38 posts tagged “family”

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.

The cold war continues between my second oldest aunt and my uncle. Awwwwwkward.

I never knew this, but my two youngest aunts on my Japanese side are also in a cold war of their own.

My youngest aunt married into a wealthy family, and they were flying high back in the day. But when the economic bubble burst back in the early 90s, they lost everything. They lost EVERYTHING. The hardest thing for them to lose was their pride though.

So it must have been really hard for my youngest aunt to beg for money from her four sisters. After all, until then she had left her working class roots behind and was living the dream. The two sisters who married Americans were still poor as shit and couldn't really help, but my oldest aunt gave her a couple million yen, and my second youngest aunt also convinced her husband to part with five million. She then also secretly withdrew an extra 3 million for her baby sister.

A few years later, my second oldest aunt's husband also lost everything, and he left her. She asked her baby sister to please pay back some of the money, and that was the start of the cold war.

My youngest aunt didn't see why she should pay any of the money back, and pleaded her case to my oldest aunt (who is the matriarch of the family, and more like a mother/grandmother). My oldest aunt said "well you borrowed the money, pay it back." Youngest aunt shed angry tears and said she'll pay it all back to the last penny, just to make a point.

And she eventually did. But there is still a lot of anymosity between them.

Family is so stressful.

of my mother and me!

Saw an old friend today. Our parents were good friends, and he was born three months after me and my twin sister. We were treated like triplets, and wore matching baby clothes. He stayed in the tiny hippie town we were born in, and my family moved all over the place. But it was great to see him again. He's really tall, I'm really short. He's as blonde and blue eyed as they come, I'm pretty dark. He's very calm and centered, I'm definitely not. But he's my brother, and I'm his sister. We're both a little lost right now. I might go to the hippie town where I was born and visit him soon. I'll convince him to leave it! He can help me finally defeat that red wood tree that I humiliatingly got stuck in when we climbed it all those years ago.

Or I might just never go. I mean what's the point? Yeah I was born there, but I only stayed there for ten days. There's only red wood trees and hippies there anyway. And their confused offspring.

I can't believe she's my little sister.

She went off to her law firm interviews this morning. The first of four days. I tried to give some advise on her interview questions and techniques, but to be honest, this is totally outside my field of expertise.

So I helped her choose which suit to wear with what shirt, lent her some beige stockings, and did her hair and makeup. Stick to what you know. Actually the makeup was a little difficult because I had to keep it really understated.

See what I did with her hair? I was quite proud of myself. I did it with only two bent hairpins because we couldn't find anymore in the house.

And this is her without the jacket. We decided the black suit skirt was the most law firm interview-like. Notice the old antique briefcase. It's some famous brand name which I've now forgotten, from back in the day when brand name bags had their names understatedly inside and not stamped all over the outside. It was my grandpa's, the Eastern European hard working jew.
Seiji decided to watch over the briefcase. Moments after this picture was taken he knocked it over, scaring himself and me.
And there she goes, proclaiming "I'm the only suit in the family!" as she walked purposefully out of the door.
Seiji and my dad said goodbye from their bed. My dad's sleeping in the living room because we're all taking up the bedrooms.
Good luck!

Baby Sister has come back from Cambodia. The three sisters are united once again. We were together in January, so that's twice in one year. But sometimes we aren't together for years and years at a time, so this is a very special thing.

She says she's moving in with Mr. Korea. Great. On top of everything else, he has a big labrador retriever, and my sister has a cat (this guy). How are they supposed to coexist? I feel bad for the dog (seiji kat's a tough guy).

She also took back her phone, and her car. Which means I am minus a phone and my twin sister is minus a car.

She had a dress made for me. It kicks ass. Plus I got some scarves, which also kick ass.

We ate too much and we sisters even shared a pitcher of beer. Which means I'm about ready to pass out. How on earth did I drink for a living before?

My little sister is coming back from Cambodia the day after tomorrow!

I feel like doing this dance (courtesy of Perez):

That's called YES! YesyesyesyesYES!

My dad does all this weird artwork. He likes to scribble stuff with his fude (Japanese calligraphy brush) pens. I've bought him lots of pens, a few brushes, and tons of various colored inks over the years, and he loves scribbling with them.

He's done a few pretty good ones too. My favorite is one where there's a big unhappy face with three angry/sad faces looking reproachfully at him from behind. That's him feeling bad, and that's his three daughters blaming him. At least that's my interpretation of it.

I told him to start a blog, and to start posting his stuff up to an audience. My life has only improved since starting this blog almost a year ago. I've connected to people with lives so different from mine, with ways of thinking so surprising and inspiring, it's great.

So far he's hemming and hawing. I'll buy him a scanner (ha! with what money? I keep forgetting that I don't have a job) and convince him to start.

My mother wants to start a blog too. She wants to talk about her home listings (she's a real estate agent), about cooking, and about her garden and the fruits and vegetables and flowers she's always growing. I'd read that blog! It'd also be a great way for her to keep in touch with the world outside of the weird boonies town she moved to a few years ago.

My little sister has kept a password protected blog while in Cambodia. I enjoyed reading that over the last few months. I did not appreciate her recent "I'm going home soon, can't wait to see my family" post, because it was accompanied by some awful pictures of me and my twin sister when we were going through our awkward teenage years! I could definitely wait to see that picture.

Everyone should blog, basically. The best blogs are honest and unself-concious, because everyone's got something to say, and their lives are interesting to other people.

Shabbatt shalom.

The restaurants around my neighborhood have finally closed for the night. They open late and close around 3am on Friday (or I guess technically Saturday). Me and my dad are pretty much the only ones not dressed up and celebrating the shabbatt in our neighborhood, so nobody wishes us a shabbatt shalom when we walk down the street. Although it happens sometimes when I sneak up on an old man who starts his greeting before turning around to see me in my jeans.

It's not that I dislike my jewish heritage. I just wasn't taught very much about it. I feel like I owe it to my ancestors to study up on it a little more though, because they kept the faith alive despite a lot of crap. I don't like the cliqueyness and intolerance of a lot of jewish people though. Maybe it's not a lot, maybe the intolerant are few but very vocal. I don't like cliqueyness and intolerance in general, because if the whole world was intolerant of outsiders, where would that leave me?

The jewish side of my family accept me though. With open arms. I really do have a great family on all sides.

Denise Richards: It's Complicated.

I love the relationship she has with her dad, who lives with her and her two daughters. I want to see more tv shows about grown girls living with their daddies.

But! If you're allergic to cheese and scripted reality tv, it aint for you.