So last weekend was my 3rd weekend in Japan, and it continued the statistically insignificant and not at all unexpected increase in awesomeness that occurred between the "omg-fuck-japan-i-want-to-go-home" first weekend in Japan, and the "yahhhhhh-SUMO" second weekend. This weekend will henceforth be known as "Nomihodai Karaoke".
This weekend started pretty well. I slept in, spent a few hours here at Tully's skyping my Boston-buds, and got to see my cat on skype. He looked pretty happy, when Syed wasn't yodelling him. Then I headed over to Atsugi city where my NTT-homies live. They've got "apartments" that are pretty much my dorm room plus a bathroom designed for a contortionist and a single-burner + sink kitchen area. In other words, its about a billion times better than my dorm. Fuck you guys.
So I cooked food for everyone. My Pasta Carbonara conjuring abilities are now known in the land of the rising sun. Even without pancetta or even real bacon I managed to impress. Sure, I didn't have a strainer and my sous-chef and I managed to both spill some pasta in the sink (who cares, its going back into boiling water. what could happen?), but I'd say it was pretty successful. After some awesome Japonois pastries provided by Thom, the good stuff happened.
I'm sure you've all heard of Karaoke. I'm sure you've all done it, and theres really not a whole lot to say about it. We sang some of the most embarrassing songs in existence (including favourite bands like Aqua, N'Sync, and more). I learned a few things about myself: One; that my peculiar vocal range allows me to sing the uber-low man's part in "Doctor Jones" as well as the ridiculously high girls part. But nothing in between. I've got to close that falsetto gap. Two; I know way too many emo songs by heart. I blame you Simon. Not that you're reading this. Everyone go check out simonallthetime.blogspot.com, it contains all of Simon's happy thoughts.
Anyway: Nomihodai. This is the Japanese word for "All you can drink". You pay 30 bucks each for the night (10pm to 5am) which pays for your private Karaoke room plus everything you can drink. This karaoke room has a phone in it, you pick up the phone, say the drink you want with a Japanese accent ("buraku rushiano", "sutaraburi dacuri"), the number you want (you'd better know the chinese number system for "vessels which contain liquids", note its chinese counting system + pai/bai/hai depending on the number) and "o kudasai". And BAM 2 seconds later the drink is in your hands, transported by a mysterious ninja-like man. There were 6 of us. We drank a LOT. Well technically there were closer to 5 of us. One unfortunate Japan-rookie much like myself drank himself sick in less than an hour. He spent the next 5 in the bathroom. Someone doesn't have very good nomihodai skills.
The rest of us were pooched by about 4am, we dragged Craig from his happy home in the karaoke bathroom and headed home. Nota bene guys, a nice thing about sleeping on the floor every night. Sleeping on someone elses floor is just as comfortable. Wait, is this a nice thing? I'm not sure, it could go both ways. Well we slept in, and made a genuine western breakfast in the morning. Pancakes and french toast, with real Canadian maple syrup.
I take it all back.
So recall what I said about the Tokyo-Edo Museum that I went and saw in Tokyo last weekend? That it’s a complete waste of time, time better spent going up (and down!) escalators or watching grown nearly-naked men slap themselves on the ass in front of a live audience. Well guys, in my haste, I forgot an interesting anecdote from my lengthy tour of the famous museum.
In a small section near the end of the main exhibit, the museum has memorabilia and information about Tokyo during and slightly after the turmoil of the second world war. Included in its collection is the Japanese copy of the official declaration of surrender, signed by representatives of the Empire of Japan, along with the Supreme Commander of Allied Forces (Douglas MacArthur) and other Allied representatives. Among these Allied representatives included fatefully, the highest ranking Canadian officer in the vicinity, a Colonel Lawrence Moore Cosgrave.
I was aimlessly wandering the WWII exhibit when I came across this rather largish contract with the words “INSTRUMENT OF SURRENDER” written in large friendly letters near the top. Near the end were a series of signature lines underwritten by the powers that be at this time: “The Supreme Commander of Allied Forces” signed dutifully by the General, “United States Representative” and “The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics Representative” signed by some high ranking Yank and Red, the lines continued with “The Republic of China”, “The United Kingdom” and “The Dominion of Australia”. Then came the line for “The Dominion of Canada” (we were still a dominion at that time, not yet freed by Trudeau). This line was empty. “That’s odd,” I thought and kept reading.
It appeared that the good Colonel Cosgreve, likely a trifle nervous in the company of great men, had signed BELOW his appointed line, instead of above it. The representative of the provisional government of France followed suit, signing under the line, as did the representative from the Netherlands. But now the lines were all used up, and the “Dominion of New Zealand Representative” had no line to sign on. So he just signed in the blank space at the bottom of the page, and got the hell out of there.
After all the ceremonies (and I imagine there were a lot) the Japanese representative was handed his copy to return to the (now quite powerless) Emperor of Japan. He glanced at it, and noted the oddities in signatures on the bottom. He was quite miffed by this. It would be no good at all if the surrender document was rendered void by some mishap such as this. So he tried to bring up the matter with General MacArthur. Apparently MacArthur agreed that something must be done.
So he did what anyone does when they foul up filling out a form. He added a whole bunch of corrections and initialed them. He roughly stroked out “Provisional Government of France”, replacing it with “Dominion of Canada”, “Netherlands” with “France, etc, etc, down the line. Then drew a line under the representative from New Zealand’s signature and wrote his country below it. Then went down the side of the page, filling it with little “D.M.” initials to show to all concerned that the Terms of Surrender Document which ended the Second World War, was indeed completely legit.
This amusing little play zoomed through my head when I looked at the screwed up terms of surrender document. Turns out its completely historically correct. It should be noted though, that when it came time for Col. Congreve to sign the American copy of the surrender document, the one that you find on Google and in most history books, he signed on the right line.
Sumo Wrestling in Tokyo. Or, omg its so great to hang out with people who speak English.
So a lower year nano friend of mine named Jess Sparks happens to be working in Japan for NTT (Nippon Telegraph and Telephony), doing biochemistry of all things. Anyway, she?s got a bunch of compatriots (not sure if I?ve ever used that word intending the literal meaning before ? awesome) over there at NTT, and they were going into Tokyo to watch one of the two annual Sumo tournaments, followed by a night on the town.
Naturally I was invited and enthusiastically agreed to join them. The furthest away from home I?ve gone is Yokohama city on a quest to find cheesecake, so I hadn?t had the pleasure of encountering Tokyo yet. The NTT people were all coming together, and planned to meet me at the subway station closest to the Ryogoku Sumo stadium.
I braved the Tokyo public transit system for the first time, and I know I?m going to say this about a billion more times, but it?s fantastic. I gave myself like a half hour of buffer time just in case I encountered unforeseen delays or got lost, but somehow I ended up at my destination earlier than Google thought possible, and I even got lost once. Luckily my Japanese is adequate for asking passers-by which direction the train is going.. One noticeable failing of the Tokyo transit system is that though the station names are usually in Romaji or Hiragana, the directions are often in Kanji only. I?ve upped my Kanji-vocabulary quite a bit already, so I don?t foresee it being a problem for long.
So after some brief and delightfully not-Japanese introductions, we headed to an awesome Japanese fast food joint where you order from a vending machine. Then to the Tokyo-Edo museum, which quite boringly tells the story of Edo/Tokyo from its modest beginnings as a fishing village to the American firebombings in WW2. I was recommended by no less than 4 people to go to this museum, but take my word on it? Go up the awesome epic stairs; look at the building infront/above you. Maybe go up the sweet escalator-without-steps a few times. Then leave. You?re done, free of charge.
Now to the meat of the matter: Sumo. Its pretty expensive guys, we were in the second worst seats in the house, and it was still almost 50 bucks each for tickets. But it only happens a couple times a year, so if you?re in the neighborhood, go for it by all available means. For those who know me, you know I don?t enjoy watching sports. Its boring, largely uneventful and the seating is usually cramped.
Here comes the expected twist! Sumo is fantastic. At less competitive levels (those who go near the beginning of the day), its perhaps 50-60% ceremony. At the title rounds at the end of the day, its pushing 95% ceremony. These ceremonies involve these massive guys hulking all over the clay-ring, lifting their legs, throwing salt all over the place in an aggressive fashion, slapping their bodies repeatedly and very unappealingly, beating their chests to rile up the audience, washing their bodies/armpits with a towel, FOLLOWED by aggressively washing their faces with said towel. These events culminate in the two contestants lined up, ready to go. But usually right when the tension is high, thinking they?re about to start, one guy stands up, walks away, and slaps himself nice and hard on the gut. The cycle then repeats.
Each cycle takes maybe 2 or 3 minutes, and can repeat up to 5 or 6 times before a big title fight. The crowd is insane during the ceremony, they can?t get enough of it.
The fight lasts maybe 2-30 seconds, and pretty much just involves one guy pushing the other outside of the ring or onto the floor. Sometimes it gets intense with slapping contests between the guys, or feints and rolls. Notably, its usually small and nimble wins the race. Unless you?re a buff-as-hell, 6 foot 5, 207kg Bulgarian monstrosity. Then you pick up the little fat-as-hell Sumo-wrestler looking Japanese man infront of you, and drop him outside the ring. ?GAIJIN SMASH?
Afterwards we went to get all you can eat Korean BBQ, after which my NTT buddies abandoned me in the middle of downtown Tokyo to find my way home. Thanks guys, that was a chore.
Naturally I was invited and enthusiastically agreed to join them. The furthest away from home I?ve gone is Yokohama city on a quest to find cheesecake, so I hadn?t had the pleasure of encountering Tokyo yet. The NTT people were all coming together, and planned to meet me at the subway station closest to the Ryogoku Sumo stadium.
I braved the Tokyo public transit system for the first time, and I know I?m going to say this about a billion more times, but it?s fantastic. I gave myself like a half hour of buffer time just in case I encountered unforeseen delays or got lost, but somehow I ended up at my destination earlier than Google thought possible, and I even got lost once. Luckily my Japanese is adequate for asking passers-by which direction the train is going.. One noticeable failing of the Tokyo transit system is that though the station names are usually in Romaji or Hiragana, the directions are often in Kanji only. I?ve upped my Kanji-vocabulary quite a bit already, so I don?t foresee it being a problem for long.
So after some brief and delightfully not-Japanese introductions, we headed to an awesome Japanese fast food joint where you order from a vending machine. Then to the Tokyo-Edo museum, which quite boringly tells the story of Edo/Tokyo from its modest beginnings as a fishing village to the American firebombings in WW2. I was recommended by no less than 4 people to go to this museum, but take my word on it? Go up the awesome epic stairs; look at the building infront/above you. Maybe go up the sweet escalator-without-steps a few times. Then leave. You?re done, free of charge.
Now to the meat of the matter: Sumo. Its pretty expensive guys, we were in the second worst seats in the house, and it was still almost 50 bucks each for tickets. But it only happens a couple times a year, so if you?re in the neighborhood, go for it by all available means. For those who know me, you know I don?t enjoy watching sports. Its boring, largely uneventful and the seating is usually cramped.
Here comes the expected twist! Sumo is fantastic. At less competitive levels (those who go near the beginning of the day), its perhaps 50-60% ceremony. At the title rounds at the end of the day, its pushing 95% ceremony. These ceremonies involve these massive guys hulking all over the clay-ring, lifting their legs, throwing salt all over the place in an aggressive fashion, slapping their bodies repeatedly and very unappealingly, beating their chests to rile up the audience, washing their bodies/armpits with a towel, FOLLOWED by aggressively washing their faces with said towel. These events culminate in the two contestants lined up, ready to go. But usually right when the tension is high, thinking they?re about to start, one guy stands up, walks away, and slaps himself nice and hard on the gut. The cycle then repeats.
Each cycle takes maybe 2 or 3 minutes, and can repeat up to 5 or 6 times before a big title fight. The crowd is insane during the ceremony, they can?t get enough of it.
The fight lasts maybe 2-30 seconds, and pretty much just involves one guy pushing the other outside of the ring or onto the floor. Sometimes it gets intense with slapping contests between the guys, or feints and rolls. Notably, its usually small and nimble wins the race. Unless you?re a buff-as-hell, 6 foot 5, 207kg Bulgarian monstrosity. Then you pick up the little fat-as-hell Sumo-wrestler looking Japanese man infront of you, and drop him outside the ring. ?GAIJIN SMASH?
Afterwards we went to get all you can eat Korean BBQ, after which my NTT buddies abandoned me in the middle of downtown Tokyo to find my way home. Thanks guys, that was a chore.
Another failed, but valiant attempt
In my continuing quest to get internet access in my dormitory room, I decided to buy a wireless router, install it in the french-guy-down-the-hall's room, and then gleefully share his internet. I figured we'd split the cost, and since internet here is Fibre, its fast as hell (100Mbit - maxes out normal ethernet), so no problems sharing.
The first tricky part was buying a wireless router. I feel like such an idiot buying a router, when we had like 5 spare routers at our old house on McDougall that are now just collecting dust somewhere. But anyway, I eventually found an electronics store in walking distance from my dormitory, and went over to grab a router.
I don't know about you, mysterious reader, but I considered Japan a land of high technology (until recently), so expected a myriad of super awesome routers for next to nothing. Turns out instead they have a bunch of brands I've never heard of (No Linksys or D-link or Netgear to be found), for exorbitant prices. I ended up getting the cheapest one from a brand I recognized (NEC), for about 60 bucks.
Setting up the router was an exercise in frustration. The whole web interface was in Japanese, and setting everything to automatic would have been hard enough. But turns out the modems the ISP here gives out are linked to the MAC address of only one computer. So I had to figure out MAC address masking on a bizarre Japanese router. Was a tough time.
Once I'd succeeded, there was a few moments of joy as my computer connected without a hitch.
Then I left the room.
This fucking router has a range of like 5 meters. My room is maybe 10 meters away, max. So now I sit outside Stefan's room, in the freezing cold corridor that the dormitory-gods don't find necessary to heat.
That is all.
Coffee Nanoparticles - Now with posting in bulk
So I just posted 6 entries. Due to my lack of internet and time, I wrote them all up yesterday at work, and now I post them while extremely cold outside of a coffee shop that won't let me in for some reason. But they do have free internet. (I figured out the internet at Tully's Coffee, its 30 minutes free, yay)
Read 'em all, yo.
Once you go Black, you would prefer to go back, but thats all they've got, so live with it. Okay? God.
Are coffee cans here self-heating or something? Theres a wierd weight on the bottom of the can of coffee I just got out of a vending machine.
These omnipresent vending machines are quite great. They have fantastic grape juice. This is one thing I think they do better in Asia: grape juice. I remember it being fantastic in China, and its the same here. Love it.
Their |Black| branded canned coffees could be better, though they've got the right idea plastering Tommy Lee Jones in his Men in Black persona all over their coffee products. I buy them even though they taste like shit. They're also only like 100 yen.
I also had tempura chicken breast today at the company cafeteria. It was like KFC, but way better. If their serving sizes were a bit bigger (maybe a LOT bigger) I'd be one happy camper. They must budget out calories to maintain a 90 pound 5 foot male's body weight. That doesn't do it for me, Mitsubishi Chemical. Do better.
Japan is old, yo
So after the incident at the bank with the crazy Japanese dating system, I looked into it. Apparently the traditional way of keeping track of years for a long time before World War II was the "imperial year." Imperial year 1 was 660 BC, thats before fucking Christ. For those keeping track at home, thats less than 100 years after the Roman empire's "Founding of the City" year of 753 BC.
Imperial year 1 was when the famous Emperor Gemma founded the Japanese empire. Wowser. This country/government is old. And we nuked it and remade it in our own image. Lame guys, lame.
Its currently imperial year 2670, but apparently the American government wasn't big on the dating system with years dating back before Christ when they took things over after WW2. Now they keep track of dates based on their effectively powerless heads of state emperors. When one dies, the year gets reset to 1, its currently 22 Heisei.
I went to a big mall in Yokohama city the other day called "Lalaport" (or in Japanese - Raraporoto) that finally gave me an impression of the Japan I expected. I really must be living in the 'burbs where I am, this place had all the subway pushers and suffocating crowds a man could want. But only a few minutes walk away was this totally peaceful and relaxing vista by a river/cannal or something. I sat there for a while in the NICE WARM SUN (haha, canadians) reading. Was nice.
Does Piglet have any place on the debit cards of this nation?
Yesterday myself and Saita-san went to get me an Alien Registration card, and then to the bank to get an account there, so that maybe I can receive my salary and get internet access or something, yaknow.
So Alien card went down without much of a hitch. The forms were all in Japanese, which didn't make good sense to me, but which I've come to expect. On the bright side, I'm getting damned good at signing my name in Katakana.
The bank was a whole other story. No one there spoke any english at all, so Saita-san was acting as a translator for me. Every question the bank-clerk-girl asked, he would translate into english. Whats funny is how many questions involved either Disney, Winnie the Pooh, or Hello Kitty.
Ever diligent, Saita-san translated all the questions to english, often with a very large smile:
"Would you like a Disney land themed check book, or a Hello Kitty themed check book?" (talk about a dilemma)
"For your web-banking interface, would you like Piglet, Eeyore or Winnie the Pooh themes?" (Eeyore, of course)
"We have special Piglet debit cards, and Mickey Mouse visa cards, are you interested?" (I'm afraid not)...
We had to do it all twice as well, because it turns out my birth year (1989) was both the year of the glorious Japanese emperor Heisei 1 and the year of the glorious Japanese emperor Showa 64. Damnit.
How to find free internet in the exceedingly far east. Or, how I came to love Makudonodo.
My first day in this country was also my first day of work. I can thank the omniscient gods of Mitsubishi human resources for that I suppose. I had this kind of insane hope that there might be internet at work that I could use, as web-withdrawl stacked on top of 14 hours of chronodisplacement syndrome is a troublesome ailment, I tell you.
"Well there is internet here, just not useful internet." says the always light-hearted Saita-san. "Go ahead and email friends and family -- if you can." DUM DUM DUMM
Gmail - blocked. Engmail - blocked. Meebo - blocked. "Pretty normal, right?" xkcd - blocked. questionablecontent - blocked. dinosaur comics - blocked. "Really? Come ONNN" pdeng/uwace - blocked "hah, okay thats going to suck" GOOGLE - blocked "WHAT!?!?! FUCK NO, I'M GOING HOME, EVERY MAN HAS A LIMIT AND THEY JUST FOUND MINE."
I do get access to an awesome 2515xxx@cc.m-kagaku.co.jp email address. Yah, no names, just a number. Very efficient and all that. I am allowed to use it for non-business stuff, but theres this bizarre delay of almost an hour to send something that just screams "VIOLATION OF PRIVACY". Oh wait, never mind, they SAY they will read it right here. No violation then, keep walking.
So the next day, refreshed and feeling much less suicidal, I headed out into the world to find some tamer internet pastures. My first stop was Tulley's Coffee, right across the road from my dorm. Its like a Starbucks, but more expensive and with a fancy wood burning fireplace in it.
Theres also a wireless network called "WiFine." Awesome, punny and effective, I can dig it. It forwards me to some web portal with weather and sports and news and shit all in Japanese. No matter what website I go to, it takes me there. I'm completely willing to pay for internet at this place, but there isnt anything obvious where I could pay to get access. I fumble around and get to a couple sign in pages, but my Japanese knowledge isn't enough and I can't get anywhere. I desperately ask every employee and patron how the fuck I get internet, to no avail. "I'm sorry, no English"...
So I keep walking.. 20 minutes later I hit a McDonalds. I pull out my handy-dandy-completely-useless-on-the-900Mhz-band iPhone to check it out. "FON_FREE_INTERNET_PCM network found!"
I swear, at this moment I loved the large life-size Ronald McDonald standing infront of me more than any other human being. And not just because he was the only caucasian I'd seen since the airplane.
Turns out McDonalds in Japan have this FON internet plan. You can pay 5 bucks a day to get full internet access (or 15 bucks for a week). Or you can surf for free and have access to "Limited pages". Before I could even form the words "Net neutrality", I realized that the limited pages were everything in the extended Google fiefdom. That is, Google Search, Maps, Mail (with video/audio chat), Blogger, Youtube. And free skype access just to sweeten the (free) deal. And a little thing I like to call Google Translate. Turns out this tool can be used as a proxy to see the entire internets through Google servers. Thanks Google, you're great. The only other thing a human being could want is Facebook, and really, who cares... fuck Facebook.
Doing chemistry in Japanese. Or, an exercise in perfecting a Japanese accent.
So my job is pretty awesome so far. It was touch and go for a while when my supervisor said stuff about "Zeolite membranes" and "Lithium ion batteries for hybrid electric vehicles". But he was just joshing with me (Saita-san, my supervisor, is pretty kick-ass. Plus he looks like a long lost Japanese member of the Beatles).
For anyone who knows anything about my fourth year design project (pretty much just my group I guess, and Dan and Mikhail. Holla!), my project here is eerily similar, should I choose to accept it (which I will). It makes me think.. how many companies are there working on magnetic nanoparticle-assisted protein detection/medical diagnostics technologies? Or am I just a really lucky guy?
Anyway, any job worth its salt begins with a long gruelling process of reading papers on background and what the group has done so far. Luckily, I've spent much of the last term wading through papers on magnetic nanoparticle synthesis, surface functionalization and separation. So I have time to waste writing up these blog entries in bulk.
Or so I thought, until the latest pile of papers to read on my desk are entirely in Japanese. "Whats up with this, Saita-dawg" I ask.
"This is the latest report on our progress. I have to go to Tokyo today, so you try to get a grip on the chemistry, this can serve as a hint. We'll talk about it tomorrow." responds Saita-slice.
I spent a few hours trying to go through this report, mostly saying katakana words aloud trying to figure out their meaning. Here are a few notable snippets that I'm quite proud of deciphering (with some help of chemical formulae, of course :P).
ビーズ (bi-zu) - literally "beads", japanese term for nanoparticles, apparently
ゼオライト (zeoraito) - zeolite
ポリマ (porima) - polymer
クリクケミスツリ (kurikukemisuturi) - Click chemistry. lol
エチニル(echiniru) - ethynyl group
アジド(ajido) - azide group
ツトブチルメタクリラート (tuto buchiru metakurirato) - tert-butyl methacrylate
スチランスルホンアトリウム (suchiransuruhonatoriumu) - styrene monosodium sulfonate
アセトニトリル (asetonitoriru) - acetonitrile
シリカ (shirika) - silica
マグヌトリト (magunutorito) - magnetite
アスコルビンーナトリウム (asukorubin-natoriumu) - sodium ascorbate
I especially love how elements are Japonified from their original LATIN versions (Sodium is Natoriumu). Score one for that dead language.
Lost in Translation
So let me start this off by stating that unfiltered internet (preferably broadband, perhaps acceptably ad-supported) should be a basic human right of every human being. I preceded my trip to Japan by going up to the north Ottawa valley, in the bush, just a stones throw away from Algonquin park. Yah, there was satalite internet there, along with WiFi. And I saw it, and it was good.
So upon entering the most populated metropolitan area in the world, I sat across from my (awesome) supervisor on a train, and asked whether there was wireless internet at my dormitory:
"No, I'm afraid not, no wireless internet." he replies.
"Damn" thunk I, "Plugging in is so uncivilized, but I guess it will do. I wonder if it will be 1 or 10 gigabit ethernet."
"Internet takes a long time to get, maybe a month, maybe more" He adds forlornly. He sees a combination of terror and sadness appear on my face as the true realization of my predicament dawns. "I don't know why it is this way. Ask Izawa-san."
It turns out Izawa-san is a troubled little man who manages the dormitory. He doesn't speak a word of English, but my first experience of Japanese racism is through him. While he is talking about me to my supervisor, completely ignoring my presence, some words stand out from the others: "Gaijin, baka desu, gaijin, kuso, gaijin, gaijin."
My supervisor, Saita-san, diligently translates with a smile: "He says that he has had a lot of trouble in the past with some boarders, and that he hopes there are no problems, and he says good luck in Japan." Right, Saita-san, thats definitely what he said. I think maybe some inimity was lost in translation, based on Izawa-san's diminuative glare.
Anyway, so washed away my dreams of liveblogging my every whim and fancy in Japan, much like my modesty after my first group bathing session.
I'm in Japan yo
Don't have time for much, but I'm in the internet-less land of Japan. At coffee shop across the road from my dorm.
Here is a happy pic of Blake in Japan:
Where does one go to print stuff when one doesn't have a printer?
Hey gang-
So I'm packing up my room/house. Everything is in a bag or a box or a milk crate. If you're keeping track at home, some of you know that I don't have a home. boo hoo, I'm part of a broken family. So anyway, I don't have anywhere to put shit. I've ended up with some in friends' basements (shout-out to Arash, who will never, ever, ever read this), some in my Dad's basement dwelling, and some in my Grandma's garage. Me-in-8-months is going to hate now-me.
I really have quite a bit of stuff, and I really can't bring very much with me to Japan. I'm already bringing a pretty big piece of luggage along with my massive 75 litre camping backpack. I don't think I'll be able to fit that along with me in my 8x10 cell they call a room. I don't even know if I'm going to need CLOTHES. They tell me I will have a uniform. Does that mean I don't need clothes? Because that'd be awesome. I could go to Japan for 8 months with just my little backpack with my laptop in it. And my Kindle. Thats really all I need. (BTdub: Its totally easy to pirate books, I've got like 200 on my Kindle so far -- thanks rapidshare!)
Also, I don't have a printer! How am I supposed to print my plane ticket? The university is closed, my printer is gone, and all my friends are in god-knows-where probably having a very warm and awesome time.
I don't want to go to the public library. I've had a bad experience.
Attention all cats and kittens: Exams are over for a year!
This means that suddenly the next thing on my radar is going to Japan in a few weeks... looks very daunting right about now, but its going to be pretty fantastic. Me and my cat are going to get some good bonding time before I have to hand him over to Mikhail and leave him in the GWA. Its been about 8 months since I've changed his litter, so my first gift to him will be a clean shitbox. Hurray.
To everyone that I didn't say goodbye to right after the exam: You obviously aren't important enough to me to merit a goodbye. (NB: The only person I said goodbye to right after the exam was Liu)
Addendum: Part-ay in the nanoroom tonight at 9. Be there or be a square Bravais lattice.
Godaddy has .com domain names on sale for 99 cents for one year with the promo code "BUYCOM99". I just snagged coffeenanoparticles.com for my pleasure and to expedite your daily type-commute. You do come here daily, don't you?
Coffee - nanoparticle suspension or dissolved solution?
Does anyone know the answer to this age-old queston?