Worship me or die, or so the meme goes

i love trash

True to my word, I attempted to define things three months into a talking stage, with a person I have known for four years. Silly me, I should’ve known from past experience that he’d freak out. In the words of the immortal Olivia Rodrigo: deja vu. He freaked out, big time. He said this was nothing like a relationship, that he called his cousins all the time and this was equivalent to that, that he didn’t want to be in an LDR (not now, not ever), that he didn’t care if I saw other people, that his schedule had changed…


Solve the following equation: If Jane has 2 glasses but broke 1 glass after x months and bought a new glass to replace the 2nd glass, and broke the 3rd glass after 4x months because she is a dumb bitch, how many glasses does Jane have left?

When I moved into my first apartment in 2019, I had two sets of everything. Two cups, two forks, two spoons, two dishes, two bowls, two wine glasses — you get it. A Noah’s Ark situation all up in my cupboard, largely due to sheer laziness and to prolong dishwashing for as long as possible, but also to prepare for the hazy possibility of having someone over. Fast forward to 2021, and I’ve somehow, miraculously, managed to break one of every single pair.

One of every single pair, excluding wine glasses — I was down to one wine glass, so…


On growing up in suburban white Indiana and my love-hate relationship with America

corn, corn everywhere

Growing up as a kid in the States, I didn’t have the language to talk about race. How could I, when I was just a little snot-nosed Japanese girl in lily-white, suburban Indiana? In the absence of words like “institutional racism”, “intersectional feminism”, “model minority myth”, “Vincent Chin”, “No-No Boys”, and “internment camps”, all I could really do was whine that they were mean to me, Mama, whenever stuff happened.

And stuff did happen sometimes: like when a girl in kindergarten pushed up her eyes at me, that oh-so-familiar gesture now, which I couldn’t comprehend as racism then. Or when…


the fuck am i supposed to do with a fucking flower

Mother’s Day was coming up, so I was scrolling through various lists on the World Wide Web for inspo. Pages after pages of red and pink carnations, aprons, nifty little cooking gadgets like a bread maker, macarons, candles. You know, all the usual typical things that people with vaginas like.

I’d be fucking livid if my hypothetical future child gave me a flowered apron as a Mother’s Day gift, I’d throw that shit right in the trash where it belongs. Or return it for credit.

When I tell people that I’m not too sure about kids, they all parrot back…


The end-all cure for debilitating anxiety: a psychic on the Internet

may the cards be ever in your favor

I said I wouldn’t do it, but I did it. I booked a reading with a psychic last Friday.

I don’t believe in God. I weathered more than a decade of religious schooling, slept through chapel every Wednesday, once wrote an essay in algebra class where we had to pull three verses from the Bible in order to support our argument that math was evidence that God created a beautiful and orderly world. As if that weren’t enough, I then went on to attend a public university in the States, where enormous anti-abortion posters of bloody fetuses or tiny white…


My government’s more incompetent than yours, but who’s comparing?

come back later
  1. You realize you’ve reached a new low when you find yourself patiently standing in a busy queue at the grocery store with a bottle of red gripped firmly in hand and nothing else, like a proper alchie. Which you’re not, because in your defense, they were out of salmon, which you were intending to cook with asparagus for dinner. So you just order a margherita pizza instead like the cultured bitch that you are and wash it down with a glass or three. A glass a day keeps the doctor away, or so the saying goes.
  2. It’s never a bright…


On the trials and tribulations of job hunting & working in Japan

it’s been a haaaaaard day’s night, i’ve been working like a dooooog~♫

It’s April again this year, so many Aprils have marched past relentlessly thus far — my 25th this year and I’d like to ask Time to slow the fuck down please because I haven’t the money to splurge on a bottle of SKII just yet and also yay double standards! and the beauty industry making its millions by feeding on the swirling insecurities of female folk, courtesy of the fucking patriarchy, but I digress. It’s the season of new employees, so fresh-faced college graduates are currently scuttling about the streets in their ill-fitting cheap black suits and new leather shoes…


they’re trash
  1. “Things are different this time!” he insisted, and I was happy to believe him because I am a raging masochist, apparently. Please, spoon-feed me more pain and trust issues, more, more! Can’t get enough of that stuff.
  2. I often think about how my last name is inherited from a man and so there is no such thing as a maiden name, not really, but I’d be damned if I’m expected to give up my last name for the likes of a mere man as if I were his property, and get quite worked up about it sometimes, before abruptly remembering…


On getting ICL eye surgery and surviving the year of our Lord 2020

eye wish you a merry christmas n a happy new year

He told me to breathe in and out slowly, and stare into the light. It was blindingly beautiful; little by little, it morphed into a shimmering triangle of light, like a sliver of blue sky with blazing golden edges, the brightest blue sky I have ever known. I thought, this is what the people in Plato’s cave allegory must have seen when they first stepped out of their cave. Or did they never leave their cave in that story? I wondered, as I inhaled another lungful of laughing gas.

There were vague gray shadows all around, and I noted the…


How do you fix loneliness?

show me the meaning of beeeeeing lonely♫

In a culture in which singles, herbivore men, and old people are abound and overflowing, there is a list of various activities that people rattle off to each other in order to determine the level of independence they have achieved. Can you eat ramen by yourself? Karaoke? Watch a movie at a theater? Sip a cool G&T or perhaps an Old Fashioned at a bar? Go out for yakiniku, grill each individual piece of meat at a shichirin for one? And what, pray tell, are your thoughts on solo travel?

In other words, how comfortable are you with your own…

Mo

just a lil peach in Tokyo

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