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So I worked roughly 12 hours yesterday, went home, then made brownies in my PJ's (wow...that sounds super-gross). What I mean to say is, I put on my PJ's, and I baked brownies. (OMG, Abby using an oven?! Voluntarily?! And it didn't explode?!?!?!)

Yes, yes, Satan is freezing his ass off right now.

This is awful--I can't keep a single thought going in my head for more than about a minute. It's a schizo-day.

C S of the D: California PJ's International

Another C S of the D: COW911SHC (Note from me: No, I don't get it.)

Yet another C S of the D (I'm just gonna start calling them CSD's): experiment (by a picture of a test tube)

Cool Pencilcase of the Day: SHACK MAN (by a picture of a scorpion)

Yesterday while I was proctoring (for three fucking hours), I had this thought (what ELSE can you do while proctoring?): what if people could only ever make ORIGINAL STATEMENTS? What if nobody could ever say anything that had been said before? I think in the U.S. it wouldn't be quite so bad (although people could no longer chorus agreement or use slang or anything, and french fry girls nationwide would be totally fucked--"Would you perhaps enjoy a sampling of our delicious, highly-fattening, yet cost-effective french fries--DAMN, I've already said that TWICE today!")

Their heads might spin off into oblivion.

Then I started thinking about places like....Japan. And I realized that the entire nation would be forever silenced. Nobody says ANYTHING original around here. It's always the same set phrases. お疲れ様です。ありがとうございます。失礼します。 Although I have to admit that I'd miss, いらっしゃいませ.

Wow. The engine just fell clear out of that train of thought. On to the next one.... (And the sad thing is that I haven't had any caffeine or sugar or drugs or anything today.)

Oh, yes, yesterday three techies and I worked on my laptop, trying to get this really nice projector to project images from my computer screen. It took four fucking hours. (This is after having proctored all day.) They kept thinking that it was my computer's fault, since it's an American computer and the projector is Japanese, but I didn't think so. Also, my computer is too new. It doesn't have an analog video output. It's totally digital. But so is the projector, so I figured we'd just get a cable and hook the two up and be set. (This revelation was after two hours of work, as I desperately tried to get a straight answer out of the techies with my limited Japanese. And, no, the techies didn't think of it. Remember, these are JAPANESE techies, which means a lot of movement and little efficacy.)

We looked through hundreds of cables and finally found somebody who had the digital cable (DVI) we needed. But they didn't think it was the right one, so they went to the store to buy a new one. I kept fiddling around on my computer and on Miyadera-sensei's computer, setting up the pictures anyway (in case we ended up just having to use Miyadera-sensei's computer in the end).

So the crazies with the new cable get back and say it doesn't fit. So (it's been 3 1/2 hours at this point) I grab the cable, jam it into my computer, and show them that it fits just fine. Then I started fiddling around with the projector and switched the setting from analog to digital AND IT WORKED. The techies were floored, which definitely felt good, BUT IT TOOK FOUR FUCKING HOURS. And I hadn't finished prepping for my classes. So that's why I ended up working for 12 hours yesterday.

Thing that made me laugh the other day: Kids really do say the darnest things. I had totally forgotten this until a few days ago, but once, when I was about 8 or so, I was talking with my mom about the disciples in the bible. And I had always like Peter because, like me, he had an ugly, raging temper that was forever out of control. I could relate to him. And I was only 8, and obviously not full-grown, so I was sort of a miniature version of him. So I told my mom, "Hey, I'm a little Peter!" Holy fuck it makes me laugh to try and imagine what she must have thought when she heard me say that. So she calmly took me aside and explained what "peter" meant. And, since I was 8, I was totally grossed out, but it was definitely a good education. (Of course, it's funnier when you hear it with the intonation I used, since I was sort of sing-songy about it.) Ah, good times.

So, Tuesday of last week. It was PORING so hard and at 2pm it looked like 8pm. But I had to finish spending my research money, so I braved my way to Kobe, bought a モデル人形 (one of the female wooden ones--モデル人形 is a movable human model for artists, btw, just so it doesn't sound so gross) which had nothing to do with my research money, went up to Tokyu Hands and bought manga materials (and a few new books on publishing and shit), and then blew my research money on VHS/DVD's at "Mickey's VideoLand" which has nothing to do with Disney. So I was carrying a billion movies (I think I bought about 8 or so) and my art shit, and I decided to go to Osaka to try and get internet access. So I hop a train and I had to stand the whole way there--which is pretty awful since it takes an hour by train to get from Kobe to Osaka. And I had all those fucking bags. And it was poring the rain. And then my umbrella decided to break.

It wouldn't have been so bad in say, the States, but in Japan, foot-traffic is really tight, so when the latch broke and my umbrella flew open, whacking people in the legs and spraying rainwater all over them, it was really, really embarrassing. And of course they all did the "damn foreigners" thing, which, yes, I am a foreigner, but in MY country, you would be lunchmeat, so shutthefuckup. I apologized (like I always do here), but still. 申し訳ないです。すみません。ああ、ごめんなさい。失礼しました。 And they all glared and went on and my bags kept creeping down my forearms and it was awful. Then I had to put my fucking umbrella into one of those stupid little baggies, which took forever because I had a thousand other things to carry. And because my stupid umbrella kept flying open.

So I went into Yodobayashi Camera (after winning the great battle with my umbrella), and I asked about the Yahoo! BB internet service and they checked my address and phone number and said that for $50 a month I could have slower-than-dial-up. WTF?! I might as well do dial-up: it'd be faster AND probably cheaper.


So I told them I'd think about it, and I went outside and did the whole umbrella-tango again and whacked more people in the underpass at Umeda Station and was generally miserable (and STILL without internet access at home). So I got home and was exhausted and just dumped everything and crashed.

Wednesday I had an appointment with my shrink (counseling in Japanese is such a pain). I had to RUN from the station to the doctor's office to get there before they stop allowing people to check in (at 11am--don't ask me why), and I honestly thought I was going to have a heart attack. (I also thought I was having a heart attack this morning, but that's a different story--although the fiery burning in my chest was like NOTHING I've experienced before.) So I check in and everything's great and this WICKED CRAZY WOMAN sits down next to me and is OBVIOUSLY staring and me and I thought, "Yes, I am a foreigner and yes, my hair is naturally blonde, thankyouverymuch, and no, I don't want to talk." She just stared and stared for the longest time and then suddenly she said, "Hello."

The way she spoke was really strange. It was like a ventriloquist was making these raspy words come out of her throat. The words just wouldn't come out from between her lips. It was bizarre. But I was in a good mood, since I'd had a morning run (the endorphins were still pumping) and had made it to the office in time and there was basically nobody waiting so I was probably going to get out of there before 1pm (although I've had to stay there as late as 2:30pm before), so I said, "Hello." And she started talking about how she was taking English lessons and had been studying for 7 years and her English was REALLY GOOD. I was so impressed. I'm used to talking to these little shitheads everyday who don't care about English and just want the information to simply appear in their heads and aren't willing to do the work, so it was refreshing to speak with somebody who was interested in learning. And her pronunciation--aside from the weird raspiness--was nearly perfect. I complimented her on her speaking and she did the Japanese thing--oh, no, I'm not good at all. Then she broke into Japanese and asked me if I was ill and I explained that I had clinical depression and she said, "It's really hard, isn't it?" and I said, "Well, yeah, it is," and she wished me good luck. Then her husband came out of the doctor's office--he had apparently been speaking with the doctor about his wife--and wisked her away to another room. I saw them again before I left and waved goodbye. She smiled.

So I saw my doctor and he asked how I was doing and I said fine (which was a total lie, but I just hate going on about my problems in Japanese). I wanted to say, "Well, my grandpa died and my hamster died and I live all alone and have no friends. What are you going to do about it?" but I refrained. He asked about my work and I explained that since I'm at the bottom of the totem pole, I get to do what nobody else is willing to do. Which sucks. He laughed and said that he knew what I meant. (But somehow I think the assistant in the room with him had a better idea of what I was talking about than he did. Or at least could sympathize better.) Then we scheduled another appointment and I said goodbye and paid about $10 (which covers the visit and two months worth of meds--my insurance here rocks), and got my meds and headed out. I got home and my umbrella started fucking up--I had left it out to dry the day before--so I bent it in half over my knee. I think, had it cracked or hurt me or shattered or done something, it would have been more satisfying, but it didn't (it just folded silently and gently in half), and so I threw it across the room.

Now here's where the Abby-factor comes into play. Anybody else and it would have just flown across the room and landed somewhere. Since I threw it, it flew across the room and around a table and hit these flowers that I had put in a pitcher of water before I could arrange them, sending the flowers and the water flying, soaking the carpet and my exercise equiment. At that point I just couldn't swear anymore. I had no outlet for my rage. I had overused (read, "abused") all the English and Japanese words I knew and there was nothing left to say. There was just nothing. And I couldn't cry. I couldn't do anything. So I screamed and completely destroyed my umbrella and threw it back across the room and picked up the flowers and just let the water sit because I simply didn't care anymore.

Things like that kept happening, but I just couldn't muster any energy to deal with it. So I just let things fall down or break or do whatever they wanted to do.

I'll probably come back later and go into what I did the rest of the week (mostly drawing), but I want to get out of here, so I'll cut it here.


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