parasitegirl: (dark)
"Would you like to think about what your life should be...?" the trash can asks me. It sits in my therapist's waiting room, asking me that one question each time I wait.

In Japan, where lunch boxes may demand things like, "Let's enjoy flavor life together! " it’s not unusual for random objects to be decorated with English proclamations. I don’t expect the English around me to always mean what it says or say what it means. English is often here just to be here.

I always wonder about this trash can though. Its grasp of English is better than the average object. I know that my therapist speaks English. What it asks is all too appropriate for the setting.

Would I like to think about what my life should be...?
Very long and a little touchy )
parasitegirl: (Default)

This is a documentation of ignored hunches…because that whole “those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it…” thang.

 

Long time readers will know that last Friday was in no WAY the worst Tokyo walk…that honor goes to the Ball-Peen Hammer Girl. 

 

I wheeled my gig suitcase to the train Friday night. Inside were a few extras: my contact solution, a change of clothing, make-up remover and stuff one might use if one were planning on having sex. I forgot to pack my cel charger cord and realized, going out the door, that my batteries were getting low. I took no photos on the train.

 

I’d assumed that I’d keep the make-up on for a while (after freshening up after I performed) because I know guys dig the occasional kick of me all glammed up. I was dressed nicely for two reasons: I always make sure to look like an off-duty bellydancer when showing up to gigs (people want to see the dancer arriving and departing looking pretty, not wearing jeans and flannels) and for date-ish night.

 

The crowd at A... was good: good tables, very enthusiastic Tunisian man who kept shouting out praise in a language I don’t speak, a tri-lingual Korean girl my age who sometimes need entertainment for banquettes she organizes at some international organization who talked me up and got my card, good waitstaff as always, and the owner had no special need of the week to bug me with.

After I danced I stayed for food a bit because Pretty Boy wasn’t getting off work for about 30 more minutes. In past weeks he’d asked me to come over and I’d blown him off for the slightest reason…often just not wanting to kill 20 minutes of time when I could easily do so. There were many reasons I could think of why I hadn’t seen him since early April: not much in common, had felt the last-minute booty call texts were a bit presumptuous, hadn’t appreciated the one week wait to hear from him after the first time we’d had sex, had found him reluctant to talk about STD status one time and had had to lecture him on acting like an adult about sex and how adults talk about things like this without pressure because it’s part of having an adult sex life…

But, I figured it had been “fun enough” so I agreed to Friday. I have stated before and will state again that I do not make poor judgement calls when I am drunk, because I am always aware that drinking will impair my judgement. I make poor judgement calls when I am bored.

Friday night tiny things began to bother me on a larger level.

I still can't believe the fetal position! )

Pretty boy

May. 30th, 2009 06:05 am
parasitegirl: (Default)
Wow.

I just wasn't getting in the groove, was feeling like I wasn't up for a night of a stampede to the clit, all technique no finess...just couldn't get turned on and wasn't being given time for it...so I stoped things. Wish I'd just not agreed to come over. Damn, last train and my distance.

Pretty Boy, when getting turned down for sex, doesn't take it well! He alternated between going fetal and refusing to answer questions to curling up on the couch texting and calling friends...unfortunately it was past last train, my celbattery died when I tried calling local friends, and I didn't relish paying 100$ for a cab home because someone is a wanker. ...I'm feeling pretty good about memories of what sort of 24 year old I was, because this was high school level bullshit.

...and his "you can sleep here but don't talk, don't say anything else" petulence meant I decided at 2AM to walk from Takadanobaba to Ueno because a 3 hour walk in wooden shoes with a rolling suitcase was far more relaxing then being near a huge fucking baby.

Way to make me feel like I made the RIGHT choice in deciding to not sleep with someone, Pretty Boy.

I'm home, it's 6AM. I'm going to nap and then take my wooden heels in for new soles.
parasitegirl: (bitchplease)
Last night I got this text at about 12:30 PM

"U can come to my home after working honestly i would like you to dance just for me."

hahahahahahahahahahaaaaa

Oh, really? Next week I start back working in the classroom and I dance Monday, Weds, Thurs, and Sat. I'll rush right over and do some dancing for my sultan, I'll get RIGHT on that. Like I learned bellydance to seduce young men I've already seduced! HA!

Men who've dated me and have seen me dance know the correct seduction technique is "Come over after you dance, I'll draw you a hot bath and rub your feet."
parasitegirl: (landmine)
Pretty Boy update.

I realize I haven't updated ya'll on the Pretty Boy, what with bigger fish to fry.

Well, a few weeks ago he came over on a Thursday after work because we both had Friday off for national holidays (banks and schools being, in this case, equal). When someone arrives 30 minutes before last train, there isn't much pretense to be had. Usually I'll rent a movie or make a boy a meal, ya know, I like the social aspects of having someone over...but it wasn't expected of me and I didn't bother.

I met him at the station and laughed out loud at the casual suit and less puffy hair. He was jealous of my fine glitter velvet pants and talked about how he wished it was more social acceptable for men to wear velvets. We talked a bit but I started thinking, "Yeah, we think the other is pretty. That's the common thread."  I ignored the 'I'm shy" stuff this time. Shy people don't arrive at your place 30 minutes before last train.


parasitegirl: (Default)
I have already discussed the personal style of Mr. Shiny, but let's get to the date itself...because you are my diary and I have no shame.

After I danced at A..... I packed and hopped a train to Shinjuku. The rain had subsided to a light drizzle and all was grey and cold. I headed to Studio Alta to wait. Studio Alta in Shinjuku, like the statue of Hachiko in Shibuya, is one of Japan's prime friend/date meet-up points...as such you constantly watch people arrive and look for others...so time after time I would wonder if the scrubby face approaching me was Taco. The fact that my Facebook pictures are far more shiny than my day-to-day look is  makes me wary of everyone else's (except Tanya LV's shots) as a method of identification. He'd tried to warn me he wasn't all that glam, modest boy.

"I really really want to look at your tattoo. It is so beautiful. I'm not cute, but than you: You are so nice <3<3 If you are in front of me, you may be disappointed at me, cuz I'm normal Asian man."

How did I meet Pretty Boy?

Well, Facebook. I added the "Are You Interested?" application and have ignored it ever since...except that three times in  scanning updates of those who are 'interested in me" I have clicked yes...He amused me because he was so obviously young AND was in a Pickachu costume when he clicked on me...so I clicked back and didn't think anything of it. I didn't even make the connection to the picachu boy when he sent me a friend request ...I ignore many male friend requests but his profile picture had him with silver/grey hair put into what I can only call a cockatiel crest and an outfit that fascinated me...so I added him.
More! )
parasitegirl: (ynot)

It's snowing.
I really wish I were at a school today. The rare event of snow here is better experienced with elated children. Co-workers in sweatervests aren't cutting it.

I will miss the Milkman's Sister dearly. Yesterday enroute to a school she shared with me a magic language moment. A magic language moment is one in which you are enjoying or doing something and suddenly realize "I am enjoying/doing this in a language that is not my own! WOW!"

It shouldn't surprise you that MS is a Disney fanatic. She doesn't know how many times she has been to Tokyo Disney or Disney Sea. She was there last weekend and suddenly realized that the show she was watching was in ENGLISH! It hadn't registered with her at first because she's grown so comfortable with hearing English the times she comes to my classes.

And then, as we walked to the school, she began to sing a song about liking pianos...in English.

We talked about how those moments are essential in the process of learning anotehr language. Those moments are at the core of my communication-oriented activies. I want teacher and students to get so involved that they forget they think English is hard but remember enough to be amazed at what they have done.

As I mentioned in a previous filtered post, I have a drink date tonight. I'll fess up...Facebook.

We have a meeting place. I told him I'll be easy to spot because I will have my small orange rolling suitcase with me (after I dance). He plans to wear sunglasses, which I think will make him unable to determine the color of my case...and he is younger, making him unaware of any quips about wearing his sunglasses at night or if he's so optimistic of his charm and where the date might go that he's "gotta wear shades"
 

The j-boy

Jan. 27th, 2009 05:21 pm
parasitegirl: (Default)
I made one stop on my way to Shimokitazawa on Monday night for coffee beans. Monday morning had been necessarily harsh and coffee-less. In fact I left my laptop in my desk so that my backpack would be light enough for more coffee and and extra costume. I don't often have to choose between the internet and coffee.

I did my make-up on the train...even my false eyelashes. My eyelashes behaved, batting themselves at me as if to say "what were you worried about?"  I was rocking a 60's bond-girl look; light skin, light lips, large lashes and thick liner on the lid, crease defined by a dark gold with light on the lid, dark eyebrows..and some tiny bling points at the outer corners of my eyes.

This is what I looked like as I changed trains in Yoyogiuehara...which would be where I met Takaoki. Taka is a young man who wanted to make sure I knew where I was going, that I knew he spoke English, and that he got my digits so he could ask me to dinner. I gave him my card (he didn't blink at the dancer aspect, as it turns out he enjoyed argentine tango) and wrote my text address on it. He was cute and I was impressed with how confident he was.  I also made sure he realized that I was in "gig face"...

In retrospect along with "Just to warn you, I'm not as glam as you think I am" I might have been wise to also point out "I might also not be as young as you think I am." He was very confused at the idea that I'd been in Japan for almost 8 years. He asked some follow-up questions about if that meant I'd attended college here...I didn't quite get the point of the college questions until I was at the show and got my first text message..

Hi, this is my add (smiley)
I am so happy that I met you.
I like your eyes...(shooting star)
My name is Tataoki and I am an actor of stage.
Have a sweet time at dance show (heart).

but what grabbed me was the text address itself "rude...since 1986@(didacted)"..which I thinks means that I am currently texting back and forth with a...22 year old?

But, onwards to Mother's Ruin....
parasitegirl: (Default)
It's actually going to be a busy week for me.

Last night I felt bad about not getting out to a BD show, but then I realized that three nights in a row in Tokyo IS a lot and that my schedule wasn't going to slow down this week. So, I rested.

So:
Monday: Aveda haircolor with my favorite stylist, the Japanese man who looks like an orange haired Vincent Price. The resemblance is stunning. The orange color is also stunning.(Done)

Tuesday: Jazz dance class( and basic hip hop?)

Wednesday: Coffee and the possibility of beer/food with Mr. Abs. The second half of the date (food?beer?) is contingent on the first part being enjoyable for both of us. I'll meet him at Ueno station. No great hopes here, might be fun, might not be.

Thursday: Dinner and catching up with Wataguy. I'm looking forward to dinner. He still is one of the people I know best here and communicate best with. We'll see if it ends with an awkward hug, a good hug, or a smooch. No matter which one, it doesn't change anything and isn't worth sweating over. He;ll be bringing my mystery birthday gift.

Friday: Restaurant night
Saturday: Class night
parasitegirl: (bitchplease)
I am officially the Wicked Bitch of the East...at least for today.

Yesterday I agreed to meet "Eddie" today for coffee, sight-seeing/hanging out, and lunch from 2 until my dance lesson at 6ish. I had thought that he seemed over zealous in wanting to set a date as soon as possible...I found his wanting to call me pretty Kayt-chan a bit unnerving (his add demanded a picture upfront) and I found his attaching of a quickly done-sketch (after demanding a photo) to be questionable...but I figured I'd go, because it might be an amusing conversation and maybe I was being overly judgmental from the get go. 100% refused to plan anything that involved him coming near my apartment.

Nope. I lasted 15 minutes and RAN.

He didn't look anything like his drawing. If he'd sent me a picture of a tubby little guy with no goatee, frizzy hair, a too-tight black cowboy shirt and teeth that slanted at a scary diagonal and virtually disappeared half-way across his smile...I don't know, at least I would have given him points for truth in advertising..but since he asked for a photo upfront and only would send a sketch...yeah...

After such urgent mails of wanting to meet me I expected a talkative person. Not a guy who just stared at me like I was a goddamned walking sandwich or something. Any attempts at conversation hit dead-ends as soon as they started...and I tried continually interviewing him to keep something other than dead air.

Humor? None that I could see.

Language skills? NO clue how much was about language problems and how much was about social problems because of the constant lack of speaking and deep blank stares at me, the human sandwich.

I have never drank shit coffee so fast.

After asking him about his time in Canada, his art, his job, his guitar playing...and then somehow managing to get him to tell me about this crazy girl he'd dated two years ago who thought she worked at Sony and had 30 boyfriends (but didn't) I ran out of conversation quizzes...It soon turned into some blunt comments because of my inability to judge what was a communication/language issue and my desire to be understood.

Bug: This is sort of awkward.
Eddie: No
Bug Awkward. Like I am not sure if we have anything in common to talk about.
Eddie: No, I don't think so.
Bug: I'm not feeling it. I'm feeling awkward. No connection.
Eddie: I don't think so.
BUg: You think there is a connection?
Eddie: Yes.

Because the coffee was so quickly demolished we were soon back on the street. Really, I tried to find a way to get out of it. I tried playing the "right out of a relationship, not ready for this sort of socializing, it's not you it's me, sorry to have wasted your time" card and he wouldn't let me. I finally had to say "I feel physically and mentally uncomfortable around you." and he still wanted to persevere. I said we should end the date right then and that I was a totally bitch...still wanted to go somewhere else and hang out. I told him that I was going to go buy art supplies, by myself, and he was going to realize that I was a total bitch and I left. I practically ran down the Metro steps as soon as I was out of sight.

And, shit, I know I have probably wounded him...but I don't regret bailing as soon as humanly possible. I've rarely had that bad a first impression...I know I was mean, but I also feel like I did the right thing.

I am such a bitch.

It can only get better than this.

I seriously still feel like I have 'escaped' something. In my defense...if you know me in real life, and you look at the circle of friends and such around how we know eac hother...you know that I'm not easily off-put by some social oddity/bungling.

I spent that free time getting more Gesso, more B&W Polaroid film and ordering myself an easel. Dance class rocked. I ate a D&D Corn Bread Muffin. I will sleep soundly tonight.


I also got off my ass this morning and got my roots touched up. For the first time I really enjoyed making Japanese small talk with the male stylists. My hair looks fucking great. Maybe my shiny hair scrammbled Eddie's mind.

Oh SHIT!

Feb. 24th, 2006 01:47 pm
parasitegirl: (WTF)
I guess this is why dating is scary.

The artist that I mailed REALLY wants to see me SOON.

He did not include a picture...nope...he drew one for me.  It's not that bad, but it scares me.



I mean, I'm an artist and I dance but I would never in a million years send a sketch of myself or a shot of myself in bellydance gear (yes, I post these things all the time, but really) because there is something about that that says "Psycho" or "overeager."


Update

Feb. 24th, 2006 12:05 pm
parasitegirl: (wonder chains)
Wataguy Update:

We’ve returned to our text message habits, with some changes (we’ve avoided the goodnight kiss messages for sanity sake) and have a loose date to do dinner and test the face-to-face waters in mid-March. I’d estimate that at least 80 percent of our interactions were at a distance/text message and mails (his estimates would be higher…because he’s an lj junkie…it’s only a matter of days before he breaks and starts reading again) and it is the thing that we don’t feel normal denying ourselves. An odd friendship.

We’ve known the break-up was coming for a long time, years even.

I figure that I should set some goals about getting out of the house and socializing a bit. When your peers are school teachers and female dancers…well..you have to make an effort to meet men. This isn’t the sort of country that men just talk to me (Nigerians in search of wives and toothless sake drinkers aside.) I’ve set a goal to make sure that I at least try to go on a date or two before mid-march.

Last night I looked at the on-line ads from the Metropolis. It was pretty depressing: the sheer numbers of married men who write ads, those just in search of cute Japanese girls, and the just plain repulsive wording. I can’t trash the ads 100%...because they are how the Wataguy and I met each other. I responded to one, early 30’s Japanese artist, bi-lingual, working in web design…and we’re figuring out a time to get coffee and maybe checkout the exhibits at Roppongi Hills.

I’m also doing coffee with a local guy (one train stop away) sometime next week. I have a my space account to keep in touch with a few art school kids and he’s the only “add me” person who seems to be interesting (bi-lingual, lived in Boston, works in some financial job to keep art and snowboard hobbies paid for) so, after a non-flirting correspondence of a few months we think it’s time to get some coffee. I do need more male friends in the area that are not Wataguy.

My female friends here have also been helpful. The Romanian emailed me today with the news that she too is recently single, so we’ll be doing the slumber party sometime in the future…Opua plans on making pancakes at the first available Sunday.

And that’s your update. It’s a locked post because I know that Wataguy will start reading soon and this is too fast to have to deal with that reaction. He knows he’ll hate my next boyfriend, he’s said so.

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