Something off my chest.

So I was reading the L.A. Times, and sure enough, the Chris Brown & Rihanna "saga" story is there. I click and read it. Of course, they are now recording a duet together.

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/music_blog/2009/03/rihanna-and-chr.html

I hate myself for talking about this, but it's just so upsetting to see these young adults acting so stupid.

I also hate the tabloids for saying how much of a victim that woman is. They are all worried about him hitting her again. Chances are, he will. But Nobody should be feeling sorry for her because that she's stupid for taking him back. When he hits her again and the whole hoopla is back in the news, all I would say is, "That bitch had it coming." We all know that it is a publicity stunt on the man's part for having a duet with her. His P.R. people must be shitting bricks right now trying to piece everything back together so tween girls across the country won't stop crooning over his love songs. As for the woman, she is probably making her P.R. people beg on their knees to stop as she lock lips with her love-bites (both literally and figuratively in this case) boyfriend. The only people who I feel remotely bad for are her P.R. people.

He makes men look bad. And she makes women look bad. They both give our generation a bad name.

Long time no talk.

For those of you still interested, I am back.

Will.Update.This.Weekend.I.Promise.

So I will begin my journey.

I will be leaving LAX in about 7 hours.

My grandmother and aunt are into the whole fortune telling stuff and calls, visits and sees fortune tellers often. I personally do not follow their footsteps, but sometimes it's interesting to hear what the fortune teller told them about me. Sometimes it's dead on the spot, while sometimes I laugh at the incorrect info. Anyway, my aunt talked to a fortune teller on the phone-- an international phone call to Japan, I must add-- and she got all the info for all of us.

Pretty much what the fortune teller said about me:
1) I am agressive and very focused on my goals. I stick with the plan, and nothing can stop me.
2) Because I am agressive, I tend to be a lone wolf. I do not work too well with others.
3) I am very smart.
4) Because I am focused and smart, journalism is a good field for me.
5) Because I am agressive, I can work well in man-dominant field.
6)I tend to butt heads with anyone; I can argue without any hesitation.
7) Marriage might not be too easy to manage for me, since I am agressive and tend to do things on my own.
8) I tolerate no idiot.
9) But I also posess an artistic talent.
10) I will get along with someone artistic.
11) The reason Scott and I are working out well is because we are both artistic.
12) Pretty much, I just need to do my thing.

In addition to those, I'm not supposed to travel for two years. But I am flying across the Pacific Ocean tomorrow. So, the fortune teller told my grandma to throw salt over my shoulders before I leave the house. And asked to pray that I will come home in one piece.

The last statement about not traveling is NOT pleasing.

I do want to come home in once piece.

So maybe if you have time, you can also wish, not necessarily pray, for me to come home safely.

Thanks.

MIYU

I have been so mean...

... to you, Miyu's Issues. I have not updated this thing for almost a month. But I was busy with school. Waking up at 6 a.m. was not doing me any good. So I'm sorry. But I promise, now that summer school is over, I will update this thing more often than not.

My departure date: July 31, 2008

As for my life, it's been fine. I pray that things that has been bugging me will go away real soon. Otherwise, I am doing great.

How about you?

MIYU

So I have decided...

... that I am going home to my motherland.

In August I will visit Japan.



It has been six years since the last time I walked down the familiar streets that I once used to live and grew up. It has been six years since the last time I've enjoyed the real Japanese culture--from food to people-- that I have been longing to feel. It has been six years since I've been "home."

Quite frankly, it has been too fucken long.

So I'm packing my bags and hopping on a plane.
Well, it's not that easy, you see. Thanks to the soaring price of gas, the fuel charge for one ticket is almost as expensive as the ticket itself. So, it's like doubling the price. I'm currently scavenging all the travel agency ads in the Japanese newspapers. I hope I will find something. Hell, I don't even mind sitting in the cargo area if that is going to reduce the price-- I take painkillers and knock out as soon as I sit down anyway.

Mother told me that I'm being ridiculous by spending so much to go on a trip like this and argues that I should be saving the money for when I transfer next year, but honestly, I don't think I can visit Japan for a real long time--perhaps five years or so--if I don't go this summer. I am getting busier and busier each year, and I don't think transferring and moving out is going to help my schedule.

So I am leaving.

And I sense a great "Miyu's Issues in Japan" coming our way.

Stay tuned.

But first of all, I must find a cheap ticket, fast.

"Do you think about me now and then? 'Cause I'm coming home again."

A thought that I had never thought about.

Recently, as we were listening to the radio, Scott said,

"I know Saint Peters won't call my name."

I didn't know what he was talking about, but he informed me; Saint Peters is I guess a person that calls names of those entering heaven. I suppose he is waiting at the gate? Growing up agnostic, and still am, I lack the knowlege of these basic Catholic saints and holy people. It's actually quite interesting to talk to someone like Scott, who has been brought up Catholic and confirmed by the church (he no longer goes to church or is religious, however).

"Viva La Vida" by Coldplay was playing.
The song is very pretty and poetic. I must say, though this genre of music new to me, I am in love with this song. You should check it out.

But back to what he said.
Will Saint Peters call MY name?

I don't know.
But does that matter?

What if there is no dude calling names of thsoe who belong in heaven?

But what if there is?

Would he call my name?
Would he call his name?
Would he call our names?

I wonder.

I have not been a saint, but I have not been Hitler, either.

I wonder.

Will he?

I don't know if I should even bother wondering.

But the song got me thinking.

Will Saint Peters call my name?

Better yet,

Will Saint Peters call YOUR name?

A year later...

Saturday, June 7, was an interesting night.

Thanks to some friends, I was forunate enough to be a part of a gay pride weekend in West Hollywood.
First of all, I love West Hollywood and the Beverly Hills area because those are the places that I've been to a few times and I like the stores there. But not in a million years would I have imagined myself there at 11 p.m. in a crowd of gay people. Another thing to add is that this culture was new to me. Growing up in a community where anything out of the "norm" is rarely accepted or acknowledged, Saturday night was a different night from all the rest

I must also add that I loved it.
But what made me surprised was not the people or the scene-- it was myself.

That night was the same night that my high school had its senior prom. A year ago, I was there too, dressed up nice with my fellow high school peers and enjoying the "best night of my life." We giggled, danced "freaky," had an alcohol-free after party and giggled some more. We took pictures, corsages and all, and joked that the cokes and punches had booze in it.

A year later, I no longer talk to any of those who I had spend that night with (except for Scott, of course). Some of those friendships ended few months later, while some, that I thought were going to be life-long, ended just recently.

A year later, I am in West Hollywood, with new friends of diffrent age and backgrounds, on a gay pride weekend, in a crowd of (some) drunks, covered in the smell of cigarettes, listening to Madonna and with a $5 vodka-with-rasberry-lemonade in my hand at a place that didn't even ask for my ID.

A year ago, the night ended with us playing Cranium 'till dawn, watching Borat and eating chicken nuggets.

A year later, the night ended with watching someone puke its stomach out from her car, a friend dancing on the bed of our truck while it was moving and laughing till I thought I was gonna fall from the window.

One year, and that was the difference.

When I got home, my mom asked what I did there (this is 2008, btw). I told her I had a $5 drink at West Hollywood. I even told her about the things I saw, the people I saw and the non-ID thing.

And she told me that wasn't too bad.

And I thought it wasn't too bad, either.

Maybe it was the drink (since I've realized that my heart reacts funny to drinks), but that morning, as I tossed and turned in bed, I swear my heart was pounding because I was so excited about my life ahead.

If one year can change this much, imagine what 5-year can do.


Some who knew me from a year ago may say that I've changed for the worse.
But I personally like the me that I am today.