Random Acts of Adorability

My schedule indicates that I’m meant to be putting up Behind Glass (section twelve) today, but I’m afraid I will have to make some excuses.  It’s my last day as a renter of my own home.  I’ve been pretty busy so far, and will remain so until I snooze here for the last time tonight.  Argh, still so many lasts.  So, this morning I’ve already been out to the home ware shop, rode home with a large flattened cardboard box under my arm, packed up a final box to send home and posted said box, posted another letter, and fixed a new grease catcher to my kitchen fan.  Currently on a break for lunch, and afterwards I’ll be doing more re-packs, scouting for forgotten items, giving every surface a final wipe down, contacting a friend to help me move all my baggage to the hotel on Saturday, and contacting a taxi company to get me to the airport on Monday.  What makes matters worse is that this instant pasta sauce is only just holding at average.  Coke’s as good as ever, though.  At least I know this coke isn’t my last from the vending machine across the road.  But they are numbered.

I decided to leave Pan for the day as I haven’t quite finished the end of that section yet, and I don’t want to rush and force it when I have other things on my mind.  If I just had to edit it wouldn’t be a problem, but it’s being a bit stubborn.  I know what I want, just haven’t managed to get it out right, yet.  Shouldn’t really take too long, so tomorrow if I’m able to finish it, I’ll post section twelve then.

Instead, considering I’m about to leave my home, I thought I’d share with you a moment from a day or so before I moved in here which returned to me as I was packing up that box before.  No real connection between the box-packing and the moment, apart from both being at times of goings, comings, and changes.

When I arrived in Uji at the end of July 2010, my soon-to-be apartment was still being lived in, so my contracting organisation put me up in a hotel for a few days, a business hotel called Uji Daiichi (No. 1) Hotel.  A bit grungy to be honest, and it smelled strongly of cigarettes.  But I wasn’t really in a situation to complain.  It was only for a few days, and it was fully paid for.  This was my first time living away from home, my first time with a full-time job, and though I can’t recall exactly how I was feeling I was probably a bit jittery with nerves and anticipation.  Beneath that, I was probably a bit moody, thinking about home.  I remember I was looking forward to moving in.  And I remember that when I got back to the hotel after being out, probably organising things like my bank account and foreigner card and personal seal with my supervisor, and found that my sweet little lamb (bought by my parents at Brisbane Airport just before I left the country) and unicorn I’d left on the bed had been arranged like this …

… by the cleaners, it just made my day.  Japan is the land of cute, I wonder if it’s just instinct to arrange soft toys into friendly hugging poses, or whether the cleaner was a particularly perky person, or in a particularly good mood, or just thought it’d be sweet.  It made me happy, in any case.  I tried a few times to write a note in return, wanting to let them know how their random act of adorability had so positively affected me, but didn’t end up leaving anything – too embarrassed by my poor Japanese, and concerned my meaning wouldn’t get across.  And the cleaners would probably regularly change, I couldn’t be sure the message would get to the right person.  If I’d had access to a printer, maybe I would’ve printed this picture and written thank you on the back; it would have eventually gotten to the right person.

So, my instant pasta’s just about gone, that means this should probably be wound up.  Not particularly writing or creativity related today, though this act did inspire me to take the above picture.  A similar moment may be written at one point.  As I feel like it and I have a little washing up calling me to scrub, I’ll end with an easily composed, overblown, mediocre, and generic statement (think I’ve got enough adjectives?):  whether you’re going or coming, whatever point you’re at in your life, whatever you’re doing or whatever your current state of mind is, happiness can come from any little thing at any random moment.

To the sink!


New Toys Are Fun

Have to thank Roger Colby for bringing this site to my attention – an awesome analyser that informs which famous authors your writing style resembles.  It looked like such a fun new toy that when I got home from work yesterday and read about it, immediately I had to know which author’s spirit and style is embodied by each and every one of my novel chapters.  Thus, spent the entire time Mum was cooking our last dinner together in Japan – a scrumptious pasta concoction filled with imagination and all things salvageable/edible in my pantry and fridge – and much of the time within the actual eating process copying and pasting and hitting analyse.  Thought I’d share an overview of percentages.  Sorry, this is to be a highly self indulgent blog.  As in, far more self indulgent than usual.

So, by scanning each chapter and calculating the appropriate percentages, my book reads as follows:

Corey Doctorow – 17.5%;  Kurt Vonnegut – 10%;  Margaret Mitchell – 10%;  Chuck Palahniuk – 7.5%;  H.P. Lovecraft – 7.5%;  Dan Brown – 7.5%;  William Gibson – 7.5%;  David Foster Wallace – 5%;  Raymond Chandler – 5%;  Gertrude Stein – 5%;  Douglas Adams – 2.5%;  Stephen King – 2.5%;  J.K.Rowling – 2.5%;  James Fenimore Cooper – 2.5%;  Arthur Clark – 2.5%;  Jane Austen – 2.5%;  Anne Rice – 2.5%

Bit of a mix in there.  A large mix.  I haven’t read many of them either – guess that’s just lots of authors I have to look up to start filling out my book journal.  Not sure how good a thing it is, if my style’s changing so much in the one book.  But then, there are some comparisons that just keep popping up, and the analysis takes into account word choice as well as style.  I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason Anne Rice got in there.  At least it wasn’t Stephanie Meyer.  And though awesome, this analyser is still just a toy.  Not, I imagine, wholly accurate.  A bit of fun, gives maybe a little insight into who you could be compared to if you become great.  Not that that fact stopped me playing with it until I seemed to break it.

And I suppose I shouldn’t worry about it at all.  Maybe separately, each chapter seems to read a little differently.  But together, they all still read as me.