tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88029682024-03-13T20:30:17.241-07:00Starting over with everything..I lived and worked in Japan for a long time and have come back in a time of economic and ever present family drama to try and gain a foothold in my so-called home country. Armed with nothing but dog fur, a crappy car, a laptop that hates me, I try to see how far I can get.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.comBlogger362125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-47417812569276299062007-03-15T22:04:00.000-07:002007-03-15T22:06:40.516-07:00Today's suggested activity<a href="http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/collecting_double_takes.png"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 392px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 402px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="393" alt="" src="http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/collecting_double_takes.png" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-59326526114152279852007-03-15T01:16:00.000-07:002007-03-15T01:39:03.605-07:00HaaaaaahmmmmmmrrrrraaahI don't know what's going on lately. I'm restless, crazy, lazy, but active, hungry for sweets, but not hungry at all, etc... I feel like I've been travelling in a daze for about two weeks or so. It's a strange daze in which I feel that the remote to my life has been stuck in fast forward for a bit and the tracking on the tape is a little fuzzy. Yes, I still work with video. I'm not a DVD kinda girl. Gaah! I'm gonna make a cake.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-73041457846253053752007-03-08T21:43:00.000-08:002021-07-28T02:43:24.750-07:00Funny-strange, not funny-hahaToday was my Junior High School graduation ceremony. Didn't you know Japan has a graduation ceremony everytime you switch schools, nursery school=> kindergarten=> elementary school => junior high school=> high school / trade school=> university/the rest of your life. It's tedious to say the least. All I could think of today was, god I'm freezing, I'm so cold. If I were any colder parts of me would be gangrenous. I wasn't thinking, 'oh how sad and proud I am of all these fine students' or 'I can't believe I've taught some of these kids through 4 grades now.'
I have a few students that I really loved and actually knew their names. I just find that I'm detached towards the end of the year for the people who leave JHS because of the type of person they act like. For the most part, I can't even blame them. The come from elementary school, fresh faced, creative and caring students, ready to learn and absorb the world. Instead of nurturing that uniquiness, they are treated like gortex pinatas that take three years to get beaten down to be the exact mold of each other. It's heart wrenching and if I think about it too much I get really upset. I do have some students that haven't totally gotten beaten to a pulp quite yet. I'll post pictures probably in a week or so as my computer has limited space on it and I have to wait til pay day to get my external hard drive. I took pictures with the majority of my favorites. Yes, teachers have favorites. Get over it, it's a fact of life, but the teacher's pets aren't always the one's you think they are.
I pretty much love all of my communications class (the special needs class). I sadly hadn't taught them for about 3 months due to a heavy elementary school schedule, but they are absolutely incredible. They are little balls of energy, some which have very hard to find 'on' switches. They brightened my day everytime I got to see them. They tried hard, in spite of their disabilities and warmed everyone's heart with their smiles and laughter. They were smart too. Shockingly they would understand things that not even their "normal" counterparts would. Three of the 8 or so students in that class, graduated this year, so I won't be seeing them for a long time. I suspect the class will be a lot quieter next year also. It was wonderful to see their mother's so proud and happy of their kids.
Other than that their a handful of kids, who I adored because of their creativity, their drive, their personality, but I'll write about them when I put the pictures up. Now, I have to go back to work and try and look busy. I have things to do, but my head's in too many places to try and do them.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-3994106940656661612007-02-28T01:23:00.000-08:002007-02-28T22:18:03.503-08:00Free at last, free at last!!!!!!!!!!!!Oh good lordy, I have taught 16 elementary school classes in the past three days and today was my final day! Not only was it my final day this week, but it was my final day for a few months. At least two! Do you know what this means?!? It means I can come home from work not completely exhausted. It means, I don't have to sing and dance unless I'm drunk at home or elsewhere. It means, I don't have to constantly wash my hands because I won't come into contact with child boogies every 5 mins. It means, I'm free to be la-a-a-z-y! Yea!!!!!!! I love my kids, don't get me wrong, but it's fantastic, out of this world break considering I've taught anywhere from 8-16 elementary classes weekly (plus the occassional JHS class bringing my average class total to 18-20 every week) since the mid-October. Excluding the time I was in the US, oh glorious US. I'm gonna Tae Bo now.<br /><br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/r4n-gqUk1B8" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"></embed>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-68143901133636768062007-02-22T16:19:00.000-08:002007-02-22T17:07:04.173-08:00ObsessionI'm sooooo glad it's Friday. Not that I've had a particularly hard week or anything. I just find lately that I have an inclination towards not working that makes me look forward to the weekend as if it were Christmas. The weekends are a time for me to sleep in til 8:30, lounge in my pjs and eat peaches out of cans while watching <a href="http://turbo.discovery.com/american-chopper/american-chopper.html"><em>American Choppers</em> </a>and theories on anthrax in the mail. Bliss, sheer bliss!!<br /><br />However, lately I haven't been able to sleep really well for thinking about what I want to buy or how I'm going to redecorate my living room. I think of color schemes, making chair covers, spring cleaning. I threw 4 large garbage bags of things from my front room. Remnants of many years of teachers living in my house are strewn all over that front room. The majority is crap that the previous girl from England thought I might appreciate, things like: <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/David-Victoria-Invitation-James-Maloney/dp/0304353833"><em>David and Victoria, an Invitation to the Wedding</em> </a>(David Beckham and Posh Spice's wedding, with full color exciting photos), coloring books about London, business cards of people she met, spy novels that a 4th grader wouldn't be tempted to read, etc... Most of that stuff is now in the garbage, hurray!! Is it sad that I can't wait to go home and clean something or move something into a new box or storage unit? Maybe I should get out more...sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-4800519729009972232007-02-19T23:21:00.000-08:002007-02-20T00:09:14.684-08:00Poop socks<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwDg1K9thAn1oquH3zLJgRS1wzE-3zz9lC-8X29lT_UPo9rGAFRsaBADFNt_ogHva63v0rmGD81mwETyvnDIZudYqbtKnRAEniWVsBAsEwhJdgSL9wvXHUQBG_bz18YUvxjPQ/s1600-h/poopie+socks.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5033525290128940930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwDg1K9thAn1oquH3zLJgRS1wzE-3zz9lC-8X29lT_UPo9rGAFRsaBADFNt_ogHva63v0rmGD81mwETyvnDIZudYqbtKnRAEniWVsBAsEwhJdgSL9wvXHUQBG_bz18YUvxjPQ/s320/poopie+socks.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Arriving at my elementary school today, the kids are busily cleaning the school as normal. I notice a group of kids huddled around something mysterious. Soon after a teacher shoos them away saying, 'there's nothing to see here, go to class' After I glance over to what the kids are walking away from, I see a turd wrapped up in tissue. (Cue, dry heaving motion.) Where the poop came from I haven't a clue and frankly I think I'm better off not knowing.<br /><br />So I go to class and everything is going great until the game ends and the kids sit down. I then hear a kid in the corner yelling, "Ah!!!! UNCHI!!! UNCHI!!! UNCHI!!!" (Turd, turd, turd!) and pointing to a mushed brown spot on the carpet. Sure enough, the mysterious poop from the hallway made it's way inside my classroom. The girl next to the boy starts screaming too as she now has poopie on her socks. (We're not allowed to wear shoes in that classroom) So she takes her socks off and puts them in a heap and stares at them disgusted. (I find that a bit ironic considering she was picking her nose for most of class and regularly scratches herself, but I would do the same probably.) Everyone checks there own socks and sitting area and I make everyone move to the right. I make the boy who first spotted the poop stand-up and let me see the back of his pants to make sure he hasn't any poop smudges on the back of his pants. After the crisis was averted, we went to our drawing activity, while their homeroom teacher dashed outside to get poop cleaning supplies. I'm so happy I don't have to clean it.<br /><br />After class, the girl with poop socks tries to leave them there, but another girl picks them up very carefully and tells her to take them. The other girl, screams and says, "No way!" to which her friend, her true friend I might add because there would've been no way I'd pick up poopie socks in the third grade, says "But they're <em>your </em>socks!" Then she responds with, "So what, they have poop on them!" I think I'm nodding slightly in agreement. The other girl said, "just put 'em in the washer and they'll be good as new." Cue the other girl running out of the room. See why I like teaching the 3rd grade? </div>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-15518185554216667392007-02-19T03:36:00.000-08:002007-02-19T16:01:21.394-08:00Fashionable in the 3rd gradeToday I was reminiscing about my favorite outfits in the third grade. One was a lovely turquoise/ borderline teal blue sweatpant outfit (blue sweatshirt and sweatpants) from K-mart or maybe JCPenny's am not sure. And another was my acid washed jeans (I'm an 80's child, gimmie a break) with my white turtleneck and green v-neck preppy sweater accompanied by a high side ponytail. Ah a vision, was I. And lastly my puffy paint smiley-face sweater that said, 'Don't worry' on the front and 'Be happy' on the back. Worn of course with the afore mentioned jeans and white turtleneck. Stylin'.<br /><br />Today as I was teaching one of my favorite 3rd grade classes (3rd grade is my favorite grade to teach) I got several compliments on my outfit and hair today. Peachy button-up shirt with jeans, blue socks with white dogs on them (we can't wear shoes in the room I teach) and a headband to try and tame my hair from the monstrosity of a pouf it was in the morning. I felt really nice when these little kids all came to agreement on my outfit. Little kids who have bears and hearts and rabbits on their shirts. They sure as hell dress a lot better than me in the 3rd grade. I am perfectly contented to be a fashionista in the 3rd grade. May all of you have good hair day tomorrow. With that I leave you with a happy song.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AhAjrIAFiJ0"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AhAjrIAFiJ0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-8797275574379925692007-02-13T17:03:00.000-08:002007-02-12T19:54:19.179-08:00Happy Valentine's DayHere's hoping you don't get your car stuck in a ditch, right in front of your workplace (causing your vice principal to make an announcement of your stupidity and ask for male volunteers to witness your stupidity) like I did this morning. This is a wish I have for you everyday, but I really mean it on Valentine's day. At least, as my co-worker said, I'm having a good hair day.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-2746482690510892622007-02-11T19:15:00.000-08:002007-02-08T20:09:42.191-08:00Sweet, sweet rest!Good lordy has this been a good weekend! Sleep, sleep, sleep! I missed it sooooo much. Sorry for this being such a lame post, but I feel like a thousand dollars. (I don't know what a million of anything feel like so I find it better to stick to familiar sayings.) I slept the majority of the three day weekend, partially because I'm sick, partially because I was exhausted from work and etc, etc.. I'm all good now. And I'm off to get some food Yea!!!!!!!!!!sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-72713630957566745542007-02-06T21:32:00.000-08:002007-02-06T21:51:05.283-08:00DefinitionsWhile teaching a first grade class a Valentine's day lesson, I got some unexpected replies. (Mind you that first graders are 6 or 7 years old.) While showing this card <p align="center"><a href="http://www.free-graphics.com/clipart/Animals/Land_Animals/Mice_in_Love.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 245px; CURSOR: hand" height="271" alt="" src="http://www.free-graphics.com/clipart/Animals/Land_Animals/Mice_in_Love.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><div>I asked what they thought was going on in the card. (My intended meaning was "LOVE") I got these answers, in Japanese:</div><br /><div></div><br /><div align="center"><em>One mouse likes the other one!</em><br /></div><div align="center"><em>That mouse owes the other one money!</em><br /></div><div align="center"><em>He's giving her a present!</em></div><div align="center"><em>They're hungry!</em><br /></div><div></div><br /><div>After explaining, that it was supposed to represent "love," I asked what they thought the meaning of "love" to be:</div><br /><div></div><br /><div align="center"><em>Couples!</em></div><br /><div align="center"><em>Rabu-rabu! (translated as reciprocated love)</em></div><br /><div align="center"><em>SEX! (with gestures)</em></div><br /><div align="center"><em>Babies!</em></div><br /><div align="left">Sometimes it's hard to maintain a straight face...</div>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-22015625991806452472007-02-06T01:57:00.000-08:002007-02-06T02:51:37.487-08:00Home Part II<div align="center">Back to Seattle..</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028358799061781602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmxLYy-LpzDqtxO6-hlVdCPa-nm-xKglpBKbX52talIMZ3hSZCMSwGOlevODyglHH2Ot32WZpfHZMM5KSGlFBbfnvtZQXomsG_PtdaNypu9IU2jm76jfX3MDLacV2wsoWV_-U/s320/CIMG2883.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">in search for the 12th man</div><div align="center">I found some hippies...</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028359262918249586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6vGX1KZaCPkg_7CKQJEiqW1jhJ5rdeKuZeaMsNp7FiK8OR3yGPJ6P28jWBXd1OJzN3s_e8o6htagoBqHISPnrNH5p3AfWWA0RyeqMVZGyjENzoeyYUjnd1gP7UEdCRQpM684/s320/CIMG2880.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">who took me to a groovy cupcake place. </div><div align="center">I really don't remember how I ended up home...</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028359911458311298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvVSXPXcG0AlKB4AEMcX2kPDpMlGcY49u8ta5laG_7gIoYaAfOcSnEIn1XRPrGwpLF524_V1K9hEV2wTIiDHwBTkadd4hLqL6dsKMg-jMxQlm3NK5XPT2BQWPxsFHYQ__-Y74/s320/CIMG2897.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">Or how I ended up with drink after drink in my hand...</div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMELkpOZC-oXj00sthmn8BXuWIst3ggqdIVWERmjMjtTr_ympz-Of6FA2F1nNoTJvh_a3wNJhfONyzzh9jYQ7-CnxuFimtxl3hF19IYfWXfMXzxREKjqD7SGD-831mNIaCYgk/s1600-h/CIMG2909.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028360602948045970" style="CURSOR: hand" height="116" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMELkpOZC-oXj00sthmn8BXuWIst3ggqdIVWERmjMjtTr_ympz-Of6FA2F1nNoTJvh_a3wNJhfONyzzh9jYQ7-CnxuFimtxl3hF19IYfWXfMXzxREKjqD7SGD-831mNIaCYgk/s200/CIMG2909.JPG" width="189" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3rNgHjfi4N9xX7iq50-vGu-0G-qxNkcAT5YeUeHpIpduFmgXihmNMAqIJ6SclQ4kW06QTtkcLg1EeU6kn2WBDfS3DQB4ALpoZkgQpI3bOOY56GcFlXQ987toUj1AvU-4wcU8/s1600-h/CIMG2900.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028360607243013282" style="CURSOR: hand" height="119" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3rNgHjfi4N9xX7iq50-vGu-0G-qxNkcAT5YeUeHpIpduFmgXihmNMAqIJ6SclQ4kW06QTtkcLg1EeU6kn2WBDfS3DQB4ALpoZkgQpI3bOOY56GcFlXQ987toUj1AvU-4wcU8/s200/CIMG2900.JPG" width="184" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOmZ6MQiBTQA9fKW1R8ahfXmt4oUP-ugoQxAJRzDOkjZgKuwnKcmcQG9dUPseKwBn4Q861Ne9XWVM2BcgqcGrYzTIt6-qiJD8v4MgL-Th4pmAVTC1oJwAbH6_cfRLQnVv8Ygk/s1600-h/CIMG2908.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028360611537980594" style="CURSOR: hand" height="119" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOmZ6MQiBTQA9fKW1R8ahfXmt4oUP-ugoQxAJRzDOkjZgKuwnKcmcQG9dUPseKwBn4Q861Ne9XWVM2BcgqcGrYzTIt6-qiJD8v4MgL-Th4pmAVTC1oJwAbH6_cfRLQnVv8Ygk/s200/CIMG2908.JPG" width="160" border="0" /></a><br /></p><div align="center">Or how the hell I ended up with these pictures...<br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRFc3dvZ3gaSDDedzCIGyd9Yr6uIfNiwVNEfc07w4t6yJ0PRhj05qBLGwpUvFKQtPe6C4OG_nPmwCGaMycawpLk1iBxgb_nJMynubq-CsCUxU3bBa_SCPaa2OQhg3AcdgxzOA/s1600-h/CIMG2935.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028360916480658626" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRFc3dvZ3gaSDDedzCIGyd9Yr6uIfNiwVNEfc07w4t6yJ0PRhj05qBLGwpUvFKQtPe6C4OG_nPmwCGaMycawpLk1iBxgb_nJMynubq-CsCUxU3bBa_SCPaa2OQhg3AcdgxzOA/s200/CIMG2935.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">I blame this cat... and maybe the cupcakes.</div><div align="center">Good cupcakes.. mmm.</div><div align="center">**********</div><div align="center">I managed to find my longtime crush at a bar...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsslumVco0KD-d0mbSBLEJn0j4aZRic7K4cRAMmeaSEtFWHfqRf_wgL2IMVF_wjqvQNhLNeiie6OSS73gIemP87L40j2o8ysa4-CuO5NMp34WDShDvSLgAedujq8UR00_OL6c/s1600-h/CIMG2944.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028361453351570642" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsslumVco0KD-d0mbSBLEJn0j4aZRic7K4cRAMmeaSEtFWHfqRf_wgL2IMVF_wjqvQNhLNeiie6OSS73gIemP87L40j2o8ysa4-CuO5NMp34WDShDvSLgAedujq8UR00_OL6c/s320/CIMG2944.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">Maybe we'll look back at this photo at our wedding.</div><div align="center">*************</div><div align="center">HA! Joking, joking... sigh.<br /><br /></div>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-1169995367556319982007-01-28T05:53:00.000-08:002007-01-28T06:42:47.573-08:00Home, home on the range...<div align="center">My trip begins...</div><div align="center"> <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/1600/236729/CIMG2747.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/320/665498/CIMG2747.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">We go to a magical place called Chucky Cheese.<br /> <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/1600/279148/CIMG2865.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/320/558699/CIMG2865.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">Then I jet off to Paris...</div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/1600/234297/CIMG2862.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/320/98706/CIMG2862.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">And we meet Simon Cowell..<br /> <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/1600/368094/CIMG2854.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/320/967930/CIMG2854.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">And Whoopi.</div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/1600/586167/CIMG2792.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/320/128689/CIMG2792.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">Got drunk and tried to join the Circus.</div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/1600/797960/CIMG2799.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" height="148" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/320/784712/CIMG2799.jpg" width="198" border="0" /></a><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/1600/428517/CIMG2798.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" height="147" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/320/23812/CIMG2798.jpg" width="184" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">Rejected, I and my brother started on a journey</div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/1600/190262/CIMG2818.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/320/294792/CIMG2818.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">Met some bums on the beach</div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/1600/124911/CIMG2821.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/320/147135/CIMG2821.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">We played some football</div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/1600/38326/CIMG2803.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/320/338087/CIMG2803.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">And I lost so I had to give this one a donut.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/1600/710937/CIMG2838.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2376/615/320/754105/CIMG2838.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">Then we hugged in the parking lot to prove there was no hard feelings.</div><div align="center">*************</div><div align="center">Stay tuned for the next installment...</div><div align="center"> *************<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-1169545976596477652007-01-23T01:46:00.000-08:002007-01-23T01:52:56.620-08:00Only in Japan...can you find a cat in a car in a parking lot, dressed in a pink and white checkered buttoned up collared shirt. I would have taken a picture but some lady was staring at me like <em>I </em>was a freak.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-1169511288218963872007-01-22T16:00:00.000-08:002007-01-22T16:14:48.296-08:00HomecomingSorry for not having written in a while. I've been pretty busy since coming back and frankly couldn't be bothered when I was in the states. Happy New Year to all and I hope you had a good holiday season. Going home was crazy. I felt like such an outsider for most of the time. Not necessarily in a bad way, but not quite comfortable. I saw all my family and friends and even some people I never counted on seeing which was amazing and very surreal. It strange to see people grow up, but it's even stranger to see someone and leave for an extended period and see them blossom into a completely different person. Forgive me if I sound spacy, I'm still pretty tired as I haven't really gotten proper rest and haven't even unpacked properly yet. <br /><br />To everyone back home, thank you so much for everything. I had a great time and was really sad to leave. I still have a bit of lingering homesickness but the temperature and my car have helped me overcome it a bit. I will write more later when I can and post pictures up from the trip. I'll be sending pictures to people personally this weekend because I think I have a break in my schedule. Love you all.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-1166406205337010142006-12-17T17:34:00.000-08:002006-12-17T17:45:32.486-08:00A Christmas story<p align="center"><a href="http://www.thepartyshop.com/Commerce/images/1997%20Feliz%20Navidad.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 172px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px" height="268" alt="" src="http://www.thepartyshop.com/Commerce/images/1997%20Feliz%20Navidad.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><p><br />I love you all. Here is a Christmas story to get you in the spirit<br /><br />T'was the night before Christmas </p><p>and all through la casa<br />Not a creature was stirring, </p><p>only the masa.</p><p> Mama making tamales con mucho cuidado<br />In hopes old Santa would feel obligado<br />To bring all the hijos, both buenos y malos<br />A nice batch of dulces and other regalos<br />Mis hermanos and I went to sleep in our camas Some in calsones, some in piyamas<br />Cuando out in the yard I heard un gran grito That I jumped to my feet like a frightened cabrito<br />And who in the world do you think que era?<br />El mero mero with his venados estaban afuera<br />Santa Claus in a sleigh with a big sombrero<br />Came dashing along like a little bombero<br />I watched as they came, and this little fat hombre<br />Was shouting and whistling, and calling by nombre<br />"Ay PEPE, AY JESSE, AY CUCA, AY BETO<br />AY PANCHO, AY CHATO, CHUY Y NETO!"<br />Then standing straight up, with his hands on his pecho,<br />He flew to the top of our very own techo<br />With his round little belly like a bowl of jalea<br />He struggled to squeeze down our old chimenea<br />Then huffing and puffing, and a little cansado<br />He picked up a bag that looked so pesado<br />He filled all the stockings with lovely regalos<br />For none of the hijos had been very malos<br />Then chuckling aloud, seeming very contento<br />He turned like a flash and was gone like the viento<br />As I heard him exclaim and this is verdad,<br />"MERRY CHRISTMAS A TODOS! FELIZ NAVIDAD!" </p>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-1165934715478640902006-12-12T05:34:00.000-08:002006-12-12T06:45:15.556-08:00Chick flicksI'm obviously spending too much time at home. I was sick yesterday and spent the greater portion of the day sleeping. I slept so much I was a walking zombie around my house last night until I saw a show that reviewed the 50 best chick flicks of all time. Most I agreed with but I think a true chick flick list reflects the chick flick watcher's experience (ratio, how many times watched : how much you cry, even when you know what will happen) or something like that. 50 is too big so, I'm gonna only do 20 or so. Feel free to agree or disagree.<br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://ils.unc.edu/~vongm/VanityMcCon.GIF"><img style="WIDTH: 124px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 260px" height="321" alt="" src="http://ils.unc.edu/~vongm/VanityMcCon.GIF" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://www.cg-32.com/cg-32/tcruise3.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 173px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px" height="234" alt="" src="http://www.cg-32.com/cg-32/tcruise3.jpg" border="0" /></a></p> <br /><div align="center"> <a href="http://www.cbc.ca/arts/images/pics/cusack2.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 178px; CURSOR: hand" height="280" alt="" src="http://www.cbc.ca/arts/images/pics/cusack2.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://www.xuxus.blogger.com.br/keanureeves.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.xuxus.blogger.com.br/keanureeves.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="left"><br />20. Waiting to Exhale<br />*Fine men and we learned how to burn a car and look fab while doing it.<br />19. Amelie (France)<br />*Awkward, strange and very cute, everything love should be.<br />18. Like Water for Chocolate (Mexico)<br />*Mexico, evil family members, love and food with magical powers, it's hot!<br />17. Must Love Dogs<br />*Sooo, gonna be my life in the future, hopefully I'll get to meet John Cusack.<br />16. Whale Rider (New Zealand)<br />*Such a powerful film for all girls to watch, I cry everytime she gives the speech.<br />15. Love Actually (UK)<br />*This movie is good on so many levels I don't know what to say. I love HG's crab dance.<br />14. Wedding Planner<br />* I hate J-Lo. Everyone knows this, but my love knows no bounds for Matthew McConaughey.<br />13. My Best Friend's Wedding.<br />*Ever gal's nightmare come true. What to do when your back-up marries and you will be left alone to roam the earth with cats?<br />12. Dirty Dancing<br />*"Nobody puts baby in the corner." Nuf said.<br />11.My Big Fat Greek Wedding<br />*Change the names to Garcia or Lopez and add some Catholicism and Spanishyou have a Big Fat Mexican Wedding.<br />10.The Notebook<br />*Such a sexy and endearing story. I cried so much I almost used a whole tissue box.<br />9.Romeo and Juliette<br />*I bought the soundtrack and Complete works of William Shakespear after I saw it. Nerdy, yes, but I don't mind. Sadly lost the CD and used the book to decorate.<br />8. The Lake House<br />*Keanu and Sandra? Sexy times 1,000! I cried harder the second time, proving it's chick flick power.<br />7.Sleepless in Seattle<br />*Gotta give the props to my town. Okay, technically not my town, but I've been to almost all the places in the movie, more than a few times. And I can quote nearly the entire movie.<br />6.Top Gun<br />*Tom Cruise in dress whites? This is not a guy's movie. I have a 8X10 Bk/Wh glossy.<br />5.Say Anything<br />*Lloyd Dobler is so creepy and romantic. Reminds me of so many guys I know. *sigh*<br />4.Sixteen Candles<br />*If only we could all the a guy to get our undies back.<br />3.Practical Magic<br />*I love this movie because it's so damn cute and I love Sandra Bullock and even Ms Kidman.<br />2.Bridget Jones' Diary(UK)<br />*She is every woman.<br />1.Pretty Woman<br />*This movie made it okay to have 10 second fantasies of running away and becoming a prostitute in Hollywood.<br /><br /><br /></div>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-1165840520878517492006-12-11T03:57:00.000-08:002006-12-11T04:35:20.956-08:00Wonders never cease<a href="http://mud.mm-a3.yimg.com/image/970938903"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 121px" height="146" alt="" src="http://mud.mm-a3.yimg.com/image/970938903" border="0" /></a> Had a sick day today and as my punishment there is nothing but poo on TV. As I've commented before, you can find some amusing things on Japanese TV at times. And if there is nothing on TV like today, you'll actually watch it. The show I watched had Japanese celebrities run away from Carl Lewis for a half an hour. You know, Carl Lewis, one of the fastest men of the world at one time, winner of 10 Olympic medals (9 Gold) 10 World Championships (8 Gold). And as entertainment he chases normal Japanese people at a very slow pace, while the Japanese people run away at full speed, screaming from the fast black man. Jesus. I was mildly entertained after he had caught everyone and they played God Bless America in the background. I can't wait to come home. 9 days, 9 long days...sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-1165470524703671532006-12-06T21:30:00.000-08:002006-12-06T21:51:20.086-08:00A little place I like to call JamexicaI am my own island. I can be content in my home about 90% all at times. My house in Japan (Ja) where a mexicana (mex) american (ica) lives. Jamexica. I love mostly everything when I'm in my little house, except the fact that it isn't insulated and I don't have an electric plug in my toilet and therefore cannot get an electric toilet seat. Heaven has heated toilet seats, lemme tell you. That's living. Ahem, anyway...<br /><br />Outside of my home is when I'm highly irritable and curse the country and the people that live here (incompetent teachers who show up 30 mins late for class and leave after 10 mins to help prepare lunch and say you're gonna come back, but then don't come back and in turn leave you with a huge project and ungrateful little messy kids; people who can't drive because obviously if I'm on a main street and am turning right onto a side street which you are on, that gives you who is waiting oh-so-ever impatiently to cut me off and turn right onto the main street; teachers who say they are busy, when they give you all their work to do and they aren't doing one fucking thing; etc...). I need a vacation and I need it now. Why oh why didn't I call in sick today?sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-1165380864064361542006-12-05T20:21:00.000-08:002006-12-05T20:54:24.086-08:00Never again<a href="http://www.uspa.org/about/gallery%20images/7a.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.uspa.org/about/gallery%20images/7a.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.uspa.org/about/gallery%20images/7a.htm"></a>I came home for lunch today and did some menial chores around the house. Hang laundry before it molds in the washer, check. Fold dry clothes, check. Turn on heater, check. Start lunch, check. Eat half healthy, check. Watch tv, check. Throw trash out, check. Sit down and watch with full attention, check, check. Normally there is a crap-o-rama fest at lunchtime on TV, but today they had one of those survivor shows, you know, I shouldn't be alive or something. They had this guy who got stuck to the step he was stepping off of when he was doing a solo free style dive with some buddies. He stayed upside down for more than 40 mins. That's not why I'm telling this story. I am telling this story to say how sick I felt watching people dive. They showed normal dives over and over. Climbing out on a tiny step, hanging on to nothing but a wing strut, it's facking crazy. And I did it twice!!! What the hell was I thinking? No wonder my mom got so mad after I told her what I did. I didn't go on a free style dive, but I did do a static dive (alone with your parachute attached to a hook inside the plane, when the parachute goes taut the static line pulls your parachute out for you and releases you. Did I mention you are free falling and have let go the the strut to make the line go taut?) Yea, it's crazy. I distinctly remember being scared out of my mind jumping 6 feet down during training. How the hell did I climb out of a moving plane and drop 3,500 feet? BY MYSELF, TWICE. Man, seeing jumping from the jumpers view makes me think, wow, that's freakin' awesome and man, what I won't do after I've paid to do it. I'm glad I go senseless and do crazy things once in a while. I hope I do that for the rest of my life.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-1165319025524706252006-12-05T03:39:00.000-08:002006-12-05T03:43:45.540-08:00Have you ever...bought something for someone because that was the special thing they liked and when they didn't show up, eat it in defiance? I eat you ice cream, as a rebel act. Ha!sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-1164960073821107272006-11-30T23:46:00.000-08:002006-12-01T00:01:14.106-08:00In a land where I am Santa..I've been teaching Christmas at my elementary school this week. I get asked questions like have I ever seen Santa and does he really live in America like their older brother said, etc... But that's not exactly talking about when I say that I am Santa. All my students have gone into hug overdrive since last week. Girls and boys seem to think that's the appropriate greeting for me now as I pass down the hall. I've decorated the AV room with Christmas decorations the kids made. I'll take a picture next week. This week, I'm being told secrets galore. I have a feeling it's because of the Christmasy environment that I made and the fact I know Santa personally. Kind of like why you tell priests what you did wrong, so they can pass the word onto the head honcho. I got told by a first grader today when all his friends left that he was gonna get to go to Huis Ten Bosch, a bavarian type theme park near my place made too look like Bavaria or Holland or some place European. As you can tell I haven't been there. But interestingly the story didn't stop there, the reason he was able to go was because his dad was getting a 1,000 dollar bonus and because of that he could go to there <em>and</em> was getting a Nintendo DS. I love it when little kids tell you too much information. A girl today told me she got to see Santa in the Philippines. When I asked why she was in the Philippines she said it was when she was small (she's in the 5th grade) and<em> </em><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>because she was half Filipino (said in a whisper). </em></span><span style="font-size:100%;">I told her that was really cool, (half kids aren't cool unless you're half something from an English speaking country) and that my auntie and sister-in-law was Filipino. Man, you should have seen the smile on her face, she said, yea I think it is too and ran away. I dunno, it just all makes me feel like Santa. </span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-1164718256892252232006-11-28T03:58:00.000-08:002006-11-28T04:50:57.720-08:00Apples<p align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2376/615/1600/fuyu%20zakura%20bk%20wh.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 362px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 260px" height="265" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2376/615/320/fuyu%20zakura%20bk%20wh.jpg" width="432" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">(<em>Fuyuzakura, winter cherry blossoms, Nagano-ken)</em></span><br /></strong>I'm finally more than half healthy right now. I can't tell you what a relief that is. I've got another 23 or 22 days (depends on if you count today or not) until I go home. I've got 16 days of work left, though they are 16 really hecktic days. None the less, I'm looking forward to going home and keeping busy while I'm here. Last weekend I got to go to Nagoya and see my <em>ojiichan and obaachan </em>(grandpa and grandma).<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2376/615/1600/t%20and%20car.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" height="219" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2376/615/320/t%20and%20car.jpg" width="266" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2376/615/1600/baachan%20and%20okaasan.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" height="193" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2376/615/320/baachan%20and%20okaasan.jpg" width="258" border="0" /></a><br /> Tanaka Tanaka's wife and random<br /> country old lady<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2376/615/1600/temple%20and%20leaves.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2376/615/320/temple%20and%20leaves.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2376/615/1600/140325112006.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2376/615/320/140325112006.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="left">We went to Nagano prefecture, (winter olympics place a few years back) north of Nagoya to the countryside. All the leaves were changing in all their beautiful glory. Everything happened a bit slower this year because it was so warm in October. On top of that, I got to see rare cherry blossoms in November. I know, big whoop right? Cherry blossoms are so infinitely representative of Japan to me, that they do and forever will remind me of Japan. These trees normally bloom in April, but these rare trees bloom twice a year, really gorgeous among all the <em>momiji, </em>Japanese maple, changing color with everything else around. Not to mention there were snow capped mountains off in the distance. I can't download all the pictures from my phone and like an idiot I forgot my camera the day I left because I woke up massively late and had to run to the station for my life to catch my train. Anyways, I've said it before and I'll say it again; trees make me happy. Here's the picture to prove it. </p><p align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2376/615/1600/me%20and%20sakuras.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2376/615/320/me%20and%20sakuras.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="left">We went to Nagano to see the cherry blossoms and to get apples. I've got a crap load of expensive, delicious country apples. I can't tell you how happy I was to be in an apple orchard again. I teared up a bit when I went out there. I've decided all people who own orchards are bound to look like my uncle Jim and my dad, despite their nationality. They had the smallest little trees. I laughed when they asked me if I'd been to an orchard before. God there is something about the smell of orchard. Anyways I was one happy camper, as you can see. I'll have some better photos later on when I get hard copies of the pictures I took with Tanaka's camera. </p><p align="left">I'm sure there is something more interesting than this, but not to me right now. </p>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-1164098721747087242006-11-21T00:44:00.000-08:002006-11-21T00:45:21.856-08:00Some days I love my jobs and some days....I have a constant reminder to take my birth control that day. Today is a birth control day. I swear that some children just wake up that morning with a plan to be annoying.<br /><br />Me: "Do you want to play the game?"<br />Everyone: "Yes!!!"Me: "Okay, then you have to be quiet so you can listen to the instructions right?"<br />Good kids: "Yes!!"<br />Annoying children: "I don't know how to play the game, I don't know how to play the game, I don't know what she's saying, hahaha, (to the kid next to them) haha, do you know this game, what does this sign say? (As I am explaining, the rules and what the sign says.)<br />Good kids: Shut up! Didn't you hear her? We want to play the game!<br />Annoying children: "What, what, what did you say? I can't hear you cause other people are talking."<br /><br />And so on, and so on... It always bothers me most when best classes that you've had are the youngest children in the school and the older kids act worse than the young kids ever do. The only thing that made me feel a little bit better was when I was untangling a mass of strings and clips after school created my the annoying children and I had some of the 1st and 4th graders come in and start playing with my picture cards. Instead of saying them in Japanese they were saying them all in English and asking each other how to pronounce things. While that was going on, I had another 1st grade boy walk outside of the classroom yelling, I'm happy, happy, happy, happy, happy.... which was one of today's new phrases. Thank God for little kids.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-1164031105459742562006-11-20T05:56:00.000-08:002006-11-20T05:59:21.276-08:00How people get to Saga<a href="http://www.japantimes.co.jp/life/images/cartoons/thumbs/ca20061015gm.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 423px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 178px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="182" alt="" src="http://www.japantimes.co.jp/life/images/cartoons/thumbs/ca20061015gm.jpg" border="0" /></a>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802968.post-1163498352582216822006-11-14T01:41:00.000-08:002006-11-14T01:59:13.193-08:00When I get older...losing my hair, many years from now... buy me a puppy and sneak me good ice cream (I can taste the difference) in the home and I won't haunt you after I'm dead for putting me in a home. I hugged the cutest puppies at work today. Why they had puppies at work today is beyond me, but lemme tell you, I did not mind. The first one was a black furry little poof of lovely that looked like a lab mix. The second was mutt all the way and matched the color of the sweater that I was wearing. He was sooo chill and when he got tired of the kids petting him, he hid his head in my boobs. HOW CUTE IS THAT? If only I had no desire to travel I would have put him in my big bag and ran away from them all. Aww, the area that he layed his little head out smells like puppy! Wonder if febreez will get that out? A slightly interesting fact is that even if you don't feed a puppy, dog food he still has puppy breath. He had some rice mush looking stuff, but still stinky puppy breath. <br /><br />I have to learn a song tonight. Damn, I only know the first two lines. There is a choral concert for school and they are asking all the teachers to sing. Damn it's high. I sang that high in the 3rd grade. Shit I gotta do laundry. Okay, I'm off will try to write more tomorrow, have lots of belated semi-interesting stories and pics. Puppies, puppies, puppies.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08849398133262457542noreply@blogger.com0