Four Point Ohhhh!

I talk in my sleep. People hear it sometimes. It's not such great stuff.

Last night over dinner, the question was raised: "What if you were stuck in a post-apocalyptic world, something like Mad Max or 28 Days Later, and you could choose four other people to go along with you, only four. Who would they be?"

First we started off chosing people we know, from our group of friends, but then it evolved into a sort of draft pick for anyone, real, or fictional.

Here was my final team: Yoda, Pierce Brosnan as Agent 007, Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones, Michael Keaton as Batman. A pretty strong team if I dare say so.

I had definitely considered MacGyver, Vin Diesel, Schwarzenegger (from Predator) and Legolas, but they didn't make the cut.

Who would you take?

Last night Spadt and I came up big at Iguana's.

We stopped down to have a drink and enjoy their Monday Night Football deal where you pick a team, get a bracelet, and everytime your team scores a touchdown, receive a free shot.

Unfortunately for us, Green Bay didn't do much in the way of scoring, and in fact recorded their worst loss in 25 years. Thus we received no free shots.

We did, however, receieve a bunch of other free stuff during prize drawings.

At the end of the third quarter we won three of the prizes in a row and ended up going home with five t-shirts, a Grey Goose Vodka hat, a free drink, and two Jägermeister shot glasses.

Not a bad haul.

It's Monday morning and I feel like making a list, rather than doing any serious writing. This list is music. My favorite music. Of 2005.

• The Game - The Documentary
• Missy Elliot - The Cookbook
• Fatlip - The Loneliest Punk
• Mike Jones - Who is Mike Jones?
• Gwen Stefani - Love.Angel.Music.Baby
• Young Jeezy - Let's Get It: Thug Motivation 101
• Three Six Mafia - The Most Known Unknown
• Damian Marley - Welcome to Jamrock
• David Banner - Certified

And some other honorable mentions would be Eric Prydz, Daft Punk, Black Eyed Peas (yeah, I know. I'm emotionally attached due to the amount of play they got in Shibuya clubs), 50 Cent (same here), Benny Benassi, Gucci Mane, Chamillionaire, Youngbloodz and Paul Wall.

And while I'm at it... year's worst: Kanye West.

UPDATE: So, two of my picks (The Game & Young Jeezy) made Pitchfork's Best 50 Albums of 2005 list, a list that has only five rap albums on it this year.

Unfortunately, my pick for year's worst, Kanye West, was number two on their list. Whatever.

What would I do without you? You make things so, so, so interesting. You are my baby doll.

I'm officially done with finals. Let the debauchery officially begin.

You know I love lists.

And now, since I have a bit of free time, I can actually get back to my first (or second love)... reading! So here's what's on the agenda:

• Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Phillip K. Dick
• Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood
• I Am Legend by Richard Matheson
• Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card
• Women by Charles Bukowski
• The Man in the High Castle by Phillip K. Dick

Yeah, sort of sci-fi themed, but I figured I rarely read science fiction so why not give it a shot over the break.

So Ben W. and I assembled a Christmas tree for our living room yesterday.

Our house is so unbelievably comfortable, clean--and now--Christmasy!

Mail presents to 1324 S 11th St, 68502. Thanks!

Well, really there's not too much to shh about, but I was just too lazy to actually write anything substantial about the banquet.

Hope I didn't leave you hanging.

But before I rehash the night, I have to mention some other important stuff.

I put up some new pictures in my cubicle today. I started reading a new book last night. I started ramping up my training for the marathon in May. I destroyed my food science test. I found out I get paid for seven days off over Christmas (and at my wage, that's a lot of money!!). To sum it up, I finished the semester out feeling damn fine.

So the banquet. Friday. I really did just let it all out, and possibly lived up to every ridiculous party stereotype that could be ascribed to someone. I'm not proud of it, but hey, what happened happened.

Tequila shots.

Spiking drinks at a fancy dinner. From a flask.

Buying alcohol for minors.

Dancing & Dancing & Dancing.

Chanting.

Passing out.

Puking.

Waking up next to someone I didn't remember falling asleep next to.

Waking up and feeling damn good.

Special thanks to all those who were attentive to me (but you guys all know I was just fine and could have walked under my own power. If I wanted to, that is).

What makes it all so much more great is that it went down while I was wrapped up in a stellar suit, that no, I didn't ruin. I didn't even spill on it once, as a matter of fact.

But I'm only telling you half the story.

Shh.

And just to round things out I'm going to give you a quote from my roomie, Ben Walter, who helped me finish an entire 1.75 of Captain: There's nothing better than getting trashed in a fine suit. Except getting trashed in a fine tuxedo.

...and speaking of being drunk in formal wear, I have a few words for you: Chicago. New Year's Eve. Hyatt Hotel. $130 tickets.

Update: So if you were curious, I came across some evidence that I did spend much of the night in a horizontal position. Whoops!

Shh...

OK. Well it's not officially a joke yet, but after the semester is over it very well could be.

I found out, for certain, that I have another A, in meteorology, so there's another final I won't have to take.

The joke part is that not only am I working more than fulltime hours between two jobs, but I've been going out three nights a week, every week, all semester. Oh, and the gym every day of the week.

And I'll still probably get a 4.0 this semester.

UNL you are a j-o-k-e.

I should have gone to a university that is actually slightly challenging, but whatever.

So I haven't fallen over just yet.

But bicycling to work everyday has become a lot more treacherous lately.

With the snow and ice and the bone chilling cold (2 degrees right now, feels like -11, according to weather.com), getting up each morning is no longer the major obstacle of my day, but rather, riding to work has become the challenege (and then riding home, of course).

Even with gloves on, my hands still freeze.

Despite having more than 80 percent of my face covered, my lips still chap and my cheeks still burn.

But the worst, the absolute worst, is riding in the snow. Not so much because it's difficult, but more because of the energy it takes. I would guess it requires nearly three times as much physical exertion to ride a bike through snow than over clear road.

So although it's freezing, I'm definitely sweating up a storm under my four layers of clothing.

At 7:30 a.m. that's not what I want to deal with. Ugh.

Tires sink, gears get clogged and brakes stop working properly. Not to mention my normal riding area next to the curb is so heaped with snow that I have no choice but to ride in the ruts cars have been making in the middle of the street; and sliding all over the place.

But it's hardcore, right?

Reminds me of maybe three years ago... I was taking a Japanese class and there was this one guy who was just amazing. I remember seeing him after class one day, flying down the sidewalk on his bike, wearing nothing but--yes, really--a pair of jean shorts with his black, shortsleeve WWE Raw! t-shirt tucked in to them.

He also had his hair greased down to his head with some kind of gel product.

That day--the day I saw him--was probably colder than today, with blowing snow.

Anyway. It's early. I'm going to tell a story about Ben Spadt later. Stay tuned.

So here's the obligatory "how my semester is wrapping up" post, I hope you all enjoy it.

I guess we'll just go class by class...

Dr. Dreher told me I don't have to take the final in her African-American lit class. She also told me I'm getting an A for the semester.

I finished a really obnoxious PowerPoint that has been nagging at my brain the entire semester.

Despite the fact that I haven't been to my meteorology class in nearly 6 weeks, there's still a very, very good chance that I will get at least an A-.

(And speaking of grades, isn't the inclusion of "minuses" the most ridiculous shit ever? I remember when I was a freshman and there was no such thing as an A minus or a B minus. Stupid minuses turn a perfectly good 4.0's into a 3.85's, thus making me sick to my stomach)

Science of Food should wind up being an easy A as well.

The only thing holding me down here is my geography class, which is dependant upon a single paper. Barf.

Anyone feel like doing research on Baja California for me? Writing ten pages about the glacial features, soil composition, and littorial drift of the peninsula just isn't that appealing to me, especially considering that prior to starting this paper the only thing I knew about Baja California was that the city of Tijuana is located there.

I mean, I can write it, yeah. But I'd rather... just... not.

Oh, and my Japanese class falls into the same category as Science of Food.

School is easy.

And for the sake of including a bulleted list, let's talk about some things coming down the ol' pipe:

• Hisayo is coming to Nebraska soon.


• Megumi is also coming.


• I'm going to Chicago.


• The DN banquet is going down.


• Christmas, New Years, etc

The last thing on my mind today is a book I found sitting around at the DN and started reading called Pledged: The Secret Life of Sororities. Written by a journalist who essentially infiltrated a sorority to document it's unspeakables, she follows four girls who are basically "normal" but ends up running head-on into her worst stereotypes being realized.

I don't really like the book, and it's having this nasty side-effect of making me hate Greeks, which is weird, considering I have quite a few Greek friends.

I guess I just don't like the whole in-group out-group bullshit.

Or date rape and eating disorders.

But whatever.

That's the temperature outside right now.

...and I'm still riding my bike daily.

After trekking home last night at 12:30 a.m., I've decided it's going to take about seven inches of snow to stop me. Anything less than that is still territory that I can navigate my through.

It's going to be a long winter.

First thing's first.

This morning I must give a big shout out to Joy Winkler, for keeping my healthy eating habits in check by sending an enormous assortment of cookies, chocolate and other goodies home with Ben the other day. Thank you for being such a mother.

Next, I need to point you in the direction of two things, the first being a grotesque display of the nerdery that defines Quentin Lueninghoener. Not only did he critique the UNL brand logo, in true obsessive-compulsive fashion, but he managed to find time to redesign it. Bravo!

The second is my christmas list. If you're in the giving mood, don't hesitate to include me in your holiday shopping! Thanks in advance.

Other things on my mind this morning include:

• The amount of Vanilla Porter I consumed this weekend, and how proud I am that such a fine beer is brewed in Lincoln.


• Zombie movies are amazing. It had been way, way too long since I had seen a helpless victim's brain consumed by the living dead.


• Bulleted lists are the way to go.


• Apparently my daily consumption of six cups of coffee is doing wonders to help my liver recover from my nightly consumption of six bottles of beer. Via Yahoo!

I guess that's about it for now. It's dead week. I think I'll spend it in a caffeine induced haze.

School is so easy it's a joke.

I'm just ready for it to be over so I can start drinking and never stop.

...wait, did I say that? I meant so that I can study things I actually care about, like foreign languages.

How far we've fallen...

Also, on the list of things never to tell your mom: you have mice in your house.

(But don't worry because Spadt and Bwalter are on a serious extermination tip)

Shh.

Oh, and one more thing: Christmas has come a little bit early. Miller High Life bottles are $1 at Bisonwitches... all month long.

One year since I left and came back.

...and left again.

Some club music woke me up this morning. You know, just some dancy ridiculous body winding song that was oh-so-popular back in the underground clubs of Tokyo.

So much unwritten.

So much left behind.

So, so much unwritten.

It was insanity on a level I can't even begin to convey.

I slept for a long, long time yesterday.

Having classes cancelled at the end of the semester is one of the greatest things in life. It ranks right up there with knowing the bartender at Arturo's; nothing like cheap, strong, tasty margaritas. She's an angel.

It's a new month, I bought a new suit, and it's 13 degrees outside.

Today is December 1st, which means that one year ago today I was making those final preparations to return home from Japan for the winter holiday, completely unaware of what was waiting.

I never really wrote about my return home. I think my last blog entry was actually in late November, and then I got on that plane and never bothered to commit anything to writing until I had arrived in Matsudo in January.

I did take lots of photos though.

I remember the last day pretty well.

We stayed up all night, just sort of hanging around the dorm. A lot of people had already left--for America of for a week long vacation in Kyoto--and the dorm was really, really quiet.

When I actually left that big building and all of its memories, it was no big deal. I said my goodbyes and walked out of the entryway, down that narrow, green, wet path to the station with Takayuki and Kyohei, where they saw me off with cigarettes clutched in their hands; and even though I was only leaving for a few weeks, something about leaving them behind really hit me hard.

Takayuki always says the same thing whenever we part ways, back to our home countries:

元気でね

Always the same thing, and that's the only time he says it.

Genki dene.

Take care of yourself.

Something about hearing him say that sort of makes my knees buckle and my stomach turn, because I know that it really is goodbye.

Standing there in front of Mukougaoka-yuen Station on that December morning was the first time I heard him say it, and as I slipped my ticket through the gate and walked away from him, it was all I could do to supress tears.

Midori and Yumi were waiting for me inside the station, and Yumi rode the entire way to the airport; with me sometimes dozing on her shoulder, sometimes holding her hand, sometimes just quietly talking.

I had on my brown stocking cap.

It's crazy to think that Midori and Yumi are really no longer a part of my life, especially when I had meant so much to them and they so much to me--when I had become their "bu-chan."

Stupid Narita airport.

I've said so many goodbyes there and cried to many cries there. It's strange that an airport carries with it so many memories, but of course it only makes sense that the place where the people you love are coming and going from should become a sort of hub in your brain for sad memories.

That day was a hard goodbye.

Yumi and I ate bagels at the airport, and I still have a picture of her sitting there sort of staring sideways at me and at the cellphone I used to take her photo.

I remember distinctly the "It's over"-sensation that consumed me. It happened just as we embraced near the terminal.

Passengers only.

It washed over me, totally unstoppable, and I started crying and couldn't stop until I fell asleep on the plane more than five hours later.

I handed my passport to the woman with a ridiculously shaky hand, trying to maintain at least some semblance of composure, and I wondered just how many people she had seen like me, walking out of the lives of their loved ones; their friends.

I rounded the corner and headed down the stairway, finally starting to bring my emotion under control.

But then something happened that I will never forget.

Above the stairway there is a long pane of glass overlooking the descending passengers, and as I walked down, head down, I heard a little patter on that glass.

Of course it was Yumi, standing there alone, waving... goodbye... goodbye...

Who knows what the guy next to me on the plane thought.

I pulled my brown stocking cap down around my eyes and ears and relaxed just as much as the seats an in American Airlines 747 will allow one to. I covered myself with a blanket. I watched the faces of my friends roll through my mind, and heard their words in my ears.

Then I went to sleep...

...and then I woke up in America.

And of course we know where the story goes from there, right?

The story goes home to family, friends and familiar places. It goes to a banquet and it goes to a post-party. The story introduces a mysterious little brown headed girl with a heart-piercing, earth-ending smile.

So it's been about a year.

This year's Winter banquet is in a week and a day, and it just reminds me that my life--our lives--are a lot more unpredictable than we care to admit.

We are totally and completely out of control.

I rode my bike to work today, like everyday. I bought a suit. I sneezed. I plan to go to the gym. I'll probably take a geography quiz.

Who knows.

Come September I might be saying goodbye to you.

...

That stupid brown hat that I bought in a little store in Harajuku. That fuzzy blue scarf emblazoned with the Japanese national team's logo, bought in Ueno on Ame-yoko.

I thought I had lost them.

The hat that hid my tears...

Turns out both of those artifacts are in the back of Anna's car, from the last football game that I went to with her, Tabitha and Colleen.

What a relief.