Filbeys in Tokyo

Lately, things in my life have been slowing down a bit. School is officially out for summer next week, there was a 4.7 earthquake on Sunday and there's supposed to be a big typhoon tomorrow.

Just another summer day on Kyushu.

Given so much free time, I realized that I never got around to posting about my super fun trip with my parents around Tokyo. We ate decadent sushi, explored museums at Ueno Park, saw the amazing view from Tokyo tower, visited the Gundam Cafe, had teppanyaki on the 51st floor of our hotel (with my limited Japanese skills, I grossly underestimated how much that adventure would cost) and generally just had some awesome family bonding time.

Sushi restaurants at the Tsukiji Fish Market.

Dad squeezed onto the subway.

A look at the Imperial Palace Garden. The palace was closed, but it was still nice to see a glimpse.

Heading to Ueno Park! It was raining the whole time we visited Tokyo, so we had to buy three umbrellas. I now have an abundance of umbrellas in my apartment. They came in handy during rainy season.

The amazing plesiosaur skeleton at the Japan Museum of Nature and Science.  

The Gundam Cafe, my first experience with Tokyo's famous themed cafe. I only knew that Gundam was an anime show about robots, and my parents had literally no idea what was going on. When we walked in, the hostess asked, "Do you like Gundam?" in Japanese, and I was responded with, "I didn't watch it..." It was awkward.

"Get a load of this metal menu, amirite?!"

Both my parents thought all the crazy characters scattered around Tokyo were pretty fun, especially when they talked and moved (like the one pictured above).

But there's no mascot more beloved in Dad's heart than the Colonel.  We thought they even looked similar.

Our hotel, which my father was very excited to stay at because of that little bridge connecting the two towers. He was really into the bridge. I liked the art pieces in the park below.

At the top of the hotel, they had a very swanky teppanyaki place. My parents, who love teppanyaki, encouraged me to check the prices. I misread the menu. So we accidentally splurged one night.

But it was worth it. The food was mouth-watering and the view was even better. 

 Finally, we finished our sightseeing with a trip to Tokyo tower, where we looked out upon the whole city, took photographs, and chatted with other foreigners who were also enjoying the view. Tourist traps are great for making friends with other tourists!

I've been feeling monumentally homesick lately, so looking at these photos just makes me want to give the folks a big hug! I'm looking forward to a trip back to California in December for the holidays, but I suppose it's still a long ways away.

Until then, I guess I'll just deal with this whole typhoon situation and plan for speech contests.

Good thing I have an abundance of umbrellas.

Volleyball and Other Hobbies I Tried to Quit

From soccer, to hip hop dance, to horseback riding, if I could sum up my adolescence in a few words, I'd say that I've always been a quitter.

It sounds harsh, but the internet is a place for honesty (and really weird memes). And if I'm being honest, I have a knack for quitting new hobbies.

Here's how it inevitably happens:

• I try a thing.
• I like the thing a lot. 
• I promise I'll come again.
• I think that this thing could be my thing. I imagine myself doing this thing when I'm 80 years old.
• I tell everyone how much I love doing the thing.
• I go again.
• I go another time.
• I think of something else I could be doing in that time (like writing hit songs for my new album, or working on my self-published magazine, or eating pasta sauce out of a jar while reading Anna Karenina).
• I make up an excuse for why I can't go to the thing this week.
• I make up another excuse for why I can't go to the thing this week.
• I quit the thing.

I don't think there's anything wrong with this pattern really.

I remind myself that I am a social butterfly, a lone wolf and a quirky performance artist all rolled into one weird, winged, howling animal-person.

I tell myself that I can't adhere to a schedule. I tell myself that I am far more mysterious when I don't show up to things. 

Basically, I just tell myself a lot of excuses so that I can stay home, read Anna Karenina and eat pasta sauce out of a jar.

But now that I'm out of college, these excuses don't really fly anymore. If I don't have places to go and things to do after work, I end up feeling like I wasted the day.

At best, it's uncomfortable, and at worst, it's depressing. 

So what's a girl to do? Try a couple of different hobbies until one sticks?

That would be good-- except that in Japan it's practically impossible to try something once without people thinking you're a member for life.

I mean, I guess it makes sense. I live in a small town. My business is everyone's business.

It's basically like living in Gilmore Girls except when people here talk fast and make obscure references, I have no idea what they're saying. 

But still. 

When I first arrived here, I somehow joined an elderly persons' volleyball club. It's a long, weird story, as usual.

I loved playing with them on Tuesday nights-- for a few months. We laughed, we danced, I struggled to speak Japanese in a way that wasn't 100% wrong.

But after awhile, I got bored and wanted to quit.

I don't think I'm really a sports person. Besides, one very old man was always standing entirely too close to me. So I had to come up with a no-risk quitting scheme.

It required some forethought. Quitting here was a lot more of a challenge than it was back when I wanted to stop going to funky disco kickboxing in high school.

I couldn't just tell my mom that I had homework to do.  

All my volleyball pals were running into me at the grocery store, every day, asking me why I hadn't come to volleyball the week before.

Was I sick? Was I out of town? Did I get a new boyfriend?

The answer to that last one was yes, but his general existence wasn't really why I hadn't been showing up.

A couple of months went by. I'd show up once in awhile. I'd try to enjoy myself while I was there, though I had lost all interest in playing volleyball. Sometimes, I'd even go so far as to repeat the words, "you are currently playing volleyball" over and over in my head. I thought it might help to keep me from daydreaming.

The two hour practice would come to an end, and I'd always promise I'd come again the next week.

I started to dread Tuesdays. I wanted out and I wanted out ASAP.

However, when my pushover-ness led me to try a new hobby, I came up with a plan to wash the old one right out of my hair.

A few months ago, a few of my students told me that they really wanted me to go to their calligraphy class. The kids even went so far as to corner me in the hallway with a handwritten map and ask me to promise that I'd come.

So I showed up one fateful Monday, assuming it would be a one time thing.

I left the classroom that day promising I'd come back the next week, secretly cursing myself for getting involved with another hobby when I still couldn't get volleyball out of my schedule.

"Calligraphy is fun!" said my brain.

"Calligraphy is a commitment," replied my intimacy issues.

Perhaps I was torn about the inclusion of a new activity into my week; however, I wasn't torn about the fact that my new hobby finally gave me an excuse to quit volleyball.

Next time I ran into my volleyball friends at the grocery store, I told them that I wasn't going anymore because I had calligraphy at the same time (which was a lie, but a believable one). They nodded and expressed remorse to not be seeing me anymore.

I considered my volleyball woes to be over and done with.

Until I went to calligraphy, where my teacher informed me that she was quite close with the people on my volleyball team. Apparently, they had compared notes about my whereabouts on Tuesday nights. My ruse was unsuccessful. 

It was awkward. I just kind of looked sheepish and said, "I've been... busy..."

It's true. Reading Anna Karenina is practically a full time job.