personal statement rambling, part two

So, this was supposed to be my opening paragraph and about half of my personal statement. I work terribly slow, and it took about 4 days to write these three paragraphs. I read it over and over and realized that I'm rambling too much; it's too much like a section of a novel rather than a personal statement. Probably gonna scrap about 80% of this and start over.

Anways, Enjoy :)

My grandpa continued to stand just outside the doorway, watching to see if I had locked the gate correctly. The day before, he took me along the route I was to take in order to reach the Supreme Court of the Philippines. As I locked the front gate, I rehashed my route: walk two blocks, pass the teenagers playing basketball while wearing flip flops, board a modified World War II military Jeep functioning as a public bus, disembark at España Boulevard, board another bus, endure pollution smog, pass Rizal park and yell “Stop,” get off the bus, walk past the dental school and voilà, the Supreme Court. Yet, as I walked through the neighborhood, I was still venturing into the unknown. It seems that all of my important journeys in life start with a journey into the unknown.

I held this gleaming vision of the Supreme Court as a white-marbled, pristine institution in the middle of the gritty, raw Manila city life. In that respect, I was correct - every weekday morning, I walked through the security checkpoint and encountered a neo-classical styled, white-marble facade that held a certain amber glow in the tropical morning sun. Every other preconception about the Court was shattered. The hallways of the main building were subject to dim fluorescent lighting and indoor temperatures closely matched the lingering tropical heat outside. Work inside the Court paralleled life in Manila: gritty, sweaty, blunt. Even some simple legal research was conducted by dusting off old volumes of Court decisions in the law library and carefully flipping through yellowed pages. Yet, amidst the tropical heat, Justice Reyes’ office kept churning along.

I was truly humbled by my first week’s experience. My first important internship, in another country to match, began not with a fanfare entrance, but with a stumble into a very different environment. So, for the start of the second week, I decided to embrace the gritty commute, the heat, and the dusty legal books in the law library. And not surprisingly, I did not undergo an instant personal transformation as planned. Throughout my internship, work did not become easier and my morning commute still left me with sweat stains. Ordinary life in Manila simply did not consist of the simple luxuries I was accustomed to back in the U.S. This simple, banal fact of life only become apparent to me when I consciously made the effort to drop my preconceived notions of the city and start from scratch.

personal statement rambling, part one

This is part of a series of posts relating to my personal statement for law school. Essentially, not all of what I wrote below will make it onto my statement, but I want to get a feel for what I would like to include. Just remember, this is raw material for now.

On Japan - Just write what you want to say, BOSS RAVIOLI

Six thousand, three hundred and thirteen miles. Tokyo, Japan is six thousand, three hundred and thirteen miles away from Chicago. I was truly away from my comfort zone. As I took the train from my dorm to the business district of the city, a different world emerged in front of my eyes: a world filled with Japanese signs that I could not read, hordes of men in black business suits walking towards the train station, endless streams of commuters cramming into commuter trains, countless women with the same Louis Vuitton handbag. Everything in Tokyo seemed to happen in waves of people.

Some people went to Japan thinking they could integrate themselves into Japanese society while others came for the sole purpose of partying. A few individuals at my dorm, upon realizing how far away they were from home, upon realizing that no one spoke English, upon realizing that there was no fast food available to eat, slowly cocooned themselves in their dorm rooms with computer games and bags of snacks. And then, there was me.

During the first two weeks, I spent a considerable amount of time daydreaming. It was difficult to spend so much money going out to bars and restaurants, so initially, I declined several invitations to explore the city. As I sat in my dorm room, I often thought to myself, what if I meet a Japanese girl that I really like?, what if I meet a person with a rich family?, what if, what if... All the while, other study abroad students were exploring new parts of Tokyo, meeting Japanese students at school, going out to try exotic sushi. I was on the verge of spinning my own cocoon; I was on the verge of spinning a collection daydreams into my personal cocoon.

And then, sometime in the third week, amidst the controlled chaos of the evening commutes, my former preconceptions of self became separated from me, got lost in the maze of subway station exits, got lost somewhere on the train home to my dorm. I was to start anew. If I were to make friends, sulking and daydreaming were activities to be avoided. It sounds improbable, but it felt as if one moment amidst my evening commute changed my naturally introverted personality. After three weeks in Tokyo, I finally realized that, in order to survive this journey, I had to embrace the unknowns, the “what ifs,” and embrace my limited time in this amazing city.

In retrospect, studying in Tokyo made me realize that, to truly excel, you have to place yourself in the unknown. You have to be bold enough to go the opposite direction of the crowd, and you must be humble enough to realize that stumbling and making mistakes are part of the journey into the unknown.

This is one of the many lessons I learned in Tokyo.

The peril of pessimism and other morals involving Manny Pacquiao

It's so easy to sulk. Seriously easy. It's so easy to feel shame and wallow in sadness. Seriously easy. It's so easy to give up. Seriously easy. This is the peril of pessimism: it's so easy, when everything else in our lives is so difficult. Compound the peril of pessimism with the false notion that it's easy to get anything we want in life, and...well, we have a problem on our hands.

I'm writing this post tonight partially to prevent my own nervous breakdown before the LSAT, and partially as a reminder that things eventually work themselves out. Because, you see, I too often err on the side of pessimism. But at the same time, when I look at the grand scheme of my life so far, I have no reason to be pessimistic.

I guess I have a variety of mental metaphors I turn to in times of intense frustration. My personal favorites are my mental images of Pacquiao boxing the hell out of someone. This is gonna sound super cheesy, but I like to remind myself that Life, that big, bad boxer, is gonna throw some tough punches. Face it, it's inevitable - we'll all have to take some big hits, some that land straight on the jaw, a couple punches right in the gut, and that rare, occasional hit that will knock us down. It didn't cross your mind, yet there you are, unable to do anything but fall. The crowd gasps in anticipation, and the only sound in the stadium is you hitting the floor. Yet, in all that dizziness, there's a certain something, a certain fighting spirit, if you will, that keeps us in the game. That certain fighting spirit is keeping us going right now, in this moment. You feel the urge to fight back, give it all you got, and shake off your failure.

And then, you get back up. Somehow, you always do. You're back on your unsteady feet, blinking your eyes a couple times, regaining your composure while the referee keeps you separated from your opponent. And the important thing is, it wasn't easy to get back up. In fact, it was incredibly difficult to even conceive of going forward. Yet, the feeling of being back on your feet, despite the wooziness and intense pain, is worth the struggle. The crowd applauds your extraordinary effort, claps and cheers in appreciation, and chants your name. I consider it inevitable, really. Now, time for Round 2...

Ok, so admittedly, Pacquiao wouldn't be K.O.'ed in the first round. But maybe next time, next Round, you'll learn to avoid that punishing left hook, and maybe be a little more nimble on your feet so you can land a couple of your own hits.

On the Train Platform

A short little tidbit of writing I did this evening. Enjoy.

____________________________________________

Tokyo.

On The Train Platform. Friday night 9:55pm.

Indistinguishable palates of black to dark grey fill, flood, and cleanse the valley. Only a rare spark of youthful, stunning pair of high heels seemed to break the curse of the middle-aged salaryman. For a moment, his mind, slightly dazed from beer and sake, remembers the green fields on a Saturday afternoon, the lone tree for miles, and a former love. If only this stupor, though faint and tainted from the wistful after-effects of another evening of ritualistic drinking, could last just a second longer.

Once again, the salaryman blinks to see only a world colored in greys and blacks, hearkening back the obligatory blank state of mind that accompanies the veteran commuting masses. It’s too late, it’s Friday night, and the salaryman is one hour from home.

____________________________________________

On The Train Platform. Friday night 9:56pm.

She deliberately chose “the pair” today. Would people notice? Of course, she reminded herself that morning; Of course, she reminded her self that morning, "the pair" of high heels would bring about “the pain.” No matter, the day was over. But she had to wonder, why was it o.k. for New York women to walk around with running shoes, while she, like all other Tokyo women, had to suffer in heels?

Instinct, if not boredom, called for her phone’s awakening from 2 minute hibernation. Her boss, again, with the only message since two minutes ago. “Good presentation today. Friend from Sony said you will make a great assistant if you work there.” An unwarranted, disappointed sigh escaped from her.

“Assistant,” what an insolent, degrading word, she thought.

____________________________________________

On The Train Platform. Friday night 9:57pm.

Somber spirits are replaced with the sounds of joviality and youth. The muted, business oriented masses herd into a train on one side of the platform; the slightly drunk, chattery twentysomethingyearold masses alight on the other side of the platform. A girl, most probably belonging to the twentysomethingyearolds crowd, walks past a woman with a stunning pair of heels.

But then again, she thought, every girl in Tokyo has a stunning pair of high heels...

that post about Autumn

above: backyard tree color about two weeks ago

(Taken from my notebook)

On my desk, I'm looking at two leaves right now. The first one, from my backyard tree, was, at one point, a deep sunburst yellow. About two weeks ago, late afternoon reflections from the kitchen had this nostalgic sort of amber glow to it, and just outside would be our tree, in full regalia, shining yellow into the kitchen. The second leaf is from one of our hedges near the front steps. The hedges haven't fully changed their color just yet, but some of the leaves are finally revealing their deep crimson fall wardrobe. A little eccentric for some hedge? Possibly.

Also on my desk at the moment: a moleskine notebook and a recycled glass mug (filled with Jasmine Oolong green tea mixed with Rooibos, courtesy of mom's Teavana stash) sitting on a red, kimono-shaped coaster. My iPod is playing the new Belle and Sebastian album, and my macbook power cord is invading the corner of the desk. My description sounds so typical hipster faux philosophical writer. If I was in a coffee shop somewhere in Brooklyn writing this...haha.

________________________

Onto more important things. If Summer is the season for epic adventures, carefree days, and the glory of sun, then Fall is the season of the little things. You know what I'm talking about. Pumpkin Spice lattes, watching leaves fall and gently glide towards the ground, crunching old leaves as you walk down the sidewalk, the 10 second lament about the shortening days, an afternoon sun with a cool breeze warranting a new fall jacket and scarf. All the warmth of summer nights turns into fleeting moments of afternoon light, followed by a fresh round of hot drinks in those mugs you haven't touched since February. And if you don't know what I'm talking about, you're missing out :)

I feel like Fall is the time where we can finally reflect on what happened to all of the time we wasted in spring dalliances and lazy summer heat. Don't ask what winter's for, I haven't figured that out yet. Sometimes, we pace our lives to the point where we learn, erroneously, to dull our senses, power-hour the drinks, consume our caffeine and work towards our personal goals. At some point, we'll all get to where we're headed, but for now, take a moment and enjoy autumn while it lasts. It's beautiful out there.

at the moment

At the moment, impossible is not a word in my vocabulary.

Caribou Coffee musings

studying at Caribou Coffee, wrote down some thoughts on two napkins. Don't mean to be so emo, I just like jotting down what's on my mind.

Translation:

My resolve is shot, confidence weak. I am alone and isolated with only my future ambitions and current dilemmas in front of me.

Yet, I feel like something good will happen soon. I have my future planned out, but I need to endure this test to go any further. Anything less than success equates with utter failure.

I have only one option. So I must choose it and move on.

__________________________

Things I like

- Caribou Coffee

- seeing steam rise from a hot cup of tea

- Fall weather in the mid 50s to 60s

- late afternoon sunlight

- the quietness of a grey, drizzly saturday afternoon

thoughts 09/02/10

(taken from my ipod touch notes)

LSAT class was dreadful tonight. Compound failure with the drenching rain and an undersized folding umbrella. As I waited for the bus to arrive on Madison Street, I looked up at a seemingly nondescript building, the rain slanting sideways in a series of long, straight lines. The glow of neon signs accentuated the vacancy of the dark floors above. This feels like a movie scene; this feels like loneliness.

I heave a heavy sigh, my canvas pair of Converse submerged in water. In the rain, every city feels the exact same way: desolate. Where there was once hope, the rain has washed away any remaining glimmers of futures into the gutter. Yet, there is a cleansing peace in the city streets. The pitter patter of droplets slowly washes away the grime of a hot Chicago summer. Somewhere, someone is staring outside their apartment window, hot cup of tea in hand, watching the droplets slowly make their way down the window pane. As for myself, I am reminded of my completely soaked shoes and whether I will catch the next train home.

I have hope for myself. This LSAT is slowly chipping away at my sanity, yet onwards I go. Maybe I'm just tired. My watch says 10:20pm, and I'm 1 hour from home.

fear

"I only fear change when I'm not the one who instigated the change."

Above, a mental thought, about 5 seconds ago.

our inaction

(a short ramble)

Instant replay, rewind. What happened, what did we do wrong, what could we have done to correct our errors? It's so easy for our minds to look back on what happened, and imagine a rosy scenario of what could have been.

Instant replay, rewind. Why is it that all the memories we want to forget replay again and again?

Instant replay, rewind. Can we learn to replay our happy memories without a sigh of nostalgia?

Instant replay happens when we're truly alone with our thoughts. There are those of us who can only dwell in the past, pressing replay over and over and over. And then, there are those of us who press replay, laugh, and continue onwards.

Lesson to be learned: stop hitting rewind. stop hitting pause. start hitting "play."

things that should not exist

(thanks to Greg for letting me use his iPhone camera)

look at this picture, taken at Crate and Barrel (CB2) at North and Clyborn. This, my friends, is a giant green clothespin...

Wait, no, that's a pair of chopsticks. Cheaters style. As in, let's bring the host from the Cheaters show and spy on these chopsticks 'cuz they be cheatin'. If you should find yourself wanting this pair of cheaters, ask yourself this: (WWAD) what would Asians do?

me: at optimum levels

I'll be back to optimum fun levels soon. But first, the LSAT. Just you wait...

what tomorrow brings

A year ago, I couldn't fathom what Tokyo looked like; A year ago, I couldn't fathom what spontaneous adventures I would undergo; A year ago, I couldn't even begin to fathom the wonderful friends I would soon meet. I made the most wonderful of friends while at Ontakesan and TUJ. A year has now passed, and I still can't fathom how amazingly talented and unique you all are.

It's amazing how we reflect on the past. Memories sometimes flow like a quiet stream, or rush and mesh together like anxious waves battering the coast. Most importantly, when we reflect on the past, we realize that our flaws, our imperfections, make us perfect. Our memories of each other and of Tokyo, including the difficult memories, make our experience in Japan perfect.

For those of you who studied abroad, try to recall your earliest memories of Tokyo. I can close my eyes right now and relive the taxi ride to Ontakesan dorm, staring in awe, dreaming of what was to come next in my journey. Recall the food you ate, the simmering heat of the yakiniku charcoal, steam rising from a fresh bowl of ramen, cuts of shabu shabu meat, the textures of fresh sushi. Recall the drinks, the surprisingly warm can of vending machine coffee, Asahi and Sapporo beer, pre-gaming with chu-hi outside 7/11. Recall the sites you saw, the walk across Shibuya, the drunk walk across Shibuya, the stops of the Yamanote line, the myriad of characters in Harajuku, the cherry blossoms in spring. Recall your friends, the ones who were there to experience everything you just remembered; Recall your friends who were right there with you until your last day in Japan...These are memories that are exclusively yours, yet memories that also belong to the friends you hold dear. My best memories of Japan are because of the friends I made there. I have a feeling you feel the same way too :)

At this point, a wave of Japan nostalgia should have already set in. You will now realize that a flood of memories is flashing before your very eyes. Random moments of joy, tranquility, bouts of laughter, bouts of sadness sink in and out of memory. Soak it in, let your waves of memories crash into the coast. Let the waves dissipate, form again, and knock you off your feet as you wade in the surf.

So, what does tomorrow bring for you, for me, for all of us? As we reflect upon the past, don't let your memories drag you down to the bottom, for we are creatures bound for the future. We all have to keep moving on, no matter how dull or how stressful life can get. Tomorrow may bring sorrow, pain, frustration, happiness, or joy, but tomorrow will always bring the future along with it. The past, we cannot change. The future, tomorrow, is up to us to shape. To all my friends and acquaintances I met in Japan: ganbatte! see you all soon in Tokyo!

on watches

learning from observation:

There are two things any guy will notice about another guy: (1) his watch (2) his car. Both these items are like the big elephants in the room, no need to discuss, its pretty glaringly obvious. Since you don't always see a guy's car when you first meet them, I'll focus on watches.

Watches serve two purposes. The first, based on a purely utilitarian perspective, is that a watch is only worn to tell time. The second is a status indicator. Chances are, if a person's watch isn't necessarily flashy, large, crammed with diamonds, or a name brand, that person simply thinks a "watch is a watch," no more, no less.

Timex Camper: $35. Purely utilitarian, simple design, cheap, and made for camping. Chances are, a guy wearing this watch is not interested in impressing you.

Panerai Luminor Marina: upwards of $4,000-$6,000. Classic 1950s Italian watch given to members in the military. Now sells to businessmen and anyone who wants a big old watch with big numbers.
Casio G-Shock: seen in Tokyo for around $90. Yes, these bold retro and neon colored statements tell a lot about the wearer.


A large watch, prominently displayed, is a sure-fire status indicator and confidence builder. It's a clear, initial symbol that exudes either confidence, style, cockiness, or "I'm not messin' around" attitude. For those who don't know about watch brands, keep in mind that if you see a name brand like Rolex, Omega, or a Panerai, a person's probably paying at least $3-4,000 for it. The type of watch tends to resemble a guy's personality, so be especially wary of oversized, jewel-studded time pieces. You're dealing with a very confident individual. If you're not into competition or listening to these strong personas, steer clear. On the other hand, a seemingly simplistic and understated watch, such as a Movado or a vintage Rolex portrays a more nuanced "sense" of class, but be careful, looks can be still deceiving. I'm not denigrating watch wears, but its important to know what types of watches certain guys will wear. Don't be intimidated by a guy wearing a large or expensive brand name watch, but do be wary of how to approach and deal with watch-wearing guys.

Watches, nowadays, seem to be more of an accessory than an essential utilitarian time keeper. The presence of one says much more about a guy than the lack of one. With this in mind, be aware of the power of wearing a watch, and be prepared to deal with a more confident individual if a guy does wear a watch.

As for me, I wear a fake watch procured in Manila, Philippines for around $20. The real thing costs like $3,000, but who wants to pay that much anyway??

what Chicago needs

I don't understand why we don't have one. If Chicago is truly a global city, certain global brands, such as Uniqlo awesomeness should be around town. No need for like 10 Urban Outfitters stores, their clothes are overpriced anyways. Sidenote: we're finally getting a Zara. Finally.

If Mayor Daley has the magical machine political power of sneaking into Meigs Field at night and bulldozing the whole runway, he can magically make all the litigation disappear for this tower.







Let's get these corporate litigation cases on unpaid loans done with. Chicago Spire FTW








Mad Men, set in New York City, is beginning to represent a slicker, more honed-in sartorial style for the American dress code. Despite its 1960s setting, the characters are undoubtedly ones to be envied today. New York City has Mad Men to rep for it. Chicago needs something new in the media to represent itself with.

the anticipated question

[caveat---this post is lengthy]

I can hear it now...

friend: "So, how was Japan?"

me: "It was fun."


Coming to Japan, my picture count (the number of pictures my camera has taken) on my Nikon D80 was at 14,000 something. Now, preparing to leave tomorrow morning, my picture count is at 30,500 photos. What I've experienced here in Japan will never be forgotten, those memories, always cherished.
____

Q: Has this place changed your life?
A: Yes, yes it has.
Q: How so?

The world has become a smaller place, this I know to be true. As of now, it's hard for me to realize the friendships I've made here. But, it does feel good to say, "next time I'm in _____, I'll definitely come visit you!"

Studying abroad for a semester here in Tokyo brought along with it a strange social dynamic. Friendships that normally take years to cultivate, are rushed together in hopes of finding traveling companions. The juggling of handling different groups of friends in the dorms, homestays, and new TUJ acquaintances can prove to be overwhelming. I swear, it was so hectic for the first couple of weekends, trying to figure out who to hang with, all through texting. This frantic rush towards "friendship" has also led to the quick realization of who you don't want to be around. People's true personalities come out in this mentality of "I'm only here for 4 months, so I'll do whatever I want." However, I'm glad I've made a great group of friends here. I now can proudly say I have someone whom I can commission artwork from, a friend who will do some investigative journalism for me, a friend who can do my taxes, a friend who can be nice and subtly cynical when she wants to be, and so on, and so forth. Who knew such talent and potential was crammed into Ontakesan dorms!
____

Q: Did you have any Japanese friends? What were they like?
A: Yes, I made some friends. Let's just say, they are some of the best people I've ever met. Period.

Specifically aimed towards Naomi, Satsuki, Manami, Ayane Yabui, Ayane Yamaguchi, Erika Kimura, April, Hannah, Kozue, and anyone else from TUJ: without you all, I would have been stuck at the コンビニ trying to figure out how to talk to the cashier. You've all encouraged me to go out and explore, meet new people, try new things, and just simply live life to its fullest. At first, I was intimidated at meeting Japanese students. I'm already shy enough as it is, and meeting new people is hard for me. But, thankfully, Clive and company took me along to cultural exchange meetups to meet all of you. And because of them, I've made some great friends here in Tokyo. I want to say thanks for helping me and the rest of the study abroad students with translating and speaking to the Japanese waiters so we could order food and have a good time. I remember a couple of times where no one spoke Japanese, and none of the staff spoke english. Those were some interesting times, to say the least. Without all of you, I would have never found those "hole in the wall" restaurants, karaoke places, and back alleyways of Tokyo and beyond.

私の日本人のともだｔちが大好きです！ありがとうございます！
____

Q: What's the hardest thing about living in Japan?
A: Not speaking the language and knowing that I'll never become "Japanese."

As much as I love Japanese culture, I know I can never be "Japanese." I will forever be a "gaijin," a foreigner in a foreign country. Our assistant dorm manager once told my friend a story of a girl who lived in the dorms last semester. She liked to dress up in the Harajuku style, wearing funky dresses, lots of black, lots of lace, crazy dyed hair, the works. However, when she tried to hang out with the real Harajuku kids and say "Hey, look at me, I'm one of you now," they rejected her. It doesn't matter who you are, if you're not Japanese, you will never be Japanese. Period. It sounds very cynical, but that's how Japanese view societal groupings: uchi vs. soto, inside versus out. Whoever is not in your group, in this case foreigners vs. Japanese, is considered "different" from you, to oversimplify the concept of uchi (うち）vs. soto（そと）.

However, putting this concept aside, I'm forever grateful for the Japanese friends I've made here, who took the time to go out of their way to practice their english skills and meet some random study abroad students :) I know I've already said this, but I'm so grateful I've met all of you.

Not speaking Japanese is a real pain for me, because I so badly want to learn it. Even after a whole semester of learning Japanese, I can barely read what's on billboards. Hiragana is a killer, because I can read the words, but I don't know what they mean. Katakana is difficult because, despite the fact that most of the Katakana words are english, like コーヒー(koohii/coffee), it takes forever to figure out what the word is. Kanji, the chinese characters, are straight up impossible. There are over 5,000 of them that an average Japanese person will learn. I know about 70. Time to start studying.
___

Q: So, what have you learned about friendship?
A: Real friendships last forever.

It sounds corny, it sounds like something written on the inside of a birthday card, but it's true.
I must admit, it's very hard to write about this subject, because so much of my experiences with the friends I've made here are intangible, sometimes bittersweet moments - impossible to write down, impossible to explain. Writing is an imperfect medium as it is, so I'll refrain from recollecting these memories. However, I will say this: I can gladly say that the friends I've made here have made my experience in Japan truly sublime. And when friends say goodbye, they're not really saying goodbye - it's more of a "see you soon." I will definitely see all of you soon (that means you: Clive, Steph, Ryan, Naomi and everyone else).
____

So, there you have it. A short conversation with myself. I hope to write more soon, post-Tokyo. I haven't had time to truly reflect on my experiences, so I will post more entries soon. Now, I must sleep, seeing as I have to wake up at 5am for my flight. I'm lugging two huge suitcases, a carry-on, and a backpack through a subway line, another train, and through the airport in the morning.

just do it

Advice: Take whatever life gives you, and turn it into how you choose to shape your world. Opportunities are everywhere, it just takes a little bit of searching to find what best suits you. And when you do find that perfect opportunity, take it, for life is too short for petty complaints and missed chances. Believe me, this whole journey in Japan has taught me this lesson, the easy, and hard way. Caveat: don't do anything that will haunt you in the future, because everything always comes back full circle.

I don't believe in chance. The world doesn't work that way.

these streets

[taken from my notebook]
Ontakesan/Kugahara/Yukigaya neighborhood at night

I will never forget these streets. Spotless black and grey asphalt, thick white lines demarcating narrow boundaries. Sections of red paint and 止 まれ indicating stopping points. Low guardrails providing space for a very narrow sidewalk area that really, is just part of the road. The stillness of the midnight air is so tranquilizing, relaxing. I could have strolled all night, not knowing where I would be going, streets, eerily familiar, winding up hills, flat sections disappearing into the night, crisscrossing each other. The maze is endless, so many places yet unexplored, anonymous houses and apartment complexes hiding away ordinary people in a not-so-ordinary city. So quiet, so beautifully quiet.

The narrowness of the streets, at least the suburban ones, really add to the feel of this area. Cars barely squeeze through some streets, people quietly walking along, off in their own worlds of work, home, and school. Trees spreading their branches onto the pavement, quiet suburban homes hopeless jammed together, street lamps illuminating stop signs, the occasional old person walking the streets, cool air. For some reason, these small streets make everything, and everyone, feel at ease, as if all the world's worries don't apply to these people, these houses, these streets. I hate the suburbs in the U.S. Here in Tokyo, I actually feel like I could actually belong somewhere. But, everyone has their doors closed to me, no children, no life in these streets.

[photos during the daytime, with considerably more activity in each photo]

ummm...

A lot of places in Harajuku, actually, almost every crazy gothic, lolita, etc. store pretty much hates people taking pictures of their clothes. This policy is probably because tourists/gaijin, like myself, would be tempted to go up and pose with the miniskirt made up entirely of belts and frilly lace. Oh, and that miniskirt would probably cost like $100.

4:22pm

[taken from my notebook] April 8

Golden hour. Today, I saw life go by in slow motion. The train ride home was filled with golden silhouettes of commuters traveling home, school boys trekking back, and buildings rushing past.

I finally went past the "point" of my neighborhood I've never gone past before. The neighborhood seems so tiny now, life, more simple. Gravitating towards some cherry blossoms, I discovered a park. As the wind blew some of the blossoms off the trees, I couldn't help but feel a little sad. Seeing the narrow road covered in pink and white blossoms almost gave me the chills. Such a beautiful season that ends too soon, just as you're about to enjoy it. In a way, I'm just starting to enjoy my time here. Yet, as the cherry blossoms begin their descent, I know I must also leave too.