I last posted on this blog in February of 2010, the month I was released from the asylum known as PSU, which I believe stands for Piano School University. I'm happy to say I've since received my piano certification from said uni, and I've traveled the world and had a few conversations with the locals, dated several other people, and held down several fleeting jobs that have nonetheless paid the rent and then some. I have yet to try wasabi ice cream or punch Anne Hathaway in the face, but I do not count this among my disappointments.
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| Also, this dick diddler kicked the bucket. |
One thing that has not changed is what should have been diagnosed as ADHD back in the day but is now considered an endearing endless "curiosity" now that I'm approaching my late 20s, and thus death.
I see what you did there, Death. And I think you're RUDE.
Let us not despair, however, that I've learned nothing more or experienced anything meaningful in the five years since my last musings on this here relic of a digital journal. From my fascination with all things morbid, the seed long planted ago has sprung to life along with Spring here in Japan, and I've decided to return to school on an entirely different tract. I believe I am the first of my generation to daringly do so.
Recently, my attentions have been directed toward the most intriguing field of phytoremediation. My questions range from Who they? to What do? And why? Perhaps the most recognized case of bioremediation has been the disappointing efforts following the tragedy at Chernobyl and for which sunflowers were hoped to be a solution for absorbing radioactive cesium from the soil surrounding the site of the devastated nuclear reactor.
In the meantime, I daylight as an English teacher in a place the people here call "Koriyama", which is located in Fukushima prefecture, not far from the epicenter of the massive earthquake and tsunami that occurred in March of 2011. At that time, I was just beginning a job working as a copy editor at a science journal in New York after nearly a year stint at a hostel on the Upper West Side, which is capitalized because it is a recognized province by Rand McNally.
The job, lucrative as it was, afforded little in the way of interaction with humans, movement, and general life happiness, yet I have my former coworkers to thank for many things. I'd name them, but I've just eaten a tremendous amount of rice, and one finds it difficult to type on a rice-heavy stomach.
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| That much closer to replacing Kotooshu |
I close instead with a list of my favorite stories over the years past. Whether they're in order or true, well, I couldn't give a soggy toss. I do hope, however, that the future has more in store, that a bit of chaos returns to shake up the lone nights feasting in my apartment and shopping adventures deciding what scent I'd like my clothes to have for the month (I made the gross error of choosing Bubblegum for February. Ne'er ag-ayn). Behold:
1. Along with my then-boyfriend, I saw Eddie Izzard perform at Madison Square Garden, the first comedian to perform at the venue. At a screening attended by a small crowd in an East Village cinema, Mr. Izzard made a surprise visit at the end of the film. I'm fairly certain I was unable to speak when I shook his hand.
2. I attained a one-year Hungarian residency on my own and for which I waited long, uncertain, nerve-wracking hours in the Immigration Office of Budapest. I bonded with the Chinese.
3. I RETURNED to Asheville, North Carolina, with my sister in tow. The trip was a bit of a disaster, mostly due to myself and one of the biggest storms to ever hit the east coast of the United States.
4. After listening to him play countless times on my way to work at the 42nd street metro station, I took lessons with a bluegrass violinist for a year. He was truly a magnificent soul, as was his most warm and welcoming family.
5. I attained a rather gorgeous accordion and an old, chocolately-sounding violin. I'd rather not divulge how I possessed the former.
6. While in Hungary, I fulfilled my dream of visiting Italy and Egypt. I then traveled to Oxford, London, Amsterdam, Aarhus (Denmark), and Norway after quitting Hungary. I met some wonderful people, re-met others, and saw the bluest waters, greenest mountains, and most-daring sheep in Stavanger, Norway.
7. I found out what happened to my childhood Winnie-the-Pooh blanket, an act of sabotage perpetrated by my diabolical, cotton-hatin' parents.
I've come some way since having to live in my car and on Mt. Nittany for two months after my lease ran out in State College, Pennsylvania, in 2009. I'm sure there are more experiences to recount -- rewarding, embarrassing, depressing, confusing, arousing, disturbing -- but I've heard that posts over 900 characters can shorten your lifespan by five years.
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