Follow Me On Facebook!

It’s nothing new, not a shiny new page or anything. Since I’m not posting a lot of other things, I’m using my Facebook author page to share links to whatever entries I make here.

You can find the page at https://www.facebook.com/LunaDragonLit/

Like my page, and then leave a comment telling me what you’d like to see me post. I might share whatever music video has my attention, or an article that I found interesting and might discuss in a future blog entry. I might even promote other WordPress bloggers who follow me, because I’ve seen some amazing blogs that have come up in my list of followers.

More than that, I want to chat with YOU! What has interested YOU over the course of the day? What is currently motivating YOU, or what dream are you chasing after? What is a challenge you’re currently facing?

Ascension Of Luna is about making a comeback, realizing that rock bottom isn’t far away but never wanting to face that. It’s not just about my life, though I happen to tell things from my perspective. I’m being followed by interesting and amazing people, and I would love to interact with all of you!

Hope to see you on Facebook!

This entry was posted on March 21, 2017, in Uncategorized. Leave a comment

Thoughts You Never Want To Think About

“Mommy wants to throw you out,” said the 8-year-old boy at the dinner table. I don’t even remember what was said before that, I just remember the context. He wasn’t trying to scare me, it was an “out of the mouths of babes” moment.

So I replied, “Oh really? Tell me more.”

“You’ll have to ask Mommy… I don’t remember.”

“Mommy,” the friend I’m staying with who I’ve known for over a decade, was playing World of Warcraft while eating her dinner. The rest of us were around the table in the dining room.

I knew if I asked her why she wanted to “throw me out,” she would begin by sighing, as if it was so hard to give me an honest answer, and then she would give me a nice answer that wouldn’t be the truth. So instead, I asked her significant other.

“Did she say that out of anger, or does she really want to throw me out?”

He sighed. “She wants her space back.”

“I have a few things here. I’m not stopping her from sitting on her couch, I’m not taking up the last chair at the dinner table. I don’t tell her to go to bed so I can get to sleep. If she wants to watch TV downstairs with the boys, I’m not going to stop her. But this is how she’s always been; every time I’ve come over to hang out with her, she’s had her back to me while she’s played WoW, she doesn’t sit on the couch with me and talk like friends.”

The only way I can get out is to get a secure job that will pay me enough that I can afford my bills, I can afford rent, and have enough coming in that I can pay off my debts. But applying for work and sending my resume isn’t enough to get a job, I also need to find an employer who looks at my application and likes what they see. Years ago, I could submit enough applications to count on one hand, and from that I could get an interview and a job. It’s no wonder that I’m getting so discouraged these days.

It was my night to wash the dishes, which presented me with about an hour’s worth of Thoughts You Never Want To Think About.

Like, I miss the days when one of us would mention on Facebook that we wanted to go to the store, and the other liked the idea and asked to go as well. In my case, I had the car, so if she wanted to go and I had the day off from work, I could take her to the store. Usually I go shopping by myself, but there were times when I’d try to see if anyone else wanted to go along.

Now, I’m right here. My car is across the street. If she wants to go to the store, or she just wants to get away from everything, we could go. But no, she asks her significant other to take time off from work if she needs him in the afternoon, or some of her other friends rescue her in the evenings on rare occasions.

But not me. Because I can’t rescue her right now. Instead, I’m the problem in her life. I can’t help her escape from her problems when I have to stay back at the house to try and fix whatever I’ve screwed up.

It’s not as if I don’t try to be a good houseguest. But there’s a level of anxiety involved with being a houseguest. It’s one thing to do some cleaning to earn your keep, and I do have a daily chore assigned to me which I do every night. But there’s other things I notice here and there, things I’d do at random when I lived in my parents’ house. I’ve cleaned grime off the bannisters, light switch plates, door frames, and even the walls themselves. I’ve dusted shelves just because I was tired of seeing dust. I don’t do things like that here, unless we’re going through another period of, “I’ve turned off everyone’s wifi until this place is clean.” If I do tasks like that, they go unnoticed, but it also takes time away from other things I could be doing, like finding work. Also, I’m always worried that I’ll be told, “oh, you don’t have to clean that! You’re doing more than you need to.” Not to mention, I’d be doing the most cleaning in this house, and would likely be cleaning up messes that existed before I even started living here, and in rooms I don’t even use. And for what? Even when I do my nightly task, I’ve been told I haven’t done it as well as I could have done it, even when I swear I’ve done exactly what she claims I didn’t do.

Sometimes I play video games. She won’t say it to me, but she apparently doesn’t like when I play video games. All she does is play WoW and Diablo. I just want to lose myself for a few hours in a world where I can defend myself in a fight and make money from it, or at least I’m on a Yakuza binge right now. I can’t spend every waking minute between job searches and cleaning, I need something that will make me feel like I accomplished something without having a reason to scream, “I JUST cleaned that!” It’s an escape from my problems, and I would think that she would understand that, of all people.

Worst of all, this situation is making me think I should cut ties with so many people, not just the friend I’m staying with. Back in the day, I was working part-time while living at home with Mom. Instead of contributing to my own household, I didn’t mind skimming a little money here and there, what I could afford, just to help out a friend. You need a ride? I’ve got this. Something broke, and you can’t afford to replace it? It’s in the mail, just wait a week. Right now, I can’t afford to be that friend to anyone, and I feel helpless. But then I look around and think about the friends I’ve tried to help, and what have I got? I’m staying with the friend I did a lot of things for, and she wants me out of her house so she can “have her space back.”

And that hurts.

It hurts because,… well, maybe it’s a fantasy, maybe it’s just an ideal situation that one would hope for, but I wish I had a friend who would think, “she’s done a lot for me/others, and now she just needs to figure her life out and get something started.” I don’t know, maybe I’m not explaining it as well as I could. I guess I wish I had a friend who would sit down with me and be like, “so how are you feeling about your ex? You guys broke up, it’s pretty lousy, but let’s get you past that. Cry if you need to, vent to me if you want, but let’s start to forget him because your life will be better without him. Now, you do need to find a job, so let’s talk about what you’re good at doing and let’s see what we can find for you.”

It’s not like I have the exact opposite of that. But lately I’ve started telling her less about what’s going on, because she won’t tell me everything in regards to how she feels about me still being here. I feel like ending my friendship with her, but I can’t do that until I can get out of here. So maybe I excuse some of the things she says and does, and I tell myself she’s just trying to help me in her own way. And yet, I feel like if she was a friend, she’d be more sympathetic to my problems and not try to add more stress. But then on the other hand, I tell myself how selfish I’m being by thinking that, because I expect her to think only of me and not about what would make her feel better. So are we working together to come up with a compromise? No, because that would be the rational thing to do.

I’ve been honest with her about the whole situation. I had another friend who offered a trailer home for me to live in, rent-free, but it still needed some work done on it. A month past his original time estimate, the place still wasn’t livable, and I wasted two hour-long trips to find that my time was being wasted and that friend wasn’t being completely honest with me. I couldn’t keep excusing his behavior, especially since I couldn’t afford to keep wasting my time and gasoline. He lost my trust, and I felt like the friend I’m staying with was losing her trust in me. Things were out of my control, but I was trying to communicate everything I knew about what was going on.

I really wish things were different. I wish I wasn’t a burden to anyone, and could go back to helping out friends in need. I wish I wasn’t in debt. I wish I could get a job as easily as I used to. I wish I had the friends that everyone else seems to have.

Some days, it feels like going to Japan is less about the destination and more about the clean slate. I can’t be a burden to anyone in the States if I’m in Japan (or any other country, for that matter), and I can’t help anyone out which means I won’t be kept around just to do things for people who aren’t equally as kind or generous. I don’t have a network of people in Japan, I don’t have people I can rely on and there’s no one that I can help. I have only myself, and if I can get to Japan, it means I did all the work by myself to get there. I’ll start my life over, and maybe I’ll build metaphorical walls to make it harder for people to get into my heart, because I’m really starting to wonder if I let people in just so I wouldn’t be lonely. Well, I haven’t died of loneliness, I’ve actually embraced it a little too well, so maybe I should just learn to live with it.

I never want to be negative in these entries. I always want to find a silver lining. I don’t want to speak ill of people who won’t read this (because I won’t let them know I wrote this). Lately, I’m just stressed, fearful, frustrated,… and I hate it, and hate in any form is probably the worst thing I could feel. But I remember being happy, I remember being confident and courageous. I remember feeling like breaking up with my ex fiancé was the most freeing thing ever, like I could focus on what I wanted to do and didn’t have to worry about trying to motivate him to put any work towards his dreams. I felt like being back in my old stomping grounds was going to be the best thing ever, since it put me back with my friends and not friends I met through my ex. I want to get back to feeling like I can take on the world, like my desire to go to Japan is still something attainable. But for now, I need to stop lying to myself that everything is all right, because it’s not. I am scared. I am angry. The only way to feel less scared and angry is to get money, but I need a job to get money, and not getting a job is making me scared and angry which is probably making it harder to sell myself for the sake of getting a job.

But…

If I don’t acknowledge the negatives, I can’t work past them. I need to understand what’s bothering me, and then I need to fix it.

So if you’re reading this and you don’t like what I’m saying, I am sorry. Life isn’t perfect, at least not for me.

It all makes me think of Algernon. Himuro has an album called Flowers For Algernon, which is the title of a short story or a novel or something. I had to look it up on Wikipedia, but the premise is about this guy who has less intelligence than a normal person. He undergoes some kind of experimental procedure that boosts his intelligence, and while he’s smarter, he understands social cues a little better and realizes how many people had been mean and condescending to him, when he just thought they were being nice to him before. Algernon is apparently the name of a lab rat they perform the experiment on as well, and the main character gets to see the effects of the procedure on the rat, including the eventual deterioration and the death of the rat. So, I think about the friends I thought the world about, and how things change in life and suddenly I see people differently.

And I know I’ve changed, but I don’t know if I’m a better person, if I’m stronger or if I’ve just become colder. I don’t know if isolating myself from people who upset me is good for my well-being, or if I’ll be one less problem to people who don’t want me around.

Welcome to the Thoughts You Never Want To Think About.

Pounding More Than Pavement: My Frustrations of Job Searching

Unless you’re looking for work, there’s no way you could understand how difficult it can be just to find a decent job.

If I submit 20 applications in a week, you would think that at least one of those would result in an interview, right? It’s a 5 percent success rate. That’s what I hope for, and I’ve turned up empty-handed.

The hardest part is just filling out the application. I have to fill out information for at least 8 different jobs, more if I want to list repeat performances at the same employer. Some places expect a phone number and the name of a manager. My work history spans over 12 years, and includes a store that filed for bankruptcy and closed. At least one of my past supervisors has retired, while others have moved around to different store locations and others have just moved on to other companies. And then, one of my more recent employers happens to be the brother of my ex fiancé, so I’m nervous about any biases he might have against me. If I have to fill out an application where I can’t just import data from somewhere else, I’m spending an hour flipping between tabs in Firefox just to review all of my employment information, with another tab to Google for phone numbers for all of these jobs. And to be honest, I really don’t remember exactly what I had been getting paid, other than my lowest has been $6.25 an hour and my highest has been $12 per hour.

My experience puts me in a bad spot. I have a lot of experience as a sales associate and cashier working in retail environments. I don’t have a lot of management experience. For some places, I’m going to be seen as overqualified. With my experience, I could ask for higher wages. Unfortunately, companies could hire someone who they can pay less. So if I apply for a low-rung management job, I’m up against people with more management experience than I have, which looks better to an employer. In that sense, I’m actually unqualified. It’s like the fact that I have an Associates degree, in that I’m not seen as qualified for a position that requires a Bachelors degree even if I do have the knowledge and experience required.

So if I’m not getting interviews, it looks like I haven’t done anything.

That’s when people step in and offer advice, such as, “have you tried actually pounding pavement? Some places won’t post their jobs online.”

Thank you! I did spend a day trying to pound pavement. Between four different Asian restaurants, I filled out one application, left my name and phone number at two locations, and at the fourth location I was told they weren’t hiring and just sent away. I figured an Asian restaurant would give me an excuse to work on my Japanese, possibly even whipping up okonomiyaki in the kitchen if I was able.

At another restaurant, I asked for an application and was handed one to fill out, and then I was told to complete the form outside of the establishment. This was in the afternoon, and the restaurant was absolutely not busy, so they could have allowed me to sit at their bar or one of their tables and made it look like they were working. I’m fairly certain that my application was filed in the circular filing cabinet anyway, just based on how the one waitress acted towards me.

“Well do you have any waitressing skills?” No, but I could be a dishwasher, or I could bus tables. Does it matter what my skills are? You probably asked me to apply everywhere that was hiring, even though I’ve been trying to find work related to things I know I can do.

Which brings me to my next issue, and that’s the people who act like there is someone, somewhere, who is handing out jobs, but they can’t seem to tell you who that person is. I’m already dealing with my own thoughts about my debt, the bills I have to pay, the ways I’ve probably messed up an application, the fact that I’m not getting phone calls for interviews. Adding to my stress by making me feel like I’m not already spending enough time on job applications, or that I must be making mistakes that no normal person would ever make, is not helping my situation.

And then there’s McDonald’s.

Anyone who suggests that I should work at McDonald’s is the most infuriating person I could meet. I’m not saying the work is beneath me. I will say that there are easier positions that pay more. I just worked at a call center, getting paid $11 to sit in front of a computer and call people. If they were angry, I just had to hear them complain before they hung up the phone as forcefully as they could manage. If I work at McDonald’s, I might be lucky to make $9 an hour, but I certainly won’t be given a full-time shift of 40 hours a week. If I get 20 hours a week, I’ll have to deal with the possibility of hot grease burns on my skin, I’ll have to deal with customers who are irate,…

Actually, let’s talk about McDonald’s customers. People who unleash their temper over an ingredient being put on a burger that they didn’t want, even though they’re not allergic to that ingredient. People who throw things at the employees because things didn’t go their way. People who say the workers are incompetent, even if they make simple mistakes that can easily be fixed if the customer had any patience. People who leave their trash on the tables because they don’t feel like picking up after themselves.

A $2 cut in pay and being scheduled for half as many hours is not worth having to deal with all of that. I’d rather work at the porn store and deal with an armed robbery. If you work in fast food, I really hope the minimum wage goes up and you get paid what you deserve.

If you were wondering, I’ve been trying to work with staffing agencies as well. My last staffing agency hasn’t returned my call after I found a position I was interested in applying for. I just met with another staffing agency today which has two positions lined up that would work with my skills. I’m hoping for that to be my silver lining in all of this, and even if it’s not a permanent position, it should hopefully be something to get me back on my feet for a little while.

I want to be more than I am. I just need an opportunity to show what I can do in the meantime.

Value of You

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The above image appeared in my Facebook feed today. Normally I’d just nod and click to share the post, but today it really got me thinking.

How can you tell the difference between a guy (or anyone, really) who values you, and one who just likes you?

To begin, I think you have to place a value on yourself. What do you believe you’re worth? Think of anything, think of everything. Are you worth living in a mansion or are you worth living in a run-down studio apartment? Are you worth having a clean microwave to cook your food?

You shouldn’t settle for less than that, but you should also be worth the effort it takes to have that. So for the microwave example, if you can’t clean that microwave, you’re not worth having a clean microwave.

Do you know why wealthy men have gorgeous wives? Because the guy believes his worth is to have a gorgeous wife. He worked hard for his money, so he earned her. What is her worth? A man who can afford her lifestyle, because she works hard to be beautiful. His money can go to her outward appearance. The value she placed on herself is such that she believes she deserves a wealthy husband. That’s a completely superficial example, and I hope that if you’re one of my dear readers, your worth is something more valuable than just appearances and money.

Back to the original quote. I thought about my friend from Japan when I pondered the quote’s meaning. Does he value me or does he just like me?

There are days when I think he doesn’t like me, that I’ve said or done something I can’t come back from. But then he writes back, and I think he must like something about me.

But does he value me?

I can’t tell you how many dead horses and broken records there are in our e-mail conversations. If I mention an incident that happened while staying with a friend, he immediately suggests that I should move in with my brother or another close family member. I remind him that it’s not even feasible to do so. If I talk about the job search and my need for money (still not asking him for money), he suggests that I ask family members for any assistance.

Personally, my patience might wear thin if I kept telling someone over and over again what they should do. I don’t know how he puts up with me sometimes.

I can’t move in with my brother because he’s a toxic narcissist. I don’t mean that in the sense that he kisses mirrors because he’s so beautiful. With him, it’s about being seen as the best. If you were exhausted after working 40 hours, you have nothing on him because he worked 50 hours doing back-breaking work. If you won an award, he undermines your achievement and acts like it was undeserved, but if he wins an award, you have to praise him for it because he put a lot into winning. After Mom passed, he bought a car, and I was supposed to be in awe at this expensive sports car that he had to have. I shrugged and acknowledged that he bought a purple car, because that’s all it meant to me. I wasn’t trying to be difficult, it just didn’t matter to me, but that was the wrong reaction.

If I had to determine my value based on who or what kind of person I chose to live with, I am worth more than living with my brother based on his personality. I am worth more than someone who wants to make me feel like I’m less than they are. I am worth being treated as an equal.

But if I had to analyze my Japanese friend’s intentions, it would be to hold on to my friendships.

Living here has had its tense moments, due in part to differences in personality between myself and the friend I’m staying with. A little over a week ago, I was ready to throw in the towel, but I knew I didn’t have any better options for a living space. Even as a bitter moment faded back to calmer attitudes, I was still agitated. But why? Well, my friend wants me off of her sofa, and out of her house. But to do that, I need to have a stable income. To get that income, I need to find a job, and I need the internet going to my computer to do job searches. So after she took the wireless internet away from everyone (but herself) and then returned it, she returned only the internet going to my computer. I’m still livid about that, because I can’t afford to have my cell phone bill incur any charges for going over my data allowance. But if I want that, and don’t want her to keep shutting off my internet, I could always move out.

My friend deserves to keep someone here who isn’t freeloading, but at the moment, I’m doing the best I can.

But does she value me?

She doesn’t like me. She’s trying to get rid of me so she doesn’t have to deal with my puns and other lame jokes and one-liners that come to mind. Actually, while I do understand that she’s bothered by that part of my sense of humor, I don’t really think that she doesn’t like me. And if she didn’t place any value on me, she would have been more forceful about kicking me to the curb, I’m sure. No, I believe that she knows I’m capable of more, that I’m worth having a job and that an employer somewhere needs to find me and see how awesome I really am. That’s why she’s been limiting my access to entertainment (because I can’t watch YouTube on the television if my Playstation 4 doesn’t have internet), so that I’m more focused on searching for a job.

It might be weird, but I’m actually more focused on working if there’s something of interest playing on the TV, or at least I’m calmer. That’s a story for another day.

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Admittedly, that’s my favorite e-mail yet, second only to maybe the Valentine’s Day message. It was a Friday night, after a long day of running errands and dealing with so many things. It had also been two days since his previous message to me. It was almost 1 in the morning my time, so it was about 2 in the afternoon on a Saturday for him. I sent him a quick message to try and get his attention, just in case he could jump on something to make a VoIP-based call of some sort but otherwise to tell him that I had to tell him about my day. That’s what he wrote back to me. I should have gone to sleep at that point, instead of writing back to say I was awake or even typing up my full message, but I figured I would forget some of the details that I thought were important.

If he liked me, he would have called.

But he doesn’t like me.

Because he values me. He wants me to live a healthier lifestyle. He wants my friendships to thrive. He wants my family members to care about me, and to take care of me because I’m a sister, a niece, a cousin. And okay, he does like me.

So if I had to smack someone upside the head with the knowledge of whether someone likes them or values them, I would ask questions until it became obvious. I’ve been liked by guys in the past. It’s fun, it feels nice, but there’s no challenge. Now I feel like a guy values me. Now I have to figure out what I’m worth. I have to figure out how much value I’m placing on the guy.

And you know what?

I’m worth a job that pays no less than $12 an hour. I’m worth a job that makes use of my customer service skills, my computer skills, my Associates degree.

I’m worth a decent shelter. A simple apartment that’s in good shape is enough for me.

I’m worth more than a brick of wavy ramen for meals. I’m worth a processed meat patty, at least. I’m definitely worth a greater variety of flavors than “chicken, beef, shrimp, and oriental.”

I’m worth first-hand clothing. I’m worth my skirts and dresses as much as I’m worth my t-shirts and jeans. I’m worth the fancy occasions and professional atmosphere that would require skirts and dresses, just as much as I’m worth the opportunity to be laid back and relaxed in my t-shirts and jeans.

I’m worth being valued.

And yet, I’m still worth so much more.

 

The Long And Short Of Why I Want To Travel Far And Wide

There are some things in this world that I shouldn’t have to explain.

Maybe I should rephrase that. There are things in this world that can go without an explanation.

No, that’s still not quite right. What about, once a person has made a few mistakes in life, they start to learn from them and can probably make better-informed decisions later on?

Well, I’ve made enough mistakes with this introduction. I guess all that’s left is to explain a few things. It seems counterproductive compared to the intro I was going for. Or, did I do everything as I wanted to do, and it’s now exactly what I was thinking?

Plotting and scheming aside, the point I’m trying to make is that I sometimes feel criticized for wanting to go to Japan. While it hasn’t been said in so few words, the statements come down to things like, “you should give up on going, I can’t understand why you would want to go to Japan, you will be disappointed when you get there.” I usually hear, “do you have to go now? Can you wait 10, 15, 20 years?” Why should I wait? I’m not getting any younger, my body isn’t becoming any more capable. I already have to wait until I get enough money put aside, and that wait will be long enough. But when I hear people ask why I can’t put off the dream of going, I feel like they’re really asking why I can’t give up on going altogether.

Clearly, I need new friends. Or I’m overthinking things.

The short answer is, Japan makes me happy. I feel like people who care about me should want me to be happy.

Why does Japan make me happy? It just does. I can’t really explain it, and I know if I try to explain it, I might lose the magic. But of course, I apparently need to explain the whole thing.

It didn’t start with Wakkanai.

My Dad was stationed in Wakkanai while he was in the Air Force. I don’t remember if there were slides. For you kiddies out there, slides are basically physical photos that you can shine light through, and you put a tray of them on a special projector to help a room full of people fall asleep quickly. Anyway, that’s not important right now. He was in the Air Force as a Russian linguist. For you kiddies, the United States had a grudge against Russia for a number of years, and it was called the Cold War. My Dad basically translated radio transmissions.

When his time had ended over there, he brought home some stereo equipment that probably still works to this day. I was raised with the knowledge that Japanese electronics were superiorly made in comparison to American electronics. I watched the movie Gung Ho, and admired the Japanese work ethic. I think I watched Big Bird Goes To Japan as a child. But, I barely knew anything about Japan, I barely had an interest in Japan.

I had an interest in the Moon.

By the time I became a teenager, I loved looking up at the moon and stars. Astrology interested me, and I learned that my sign, Aries, was a fire sign. And then I was flipping through the channels on TV one afternoon and saw a cartoon with these girls who defended Earth in the name of the name of the moon or one of the planets. I saw a bit of myself in the title character, Sailor Moon, but my favorite character soon became the one who’s a fellow Aries, Sailor Mars. When they weren’t saving the day, they were living their lives in and around Tokyo.

I started watching Tenchi Muyo as well, and even a bit of Yu Yu Hakusho. Eventually I watched Fullmetal Alchemist.

One time, I was near the comic and gaming store and decided to drop in. I found manga, and bought one book as that was all I could afford at the time. But after I started working and driving, one volume of manga turned into over one hundred. I was a bit addicted.

When I was still in college, though, I started getting into L’arc en Ciel. I remember looking up song lyrics and translations in the computer rooms while I was between classes or after I had finished up whatever I was working on. After I graduated, I bought an iPod while working at my first job, and I had some Sowelu and Utada Hikaru songs along with some L’arc on there.

It wasn’t an interest in Japan, just in Japanese media, but I was happy. Life seemed to be going well for me, I had both of my parents, I had started working and had a car to get around.

And then I met a guy.

When I first met him, he kind of had a significant other. She didn’t really want him, and had ended things with him by the time I saw him again. They were both at a party that one of my friends was hosting, and I was there as well for no reason other than I was invited to a party. He was there because his now-ex was going to be there, but he felt a need to heal his wounds by getting drunk and crying on the sofa. I had knelt down next to the sofa, the armrest being all that separated me from his feet. I wanted to help, I wanted to be supportive. He ended up calling one of his friends who drove over and picked him up to bring him home.

This guy’s life was a bit of a wreck. Someone broke into his station wagon and stole things from him. He was driving a station wagon because that’s all he could afford at the time, and it was already falling apart. He was also living with his brother, who looked Korean. He actually looked Japanese to me, but was apparently half Irish and half Korean. His brother had a different father and was full Korean, if memory serves me correctly.

Not that it mattered what he was, because to me he looked pretty good. I really didn’t feel worthy of being around him. Oh, I should mention that after checking up on him the next day, one thing led to another and I started going over to his place nearly every day. I thought things were going somewhere, but I had never had a boyfriend before and I had nothing to base my experiences on.

One day, he started talking about looking at newer cars, and had his heart set on one at a local dealership. Knowing his struggles, I did what any foolish girl would do. Well, because I felt a bit guilty for enjoying Japanese stuff while I had an interest in an Asian guy, I sold the manga and gave him the money to put towards the car.

After about a month, he didn’t want to see me anymore. I learned a lot in that one month, more than I really care to explain. But I lost my interest in manga, and my interest in everything else waned as well.

The second time wasn’t as good.

Eventually, I bought more manga, though my collection wasn’t as impressive as it originally had been. I didn’t read the volumes as often or as quickly. But I met a guy at work who became a bit of a friend, nothing more. To some degree, he got me back into anime, but I wasn’t as interested as before.

I went to an anime convention with him, my second ever anime convention. I remember feeling like I had outgrown anime. I was surrounded by people cosplaying characters that I didn’t recognize. There were anime titles I had never heard of. The finest moment was meeting Vic Mignogna, voice actor extraordinaire (seriously, look him up on IMDB or something, he’s in nearly every English-dubbed anime you can think of). Aside from that, the day was a bit of a waste.

Eventually, I was rescued…  by food.

While working at a well-known grocery store, I bought The Manga Cookbook. Unfortunately my ingredients were limited, and I could barely make anything in the book despite the grocery store having an Asian food section with imported goods. I did try my hand at making udon noodles, though, which turned out alright.

While working that job, I lost my Mom, which caused me to move to New Jersey. Okay, a lot of things caused me to move to New Jersey, most of which were bad decisions. While I was living in New Jersey, my boyfriend at the time introduced me to Mitsuwa Marketplace. At first I was interested in going, but after going I was in ecstasy! All the ingredients I couldn’t find before, I could find at Mitsuwa! And there was a bookstore nearby where I could buy manga in the original Japanese! And I spent more money than I should have, but it was necessary.

I returned a few more times after that. I always made sure that I ate something from the food court, because there was no way I’d be able to make anything that tasted quite like it should. I loved the feeling I had while I was there. I came home after my first visit, and realized that I didn’t have any L’arc songs in iTunes, just a couple of Hyde’s songs. I started tracking down all of L’arc’s albums on Amazon and eBay, which gave me a bit of an endorphin rush when I bought another album and when it finally arrived.

I had forgotten how happy I once was to listen to Japanese rock and pop music. I listened to Horizon, and it reminded me of a dream I once had. But the food also made me happy, because everything was new, and everything I tried was amazing.

Japan was where I needed to be.

The search for a job can make anyone go a bit insane. The thought eventually popped into my head that I could move to and work in Japan, so that became the plan before I even knew what I was getting myself into. But a plan like that is good to have when you think of all the angles, and in my case I realized that my then-fiance and I were two entirely different people. Ignoring what I had to consider for myself, I realized I couldn’t have my fiancé travel with me to Japan because the flight would be too lengthy for him to deal with his disability, and then he probably wouldn’t want to go out and do anything with me once we were there. Not only that, but leaving him behind meant that we were back to having a long-distance relationship.

I like to think that the entirety of that discussion was one of the many factors why we broke up. Our relationship left me broke, but it also left me with the freedom to go and do what I want to do once I’m not poor. Since I put more thought into going to Japan, I know what I need to do to go, and I don’t see a reason why I shouldn’t go.

So what else?

I’d like to think I’ll eventually meet someone while I’m in Japan, and maybe I’ll give in and have children, thereby helping out their birth rate and keep it from declining further.

If I’m in Japan before the Olympics, maybe I can get into hospitality and be of some use when the place is mobbed by tourists who speak more English than Japanese. Otherwise, I could always just assist in teaching the language.

My interest in Japan isn’t anime and manga. I might go to a concert, if time and finances allow. I might do some video gaming-related things. Or I might decide to be boring and check out as many temples and shrines as I can. If I lose interest in Japan, I could go elsewhere.

I’ll have to go over on a student visa and go to a language school, then work part time to make a living. I can’t get on a work visa because I don’t have the right credentials, and it would be cheaper to get my bachelors degree in Japan. But it is possible for me to go to Japan, I just need to get my finances in order before I can go.

Tomorrow, I think I’m going to make a PowerPoint presentation of this entry, then save it onto my phone so I can make the argument at a moment’s notice. Basically, the Japanese stuff makes me happy, and so I’d like to go to Japan and live there for a while. I know what I need to do to get there, and unless you’ve travelled abroad, you can’t say that I don’t know what I’m doing. But there are things I can’t plan for just yet, because airline tickets change prices, tuition costs increase, rent goes up, so those things will have to wait until I’m at a point where I have to consider such things.

This is what I want. This makes me happy.

I’ve spent enough time trying to make others happy. Now I want to do something for myself.

Bravery To Know The Truth

I haven’t posted anything in about a week, and that post was on the serious side. What can I really say? I’m back to the desperate job seeking, money is tight, so I’m not really going anywhere and doing anything special. Not only that, but one of the cats is routinely urinating on the blankets I use at night, and my friend thinks it’s funny because “he’s just an animal who doesn’t know any better.”

So my self-worth has tanked. I was sitting on the sofa last night, staring randomly towards the floor, while my blankets were in the wash, and I was thinking there was no point to washing the quilt covering the sofa if it was going to get peed on again, that I might as well just deal with it since my skin never actually touched the part that got wet. Maybe I should just stop caring when the living room smells like cat urine, and let my friend deal with the smell while I’ve been blessed right now with a sinus infection. I didn’t feel worthy of sleeping with clean bedding. I didn’t even feel like my friend cared, like she would think differently if it was her things getting ruined and she had to clean her bedding before sleeping, but I just had to put up with it.

But that much wasn’t important, other than to say I was feeling pretty miserable. My phone, which was sitting on my lap, alerted me to a new e-mail message: “I can talk in about 30 minutes, if you would like.” It was from my friend in Japan.

We hadn’t talked in about two or three weeks. There was a disagreement between us, which resulted in the usual bout of silence. I had the last words, which I used to get a few things off my chest which had been bothering me, but I knew those words could also be my last words ever so I stressed that what I was saying wasn’t out of anger or spite but my own concerns.

If I hadn’t thought about him every day, then it was every other day. I thought about what I said, and I know how it sounded. When I was feeling weak, I considered apologizing for the things I said, but then I reminded myself to stand behind my words. I had concerns, I needed to address them, and I did, so why turn around and wave it off like I wasn’t bothered? I imagined conversations with him and how they would go. And I often looked out the windows towards the street and towards my car, on the off-chance that he got the nerve to come all this way to see me just to say what he needed to say. At night, I just had to pull the blankets over my shoulder and tell myself to stop trying to imagine that I’m living in some romantic comedy.

I really didn’t think that I was going to hear from him again. I questioned how long it would be before I would stop thinking of him. But then his message was met with a bit of uncertainty on my part, so I responded with an “okay.” When he messaged me later to say he was ready to call, I responded with another, “okay.” It’s not the greatest way to begin a conversation, I’ll admit, because I could have been in any kind of mood to give a simple “okay” and he wouldn’t know if things were fine or if I’d bite his head off. The phone conversation started with telling me he was only going to be on the phone for about a half hour. When he got into what he wanted to say, which was his response to my last e-mail and a few things left unanswered, I started to interject and he told me not to interrupt him. He had things he wanted to say, things I didn’t quite understand, and he wanted to make sure he said as much as he could in the time he had.

At one point, I noticed his voice was a bit shaky. I’ve thought about that a few times over the past day. Was it hard for him to say what he did? Was he nervous? Was he determined? Was he scared that I would escalate the argument and start screaming at him?

After two hours, he said he was ending the call. It was only the fourth or fifth time during that call that he said he was going to hang up, so part of me wondered if he was going to think of yet another thing to talk about with me. We got past the worst of the call, as we started talking about my job search. I was laid off a few days after our argument, and I never wrote to him to tell him about that. I just wanted him to think I was still doing okay, that I had a grasp on life and was taking care of things. So when he mentioned me working, I had to let him know what happened. I think it changed his mood a bit, because the conversation did shift gears. It wasn’t about resolving conflicts and having courage to do so, it was about realizing that I had more pressing issues than how things were going with him.

And then we talked about Himuro, which was the most fun part of the conversation. So it’s no wonder that the conversation as a whole lasted almost two hours. It wasn’t spoken, but perhaps we just miss each other at times like these.

I went to bed feeling a little better about things between us. Well, that and my blankets were fresh from the dryer and they were amazingly warm and cozy. I desperately needed the pick-me-up, and my Japanese friend will never realize how meaningful it was to hear from him at all at that moment.

Well, the sun is coming up. I’m not even tired, but this is exactly what my friend would complain about: my habitual bedtimes that fall in the early hours of the morning. It’s only 6 pm in Japan, which means if he finds this before he goes to bed, I’m going to wake up to a potentially unhappy e-mail from him. So… nighty-night!

Missing Persons

And so we close out the month of May on an introspective note.

I had a family get-together on Sunday. Leading up to that, I had to consider what I wanted to bring for food, what I might wear, what I would discuss with my extended family, and what I would do if my brother showed up.

I made a macaroni salad, which in my case isn’t quite like anything you could get from the supermarket. I mixed everything together; a pound box of pasta, a can of tuna, some frozen sweet peas, a few hard-boiled eggs, and my secret condiment combination. When I tasted it once everything was mixed together, it didn’t taste right. Something was missing.

Mom. Mom was missing. The macaroni salad was fine.

I thought about how Mom would have been stressed while getting ready to leave for the get-together. Then again, I’m not sure if her mood could be described as stressed. Dad would have one of two moods: either he would sigh and say, “you know your mother gets like this when we get together with the family,” or he would be angry and firmly tell me not to upset Mom any further. But Mom would usually look for certain things on the day of the get-together, not have them ready to go beforehand. Things had to be “just so,” even though she wasn’t a perfectionist, but she did have a certain way of doing things.

I rolled out of bed, if you want to call it rolling and you want to call the couch a bed, and had a bit of a stiff back from how I slept. I took a hot shower, trying to relieve the stiffness of the muscles in my lower back. I found my shirt that has an American flag design printed on an electric guitar and wore that with a pair of jeans and my leather Ren faire boots. I really didn’t leave until the get-together was supposed to start, mainly because punctuality wasn’t as important as being there.

I walked in and was greeted by relatives who seemed surprised to see me, but some of them hadn’t seen me in over a year. I had been asked if I had spoken to my brother, to which I honestly replied that I haven’t spoken to him since Easter when I left his place crying after an argument. One of my cousins, the hostess of the party, mentioned an incident involving some photos being given to my brother, and my brother removing family members from Facebook in return. I vaguely remembered him telling me his side of things, and all I can say is that there was a misunderstanding.

I sat down and ate my plate of food while talking with other family members about life and such. The more I thought about my brother’s reactions to things, the more I realized that he wouldn’t be coming, that I wouldn’t see him at all. And he never did show up.

I needed a moment of zen, so I went back to my car and took out one of two kites I had in my backseat. I managed to get some wind, and had the kite up in the air a couple of times before the line knotted up as I was reeling it in after the kite came down. I sat down at a picnic table to fix the knot, but this picnic table was away from most of the people and close to the river that ran near the house. It was a nice day, only partially cloudy and not too cold outside, and the view near the river was quite peaceful and lovely. So I stopped flying the kite for a little while, and enjoyed the scenery. That, and another cousin’s daughter was quickly becoming a spectacle in a canoe, and a few of us were watching her to see if she would make it back to shore. I managed another flight of the kite as I headed back towards the house, but yet another cousin started singing a song lyric that went something like, “what goes up, must come down” and my kite inevitably landed in the bushes that time.

As I was packing the kite into its box, I had a few people talk to me about the kite and watching me fly it. It made me feel a little better, not that I was looking for attention from flying the kite. I just never had the opportunity to fly the kite since I bought it, so it was nice that it wasn’t too complicated (it is a little more advanced than the plastic kites I grew up using) and I didn’t get frustrated as a result. But it was easier to talk about a kite with my family than some of my other interests, and I wasn’t talking about my brother either.

So what is it with my brother? Well, he’s adopted. (Mom: “He’s still your brother!”) I know, I know. But a lot of things factor into his personality, and I think that’s one of the major things.

You see, his adoption has been on his mind a lot, especially since Mom passed. He actually mentioned to me that his records are apparently locked even to him, and while I knew his records were locked, I never thought about who could and couldn’t access them. When I thought about him saying that, it said to me that he was actually looking for his birth mother, that he probably had questions and was trying to understand his origins.

After Easter, something on Facebook prompted me to look up “toxic narcissism.” Sadly, everything I was reading was describing my brother. One part of it basically said that it came from issues with his mother, and maybe I’m being nice to my own birth mother by pointing the finger at his birth mother.

Think about it, though: he probably feels abandoned by his birth mother, unwanted, unloved. Maybe he resents her, I don’t know. I want to think that she didn’t want to get pregnant in the first place, that maybe something about her situation wouldn’t have allowed for her to care for a child at that time. She didn’t get an abortion, and maybe she could have, or maybe she didn’t realize she was pregnant until it was too late to abort. Maybe she assumed she wasn’t going to become pregnant.

Regardless, she did give birth to him, and then put him up for adoption sometime after that. I don’t know how soon after, maybe she tried to raise him but realized a month later that babies are too much work. Whatever happened, she figured that someone else might be able to raise him better than she could, and she wanted him to have a life that she couldn’t give to him.

But I can’t tell that to my brother. We don’t have the warm and fuzzy relationship between us, so I can’t be all heartwarming around him.

He is quick to anger, and not really one to look at more than his side of an argument. So that misunderstanding over photographs? He probably won’t try to understand that the family meant nothing by it, and if they really didn’t want to look at our faces, the photos could have gone in the garbage.

The family enjoyed seeing my face this weekend, and it was nice to let everyone know what I was doing with my life. They don’t know everything, but they didn’t seem too concerned for me, so I’ll just let them be satisfied knowing I’m nearby and doing relatively fine. I can only speak for myself, but that should be enough.

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My Waifu! ^_^

All right, so after all the views that I’m getting for the entry about Charles (Charusharu), it seems like people out there are curious about him or are already watching his videos. If you haven’t, here’s his latest from his alternate channel:

If he said his waifu was Sailor Mars,… I don’t know, I think I’d be done with the internet at that point, because otherwise I’d sit here and be all, “OMG Sailor Mars is my favorite of the Sailor Senshi and I have her deck from the collectible card game that came out and she’s just my favorite and I…”

Relax, take a breath, don’t be awkward…

Scratch that, it’s too late. I’m already being awkward. Might as well own it!

So what is a waifu? As Charles’ video explains, using a definition from ye olde Urban Dictionary, a waifu is basically your two-dimensional wife, it’s the character you would marry if it were possible to do so. The male version is a husbando. It’s not really limited to anime characters, your waifu/husbando can be a musician, an actor, or a character in a movie or book or television show.

My comment earlier today was to say that my husbando was Hyde from Vamps and L’arc en Ciel. It’s not entirely true.

My husbando, right now, would probably be Kyosuke Himuro. He has a voice like black velvet when he’s singing ballads, and I think the perfect evening spent with him would be spent under the moonlight of a summer’s night with him singing to me. He also has a well-toned body, like he works out and eats a fair amount of protein. Some of his body language suggests he has an ego, which would be nice to be around a guy with that much self-confidence. I like watching his concert performances, because I like his energy and the way he moves along with the songs. He also seems like a bit of a playful badass with a heartfelt side, but I have no basis for that other than his songs and just how he seems to act.

My waifu would probably be Hyde. I know, he’s a guy. But he has a more slender figure than Himuro, and Hyde has also cross-dressed as Harley Quinn and as a geisha-like character, so he’s rather androgynous. Just like Himuro, I wouldn’t mind being serenaded at night by Hyde. Hyde has a slightly deeper, slightly raspy voice, but it’s still nice to listen to. Hyde’s energy on-stage is different from Himuro, in that it comes from Hyde’s shyness and bashfulness. Hyde rocks out to his music just the same, but his dancing and spinning seem to be more of his personal enjoyment of the music. Back to his bashfulness, I think I would have too much fun, every now and then, doing things that would make him blush. I think he would be fun to be around by day, sometimes even at night. If we’re on the same wavelength, he seems like the kind who could tap into my sadness when I’m feeling down and make me feel like everything is going to be alright.

If I had to pick an anime husbando, it would probably be Sebastian from Black Butler. At least if I promise to be with him for eternity, there would be the possibility of that actually happening. I mainly chose him because I’d likely do like Ciel and be a little shit towards Sebastian, taking sarcastic shots at him when possible but knowing he gives as good at he gets. But I’d be impressed by his work ethic and skills, because after all, he’s one hell of a butler. Can you imagine him as a significant other? If he plans a romantic evening, you know that no detail will be spared, and you’d likely have a really classy experience.

Another husbando would be Kyohei from The Wallflower. Okay, so he has his moments where he only cares about what’s in it for him, but at the same time he does care about Sunako. I might not be able to deal with him if he often thinks only of himself, but if he points out when I’m being unreasonable or otherwise lights a fire under me when I want to shut out the world, then he’d be good to keep around. Also, he’s one of the most gorgeous people in the story (not an opinion, that’s part of his character as a “radiant being” or “creature of light”), so if I really wanted to be superficial about my choices, I would go for the pretty boy who gets into a lot of fights because he’s so pretty.

Do I have more on my waifu/husbando list? Yes, yes I do. There’s at least two more, but if it wasn’t so late, I could probably think of a few others.

But don’t tell ME who your waifu is! Go watch Charles’ video and leave a comment over there. No, seriously, watch the video and comment over there, and share the video with your friends. We’re going to get 1,ooo views on that video within a week. Let’s do it!