Run Away Disney Princess

Things have not been going well.

As I'm sure that you can tell, I've been pretty unhappy. It's a struggle to write or be creative at all. Sometime, everyday things are hard too. So I've been trying really hard to fix all of that in the last 6 months. I've been working on my positive attitude and trying to be grateful for everyday.  I'm on a healthy and reasonable diet to help my body work and feel better. And I've been exercising. I'm at the gym 5-6 days a week for 2 hours each visit. I don't really enjoy it but I know it's good for me and that it could make me feel better. That said, I still can't sleep and find myself sad a lot.

I may be sad but I WILL have arms like these...

To snap myself out of those daily little clouds, I've found a temporary fix. A little sunshine. Yeah, you're gonna laugh. I know it's kinda hokey and you can shake your fist at me while you shout about corporate evil. I don't care. Disneyland helps.

I've found myself daydreaming about sunny California, to a place where everything is a little bit more colorful and the music is happy.  People are glad to see me. There are new adventures, fun food and roller coasters! Some place I can be like a kid again; I can be myself. The daydream does help, even if it's just for a minute. 

And it's not just Disneyland, it's Disney in general. I can have a bad day and come home and I know that Lilo and Stitch will be there for me. Mickey will make me laugh. Aladdin, Capt. Jack and Flyn Rider will be wooing me. Mulan will sing about wanting people to know who she really is and not pretending to be. Belle will read her favorite books and find her happily ever after. It makes everything a little easier to take.

There is a lot of things you can do to be happy. They say having goals is important. So I've set a goal for myself. I'm going to run. 

I hate running. It hurts. My knees, hips, and mostly my chest. The years of dance destroyed my feet and my knees/hips also pay the price. The asthma is the worst, aggravated by a bout of walking pneumonia I got at age 20 that went undiagnosed (with no health insurance) for 3 months, scarred my lungs. Breathing can be challenging. So all those things are not conducive to running outside on hard pavement.

 image: espnwwos.disney.go.com/events/rundisney/disneyland-half-marathon

But I'm going to Disneyland next year to run in a race. Again, get ready to laugh. A 5K. Yeah, it's a little kid race. Yeah, my great-grandma could do this race easy... and she's been dead for 30 years. But this is big for me. It's something I thought I'd never do. Honestly, I never really wanted to do it. But it's nice to have a goal and if that goal gets you to Disneyland AND you get to dress up like a princess, why not?

So I'll keep you guys in the loop here. Any suggestions on what character I should dress up as? I was thinking Ariel but I think hopping around in that shiny green tail would be too tough. Suggestions?

No Ones Fool

I finally relax in your arms, trust the warm and safe feelings that I so rarely feel these days. It's been a rough week. I'm actually surprised that you are open and soft and inviting. It's easy to feel loved or at least liked, in that moment.

But I have been a fool or made a fool of.

I must remember this. I am always on the verge of being made a fool and I am not falling for it again. Not again.

I am a steel cage.Words may pass through me but no one can breach the barrier.
I am invisible. I make no impressions and cast no shadow.
I am smoke. I can't make a ripple in a pond; i glide along the surface.
I am nothing and no one and I can't be touched without being burned.

And when I'm in that space... you know the one. The space that must be entered from time to time. Space that is required to be visited. I will be there but not there. I float away. I am with the birds. I am among the flowers. I am surrounded by the pink and green, down the river with the otters, far far away.

And I am alone.

But alone is better than a fool.

Feet That Glow in the Dark

A little radiation never hurt anyone.

Unless you're a child and it's your feet and you grow a crazy mutant toe.

While in Phoenix, my mother in law pointed out her feet while we were discussing shoes and specifically her 2nd toe. (You know, the piggy that stayed home.) On her right foot, it was much longer than any of her other toes and it was twisted and crooked. She said it was because when she was a kid, when her mom would take them shopping, her and her siblings would always run to the shoe store and stick their feet into the fluoroscope at the front of the store.

What the hell is a fluoroscope? This.

Isn't that just the coolest looking thing-a-ma-bob? I want one.

Back in the 20's (and all the way through to the 70's in some places) these bad boys were installed in shoe stores. You stand on it, stick your feet inside and flip the switch to see how well your feet fit inside your new Buster Browns. And it was great for checking for broken bones, since you could see your bones. So it was pretty obvious that this thing was puking xrays all over your feet/body and after the big bomb and cold war, the use of such devices declined heavily. Also, some experience radiation burns. (One salesman had it so bad it resulted in amputation.) Most though, did not suffer ill effects.

I'm not so sure the fluoroscope gave her that crazy mutant piggy, but it's a fun story. I wonder if it glows in the dark...

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Check out more at the Smithsonian's website, along with other really amazing things... Don't you just love museums??

The Beaver

I’m going to be straight with you guys. (Aren’t I always?)

I’m not a fan. I used to be, but not anymore. Not for a long time. Mel Gibson just makes me feel sad now. So really, I tend to shy away from his movies. (Also that he hasn't been in anything good for quite some time now.) But I was interested in Jodie Foster’s new picture, The Beaver, enough to put my prejudice aside and check it out.

It’s a bizarre but intriguing concept. Walter has a bit of a psychotic break when he wakes up after a suicide attempt to a beaver puppet on his hand, ordering him to get his life together. And for a time, it works. But then, it becomes plain to see that Walter is having a hard time breaking away from his furry friend. The Beaver wants full control. I won’t divulge anything more but it keeps getting stranger but not really all that strange… does that make any sense?

Anyway, I’d have to say that I didn't love it but it was interesting and worth a watch via the old Netflix. Jodie Foster does a good job. Great cast, good acting, mostly relatable characters, and a lovely little score.  I just think it’s one of those stories that isn’t going to make everyone happy. It’s certainly not going to make millions. But I’m sure that wasn't the point at all. Oh, and did I mention that the film had to be shelved until things calmed down after Gibson’s (alleged) horrifying behavior towards an ex-girlfriend/mother of his child? Was this before or after the drunken anti-semetic rant towards a police officer? Who can remember…

I will say this about Gibson: as a girl who has, in the past, felt that dark cloud over her head, bed, home and heart, I know that look. I know he’s has been to those dark recesses. Face it, if you have hate in your heart, it hurts. I have no doubt that the man has wrestled some inner demons of his own and it comes though in parts of his performance, although I feel that he was trying to fool us.

Still, I was really hoping The Beaver himself was going to be an Aussie instead of British. That would put a whole new psychological spin on stuff.

And to my surprise, Jennifer Laurence plays the son’s love interest, a blond cheerleader with brains. This is of course, before Hunger Games but after Winter’s Bone. She’s just as lovely, just so you know.

In the end, there’s something unsatisfying about it. But that’s life. Depression isn't cured with a hand puppet. Dreams are ruined and can’t ever be put back together. Relationships fall apart and can never be fixed. And your brother doesn't come back from the other side.

Such is life. But that’s the core to the movie. Shit happens, but you don’t have to be alone. Then why do I feel so alone as I watch the credits scroll?

Stephanie Zacharek said it best in her review for Movieline, "I wanted to have sympathy for Walter Black; but to get to him, I had to fight my way past Mel Gibson. When an actor has to make his audience work that hard, it's a liability."

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Even if you don’t see the movie, check out this adorable, lovely, sweet and sad PSA from IMALIVE.org about seeking help for depression. You can check it out here.

She-Beasts and Pretty Girls

I am a hulking hairy man-girl.

Or at least that’s how I feel, standing in the Ginza district, watching the chicks pass by my cafe table.

I always thought I was a girly girl. Yeah, I hung out with guys mostly and nothing is better than a great pair of jeans but I’m still pretty feminine. I wear makeup most days, in one form or another. I wear 5 inch heels. I wax, dye, tease and primp.  I girl is up pretty hard sometimes. But I am Chuck Norris compared to these lovely ladies here in Japan.

Now I am making a blanket statement when I say ALL Japanese woman are sweet, petite, lovely girly beauties. I’m sure there are some less pink wearing, jeans/tshirt/tennis shoe girls out there too.  But just observing from my perch, I have to say, these women are amazing. All heels, frilly skirts, pastels and flowers. Lace ankle socks. Sparkly hair do-dads. Even their phones are adorable. Their purses have cute little stuffed animals attached. They are all so feminine that I feel like the She-Hulk, without the awesome hair.

Photo via shifteast.com

I'm sitting here, wearing boots and a leather jacket and my hair is all frizzy so it's in a crazy mess of a bun on top of me head. I'm all sweaty and melting and jittery because of the coffee. Why can’t I wear these narrow tiny shoes with little bows and knee socks? Why can’t I wear a frilly mini dress with floral pattern? Why? Because I’d look like your dad in a floral mini and knee socks. Now that’s a nice image, eh? I’m not built for that look and I’m coming to accept it. No really, I am. 

Much like I mentioned before, I'm a bit contradictory. Part of me wants to be the petite pixie with curls and bows. Part of me wants to wear leather and get in bar fights. Part of me wants to ride a sparkly unicorn on a rainbow. So why not have it all?

So I'm going to buy a cute bow for my hair, drink martinis, get in bar fights, and be it all. 

Try and stop me. 

Related articles about stuff I was talking about

• ShiftEast
• Tokyo Fashion Tumbler
• Tokyo Street Fashion