Thursday, August 03, 2006


Oh. My. God.

After all my gushing the day before yesterday about my favourite boy-boxer, I forgot all about his World Title match and spent the evening sipping iced tea at Ark Hills with a potential employer. I didn't realize my boo-boo until I received a text message from one of my friends, in which she complained about the rubbish rendition of "Kimi ga yo" at the end of the program. (That's the Japanese national anthem, which is notoriously devoid of melody or rhythm. Which I find hauntingly pretty, nevertheless.)

The good news is that after no trifling amount of agony this week (including a 3-hour test-fest at a dodgy recruitment agency in Toranomon) , there are some good work prospects on the horizon. Editorial work, no less. Maybe I will finally get a chance to break from my much-abhorred translation career, which, while being a totally acceptable means of making money, often brings me face-to-face with bitter Japanese women who want desperately to prove that their English is better than mine. It's a bizarre phenomenon and I still can't get my head around it.

Perhaps because I haven't had enough time to myself recently, and because I was properly violated by a sadistic, snub-nosed, and incredibly short recruitment agent, I've been feeling a bit down. And whenever I feel down, my thoughts always wander back to Jonathan, and how much I miss that guy. Death makes sense when it happens to someone you don't know. It's the simplest thing in the world, when it doesn't concern you. It's so hard for me to accept that my buddy is just gone. Poof!... and it's as if he never existed.

Meanwhile, my French adventure continues, with daily Paris apartment searches and fevered attempts to read Anna Gavalda's Je Voudrais Que Quelqu'un M'attende Quelque Part.


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