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It's raining, and I'm wet

It’s really raining.

I didn’t notice anything on the train ride back home, so either it started in the brief moment I was passing through the station or else my powers of observation have grown increasingly weak. As I walked towards the exit, I could hear the sound of raindrops furiously pounding the pavement, even through Thom Yorke’s melodious warbling on my iPod. I proceeded to unfurl the umbrella, and a few seconds later I realized it was an exercise in futility. The umbrella only served to keep my head dry. Water dripping down your back, water seeping up your pant legs, water inching its way into your shoes: these sensations aren’t exactly pleasant. Most people wash themselves every day, but unplanned wetness is somehow uncomfortable. Maybe it has something to do with wet clothes. If I was a real perv, I’d still be outside ogling all the schoolgirls trying to get home without being soaked to the skin (and failing). As I passed one corner, I saw a couple huddled under the overhang of some shop. It looked like the man was trying to comfort the terrified woman, but after getting nearer, I realized they were trying to calm a child.

Every time I saw a flash, I was paranoid that lightning was going to nail the top of my umbrella, as unfounded as that fear may seem. Cars were splashing me as they passed on the too-narrow street I have to walk down to reach my apartment. When I finally got inside, I changed into some shorts and hung my pants over a door, where they proceeded to drip copious amounts of water. Yeah, it’s the rainy season.

In other news, I got some white wine from one of my students who went to America for three weeks. It was amazing: gone for three weeks, and she had the English ability to talk about it for maybe five or ten minutes. That’s not good, by the way. Anyway, back to the wine. I know basically nothing about wine, due to the fact that people in my family don’t often drink alcohol and the prevalent American notion that alcohol’s primary purpose is to make you as drunk as possible within the shortest time. Oh yeah, it has to be cheap, too. Therefore, among my friends, bad beer was usually consumed when alcohol was required. I’m not blaming them, of course; they’re just a product of the American system, same as me. This leads me to one of my pseudo-goals, which is to form at least a half-developed taste for different kinds of drinks. I also want to appriciate food more, instead of equating meals with the organic junk I hastily cram down my gullet before running off to work. My digestion is probably horrible, because I eat so fast. I guess I can’t really be blamed too much, though. My diet is not exactly varied, due to the inability to cook many Western-style foods. I can’t wait until I have an oven again, and can cook lasagna and pizza. Hmm, I kinda digressed a bit there.

One more thing: I got paid today, which is, uh, nice, I guess. Since I’m not paying for next month’s rent, I got an “extra” 50,000 yen. This means that on Monday I get to go down to one of the local banks and purchase myself some traveller’s cheques in yen. “Why yen?”, you may ask. And you may well ask. The reason being that the yen is super weak to the dollar right now. Yahoo’s currency page shows the yen at being around 112 to the dollar, which is the lowest it’s been in about a year. If I get traveller’s cheques in yen, I can wait to cash them until the exchange rate is a bit more favorable. “Does it really matter?”, you may ask. The short answer is: yes, even a measly %2-3 difference will matter a bit.

EDIT: So I wrote about the wine, right? Well I busted it open tonight, and it tasted horrible. So, I gave it to Brendan. Also, check out the awesome curry snacks I bought today, solely because of the picture on the front.

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