Can someone please explain to me why I woke up naked today?

I'm more than 100% certain that I went to bed wearing a pair of blue boxers, however when my alarm went off at 7:00 a.m. they were nowhere to be found.

I call foul play.

Weekend, weekend, weekend!

I'm just digging myself a deeper hole, aren't I?

...

I suppose this photo pretty much sums up the weekend.

Alcohol, food, a Husker victory, kicks to the balls, girls, parties, family, embarrassment, mold, rain and on and on... all part the Wednesday through Sunday mayhem otherwise known as the Thanksgiving holiday.

Perhaps I should have something profound to write, considering there were more than a few moments when I caught my breath thinking back in time.

Such an exercise in masochism for me, and such an exercise in vouyerism for you!

So I was using my old cellphone to help translate some stuff into Japanese and I just absent-mindedly began stumbling through the old photos lodged in it's memory bank, and I just came across so much stuff that had been forgotten, so many things I had given to the past. Photos that hadn't seen my eyes for quite a while.

But I guess I'm growing up, because even after seeing those tear-jerkers, and even after reading the final text messages transmitted to me from friends in Japan--and America alike--I managed not only to cast aside a lot of feelings, but to smile.

I had the most vivid memory of your bedroom the other day. I was on a date... and then all of a sudden there I was sinking down, down, down; and there you were, and there were the four walls and the door and all the things that make a room.

So if I say I'm forgetting you it probably means I'm not, right? I guess it's best to say nothing at all.

...

The future is a frightening place, but I'm pretty excited to go there alone, though sometimes I wonder if I'm not making the wrong decision.

My house has been cold the past few days.

Sometimes I wonder what I'm even interested in.

Forgetting and being forgotten...

Life is the strangest thing.

There's a certain girl who I wish would contact me.

It's been since June 21st that we've spoken.

Way, way too long.

Potluck day at work is possibly the greatest thing ever.

How can you beat vegetarian burritos for breakfast at 8 a.m., especially after a night of heavy drinking?

Short answer: you can't.

Long answer: OK, you actually can. With apple pie, cool whip and cookies. For desert. For breakfast. Breakfast desert. God I love Thanksgiving.

Oh, and speaking of Thanksgiving, I just thought I'd mention the Turducken, for those of you who might not know about the most amazing Thanksgiving food available: a Turkey stuffed with a duck stuffed with a chicken. How can things like that exist?

Could you go one day without looking at yourself in a mirror?

What about one week?

Let's just get a few quotes from this weekend out of the way first:

• "You're only using me for my body heat."
• Mike: "Chuck Hagel sends me lots of letters."
  Stef: "About what?"
  Mike: "Oh, Chuck Hagel wants to have sex with me."
• "If you keep talking that fast I'm gonna throw you off the god damned boat."

But maybe what's most interesting about this weekend isn't what was said, but what wasn't said. I really don't understand why an old friend has stopped saying hello to me, but I'll just let it drop since this isn't really the right place to start that sort of drama.

Aside from being ignored, though, this weekend went really well, the major highlight being dinner and drinks with Ben's dad, who not only bummed a cigarette from our waitress, but also managed to schedule (a tongue-in-cheek) getaway to Antigua with a girl half his age (not to mention that he told us all about the sexual solicitations of Senator Hagel).

Partying with the chief is indeed grand.

And now for two words that will jog my memory when I revisit this entry in a few months: fire extinguisher.

...

I think most of the stuff I've been writing in here has been pretty non-emotional lately. Makes for pretty boring reading, I know.

...

By the time I get home from 17 hours of work + class today, my roomate should have a new car. Neat.

I also hate losing things.

It seems like one of my only surviving possession from Japan is a special mechanical pencil that I use every day.

This bothers me.

I've managed to somehow lose my favorite brown stocking cap and Japanese national soccer team scarf that I bought in Japan.

What the hell.

It's snowing outside.

And I hate it.

My house is too far from downtown to walk to work every morning, but too close to hop in the car and find a parking spot anywhere much nearer.

So my pants are absolutely soaked through right now, owing to the bike ride up windy, slush-coated 11th street. Yuck.

I feel like I have something more important, or at least more interesting, to write today, but I'm struggling to recall it. I don't really think it had much to do with the alcohol I drank this weekend, however Saturday night's slogan was: "You and the Cap'n make it happen," which is kind of interesting.

And no, I'm not talking about that Cap'n (Though he is delicious).

I guess I'll just finish with a few observations from this weekend:

• Just when you think you've had the most awful service that any restaurant can possibly provide, it gets worse. Avoid Kabuki at all costs; if you like being treated even slightly like a customer, that is.

• Duffy's has a soccer team. I think I'm going to defect from the Bricktop to join them. I suppose that's minus 50 scene points, but oh well.

• Drunk football games with Ben Walter are one of my favorite things ever. Walking home in the wind with no jacket: not so great. But I really feel sorry for the guy in the tanktop who was sitting behind me. Nice wardrobe choice.

• I had eggs for breakfast on Sunday for maybe the first time in two years. I can still taste their cholesterol-y goodness, and I want you to make me eggs tomorrow to infinity.

• Burning your fingers in a campfire accident really, really hurts.

• There needs to be more restaurants downtown. I've eaten at all of them, way too many times. And I mean really, why would a a restaurant even want to exist anywhere but downtown?

• Korean is such a beautiful language to write.

• Choices II: The Setup.
  

That's all that I can really think of right now. My pants are still wet, and Thanksgiving is on it's way. I'm generally content, but I want more time and I want it to stop snowing.

So the big news of the day isn't that our server last night at Buzzard Billy's was horrible. But she was.

Let me give you a rundown of everything she did wrong, even though I'm sure I'll omit something because--despite being an unforgettably awful experience--there were just too many things she fucked up to possibly be able to recall them all.

First, she didn't know what a Category 5 was. Hello, you work at Buzzard Billy's! It's only your signature drink made from REAL fruit juices and FIVE shots of rum, and it's on special tonight AND I'm drinking three of 'em.

Me: "I'll have a Category 5." Her: "You'll have a what-y five?" No. Just no. Not a good way to start.

Second, she brought us our drinks, but no straws; and believe me, this drink CANNOT be ingested without some type of sipping device. Unfortunately, I didn't realize she had forgotten the straws until she had already walked away from our table, leaving the drinks strawless and neglected.

Even after she took five minutes to amble back around toward our table, she was still empty-handed.

"Could we get some straws please?"

"OH! I'm sorry, I'll get some now!"

The straws go in the front pocket of your apron, but I mean, who were you to know that, really? It's not like you're A WAITRESS or anything like that.

I wondered if she had ever actually dined in a restaurant before.

...

So she walked off, and didn't return, and my Category 5 sat there weeping watery tears from the melting ice.

I got the straws myself, from the bartender.

...

After she finally returned--with no comment about straws, whatsoever--she took our order and brought us our food. But, did she forget to bring a) silverware, b) water c) napkins or d) all of the above? Strikes three, four, and five.

Did you refill my drink once? No.

Did you ask me if I want another Category 5? No.

When you finally remembered to bring a straw, did you bring a SHORT one that was impossible to put in a TALL Category 5 glass? Yes.

The icing on the cake? She forgot to bring us a pen after delivering our credit card receipts.

Not to mention she was painfully, painfully slow.

What a debacle.

The tip wasn't pretty.

But like I said, that's not the news.

The news is that Ben Spadt and I are related.

No, this isn't a joke. We are, in fact, related. And seriously, are you even the least bit surprised?

Here's the breakdown: his grandpa's brother (great uncle) married my grandpa's sister (great aunt), making us second cousins, or something, I guess.

It only makes sense, though.

And you're lying if you say you hadn't suspected it all along.

Positive news from Japan!

The government has finally allowed three new companies to join the fracas in Japan's already highly competitive mobile phone market.

This is stellar news.

There are currently three companies that control all of the mobile phones in the country: DoCoMo, KDDI and Vodaphone, but thanks to the new access rules, Softbank, eAcces and IP Mobile will also begin (by the time I get back) selling phones (hopefully cooler than existing ones) and plans (hopefully cheaper than existing ones).

I can't wait.

But while I'm sitting here thinking about cell phones, journalist Shi Tao is sitting in a jail in China, on the Chinese "Journalists' Day."

Shi, who had worked at a business daily in China, was arrested because of an e-mail he sent to foreigners regarding--surprise, surprise--the Chinese government's instructions to the media on handling Tiananmen Square coverage on the anniversary (they are still pretty sensitive about that one, I guess).

The big thing, here, however, is that the American company, Yahoo! released all of Shi's e-mail records to Chinese authorities and linked him to the message about Tiananmen. Looks like he'll be spending the next 10-years (which, translated from Chinese means "indefinitely") in a high security prison, where he will have no access to written materials, and be unable to write himself.

Thanks, Yahoo!

... more time!

That's about my only wish.

I feel absolutely swamped with my two jobs and 16 credit hours.

I'd like to spend more time studying Korean.

I'd like to spend more time reading recreationally.

But it feels like when I do have a spare minute, all I want to do is sleep.

Yawn.

I'm not a machine!

My veins are not made of steel tubes and my muscles aren't soldered together with iron ligaments! I do feel pain, and fatigue; not to mention the effects of alcohol!

Yawn.

I woke up the other morning and noticed that the leaves had really started to change color, and it made me realize how fast time has been going.

I mean, I know that's what everyone says, "Wow, how time flies!"

I suppose this is what getting old feels like.

Remember when you were a kid, when the days stretched to infinity and the seasons dragged and dragged and Christmas or your birthday or the Fourth of July just could never quite get there fast enough? I remember December 26th, the day after Christmas, when the distance to the next year, or even to my next birthday, was eternity times ten.

Back when you never grewup, when you never imagined becoming the yawning, coffee drinking, 23-year-old chained-to-his-desk-dreamer that was so inevitible.

Back when the words "financing your dreams" didn't have any kind of meaning whatsoever.

Back when you played in your sandbox, and when grandpa seemed young, compared to now.

Yawn.

I wonder what it feels like to not have college loans, to not have debt...

I wonder what it feels like to live a life without aspirations, without dreams...

So Megumi is coming to America!

My half-sister half-mother Tokyo dining companion, who probably never stops smiling, who never dumbed down the way she spoke to me, who is the personification of all that is kind and inviting about Japan... is going to spend New Year's Eve with Stef, Ella and I in Chicago!

But the big bonus is that she's going to come back to Lincoln, too.

There's not much else to mention, other than the fact that I'm happy.

It's nice to know that I've made friends who aren't afraid to ask for a place to stay in America; who aren't afraid to spend the money, take a risk, and come see me.

It's going to be absolutely crazy to see her.

And Lis, if you're reading this, you absolutely must hangout with us. I'll be in touch.

They say that the black man "has no history."

What does it mean to be white in America?

Next time you're careening down the road on an evening bike ride, slowly take your hands off the bars and coast for a moment in the frigid air. Then, after you've got your balance down, tip your head back and stare straight up at the sky, the stars, heaven and beyond.

It's sort of like flying, and probably pretty dangerous.

But it's nice.

It's a different way to look at things, sort of like sleeping upside down in your bed.

I remember that when I was a child--and even through high school--I would reverse the orientation of my body once every few months, just to give me a different way of looking at my bed, my room, and at the way I slept.

When you do that, you'll wake up and want to get out of bed the opposite way, which, for me, meant trying to step out of bed into a wall.

But I'm pretty much done walking into walls, though I'm still all about changing my perspective, orientation, whatever.

I deleted my Facebook profile yesterday.

I was reading their privacy policy and realized that I just can't bring myself to be part of that perfect, shiny marketing machine that is every advertisers wet dream times 1,000.

From Facebook's own privacy pages, the fine print says it all:

Facebook also collects information about you from other sources, such as newspapers and instant messaging services.

We may provide information to service providers to help us bring you the services we offer. Specifically, we may use third parties to facilitate our business, such as to send email solicitations. In connection with these offerings and business operations, our service providers may have access to your personal information for use in connection with these business activities.

We may be required to disclose customer information pursuant to lawful requests, such as subpoenas or court orders, or in compliance with applicable laws. Additionally, we may share account or other information when we believe it is necessary to comply with law or to protect our interests or property. This may include sharing information with other companies, lawyers, agents or government agencies.

It's really become a cult.

I read a report yesterday that 85% of students at colleges where Facebook is available are registered on the site. It's just become too much for me; too invasive, too encompassing, too stalker-riffic.

The moment I realized that I couldn't delete my profile was the moment I realized that I had to delete my profile.

Isn't the Internet a terribly fascinating place?

Yes indeed.

Yesterday, while working out at the rec center, I was reading the same eating disorder poster that I had read one-hundred times over. It's right above the stretching mats, and my glance always happens to settle on it at one point or another during stretching, though it wasn't until yesterday that I really noticed it.

There's a little bullet point on it that goes something along the lines of, "Respect everyone else's body type and respect your own, because we each have different bodies." (Or something like that)

There's also a little comment reminding everyone that there is no perfect body weight, no ideal body type, and so on.

It just reminded me of the type of society we live in, and how so few people can look at a fat woman or man, and see their beauty, see them as a person; let alone look at themselves in the mirror and see their own beauty.

It goes back to perspective.

It's about sleeping upside down in your bed, just to get a different look at the ceiling... to look at someone with eyes that you normally don't, and see how you feel.

...

There's so many girls who wear makeup to go workout, and I have a feeling that none of them will ever be able to delete their Facebook accounts.

...

If I could have one wish it would be to step into your body for a day, and see the world through your eyes, because there couldn't be anything more revealing about you, but even beyond that, about me.

A new day is defined as the challenge of looking at things differently than the day before, ad infinitum.

Thoughts for today, written while cruising on a caffeine high.

Mondays are great days. Nothing feels quite as good as a crisp Monday morning and the coffee that comes with it. Walking into that dark office at 8:00 a.m. after a long weekend of binge drinking is just perfectly wonderful. I actually look forward to it.

On NPR they are talking about the "choking game" that middle school kids are apparently playing these days. I guess the idea is that kids choke each other to get high, or something along those lines. They keep saying something about karate belts around the neck, and it just makes me wonder whatever happened to the good ol' days when stealing a Bud Light out of dad's fridge was the thing to do.

I'm finally starting to seriously study Korean.

Toni Morrison is a wonderful author.

I finally tore that picture down off my cubicle and threw it in the trash, where it belongs.

I got some new furniture this weekend.

I paid off a lot of debt.

And now I'm going to class.

I meant to write something today, but instead I actually worked (well, and checked apartment prices in Tokyo).

So anyway. I'm leaving work in a few minutes.

But, I needed to let you know about something incredibly important: in addition to the 5,000 piece puzzle my roomates and I are currently working on, I have acquired a 7,500 piece puzzle of the New York Skyline that we will begin sometime in the future. It's huge.

Lots of weird stuff going on in Asia.

First, there's apparently parasites in the kimchi! In Korea, inspectors have found eggs from roundworm growing in kimchi, probably due to fecal contamination of the cabbage when it was still out in the field.

Would anyone like to guess how much kimchi I ate when I lived in Tokyo?

I'll give you a hint: it was probably more than 1000 yen per week. Yuck. I really wonder how long this has been going on. I suppose finding out I have a case of roundworm would probably ruin the weekend.

In other news, Japan's Crown Princess Masako just can't seem to produce a male heir, and the royal family isn't so sure about her daughter, Aiko, becoming the first female emperor.

So what is there to do when you don't want a female to succeed the throne? Prince Tomohito seems to think utilizing concubines would be a good idea.

Concubines? What the hell?

Oh, and one more thing this morning: I was reading through some old stuff I had written, curious as to what I was doing a year ago today, and strangely enough, one year ago, today was the day Kerry conceded the presidential election to Bush.

I found out from Walker Cline when I was sitting in a hostel in Kyoto during fall break.

This means it's been almost exactly a year since I first met Megumi, the OL from Saitama. We had a random encounter in the commons area of that hostel, and have been dinner buddies, but more importantly, good friends, ever since.

She sent me an e-mail about 10 minutes ago, actually. She just finished having dinner at a French bistro on Omotesando in Harajuku. I'm somewhat jealous (though in reality I'm salivating for Kimchi, not French food).

It's weird, thinking about this stuff. About Japan, again.

In her e-mail, she wrote in big, block, English lettering: "WE MISS YOU HEAPS!" Which got me to thinking, assuming Waseda accepts me, I'll be back in Japan in less than a year, living in an apartment in the middle of Tokyo, 10 minutes from Shinjuku.

Time flies, doesn't it?

In other news...

While we are living our lives here in the US, just sort of plodding along, doing things like putting together puzzles and worrying about grad school, there are tens of thousands dead in Pakistan due to the earthquake.

I sent 20 bucks today. You should consider donating, too Even just a little bit. Anything would help.

Caffeine is losing it's effect on me.

I'm sitting here sucking down my second giant mug of the stuff, and I'm not feeling any more awake than when I was hunched over, nearly passed out on my bicycle during the ride to work (Yes, believe me, it is possible to fall asleep while riding a bike).

Then again, my drowsiness is a product of a long night spent fatuously indulging in puzzle assembly that should have ended hours before it actually did. So here I am, tired, and instead of being able to blame my haggard appearance on something socially acceptable (and expected) like alcohol overindulgence, I have to tell people that, "No, really, I was putting together a puzzle at 3 a.m."

That stupid puzzle will probably be the end of me (and yet I'm not too upset about that).

It's a nice break from life, even though I don't really need that much of a break. Things are definitely going well. I'm surrounded by people who I love and who love me back, I'm going to graduate, I've found the perfect graduate school, I've settled on which university I'm going to study at when I head back to Japan, and on top of all this, Megumi is coming to visit me in December!

Megumi is amazing.

You'll love her.

She'll make you happy, just like she did for me when I was in Japan.

I thought I'd mention our new house project.

The other day I picked up the greatest thing ever at an estate sale: a 5,000 piece French world map puzzle. It's absolutely gigantic, and it's taking up all of my kitchen table, living room table, and end tables.

If you want to put some pieces in, don't hesitate to stop by. It's a toughie.