounge.

An old lady showed up. She was cool. She came in, complained she was hungry, ditched her stuff with me, and bought me chips!

Which was awesome, because I didn't particularly wanna walk anywhere with my broken flipflop, and I was too tired to go explore Portland or anything even though I had plenty of time.

We had many interesting discussions. I was amazed how much she knew about linguistics, pretty much the only thing we had in common, because we read much different books. I've been hitting a lot of brick walls with people recently when I try to discuss literature...Possibly because I don't actually read literature >.<

Then the man went out to go out and buy coffee and came back drunker than he already was. Okay, so it was annoying that he was in the middle of a hangover. But he didn't smell of liquor, and other than stuttering and having a headache he wasn't acting drunk. But when he went out for coffee to "cure his headache" he definitely got booze instead.

The sucky part was that he had decided to sit closer to the lady and I and try to interrupt our conversations. I don't mind people joining in. I don't mind talking to strangers. But I do take offense to someone deliberately interrupting to only say inane things about wanting coffee.

I'm too polite to say much, but man that lady got vicious! I was actually a little glad, because otherwise I'm not sure he would've left me alone...

I think she talked to the conductor and made sure he was nowhere near us, because he definitely didn't ride in the same car as me.

The train was nice. A little dim, and I think I prefer riding it in daytime better, and this one wasn't quite as nice as the other one but it might've just been the light.

And then I saw someone I knew. Not too terribly well, just enough to know she's a party girl and thinks nothing of excluding losers from her parties....But for some odd reason she was excited to see me.

Uh oh.

I wracked my brain, and I could only think of one reason: She has a permit, and she thinks that I'm adult enough to be in the front seat for her.

Sure enough, she waltzed up the train and said "Moe-nica, you have a license, right?"

"Sorry Trinity, I'm 19. Tough luck. I'm not gonna be the adult in the car for you."

She pouted, and flounced off.

Wow I'm good.

But then she came back a few minutes later with her sob story about how she was riding the train from Seattle with a friend and when they were taken to the train station in Salem a friend had driven her companions car and now they had no way to get it back to Monmouth because she and her companion only had permits and would you please drive for us, Monica?

I didn't have to think on that long. Actually, I didn't have to think at all. I had a ride. I had a ride with a safe person. I had a surefire way home. Who in the world would give that up to play chauffeur for two girls that would probably end up "accidentally" steering me towards a kegger? In fact, I probably would have gotten my arm twisted so hard I would have ended up not driving at all. And I don't know about you, but I didn't want to be designated driver for two other minors OR suffer through permit driving.

Seriously.

So I didn't even think twice about saying no.

Nor did I feel guilty.

What a fun day, huh?

So I went home, and passed out, pretty much. Poor Miki was already out, and that was it!

Regards from Purgatory,
Monica