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
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
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
Monday, June 30, 2008
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."
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
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?
"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?
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Oh LOVE!
Let's talk about love.
Well, first of all, I'm having a hard time relating to people who "like" someone. i love hearing about it and all the happy/juicy stories that come with having a crush on someone, but I just can't relate. I'm sure last time being in that state of having a crush was four years ago has something to do with it. But regardless, I'm not the type to scream out, "OH I'm IN LOVE!" either. Sure, I care for him. Sure, I adore him. But if someone were to ask me if it's like those myspace love icons, i would flatly say no. You know, those small, square icons that say "Oh I loved you before I met you" or "I wish I could stay like this forever," with pictures of holding hands or hands making a shape of a heart? No, that's just not me or him.
My feelings for him is something more than one word. But it's not like I am dependant on him, either. Love is just a beginning word to define what I feel. It's not the definition. It's part of it, but there's so much more. I can't really explain it well, but it's not just the matter of whehter I love him or not. And sometimes it's scary how much emotion I have for one person. I feel so vulnerable and it's awekward. But to me, he is someone that's more than just one word.
Besides, the first icon is more like us than anything.
photo from Google
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
BOOBIES
A few days ago, I was driving myself somewhere. Since my regular radio stations were both on commercials, I changed my car radio to KIIIS FM. DJ announced that the next song was a new one from the Pussy Cat Dolls. Now, I do not like those girls. To me, they cannot sing nor have much talent besides being sex kittens and helping the young Americans’ fantasies, but that really isn’t my point here.
As I listened to the song, the chorus struck me so badly that I almost stepped on the break pads to a screeching halt.
I heard the word BOOBIES in the chorus.
They sing about WHAT? I asked myself. Out of all the words in the English language to rhyme the word movies, they picked BOOBIES?
What kind of a world are we coming to?
“When I grow up, I wanna have BOOBIES”???????
First of all, the radio station is geared towards pre-teenagers to young adults, though many soccer moms do listen to the station. The stations beeps out whores, weed and any gun reference, yet they are OK with BOOBIES? Not breasts, BOOBIES.
So, as I drove with this lingering question, I thought how much the music scene has gone down the toilet recently. I mean, if they have to put BOOBIES in their chorus to attract audience, what’s next? Let the N-word and F-bombs to make their premier? Ridiculous, I said to myself. Just fucking ridiculous.
To make sure I was going crazy or having subconcious wanting for breasts, I call Scott. I make him listen to the song (poor thing, he's a metal/hard-core/classical kindda guys).
"You heard it, right?" I said.
"Yeah, I think they did say it," Scott replied.
"They are saying BOOBIES!!!"
"I think so."
Then we listened to the song some more.
"This song makes me want to grow BOOBIES instead of becoming a music teacher, Miyu."
Damn you, Puusy Cat Dolls! I thought.
Just as I was going to bang my head on the wall until the music scene improved, I went on a lyric-search website to check the lyrics.
Then I found out that they were not saying BOOBIES, but they were saying GROUPIES.
But I swear I heard BOOBIES, I argued to myself.
But according to several websites, it was GROUPIES.
Oh.
Oh.
Uhh.
So I sighed in relief but then I was angry again because in the song, it does sound like BOOBIES. They should have made it clearer. Those bitches, I thought. Making this poor college student sweat like that.
So I guess it’s either we need a hearing aid or those cats need to take speech class.
Or Scott and I are both craving some breasts.
As I listened to the song, the chorus struck me so badly that I almost stepped on the break pads to a screeching halt.
I heard the word BOOBIES in the chorus.
They sing about WHAT? I asked myself. Out of all the words in the English language to rhyme the word movies, they picked BOOBIES?
What kind of a world are we coming to?
“When I grow up, I wanna have BOOBIES”???????
First of all, the radio station is geared towards pre-teenagers to young adults, though many soccer moms do listen to the station. The stations beeps out whores, weed and any gun reference, yet they are OK with BOOBIES? Not breasts, BOOBIES.
So, as I drove with this lingering question, I thought how much the music scene has gone down the toilet recently. I mean, if they have to put BOOBIES in their chorus to attract audience, what’s next? Let the N-word and F-bombs to make their premier? Ridiculous, I said to myself. Just fucking ridiculous.
To make sure I was going crazy or having subconcious wanting for breasts, I call Scott. I make him listen to the song (poor thing, he's a metal/hard-core/classical kindda guys).
"You heard it, right?" I said.
"Yeah, I think they did say it," Scott replied.
"They are saying BOOBIES!!!"
"I think so."
Then we listened to the song some more.
"This song makes me want to grow BOOBIES instead of becoming a music teacher, Miyu."
Damn you, Puusy Cat Dolls! I thought.
Just as I was going to bang my head on the wall until the music scene improved, I went on a lyric-search website to check the lyrics.
Then I found out that they were not saying BOOBIES, but they were saying GROUPIES.
But I swear I heard BOOBIES, I argued to myself.
But according to several websites, it was GROUPIES.
Oh.
Oh.
Uhh.
So I sighed in relief but then I was angry again because in the song, it does sound like BOOBIES. They should have made it clearer. Those bitches, I thought. Making this poor college student sweat like that.
So I guess it’s either we need a hearing aid or those cats need to take speech class.
Or Scott and I are both craving some breasts.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
The desire that I don't really want to have.
I hate kids.
Let's face it; I hate kids. They are whiny, dirty, annoying and troublesome. Or at least they are to me.
But sometimes I get this URGE to be a mum.
Especially at work, when I see a cute hapa (JAPANESE--not any asian, mind you-- and white) baby, I'm like, "damn, I dont mind being a mommy to that one!" I love hapa baies because they are usually really pretty.
But then again, I would see another baby crying its ass off and I think to myself, "Oh THANK THE LORD I'm not a mum." I really cant stand crying babies.
As I was growing up, I had a fairly young mother and it was cool. So when I have kids, I want my first one at 27. You might think that's waaaay too young, but if my mum was capable, so am I.
Plus, I do plan on getting married at 21. Or maybe 22. And live in England for a year and then in Japan for another year.
There are so many things that I want to do in life that I really do not have the time to mope around over studpid things. But I sometimes do look back and feel that depressing feelings that I was feeling a month or so ago. Then I tell myself, "Miyu, this really will not matter in six months. Especially when you'll be hella busy."
Then I feel better.
Life is short. People come and go. I know that it's just part of life.
I only wish it was as easy as it sounds.
MIYU
Let's face it; I hate kids. They are whiny, dirty, annoying and troublesome. Or at least they are to me.
But sometimes I get this URGE to be a mum.
Especially at work, when I see a cute hapa (JAPANESE--not any asian, mind you-- and white) baby, I'm like, "damn, I dont mind being a mommy to that one!" I love hapa baies because they are usually really pretty.
But then again, I would see another baby crying its ass off and I think to myself, "Oh THANK THE LORD I'm not a mum." I really cant stand crying babies.
As I was growing up, I had a fairly young mother and it was cool. So when I have kids, I want my first one at 27. You might think that's waaaay too young, but if my mum was capable, so am I.
Plus, I do plan on getting married at 21. Or maybe 22. And live in England for a year and then in Japan for another year.
There are so many things that I want to do in life that I really do not have the time to mope around over studpid things. But I sometimes do look back and feel that depressing feelings that I was feeling a month or so ago. Then I tell myself, "Miyu, this really will not matter in six months. Especially when you'll be hella busy."
Then I feel better.
Life is short. People come and go. I know that it's just part of life.
I only wish it was as easy as it sounds.
MIYU
Sunday, May 18, 2008
The dream that I never dreamed.
These days, I am extremely annoyed and fascinated at the same time by the obsession among teenagers over the book series called Twilight. Or more like an obsession over a fictional character.
I gotta admit, I did get hooked at one point because there's a boy/vampire that is just so damn fascinating. The book is a perfect page-turner for teenagers and I admit, the series is well written.
Edward Cullen is probably the most desired male in today's teenage world. He is a 17-year-old vampire who has "angelic face," tons of money, drives a Volvo and loves the main character unconditionally. Who wouldn't dream about a guy like Edward? I know I did, even when I'm happily in a relationship.
But what I've realized is that afterall, Edwards is FICTIONAL.
What good does it do to fantasize about someone that is not real? What good does that do in life? Those single teenage girls are setting their expectations of their ideal boyfriends way too high by comparing them with Edward.
It's really sad, actually, to see those girls chittering away about how wonderful and great Edward is. Instead of wasting time over this dude in a book, why not go out and find someone who's more realistic? Anyone can be Edward if he had all eternity to himself, lived 200 years, had unlimited money, doesn't need to eat or sleep and good looking.
But hey, that's just not going to happen, now is it?
I know how those girls feel-- they don't have boyfriends and if they did, they want someone like Edward. The fact that he does not exist pulls the heartstrings even more.
I know I'll read the final installment of the book when it comes out, but I'm not going to read it for Edward-- I'm going to read it so I know how it's going to end.
I once used to obsess over an anime character back when I was in middle school. Me and my friends talked about him, put pictures of him on our websites, discussed how great he was and acted like girls. It's all fun and exciting. But all it did was killed some time and nothing more.
What I find it disturbing is that girls who obsess over Edward is not only middle school kids-- some are almost at the legal age, or some are over 18.
OK, let me be frank-- that's fucking creepy.
Obsessing over some FICTIONAL character-- not even a celebrity-- is just not OK at the ripe age where they should be focusing on real life and real people. Liking--even loving-- the book (which is written for ages 13 to maybe 16)is fine. But obsessing over a character and dreaming about him and constantly talking about him with others-- now that's disturbing.
All I gotta say is that obsession is not a good thing.
Obsession over anything-- chocolate, pot, driving, a person, thing or a character-- is not the healthiest thing to do.
So, please, close the damn Twilight book, get your hair done, buy some skinny jeans, wear some makeup, CLOSE THE DAMN BOOK, shut up and go out to find someone who can get you laid in real life.
You'll thank me later.
MIYU
p.s. What ended my infatuation over edward? Afer few volumes of the series, he started to remind me too much like my boyfriend. I'm dead serious. That's why i don't like edward anymore. He doesnt fascinate me anymore.
I gotta admit, I did get hooked at one point because there's a boy/vampire that is just so damn fascinating. The book is a perfect page-turner for teenagers and I admit, the series is well written.
Edward Cullen is probably the most desired male in today's teenage world. He is a 17-year-old vampire who has "angelic face," tons of money, drives a Volvo and loves the main character unconditionally. Who wouldn't dream about a guy like Edward? I know I did, even when I'm happily in a relationship.
But what I've realized is that afterall, Edwards is FICTIONAL.
What good does it do to fantasize about someone that is not real? What good does that do in life? Those single teenage girls are setting their expectations of their ideal boyfriends way too high by comparing them with Edward.
It's really sad, actually, to see those girls chittering away about how wonderful and great Edward is. Instead of wasting time over this dude in a book, why not go out and find someone who's more realistic? Anyone can be Edward if he had all eternity to himself, lived 200 years, had unlimited money, doesn't need to eat or sleep and good looking.
But hey, that's just not going to happen, now is it?
I know how those girls feel-- they don't have boyfriends and if they did, they want someone like Edward. The fact that he does not exist pulls the heartstrings even more.
I know I'll read the final installment of the book when it comes out, but I'm not going to read it for Edward-- I'm going to read it so I know how it's going to end.
I once used to obsess over an anime character back when I was in middle school. Me and my friends talked about him, put pictures of him on our websites, discussed how great he was and acted like girls. It's all fun and exciting. But all it did was killed some time and nothing more.
What I find it disturbing is that girls who obsess over Edward is not only middle school kids-- some are almost at the legal age, or some are over 18.
OK, let me be frank-- that's fucking creepy.
Obsessing over some FICTIONAL character-- not even a celebrity-- is just not OK at the ripe age where they should be focusing on real life and real people. Liking--even loving-- the book (which is written for ages 13 to maybe 16)is fine. But obsessing over a character and dreaming about him and constantly talking about him with others-- now that's disturbing.
All I gotta say is that obsession is not a good thing.
Obsession over anything-- chocolate, pot, driving, a person, thing or a character-- is not the healthiest thing to do.
So, please, close the damn Twilight book, get your hair done, buy some skinny jeans, wear some makeup, CLOSE THE DAMN BOOK, shut up and go out to find someone who can get you laid in real life.
You'll thank me later.
MIYU
p.s. What ended my infatuation over edward? Afer few volumes of the series, he started to remind me too much like my boyfriend. I'm dead serious. That's why i don't like edward anymore. He doesnt fascinate me anymore.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Gym and French fries.
Sometimes the best things in life aren't the best things for life.
Take French fries for example.
They are pure grease and carb monsters. Yet I crave them often like a pregnant woman craving orange juice. I love those fries. I feel like a total lard ball after eating them, but once I start munching, I can't stop.
French fries are so good to me, but they aren't good for me.
To reduce my sins of eating Island's fries and an In-N-Out burger (protein style--no buns but lettuse rapped), I went to the gym at 10:30p.m. to burn those suckers off. I obviously did not melt off every bit of saturated fat that I had consumed, but it did make me feel better.
Why do we love things that are bad for us?
I think we love them because they are bad.
I know procrastination is bad, but I still do it. I know eating junk is bad, but I can't stop.
I saw a book at my work the other day on why people do things that are bad for them, and how those habits are scientifically fixed. Maybe I'll check it out sometime.
MIYU
Take French fries for example.
They are pure grease and carb monsters. Yet I crave them often like a pregnant woman craving orange juice. I love those fries. I feel like a total lard ball after eating them, but once I start munching, I can't stop.
French fries are so good to me, but they aren't good for me.
To reduce my sins of eating Island's fries and an In-N-Out burger (protein style--no buns but lettuse rapped), I went to the gym at 10:30p.m. to burn those suckers off. I obviously did not melt off every bit of saturated fat that I had consumed, but it did make me feel better.
Why do we love things that are bad for us?
I think we love them because they are bad.
I know procrastination is bad, but I still do it. I know eating junk is bad, but I can't stop.
I saw a book at my work the other day on why people do things that are bad for them, and how those habits are scientifically fixed. Maybe I'll check it out sometime.
MIYU
Sunday, May 11, 2008
My fear.
I'm sorry (to myself). I have not posted anything in a week. But I did think about posting things up. I was just real busy this week.
To make it up for the week, I've decided to reveal one of my biggest phobias: the flushing sound of the toilet.
Yes, I am scared shitless of the sound of toilets flushing.
Whenever I flush, I A)Cover my ears and look away and/or B) Bone out as fast as i can from the scene.
I have no idea why i'm scared of this. i just can't flush the toilet without covering my ears and running away. Whenever I use public bathroom, I literally cover my ears, turn the nob with my feet and get the fuck out of the stall. i'm not scared of myself getting sucked into the toilet or anything like that-- i just can't stand the sound.
The school bathrooms are the worst-- they are automatic flush and they make the loudest noise.
I hate the automatic flushing toilets.
Not only those toilets louder than the manual ones, they flush before i cover my ears or when I'm zipping my pants. And it scares me to no end.
These days I wait for it to flush (with my ears covered, of course) and after it flushes, I zip my pants up.
The thought of me standing in fromnt of a toilet covering my ears with my zipper undone is quite funny, i admit. But to me, it's serious!
I've always feared the flushing-- as far back as i can remember, it was kindergarten.
I get a sense of relief when the toilet is manually flushed because I know that it wont give me a heart attack by flushing out of the blue.
And that was my fear.
To make it up for the week, I've decided to reveal one of my biggest phobias: the flushing sound of the toilet.
Yes, I am scared shitless of the sound of toilets flushing.
Whenever I flush, I A)Cover my ears and look away and/or B) Bone out as fast as i can from the scene.
I have no idea why i'm scared of this. i just can't flush the toilet without covering my ears and running away. Whenever I use public bathroom, I literally cover my ears, turn the nob with my feet and get the fuck out of the stall. i'm not scared of myself getting sucked into the toilet or anything like that-- i just can't stand the sound.
The school bathrooms are the worst-- they are automatic flush and they make the loudest noise.
I hate the automatic flushing toilets.
Not only those toilets louder than the manual ones, they flush before i cover my ears or when I'm zipping my pants. And it scares me to no end.
These days I wait for it to flush (with my ears covered, of course) and after it flushes, I zip my pants up.
The thought of me standing in fromnt of a toilet covering my ears with my zipper undone is quite funny, i admit. But to me, it's serious!
I've always feared the flushing-- as far back as i can remember, it was kindergarten.
I get a sense of relief when the toilet is manually flushed because I know that it wont give me a heart attack by flushing out of the blue.
And that was my fear.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
My Mess multiplies.
I'm a messy person. It's fact.
My room is a mess. I'm a big slob and can't keep anywhere clean. My car is a mess. My desk in the newsroom is a mess. Well, for the newsroom, I partly blame those who leave random things on my desk and never take them back. I had a pile of PR textbook sitting on my desk for a month until I realized that whoever left it was not coming to take them back. And I couldnt sell them because it said no re-sale.
My mum is not very happy about me living in a mess like this. Even my grandmama yells at me that my room is too messy. But I can't help it. I clean it, and it's messy again. It's like I have elves living in my room and messes the room up evertime I'm gone.
However, I really need to clean it soon. I saw a spider in my room the other day. I hate bugs mroe than anything in the world.
And my dad says that pretty soon mushrooms will start to grow in my room.
And I highly doubt those mushrooms would be edible.
MIYU
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Whirlwind
When life starts to spin a bit too fast for my own good, I try to take a deep breath and say, "Now Miyu, what do you need to do first?" The worst thing is to panic.
Today was a hell of a day. So many sad/shocking news, arguments, headaches and more.
One thing I would like to say is Rest In Peace, Miss Crine. She was my math teacher last year. I hope there's enough Tab Soda for you in heaven. And I hope someone nice is going to take care of your dog and take it to Target, just like you did. I thought you were crazy, but I always thought you were a good person. RIP.
Death occurs more frequently as we age. I just pray it won't happen to the ones that I care about the most.
MIYU
Today was a hell of a day. So many sad/shocking news, arguments, headaches and more.
One thing I would like to say is Rest In Peace, Miss Crine. She was my math teacher last year. I hope there's enough Tab Soda for you in heaven. And I hope someone nice is going to take care of your dog and take it to Target, just like you did. I thought you were crazy, but I always thought you were a good person. RIP.
Death occurs more frequently as we age. I just pray it won't happen to the ones that I care about the most.
MIYU
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
In a car.
I like to go on a car ride. I don't enjoy driving, but I love sitting on the passenger side and just talk to the driver (usually Scott or my parents) and listen to music. I think you get to know someone a bit better when you have a conversation in a car. I like the close atmosphere that a car provides. When in a car, conversations seem to flow naturally.
I especially love the drive when we are getting food.
Driving around in his pick-up truck and listening to his ipod is one of the most enjoyable time we share, especially on a warm day with the windows down. I also like driving around in the night time when everything is cooler and quieter. Music plus food plus good weather make the drive to school, work or anything enjoyable and fun.
On the other hand, when i drive, I like to be alone. I LOVE listening to music and driving by myself because it truly is a ME-Time that I barely get. I never blast the music but I listen to music louder than usual when I drive alone. I don't sing, but I feel the lyrics and the melodies.
Although the recent gas price is burning a hole in my wallet and the pocket, I enjoy driving myself to school because I get to listen to music by myself for 20 minutes.
The point is, good music is always a must. Good music can make anything better.
Yes I sleep with stuffed animals.
Yes, I do. I have 8 stuffed animals with me on my bed. I don't care if it sounds creepy; I like them and they rock. Especially Mr. Teddy.
Yes, I know; the name itself is already creepy. But that's what I named him when I got it back when I was 9. He's the only gift from my biological father that I still see everyday. Other gifts sort of disappeared.
He's the head honcho of the stuffed animals on my bed-- it has the most sentimental values out of all.
Anyway, today's blog is real short because I need to get to school real early tomorrow, or I should say today. The bottom line is, stuffed animsl are awesome.
MIYU
Monday, April 28, 2008
My dog Chobi
In early March, my boyfriend and I adopted a Siberian Husky puppy. We figured that it would jsut eat, poop, sleep and be cute. Too bad we were wrong.
Not only does this monster chews through every electrical cable in sight, it likes to flip over water bowls and tear out the pee pad.
She loves to chew on everything. Especially-- and so stereotypically-- shoes. But she's still dumb and cute enough to get her nose stuck in it.
But we do get our revenge by making her dress up like a Russian vavushika (or however you spell it).
She also farts a lot. And those farts smell really bad to the point where we open all the windows and still plug our nose.
But all in all, Chobi is a gal who's impossible to hate. <3
Though only four months old, she truly entertains us.
<3
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Being this hurt was unexpected.
I've been dumped.
No, My boyfriend and I are doing well, thank you. But I've been dumped by someone I thought was my best friend. I just hate myself for being so hurt by that girl-- I haven't had this much emotional pain since--God knows-- forever. I don't really need to explain what exactly happened since I gave details in the last entry, but MANN this hurts! I know that she feels NOTHING about this matter and she has just moved on to her other, newer and "closer" friends (though they've known her for less than half the years that I've known her). I need to stop feeling so attatched and realize that I've got to move on but it's just really hard when we had been such good friends. I just started college and so far I do not have much friends there (though I do have friends, but not the ones that I would call on weekends to hang out). I hate myself for acting like a little girl but I just can't deal with this right now.
What hurts me the most is that our friendship meant nothing to her.
While I'm here hurt and disappointed on the verge of tears, she is laughing and having a good time with her friends. While I'm questioning the meaning of ANY frienship, she is uploading pictures from her fantabulous weekend on MySpace.
Am I just too sensitive? Are frienships that disposable?
I really don't want to let this bring me down, but I just can't help but to feel sad and hurt.
Thank goodness tomorrow is Monday-- the more shit that I got in my personal life, the more I can focus on school.
I guess i have to let time heal me-- until then, I'll just have to be honest with my feelings.
And damn, I hate this sentimental crap!
MIYU
No, My boyfriend and I are doing well, thank you. But I've been dumped by someone I thought was my best friend. I just hate myself for being so hurt by that girl-- I haven't had this much emotional pain since--God knows-- forever. I don't really need to explain what exactly happened since I gave details in the last entry, but MANN this hurts! I know that she feels NOTHING about this matter and she has just moved on to her other, newer and "closer" friends (though they've known her for less than half the years that I've known her). I need to stop feeling so attatched and realize that I've got to move on but it's just really hard when we had been such good friends. I just started college and so far I do not have much friends there (though I do have friends, but not the ones that I would call on weekends to hang out). I hate myself for acting like a little girl but I just can't deal with this right now.
What hurts me the most is that our friendship meant nothing to her.
While I'm here hurt and disappointed on the verge of tears, she is laughing and having a good time with her friends. While I'm questioning the meaning of ANY frienship, she is uploading pictures from her fantabulous weekend on MySpace.
Am I just too sensitive? Are frienships that disposable?
I really don't want to let this bring me down, but I just can't help but to feel sad and hurt.
Thank goodness tomorrow is Monday-- the more shit that I got in my personal life, the more I can focus on school.
I guess i have to let time heal me-- until then, I'll just have to be honest with my feelings.
And damn, I hate this sentimental crap!
MIYU
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Bugged
For few weeks, there has been some personal problems that have been bothering me. I won't go into details, but pretty much it's a conflict of interest and I'm beginning to doubt that the relationship is reconsilable.
As I ate dinner with my old friend, she made me realize that the reason why this person--let's just call her B-- and I have been getting into conflicts with one another because she is still in high school, but I'm not. Her life is all about her colorguard team, boys and school dances. My life centers around school, journalism, the paper and the future.
I'm not saying that high school years are not important-- well, actually, I am. Honestly, those years do not affect any aspect of your college life. Maybe it does for those who studied like hell and made it into some prestige schools, but for the most part, incoming freshies realize that no one gives a damn about who they went to Sadie Hawkin's dance or who was the captain of the swim team. It really doesn't matter.
Though this is only the second semester in college for me, I know that I've changed a lot since last June. I'm not the hard-headed Miyu that I was back then-- I'm more open to new people and things, and I have better understandings of the world in general. B, on the other hand, fails to understand that I've changed and that there is life outside her little comfort zone called high school. When I try to make a point across, it's always me "attacking her" and that I "start shit."
What disappoints me the most, however, is that she is acting like I'm some kind of a disposal friend. It's like, if I'm not there, she has others to fill my shoes. And that's fine if that's the way it is. But after being her "best friend" and going through some high school drama together for 4 years, I feel cheated and hurt that B can pretend that those years meant nothing. And if that's the case, I feel stupid and angry at myself for wasting those years.
We have not spoken to each other in a week. I don't think she'll ever call but I'm honestly sick of always making the effort to patch things up. If the friendship ends like this-- so be it. I'm sick of pretending to be the "old" me and I am sick of her making me feel this way. If she wants me in her life still, she can call me. Otherwise, it's her loss. She can realize how I felt when she starts college next semester.
Ah, life.
MIYU
As I ate dinner with my old friend, she made me realize that the reason why this person--let's just call her B-- and I have been getting into conflicts with one another because she is still in high school, but I'm not. Her life is all about her colorguard team, boys and school dances. My life centers around school, journalism, the paper and the future.
I'm not saying that high school years are not important-- well, actually, I am. Honestly, those years do not affect any aspect of your college life. Maybe it does for those who studied like hell and made it into some prestige schools, but for the most part, incoming freshies realize that no one gives a damn about who they went to Sadie Hawkin's dance or who was the captain of the swim team. It really doesn't matter.
Though this is only the second semester in college for me, I know that I've changed a lot since last June. I'm not the hard-headed Miyu that I was back then-- I'm more open to new people and things, and I have better understandings of the world in general. B, on the other hand, fails to understand that I've changed and that there is life outside her little comfort zone called high school. When I try to make a point across, it's always me "attacking her" and that I "start shit."
What disappoints me the most, however, is that she is acting like I'm some kind of a disposal friend. It's like, if I'm not there, she has others to fill my shoes. And that's fine if that's the way it is. But after being her "best friend" and going through some high school drama together for 4 years, I feel cheated and hurt that B can pretend that those years meant nothing. And if that's the case, I feel stupid and angry at myself for wasting those years.
We have not spoken to each other in a week. I don't think she'll ever call but I'm honestly sick of always making the effort to patch things up. If the friendship ends like this-- so be it. I'm sick of pretending to be the "old" me and I am sick of her making me feel this way. If she wants me in her life still, she can call me. Otherwise, it's her loss. She can realize how I felt when she starts college next semester.
Ah, life.
MIYU
Thursday, April 24, 2008
My name is Miyu.
Say it with me here-- mee you.
That's how you pronounce my name.
Over the years I've had people butcher and modify my name over and over-- Once you get it, it's not that hard to say it, but for some odd reason people find my name to be a difficult one.
I remember when I was around 9 years old, I was very insecure about my name because no one ever remembered it (I guess it's kind of hard to ask 4th graders to remember anything, actually). So one night my dad tells me, "You can just introduce yourself by saying, 'My name is Miyu. It's like me and you.'" As soon as I heard him say that I started to cry-- my simple 9-year-old brain told me that such way to introduce myself was not only ridicuous, but made me look like a fool. I vowed to myself that I would never use that way to explain my name.
I have tried to use "American" names before-- in my 7th grade year I was known as Cindy (my dad decided, though he argued that my name was "already nice")-- but that did not last longer than one semester. I was sick of people not remembering my name, but at the same time, I was sick of feeling like I was someone that I'm not.
As middle school ended and high school began, the opportunities to introduce myself lessened, maybe because high school was a very complicated, self-realizing period in my life. I was more reserved and rarely met anyone new.
Though the story of name in America does not sound like the happiest story to be ever told by an immigrant, I do get the kick out of the way Starbucks baristas spell it. Throughout the years, they have spelled my name like this:
meeyoo
myou
miu
meyo
miya
maya
miyou
and the list goes on. These days I just make up a name or say my boyfriend's name to save those poor baristas from confusion.
I'm happy to say, however, that I've learned to love my name. It's unique and I know that my parents have spent many hours trying to find the best name when I was born. I love my kanji, or the Chinese-origin letters, for my name as well. In the future I'm planning to get those characters tattooed on my ankles. Though it is tough to meet new people since I know that most of them would never remember my name, there are times when someone does remember and compliment it. Name is something that cannot be taken away from you no matter how poor or happy you are.
To add to my story-- I actually now introduce myself by saying, "My name is Miyu. It's like me and you." It turns out that my dad was right-- people remember more often when I say that!
That's how you pronounce my name.
Over the years I've had people butcher and modify my name over and over-- Once you get it, it's not that hard to say it, but for some odd reason people find my name to be a difficult one.
I remember when I was around 9 years old, I was very insecure about my name because no one ever remembered it (I guess it's kind of hard to ask 4th graders to remember anything, actually). So one night my dad tells me, "You can just introduce yourself by saying, 'My name is Miyu. It's like me and you.'" As soon as I heard him say that I started to cry-- my simple 9-year-old brain told me that such way to introduce myself was not only ridicuous, but made me look like a fool. I vowed to myself that I would never use that way to explain my name.
I have tried to use "American" names before-- in my 7th grade year I was known as Cindy (my dad decided, though he argued that my name was "already nice")-- but that did not last longer than one semester. I was sick of people not remembering my name, but at the same time, I was sick of feeling like I was someone that I'm not.
As middle school ended and high school began, the opportunities to introduce myself lessened, maybe because high school was a very complicated, self-realizing period in my life. I was more reserved and rarely met anyone new.
Though the story of name in America does not sound like the happiest story to be ever told by an immigrant, I do get the kick out of the way Starbucks baristas spell it. Throughout the years, they have spelled my name like this:
meeyoo
myou
miu
meyo
miya
maya
miyou
and the list goes on. These days I just make up a name or say my boyfriend's name to save those poor baristas from confusion.
I'm happy to say, however, that I've learned to love my name. It's unique and I know that my parents have spent many hours trying to find the best name when I was born. I love my kanji, or the Chinese-origin letters, for my name as well. In the future I'm planning to get those characters tattooed on my ankles. Though it is tough to meet new people since I know that most of them would never remember my name, there are times when someone does remember and compliment it. Name is something that cannot be taken away from you no matter how poor or happy you are.
To add to my story-- I actually now introduce myself by saying, "My name is Miyu. It's like me and you." It turns out that my dad was right-- people remember more often when I say that!
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
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