I am alone but it's okay

I found this video on you can make it easy and found it so incredibly comforting. I am now living in Japan and last night was my first alone in my apartment. Suddenly no one was with me. I shut the door and burst into tears. Home seemed a million miles away and I felt like I had no one to talk to. I stood in the kitchen surrounded by suitcases and bawled like a giant baby. After some tearful skyping  I calmed down and got some sleep. Today I went out and bought a beautiful red mamachari and have spent the evening cruising the streets against a backdrop of a bright red sky and sweltering 32 degrees. I realised I can be alone. It is okay. It's just going to take a bit of practice. I can eat in a restaurant by myself and no one will know me. I can explore the city, take photos, talk to strangers and buy whatever I want for dinner. Last night I wandered through the giant neon lanes of the supermarket dumbfounded with all the new products. I purchased highly impractical things like fancy conditioner, a bunch of flowers and rosehip tea. For dinner I sat watching a japanese gameshow while eating a banana, karaage chicken and a can of Asahi. I'll be up with more posts (and photos!!!) soon as I get settled into this wonderful land that is Japan.

xoxox

Away we go

Pot lucks, to do lists, karaoke till 7am, haphazard packing and many nights on the town. It's last days for celebrating and saying goodbye to those I love!

私は日本に住んでいるのを待つことができない

I'm on the final countdown. Ten days till I move to the land of karaoke, salarymen, mamacharis and bento boxes. My prefecture has the highest percentage of home owned karaoke machines. Eeeh!

Underbelly

Cripes, and I thought Feilding was a bit rough around the edges at times. These photos were taken four miles north of Dublin at Ballymum's towers, a run down housing comission.

The kids in these pictures often steal cars, charge around in them and then burn their conquests as a final farewell. Photographer Ross McDonnell was bold enough to step into their world producing these photographs. Depicting a seedy belly well known in the movies but rarely seen in real life there's a whole lotta adidas tracksuits, gold chains, stolen cars and illegitimate children.

Home sweet home?

I am soon to be moving to Yamagata, Japan. Home of:

-ski fields
-hot springs
-apartments
-pot plants
-cherrry blossoms
-seasides
-snow monsters
-extreme weather
-limited English
- the movie Departures
-whiskey consumption
-personal karaoke machines 
-pagodas
-human chess

I can't begin imagining what this is going to be like. All I know is that is quite possibly the polar opposite of my current home. The information I have come across is fragmented and mysterious providing only a vague notion of what I am about to encounter. Strange snippets of knowledge are precious gems e.g. 'Yamagata has the highest national height for second year high school girls measuring in at 1.56cm'. Adventure awaits, and, for the first time in my life I am going to feel tall. 

Furry fun?

Once upon a time parading around in a furry animal costume was a fun, novel idea reserved for mates themed dress up shin digs and childrens birthday parties ... now it's terrifying! People dressed up in animal costumes instantly conjure up nightmares of being charged after by fetishists into furry sex or small children ... beware.

Has anyone seen my fake tan?

Not to be an old biddy or anything but cripes, there is something very wrong with these pictures. Susan Anderson delves into a frightening American subculture that has flourished over the last decade. First recieving attention after the murder of child pageant winner Jonbenet Ramsay, child beauty pageants have been steadily growing throughout the world. Every year up to 100,000 children under 12 compete in pageants which is quickly transforming into a billion dollar industry. Spray tanning, coaching, make up artists and even veneers are all part of the investment. The ultimate goal is to be pageant winner and envy of every tween in the room.

Scary?

Awkwardness is the spice of life

Some days it seems the world puts on a comical show for only you to see. The other day, as I waited for the bus, an ash blonde woman in tight white jeans and a zebra skin top approached the post shop I was standing in front of. Facing the front of the store she stared at the two sheets of glass that had joined together creating a shop front. She stepped forward. She stepped back. She waved her arms back and forth. Suddenly it dawned on me that she thought the window panes were an electric door.

"Excuse me" I said. "The door is on the other side."

Looking bewildered she smiled at me appreciatively and made her way tentatively to the real sliding doors. The bus that I was waiting for was late. Instead of the my faithful chariot, the number 13 arrived and a man put his girlfriend on the bus.

"Goodbye my darling! Goodbye!!!" he yelled while waving furiously and hopping from one foot to another. As the bus started to move he ran beside it, creating an epic love story moment, bound to be imprinted in their minds forever. Instead of watching his lover become a tiny blip in the distance as the bus turned the corner, it ground to a halt at the red light. Things became awkward.

Craft fail

Fucking hedgehogs.

Janet George, my primary school teacher, was obsessed with craft. I disliked her a lot. The woman would arrive at school with hot glue guns, crepe paper and sequins that would get stuck in your hair, cardigan and other highly inappropriate places. My peers loved Janet George, she was a craft crusader bringing fun and frivolity into our lives.

My problem was simple. I was craft challenged. I loved a funky kitten collage as much as the next person but my apparent lack of skills resulted in collage visual massacres that left even my parents appalled.

One day Janet George brought pine cones, fabric, needles, thread and hot glue guns to school. Her red button nose was particularly red that day, she was flushed with excitement.

I love you MJ but you're scaring me

With the self deluded granduer that can only come from living at the highest heights of fame, MJ's commissioned portraits are scary. He took joy in the naivety and innocence that only a child can possess and there is nothing wrong with that. I do think he was innocent and an easy target because of his strangeness and (soon depleted) wealth. At very least the portraits highlight how the late king of pop was living in a pure state of delusional fantasy wonderland.