17 day famine. It has eaten its way out of me. Are you pleased? It is pleased.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Inane or Insane: Who Can Really Say
17 day famine. It has eaten its way out of me. Are you pleased? It is pleased.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Scream Victim
I like myself better than I once was. Most of all, I like getting the chance to act like the bitch I really am sometimes.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Volume I - Number 2
My name is Emi. However after years of interacting with hakujins, the white folks, I have gotten use to the common mistake of being called Amy. I don't really mind. I like to think of myself as two separate people. I am Emi, undesired Janglish speaking daughter. I am also Amy, unremarkable daughter of a Japanese farmer. I like to have options.
I do not feel typical Japanese. Or maybe I'm just not typically pretty. I have a darker skin-tone that would put my ancestors to shame. A couple of summers ago, I was trying to refrain from getting too tan. I walked about with an old paper parasol and frequently hid beneath any branch that offered shade. Father was not pleased and shouted, "Care about the farm, not your face." I was instantly ashamed of myself and since then, I have accepted that every summer I will become very dark from the day's work in the fields.
I have a frizzy quality to my hair that is not silky or attractive at all. When I move to brush my fingers through it, I encounter a snaggle of hair right away.
It looks as though instead of being snuggled up within my mother's womb, I was unceremoniously thrust face-first into the side of it for the duration of her pregnancy. My nose is the main basis of this theory. It's believable that it was smashed against an unforgiving surface for nine months. Subconsciously, I find myself pinching my nose into shapeliness. It is a habit exhibited in boredom or deep-thinking. Truly, some girls twirl their hair, I pinch my nose. It's not one of my most sightly quirks.
I have a wide face. I have a flat face. At first-glance, it would appear as though I was stung repeatedly by a swarm of bees to my cheeks. They are rounded and the most prominent facial feature. My eyes are all but swallowed up by their swollen appearance. My nose is an almost afterthought and underdeveloped necessity.
I do not feel typical Japanese. Or maybe I'm just not typically pretty. I have a darker skin-tone that would put my ancestors to shame. A couple of summers ago, I was trying to refrain from getting too tan. I walked about with an old paper parasol and frequently hid beneath any branch that offered shade. Father was not pleased and shouted, "Care about the farm, not your face." I was instantly ashamed of myself and since then, I have accepted that every summer I will become very dark from the day's work in the fields.
I have a frizzy quality to my hair that is not silky or attractive at all. When I move to brush my fingers through it, I encounter a snaggle of hair right away.
It looks as though instead of being snuggled up within my mother's womb, I was unceremoniously thrust face-first into the side of it for the duration of her pregnancy. My nose is the main basis of this theory. It's believable that it was smashed against an unforgiving surface for nine months. Subconsciously, I find myself pinching my nose into shapeliness. It is a habit exhibited in boredom or deep-thinking. Truly, some girls twirl their hair, I pinch my nose. It's not one of my most sightly quirks.
I have a wide face. I have a flat face. At first-glance, it would appear as though I was stung repeatedly by a swarm of bees to my cheeks. They are rounded and the most prominent facial feature. My eyes are all but swallowed up by their swollen appearance. My nose is an almost afterthought and underdeveloped necessity.
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