I was playing with my pooch in my bathtub and thinking how my body cells decide in which part of the body they burn the fat cells. As I imagine the discussion among certain cells, I felt like there must be something political about the decision…as they decide to deplete fat from a fertile land of mika’s pooch, the land of thighs fears that they may become the next target and try to store more fat while sending secret messages to the board of trustee cells that my boobs are forming rebellious troops…of course, this may be just what we call genetics nowadays…

Just a little bathtime thought…

A couple weeks ago, a friend of mine came to visit me from Japan. Especially because she’s a really sweet, sheltered, pure person, many many things turned out to be cultural-shock experiences for her. One day, I was explaining to her how common marijuana is in this country in comparison to Japan. We were discussing this issue for about half an hour while we were waiting for a street bus. Then, out of nowhere, she said “Oh yeah, it was so much fun doing speed last night”

My heart froze.

My head started spinning and my voice quivering; “..what did you just say?” Then with this sweetest smile, she says “with Thumbs (one of my friends)”

Ohh, I was so ready to send a couple gozillas to Thumbs’s home. SO ready.

How could he ruin my friend’s perfect life, how could he do this behind my back, how could he.. wait a minute. My voice again quivered with, this time, a hope in mind, “You mean..when you played cards with him..?” Again, with a lovely, friendly, naive smile, she nodded and said “Yep! that was soo much fun..”

I just realized how smart and useful spiral staircases are. (I hate ending sentences with Be-doushi..) Spiral staircases make otherwise dangerous tasks so easy and doable. I admire whoever came with this idea first..

I took a rib x-ray this morning and my doctors told me,”Well. They seem pretty normal..except they look like chicken bones.”

Thanks.

I’m 22 years old. Most people tell me that I’m young. I think I am too; demone, when I think of myself as a piece of chedder cheese, I’m like vintage old. My body’s been ripening for 22 years..sour, bitter, and strooong sharp tastes..I guess it’s still a good thing since I’d be thousands of dollars worth and also be on, at least, a local Seattle newspaper, like that cheddar cheese that was left in a frige for 21 years..wait. I’m even older than that…no wonder my skin’s less fresh..

Maybe it’s better to think of myself as wine..it’s still related to fermentation but I think old grape juice sounds more appetizing than moldy milk..

Mako loves pop corn.

Pop corn is strange food when I come to think of it. I’m just eating corn except they’re inside out. It’s an exploded body with inside out organs hanging outside. Corn is the only food I believe that looks cute this way. If a chicken is served inside out looking exploded, that wouldn’t be too appetizing..neither is beef..I suppose squid may be ok but humans, bad bad bad.

The Japanese term for physical relationship is “Nikutai Kankei”.

I don’t like this word.

It literally means Meat Body Realtionship. Not only does it sound gross but also I feel like it implies that the physical part of the relationship is separate from the love relationship. Sure, there are many cases where Nikutai Kankei is all there is but there are also many many, hopefully more, cases where physical relationship isn’t just about sharing meat.

One could probably say this is like a scientific term and has no deeper meanings than physical relationships but when I hear Nikutai Kankei, I sense shadow in the word and also in people’s eyes.

I shaved only one leg and forgot to do the other yesterday.

Just another typical aging symptom..at least I took care of both of my eyebrows.

Whenever I see people playing snowball fight, I notice how they seem to be having lots of fun: they smile like me when I Q-tip my ears, laugh like little kids even if they are 80 years old, and just look really happy like cats in front of foot warmers.

But then I wonder: Is it really really that much fun to get hit by snowballs?

I haven’t experienced too many snowball fights in my life but I vaguly remember this instantaneous rage shooting into my temple upon receiving big snowballs on my face. Or anywhere on my body for that matter. For some reason, I smiled and laughed but then, my mind saw a blinking telop saying “REVENGE TIME.”

Of course, I was never the best shooter at anything, so I missed the targets most of the time . On top of everything, I was a slow target and as a result, I got hit very easily. I think I still had some fun but I just wonder: Is it really really that much fun to get hit by snowballs? Or is it the “revenge” that makes people smile so happily…

Happy snowy New Year!

I love hard boiled eggs. When I make hard-bioled eggs, I feel like I hear chicks singing inside the eggs. I figure that it’s the sound of air leaking out of tiny holes or cracks on eggs but I still feel like they are about to hatch.

I love hard boiled eggs.

People often say things like “when I was 2, I was a cool kid” or “when I was 7, my IQ was 1000” or something like that.

I’d be in love with anybody who proudly says “when I was a zygote, I was perfect.”

I came up with a theory for why Asians, especially Japanese, have high cheek bones. I think it’s because in the process of evolution, there must have been some reasons such as climate that required our ancestory to store lots of mucus.

I’ve been having a stuffy nose for almost two weeks. I filled up Mako’s garbage can with my used Kleenex, which made me feel a sense of accomplishment. Yeah!

When I look at my chest, it makes me think of the lleft-over turkey bones and meat that we use to make broth. I don’t like it.

Whenever I use a thermometer for ears, I feel like I’m playing Russian Roulette.

I like to travel light. During the last trip, I had more stuff than I probably should have brought.

For boys and girls who want to travel light, I recommend bring only thongs for your underwear. That really reduces the size of your packing.

Another movie idea.

A little girl makes a wish to a shooting star: Please let everyone live forever, so that nobody becomes sad for losing somebody she loves..

The next day, the wish comes true. Nobody can die or get killed except for one person God has chosen. This normal person is appointed by the God to be the leader of this new world. This person can live forever as long as she/he doesn’t get killed. If this person gets killed, the world turns back to the original state where everyone dies eventually.

Now, there are people who try to protect this person. Some have good intentions: Other do not. Those who try to protect the leader may be people who want to have good luxurious lives forever or people who want to torture others forever. On the other hand, the people who try to kill the leader have good hearts. They may have sons and daughters who suffer from painful incurable diseases; they may be slaves tortured by these rich people who want to live forever. And the story depicts the conflicts and love that center around this normal person who God chose on a whim. I don’t know the ending.

Ya. That’s it.

The Japanese translation of the title “Stupid White Men” by Michael Moore can be translated into English as “Stupid, Idiotic, American White People.”

It’s a bit exarggerated but that’s ok. It’s probably not too far off from what Moore wanted to say anyways.

When I see somebody else vomiting, for some reason, I feel like I have to eat more for that person.

I don’t like the feeling of sharp metals scraping another metalic or plastic materials. An example is forks scratching a plate. It makes my teeth “float.”

I was thinking that maybe this is a defensive mechanism of metals.

My room is very very cold. I put three layers of blankets when I took a nap a couple days ago. An hour later, I woke up to find my feet dead pale and dead cold under these blankets.

Anyways, I went to a play (Missaliance by George Bernard Shaw) this evening. It was 33 degrees but I decided to weara skirt and sandals anyways. When I got home, my feet were dead pale and dead cold as you can imagine. I decided to wear the only clean, warm pants and socks I could find. I was feeling a bit warmer and quite happier.

Then, Mako came in and, avoiding the eye contact, told me “wow..you’re looking quite sexy tonight..” I looked at myself again and then realized that I was wearing salmon pink, fuzzy, bottom-tight pajama pants and a sock (I could find only one). As I hit Mako out of embarassment and rage, he whispered to my ear “..you look like an 80 year old senile lady…”

I could do nothing but agree. Alas..