I MISS TOKYO .

(Above - I suddenly remembered this Japanese restaurant I used to go to with my friends all the time, so I drew a rough sketch of it, because I want to remember. It's one of many frozen memories I'm going to snatch back. I think I just found my inspiration for some portfolio pieces! If I can remember enough details, I think I can turn these rough sketches into real paintings, real art).

Today I recieved my Nishimachi International School alumni magazine that they send out every few months. As usual, I flicked through it, reading a couple articles, glancing at the photographs.
And then I stumbled upon my graduating class' picture.
(In Japan, the schools go from K-9th so the transition from 9th to 10th is huge).
To tell you the truth, I was pretty overwhelmed, looking at it.
The boys had gotten so tall - I'm not even sure I would call them "boys" anymore - and the girls were all dolled up in their kimonos and expensive hair ornaments,
everyone standing beneath the cherry trees.
My old teachers were there too, practically unchanged though six years have passed.
Isamu was exactly the same; he was making his pretend-serious face, only, he lost all his baby-fat; he actually looked kind of hot.
Ken looked surprised, as usual - to this day I don't think I've ever seen a picture of Ken actually looking normal; it's like he's always captured with this awkward deer-in-the-headlights kind of expression.
Mai was gorgeous; capturing the spotlight with her ridiculously amazing smile (I was always so jealous).
Momo had on her calm, practiced smile; the one that, even though it's so simple, is probably the prettiest smile I've ever known.
And there were so many familiar faces.
I'm surprised I recognized them without difficulty; it's like time has only made everything clearer.
I think I actually remember everyone's last name now better than I ever did when I saw them daily.

Anyway.
Another recent encounter with Japan was just eight days ago when I went to Disneyland for my dad's birthday.
Lo and behold, while getting on Pirates of the Caribbean, I ran into one of my friends from Japan, Anand.
It was the weirdest thing.
We both kind of looked at each other and he kind of lifted up his hand as to say "hey, I haven't seen you forever, how've you been?" and I lifted mine too, "hey, I miss you guys, it's nice seeing you," and then my boat took off and I didn't see him again.
It's weird how life works.
Though words were not exchanged, I feel like something meaningful was said that day.
Through our eyes and our hearts.

So..yeah.
I really miss Tokyo.
Not even just the people.
I miss everything.
For example, recently, I've even begun craving the smell of cigarette smoke.
I know, it's nasty.
And I'd never, ever, ever smoke.
I promise.
Never.
But when I smell smoke on the streets, I take it in and think, "Ah, it's home."

I also miss the art classes and how Mr. Tanaka would yell his head off at me for not following exact instructions.
I miss the wtf-this-is-a-two-way-street? small ass streets, and the bakery next door to my apartment.
I miss my apartment, Hiroo Towers Apartment 1051 Minami-Azabu, Tokyo, Japan.
I miss my caucasian-hating neighbors and their not-allowed-to-keep-in-the-apartment cat.
I miss my church and the way the pastors would scold you for jay-walking.
I miss waiting 2 hours for pizza during typhoons, and the crickets chirping as-loud-as-hell in the summertime.
I miss flash-light tag at roppongi hills, and 15-people-sleepovers with friends.
I miss being on the ping pong team and getting ejected for hurting some kid's eye with my spikes.
I miss Japanese class and how even though we almost tried not to learn anything, we picked up so much more than we realized.
I miss the "Irasshaimase!"'s the store clerks would always yell, and the tatami-matted restaurants.
I miss the Tokyo American Club and how they tried so hard to make all the foreigners a nice Thanksgiving dinner, and failed miserably.
I miss the you're-gonna-charge-me-30-bucks-to-see-a-fucking-movie? movies with misspelled english subtitles.
I miss laughing at the dirty porno books they sold in the convenience stores and getting kicked out by the manager after making too many photocopies of people's faces.
I miss the feeling of safety, and the ability for 4 year olds to walk the streets at night without danger.
I miss the subways, smelly-as-fuck though they were, and the friendly Nippon Airlines stewards.
I miss Harajuku (Yeah, Gwen Stefani didn't make that up, guys), and the department store that it housed with 100+ photobooths.
I miss making onigiri every thursday to feed to the homeless people, and volunteering at the soup kitchens.
I miss the I-can't-believe-I-just-ate-an-effing-octopus moments when you throw up inside your mouth after finding out what you ate wasn't chicken.
I miss the absence of safety regulations which made the tokyo disneyland rollercoasters huge, hazardous monsters.
I miss the food, the smells, the sights, the music, the movies, the people, the weather, the cars, the early-released video games, the friendships, and the love.

I'm not sure why it took 6 years for me to really miss Japan.
But I can literally feel my pulse pick up now, just thinking about it.
Sometimes I think, maybe it's the Japanese rap I'm listening to.
Or maybe it's Hayao Miyazaki's Pom Poko or the increased visitation of Japanese restaurants?
But I don't know.
Maybe it's a sign.
Or maybe it's the feeling of something missing.
Or maybe it's just life.
And maybe this is just how nostalgia works.

bracelets .

*Be forewarned; this post is kind of metaphorical.

I have a wall that is home to my millions of memories.
Moments put in bottles and captured in photographs.
Letters and cards speckled with special stickers on special stationary, those formal group shots and those last-minute polaroids; all flecked about the room.
Disarray? Or simplicity?
A closer look says "neither".
It's an artful accident.
Art in its best kind - natural, random.
The most beautiful masterpieces, the tastiest ice cream flavors, the purest blue acrylics, all created by accident.
I have a wall that is home to my doodles.
Watercolored waterfalls at the arboretum, chalked outlines of a boy I once knew, penciled doves on the back of another failed math test.
Random? Or wonderful?
A deeper thought says "both".
It's the random events we string together like beads on a bracelet that showcase who we are.
Some people string together hundreds of bracelets by the ends of their roads.
Some people's bracelets are beautiful, flamboyant, even, and some people's are dark; basic shades of gray.
Though most we manage to securely fasten about our hearts, some bracelets get lost in the wind.
Some we find again, and others are lost to us forever.
Some people's are secrets - tucked away from anyone else - and some are sported proudly to the world.
Some bracelets are old and some are new.
But despite the millions of kinds of bracelets, everyone seems to find a way to string some together.
The speed in which we puzzle-piece these tokens together varies.
Some, eager, grasp hold of the string at a young age, and others take decades to realize what memories mean.
Me? I used to think I had quite a few; bracelets, I mean.
I used to imagine I had ten, maybe twenty.
But then one day it struck me, and I realized - I'm still just collecting the beads.

but i AM thinking about the future .

i want to make smart
choices in my life.

Apparently, my parents won't hate me if I fail algebra 2.
They told me so.
They literally sat me down and said, "it's okay if you fail algebra 2, honey".
But want to know a secret?
I don't believe it.
They stopped paying for my art classes, and they're scheduling more tutors for math than I can handle.
I literally have three math tutors, two study groups, and I have mandatory friday cards and teacher meetings.
It's not that I'm ungrateful.
I appreciate the motions they've taken to help me pass math.
But at the same time, I feel like it's not worth the fight.
I feel like it's a lost cause.
It seems like no matter how much extra time I spend doing the mixed reviews and extra practice problems, I end up failing.
I feel like I'm destined to fail.
I'm surprisingly not as hung up on failing a class as you would think.
I learned a long time ago that you can only do your best.
And sometimes your best isn't good enough.
But that's not the problem.
Failing algebra 2, I mean.
The problem is that I spend all this time trying to understand it, trying to pass a single test, JUST ONE, and I end up getting behind in my portfolio.
Is it worth putting the paintbrushes away for a while to get my grade up?
I'm not so sure.
If there's hardly even a chance of me getting a C, then wouldn't it be more time efficient and valuable for me to turn my attention to art?
Everyday I'm either working on math, or regretting spending time on math.
Everyday is the same shade of gray.
And the time I do get to spend painting, I draw blanks.
My paintings are lifeless.

But, I realized something this year.
I realized that I'm lucky - I knew a long time ago what I anticipated to be in the future.
I never had trouble answering the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
I always knew.
I want to be an artist.
I want to be a writer.
I want to be a musician.
I want to be a mom.
I want to be a dreamer.
I want to be successful.
I want to love and be loved.
And the list goes on.
I always knew what I wanted to be, what I wanted to do.
So the question is, why can't I pursue it?
I know I could go somewhere - everyone has that inner potential.
But I want to stop talking about dreams, like everyone else, and go out into the world and fulfill them.
I want to start sending in articles to newspapers again.
I want to participate in those reflection-like contests again.
I want to carry my watercolors with me, and paint spontaneously again.

I just want to do what makes me happy.
I thought that's what our parents told us from the start.
Teachers, and adults in general.
"As long as you're happy, we'll support you."
So is that a meaningful sentiment?
Or are those just empty words?

Because I'm tired of people not meaning what they say.
There's a real lack of sincerity in the world.
If you don't mean it, you might as well tell me what you really mean.
"We tell you you can do anything you want, but we're secretly counting on you to realize your creativity will fail you. You'll eventually become a realist and get a shitty 9-5 desk job like the rest of us. Have a nice life. Hopefully your God-awful grades will get you into a community college".
But you know what?
I'm going to pursue this so-called American dream if it kills me.
So suck it.
Oh yeah.
And C.S. Lewis failed math.
And Lewis is amazing.

bl_nk .

[photo credit: ron lee; afob 2009]

(via tumblr; 11.22.2009)

Bl_nk shouldn’t be an emotion.
But it’s difficult to put my thoughts about this marching season into words, and into emotion.
It’s hard for me to accept that AFOB marked the end of this year’s season, and though I know I shouldn’t linger too long on the past, I can’t look forwards to next year’s season quite yet.
This is the stage between nostalgia and acceptance.
I anticipate that this year will be the hardest battle.
Last year, we were freshmen.
We knew our seniors for one year.
They were the first role models introduced to us, and we were sad to see them go.
This year, though, it’s been two years of knowing our seniors.
We’ve noticed how they’ve changed and grown, and we’ve developed our relationships with them - at one point they were no longer just our leaders and role models, they became our friends, too.
And while it’s difficult to lose a leader, it’s even more difficult to lose a friend.
I comfort myself, knowing there’s still the Spaghetti Dinner, and concert season, and BOC.
But deep down, I feel blank; numb, even.
I feel like I don’t have the resources to deal with these untitled emotions.
The teenage years are the hardest, my mom says, because it’s a period of growth when you experience feelings unknown to you, for the first time.
So while I continue to learn, and to grow, I’ll label these emotions on the way.
But for the present, I’ll leave them.
Unknown.
Untitled.
And bl_nk as a scrabble tile.

perfumes, spices, and toxins....and cysts.

I'm so happy we have our field show complete!
Even though there's a lot of work to be done still, I feel good knowing we can finally march and play the whole thing now.

Anyway.
SOME NEW INFORMATION regarding my "condition" has come into my hands !
But it's a little whack.
So the nurse called my mom today.
And she said that THERE ARE CYSTS IN MY OVARIES.
And at first I was like "NO. FCK. WHY'D THIS HAVE TO HAPPEN TO ME?"
But then apparently it's really common for people to have them, LOL.
She said that usually ovarial cysts either go away on their own or don't really cause harm.
However, in my case she said it's a little bit different because she thinks the cysts are either a partial cause of my uber long period, or they're hurting my ovaries.
So she said she wants me to take some x-rays and take the INTERNAL ULTRASOUND.
That nasty one where they stick a stick up your privates :[
And on top of that, I have to get "blood labs" which is basically a series of blood tests.
For some people, like my dad, it's like "whatever, blood tests don't even hurt".
But I've never in my whole entire life gotten a blood test, LOL.
I know. I'm fifteen and whenever I go to the doctors I always end up avoiding blood tests and I just get finger pricks instead.
HAHA, MANNN.
So anyway.
OH YES.
So this is where the whack part comes.
The nurse and doctor said they're pretty sure that despite the test results they're going to have to REMOVE THE CYSTS.
(Uh, okay so what's the point of taking the tests to begin with?!)
But yeah. Unfortunately they neglected to disclose to me what "removing the cysts" entails.
Like I'm not sure if I can just drink some magic potion and be done with it, or if they're going to have to effing cut them out through surgery.
My mom thinks it's the latter. ):
BUT ANYWAY.
It's better to fix things late than never.
Better safe than sorry, and all that.
And I guess I'd rather go through some physically scary stuff and be able to be SUPERSTRONG next marching season than have something wrong internally forever, and suck next season too.
Okay then.
NIGHT.

p.s. Dude, the shaved heads for CHINO are freaking awesome. MAJOR PROPS to Frank. I think it's cool that he just happens to know how to shave heads. Haha.
But yeah. Props also to all the people who went through with it; THAT'S dedication!

we need to make a change.

I don't know whether I feel like CRYING right now or SMASHING A WINDOW.

I just wish someone would tell me WHAT TO DO to make a positive impact on this band.
I know we're supposed to focus on our individual achievement, and I'm striving for that, but IS THAT REALLY ALL WE CAN DO?
What is the secret?
WHAT IS THE SECRET to success?
Is it passion?
Is it hard work?
Is it inspiration?
First Mr. Landes tells us he feels like the world's crappiest teacher.
HIM.
OUR BELOVED, FEARLESS, PASSIONATE BAND DIRECTOR feels like it's HIS fault we don't care.
Next our section leaders blame themselves.
They say they don't know what else they can possibly do to help us and encourage us.
At some point you're on your own and you have to find the discipline and passion from within - they can't MAKE us care.
AND NOW, our amazing drum major is potentially LOSING FAITH IN US?
Or maybe not losing faith, but he's obviously disappointed, upset, frustrated, you name it.
I think the rehearsal was productive if you're looking at the number of sets we accomplished, but like all of our leaders keep saying, we COULD HAVE ACHIEVED MORE or at least achieved it without talking and unneccessary distractions.
I wish I knew something I could PERSONALLY do to make a positive impact, however slight.
But I can't think of a SINGLE thing a sophomore could do to help the band or inspire even ONE person.
Especially a sophomore that has medical issues.
WHAT CAN I DO?
I'm tired of listening to the rollercoaster feedback.
It's constantly changing.
I wish we all could pull together and be the band Mr. Landes, our section leaders, and our DRUM MAJOR are proud of.
I'm so ashamed.
Like Leandro said today, it's not any one individual's fault - you can't blame a select group of people.
Everyone takes a part in the blame.
Just as everyone shares the glory.
I wish we could set the standard for the freshmen.
I wish we could shut up.
I wish we could learn to listen and apply.
I wish we could stop having to be lectured by the marching techs.
I wish we could have a silent rehearsal without having to be reminded.
I wish we could have a field show where everyone came off that field proud, without any regrets, knowing it was the best field show we performed this season.
There are so many things I wish, but then that's just THE POINT.
I WISH WE COULD STOP WISHING AND ACTUALLY CARE ENOUGH TO MAKE THE CHANGE THAT WE ALL KNOW WE NEED TO MAKE.

ultrasound .

Today marks 18 weeks and 3 days of being on my period.

And today I had an ultrasound.
It was probably one of the weirdest experiences of my life.
My mom picked me up at 3:15 and we drove to Kaiser's L.A. diagnostic imaging lab.
And then we waited for like, an hour, listening to all these pregnant teenagers.
There were so many.
And some of their friends, parents, or boyfriends were there, too.
The radiology lab waiting room was hopping, man.
If I didn't know any better, I would've thought we were at a rave exclusively for expectant mothers or something.
So then this MAN called us in and apparently, men are allowed to feel up pregnant women's bellies with their blue goo now with the disguise of "ultrasound technician".
(Or in my case, girls' who have had their periods for too long)
Anyway.
After six minutes or so of rubbing this slimy stuff on my stomach/lower abdomen area, the ultrasound technician proclaimed that my bladder was not very full.
I thought that was a joke. Like, he was looking at what I had for lunch today or something, and he meant to say there's nothing out of the ordinary.
So I was like, okay so I can go now?
And he was like, what? No, you need to drink this white nasty crap stuff so that your bladder will be full.
HUH.
Yeah, apparently, unless you're uber pregnant then you need to have a full bladder to have an ultrasound.
Like, when you're pregnant you're already pretty uh, round. Plus there's like, a couple of buckets of water in your womb already.
But when you're not pregnant, there's nothing to help pick up the magnetism or something..
Dude, I don't know.
I'm just the victim here.
Anyway, so he gave me some really icky stuff to drink and after 30 minutes (now it's about 5:40pm), I had to pee like a mofo.
I mean while everyone was watching the news on the televisions, or talking quietly amongst themselves, I was doing the pee dance.
You know the one.
Finally we were called again, so I went back into the little, super sanitary smelling room, like doubled over cause of the need-to-pee-pain.
But it paid off.
He confirmed that my bladder was indeed very full.
So then the guy got out his blue goo.
The first kind was warm so it wasn't too bad.
But then he needed a second kind and it was ICE COLD.
You know that song like, "there's an ice box where my heart used to be" or whatever?
There was like an ice box where my OVARIES used to be, dude.
They were shivering.
I swear I got temporary frostbite.
AND THEN, like, it was super awkward.
After he finished a good 25 minutes later, he got this cloth and started like, viciously rubbing my stomach to rid it of the blue goo.
I felt like I was getting tummy-raped, LOL.
But yeah.
He got some of that nastyfuck blue goo in my panties :[
I think I should take him to People's Court or something.
And sue him for like, 5 bucks so I can buy a new pair of undies.
Cause in this economy I can't go around paying for ultrasounds everyday, much less new underwear.
Good grief.

Anyway.
On the serious side, I'm a little concerned.
The ultrasound technician said my ovaries and uterus looked a little screwed up.
Well, he didn't say it like that.
He said my images looked a lot different than the norm.
But he said he would send them to the radiologist.
And then the radiologist and my doctor are supposed to have a meeting.
So I'm not sure when I'm getting the results.
I hope nothing's wrong, but at the same time, it's kind of expected that there is.
Like, what else could possibly be the explanation for all of this?
You know?
So I hope nothing's wrong, but at the same time I hope there is so that they can fix it.
Arighty.
Back to Mistss.
(:

come on, arcadia .

Rank 3's Rank Rehearsal.
(Taken on October 20th at Wednesday Night Rehearsal by The Amazing Ron Lee; http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000252556510#/photos.php?id=100000252556510).

You know something's up when Mr. Landes says, "I feel like the crappiest teacher in the world".

It's not just about pulling this show together,
or the parade block,
or cleaning up the band room,

or any of that.

But Mr. Landes needs to know that we CARE and we are PROUD to be in the Arcadia High Apache Marching Band.

And he has no way of knowing that if we fail to show him.

On our own accord, not after being asked, told, or reminded to do things we should already be doing.

I think our field show is pretty exciting.

But like Leandro's quote, "We aim above the mark to hit the mark".

We should be aiming above that mark, and I'm not sure if we're barely hitting it or hitting it at all or what the deal is.

It seems everyone has a lack of motivation.

Everyone's mind is on other things.

Constantly.

And it's just frustrating because for people like me, band is all there is.

I'm wasn't made to be a die-hard student or club leader or speech maker or student body officer or actor or singer or anything.

But when I came last year to the marching band program, I felt so at home.

Just like everyone else.

Band has a way of winning hearts.

Audience's, players', and directors' alike.

So come on, Arcadia.

Let's rip our hearts out on that street and on that field.

And let's show them what we've got, and who we are proud to be.

Like Mr. Landes said, "This is Arcadia. This isn't some other place".

I know that none of us want to let our fearless leaders down.

We can't let Arcadia go downhill.

Not today, tomorrow, this year, or the next.

And certainly not on Mr. Landes' watch.

He is the reason Arcadia is excellent.

Let's do this for for us, for the band, for Arcadia, and for Mr. Landes and Mr. Sherrill.

Come on, Arcadia.

Mt. Carmel, we're on our way.

Mt. carmel .

Car Wash Fundraiser 2009.

(Taken at First Ave).

I am so excited for Mt. Carmel, it's ridiculous.
I can't wait for the parade block, the field competition, and the FOOD, oh my.
I really hope we get to see Mt. Carmel's show, too.
And what school was it that had the big yellow balls that the colorguard was playing with last year?
(LOL.)

Those visuals were killer.

And I remember last year a common theme was having all the band members/colorguard sleep/die at the end.

That was world-popping.
(This year we'll show them up with our dancing, though <3)

Anyway.
I really wish we practiced for Mt. Carmel like Arcadia used to practice for Chino.
Like, how they kept the metronome running 24/7 and the band room became a sacred place.

And everyone just listened to the tempo.

Or how they painted the yard lines on the sidewalk and everyone stepped 8 to 5's during passing periods.

And people took home their instruments/mouthpieces everyday, not just the day before the competition.

And those different bands before us were able to reap the feeling of success after their triumph - whether it be a trophy or just the knowledge and pride of having performed their best show of the season.

Regarding the practicing though, I guess there's nothing really stopping anyone from bringing back tradition.

Something to think about, anyway.

But I really hope we put enough in so we'll have something to take out.

I remember .

Altos of 2008-2009.

(Taken at senior tribute night).

Anyway, I found this picture while looking through Ron (Lee)'s pictures on facebook.

And it reminded me of alto sweaters.

Hopefully we'll get our new ones before the Chino competition.

They're forest green american apparel!

(Chosen by Carlo, the style-king, of course.)

And our own lovely Christina made the design.

It's super sizzling; I can't wait!

I'll miss you .

あなたの　高校の　そつぎょうを　するの時、　私は　とても　かなしいに　なります。