cross eyed

I'm going cross eyed from all these stupid confusing, disorganized financial aid forms and applications. I've just decided to not look at them until I get to Tokyo. I'm going to enjoy my last three days here. I've finished all my applications FINALLY, except for two that won't let me upload some things, but that should be sorted out by tomorrow.

I got a job! Translating war memoirs for a writer who needs them for his research. Yes yes yes yes YES! I'm looking at this as a sign of things to come. This acceptance should indicate a deluge of acceptance letters in the near future. My friend told me to visualize myself succeeding. So instead of drowning in images of myself failing miserably all over the place, I'm imagining myself getting accepted all over the place.

My mother works so hard. She has two jobs and she stays up late every night and wakes up early every morning and even works on her one day off. But she never made me feel like I was in the way or that I was draining her money, free time, energy, or inconveniencing her in any way. She's actually acting like it's a privilege to have me around. Maybe that's how things are supposed  to be, but that's not how it was with my father and sisters. I shouldn't hold on to my anger, but honestly, I'm going to be upset about how they treated me for a long time.

I know people who grew up never knowing if there'd be food in the house, or whether their parents would come home, or if they'd be kicked out of wherever they were staying. It wasn't that bad for me, but we lived in constant fear of my father's irrational temper though.

I told my friend Marty about everything that went down. I told her that when people are accusing you of being crazy, you can't really defend yourself. She said yes you can. Just hold your head up and live your life (how Oprah is that?), and she is right. That's what I'm doing anyway.

Speaking of holding my head up (haha!), the ghetto club is already stressing me out. The boss told me not to expect steady work or a good salary, then D-girl tells me that they need me back really badly. My best customers never even go in anymore apparently. Excuse me, why should they? They're MY customers, they want ME, they don't want the ghetto club, that's for sure. Well six months ago they wanted me, now they probably can't even remember who I am.

When I get back to Japan:
- I'll figure out those financial aid forms
- I have to put a major plan in place to MAKE a lot of money and SAVE a lot of money. If I think I'm going to grad school, I seriously need cash flow, yo
- I'm taking my favorite aunt and spinster-before-her-time cousin on a vacation to Korea
- I'm sending my mother bath salts, green tea, Japanese sweets, and some books, DVDs and CDs
- But first, I'm going to Australia!

And before any of that, I'm taking a bath right now. I'll read over some of the translation/research material in the tub (because I'm working again!), and enjoy the open space and silence of this mountain California town. Lord knows I won't get much of that in Tokyo.

Oh shit, I'd better email my friend that I blew off too, before I forget.