over where the carp dart
I don't know how much I have to offer you that you'll actually find interesting. My family started making fun of me around sixteen for my telling of long, unnecessarily detailed rambling stories, and I felt really indignant because w/e, that's so been bred and nurtured by those very same family members.
But I don't know what my best means of communication is nowadays. Japanese speech is still riddled with holes. I'm consciously trying to slow English down and enunciate for teachins' sake, but then accidentally speed up to a cadence that's just wayward and strange. I hear students in the hallways repeating my singsongy greetings and giggling, or mimicking some vowel pronunciation so that the echo of my American accent is really startling--do I really sound like I'm from the midwest? What the hell?? Wiggly gestures, nods and chalkboard drawings are often still met with puzzled stares or wild classroom din. Despite their being cute, I caught myself last week before almost calling a class of male and female Chatty Cathies "you little shits." Sentences in e-mails get longer and less coherent, and many of them end with "sorry gotta go to slep etc." I write letters, but I take a break in the middle of an anecdote, and then feel silly and lazy. (But most of them are stamped now, so a weekend trip to the post office is in order. Certainly, if you want something, sometime, send me your mailing address.)
But anyway,
aaaaanyway,
there's more to say. Just give me a topic, some rest, and I'll have at it, if you want it. I had an extremely pleasant and busy weekend, reuniting and touring Osaka with a great friend from 10(!) years ago--middle school in humid/frosty Ontario. Something I didn't take a picture of was of the gold-plated inscription on a totally sweet notebook at a stationery store last Friday. I think I was self-conscious because I had already been in the store for forty minutes. So I wrote it down in my own notebook:
Memory of a Diary
You are not the only one who is suffering.
bogus advisory...
Please I am believed.
Maybe someone who's not me can harness their critical thinking and communicative skills, write a song about that, huh?
