I bumped into my dad on the bus on my way to the gym. We hugged and I realised he reeked of alcohol. This was around 6pm and he told me he was with his friend at a pub nearby (I meet up with him there every Sunday). He was slurring his speech and having to take 10 times longer to finish his sentence or to say a word. I wasn't embarrassed. I'm actually really used to this.

The very first memories I can remember are my brother and I studying in the kitchen with my mum in the evenings. My mum would sit opposite us making sure our pencils traced the letter on the paper, every now and again checking on our dinner. This was pretty much what happened most nights. Our dad was nowhere to be seen. He didn't work nights; it's just that he was always down the pub (there are English pubs in Tokyo too!). I only ever remember seeing dad on weekends when he'd take us out to the park and then down to the pub when they would open. My earliest memory with him is sitting at the bar with him and my brother, sipping apple-tizer and everyone adoring me.

Anyway, when I was young I was really upset that my dad was never around. I always asked him to either stop drinking or stop smoking. I would cry or whinge about it but he never changed. When we moved out of Japan and my mum and dad divorced I was a teenager and my feelings of sadness turned to anger. I was so pissed off that he was still in Tokyo squandering money on beer instead of being a father. Soon, the money vanished and he moved to England. We saw him once a month but my brother always asked that because he was never there for us when we were kids, why should we be there for him now? I suppose he had a point but I felt that was pretty childish.

Then, he had a heart attack. That was about 2 years ago. My feelings of anger became feelings of worry. My brother was still in school and I started a new job. We visited him at the hospital and he told us his doctors told him he had a lucky escape and that he must never drink to the excess he used to. So, basically no more 10-15 pinters a day. He was actually okay with it! In fact, I saw a completely different him. He was really happy and I think he count himself so lucky that he won't be foolish to do something like that again. And you know what? I was relieved! He started telling us that he's gonna have to start drinking lime and soda from now on. However, he said that he would definitely not quit drinking at the pub. He will just not drink ale. Fair enough. The pub didn't cause him to have a heart attack; the surplus of alcohol did that.

From that day on, I decided that we should see him once a week. Every Sunday. That was actually a good idea. My brother and I saw him drink his lime and soda like it was tasty. I was probably the happiest out of all of them. My dad had money to actually take us to dinner too! We've never had that kind of treatment in over 10 years! It was so much fun. I can even smile now just remembering the great times we had. Alcohol was at last not in control of my dad for the first time in 50 years (he was 16 when he started to drink heavily).

However, slowly but surely, he'd start to drink ale. It started around last year springtime. I remember because he'd make an excuse that it was getting hot for a soft drink and that "it's that kind of weather" to drink beer. It started with maybe half a pint and I wasn't too bothered. Then he'd drink a pint. He'd say that the doctors told him he doesn't have to cut alcohol out completely. He was just told not to drink like it was water. And I still wasn't bothered. In fact, he was still drinking more of the lime and soda than the beer. Early last year, he actually quit smoking so he had even more money. So, he would take my brother and myself out more often and he even included my mum. They are friends so it isn't awkward. But in our dining out, I started to realise he ordered a lot of wine just because "it goes with the meal". My mum loves her wine and he knows it. So, they'd both get drunk on wine and well, it bothered me a little but I was glad he was eating. I forgot to say, when he was drinking, he never ate. He was stick thin with a giant beer belly. He'd say, "I can't eat on an empty belly, my dear!"

Now I don't even remember the last time he had a lime and soda. He'd tell us that he drinks lime and soda when he's not with us but I wasn't convinced. Now he doesn't make any excuse. "I'll have a pint of London Pride, my love."

I still see him every Sunday. I never want to say anything about his drinking anymore. In a way, I've given up. Ever since I can speak, I begged him to stop drinking. I'm too old and maybe too wise to ask the same of him. What about my feelings of worry? Well, they've changed to feelings of pity. I pity my dad. But you know something? As much as I know deep down that he's probably not the world's greatest dad, he's still a good person and I'm seeing him as a drinking buddy now. And I will be there for him in his 2nd heart attack, his second attempt to kick the habit. Because he ain't a bad person and in all honesty, that's the thing I respect most about him.

Right. Time for an update. I hear Manson and Dita's gonna divorce - controversial. Love, pick the bird, not the booze!

Now, for a proper update. I have a week off between my leaving a job and starting anew. So, I'm trying to do as much as possible this week, which isn't going that well. I haven't done much in other words. However, I did meet up with a colleague of mine today and we both went window-shopping in Covent Garden. I do love to window shop.

"Window-shopping for 25 minutes = 100kcals burned" - GLAMOUR

There is a reason for this window-shopping day, though! I'm actually trying to get out of the earthy tone phase. Basically, I wear nothing but black, olive green, orange, brown, grey, khaki and sometimes, S-O-M-E-T-I-M-E-S, red. So, I've made it a mission to take pride in how I dress. Hey, maybe it'll turn out that those colours suit me and that's why I've been wearing it. I'm sure that's not the case but I am twenty-one and I really need to make more of an effort to look decent. At the moment, what with the greens/oranges/browns, I look like an orange tree. It's not a resolution... it's just something I'm testing out. So, I bought a few bits from the very cheap and very cheerful (and probably not very fair-trade) H&M.

Oh. I just realised I bought a brown scarf.

Crap.

In other news, my mum and I have made a pact. Seeing as we both quit smoking together (1 year anniversary in February - yay us!), we will try doing something together again. Now, for me, it's to be a size 14 by December. It's a pretty realistic goal and I think I can do it. I hear the first stone falls off just by not eating junk food. I know! It's just that easy. Why did I not think about this before?! My mum has decided that by December, she will make our house look like a proper house and not a museum of random junk. It's hard to explain without being embarrassed but let's just say the living room isn't a living room and the bedroom looks like we accommodate Chinese cockle pickers by the dozen (bunk bed galore!) I've never invited anyone round the house since we moved in 5 years ago and I think my mum feels a little bad because I'm ashamed. Hehe.

Before I end this rather random entry, I thought I'd mention that I found the guy who I thought was the father of my kitten-child. I mean, he notified me that he's still alive and kicking in real life and not in my crazy dream. Gave me a number of excuses about his disappearance, all of which I couldn't be bothered to argue about because I was so relieved that he was okay. Still, he didn't seem to have cared that much that I was worried sick. I'm starting to think it wasn't even worth a second of thought. I'm just that nice of a person. Doesn't help that I get paranoid either. Hmm. Honestly, I thought he was dead! I even thought of ringing Missing Persons.

To end this post, seeing as I've used a lot of these smiley faces, I'll leave you with...

It was my leaving party yesterday. I really enjoyed myself. Unfortunately, not a lot of people were in the office so the turn out wasn't as grand as usual. Still, the people I cared most were there so I was a happy girl. We started around 5pm at Yates and I didn't buy drinks for the entire night! I felt bad so I bought a couple of platters of finger food which went down really well. Poor sods were hungry more than anything! Two former colleagues (and very good friends of mine) turned up and we were having a blast. I got so many presents and cards! I didn't know so many people cared. It did make me feel a little teary but I didn't cry. I didn't want to look like an emotional wreck on my last day in front of colleagues!

I got a bottle of wine, £100 (I asked for money and not poxy vouchers - hey, if you're gonna be informal...), 2 broches, a mug with a teddy in it and a necklace. Before work finished, the senior manager made a speech which made me choke back the tears. Still, I told my mate that it would've been nicer if I knew all of this before I handed in my bloody resignation! Still, from all of this I have realised how much people actually liked me. Now that I recall those memories, I can't think of anyone who actually hated me bar one girl, but she has issues with everyone so I wasn't too bothered.

So, I'm started my new job on the 15th. Mum bought me a pair of trousers and a formal black jacket/blazer today. I'm a little nervous and excited but I think if my new colleagues are even half as nice as my former colleagues, I will be a very lucky girl indeed.

I wonder if people have as many strange dreams as I do?

My most recent dream was when I gave birth to a kitten. That was weird. I don't remember the actual birth, which is a little sad but it didn't make my dream any less crazy than it was. So, I gave birth to this kitten that was as small as a table tennis ball. I don't remember what I did with the kitten but I remember being really confused who the father was.

Back in the real world, I've recently tried to get hold of an ex-boyfriend and a very good friend of mine. He's been quiet for about a few months now. I actually sent him a text quite recently to see what he was up to. Anyway, back in my dream, I remembered I slept with him about 3~4 months ago. Kittens are ready to be popped out in 3~4 months, of course. So, I told him he was the proud father of this kitten. He didn't believe me but I went through my history of who I've slept with and told him that he must be the father to my chi... kitten-child.

Then he turned around. The most serious look on his face. He then made me see sense. "If I'm the father of that kitten, how come I don't look anything like it?" He was right! "I mean, look at it. Does it look like me? Do I look like a cat to you?" So, if not him, who's the father?!

Then I woke up.

So, I realised my blog content has nothing to do with the title of my blog. To be honest, I only put that down because I couldn't think of anything else. Well, I lie. I had an option of "The Blog of a Nobody" (like the book by George Grossmith, which was very boring) or "My Blog". Both probably as interesting as my current title. Okay, so I'll probably not come up with anything more creative and maybe offended other bloggers out there if they have a blog titled "My Blog" or "XYZ's Blog". Sorry.

As explained in the subtitle, I'm 1/4 Finnish, 1/4 English and 1/2 Japanese. I'm the UN, baby! It's quite fun being mixed race. First of all, you'll look at me and nine times out of ten, probably won't even think I'm Japanese (a party trick of mine). When I do tell them I'm half Japanese, a lot of people will say, "I knew there was something Chinese-like about you!" Then they'd try to match my physical appearance to my race. "For someone who's not white, you sure are pale. Maybe it's your Finnish side?" I know some people who burn their pale asses just as much as I do and they are 100% Japanese. Alright. Maybe being mixed race has its down side too. Not to be all woe is me, but you get a sense of being out of place a lot. I was born in Japan but everyone knew I wasn't Japanese 'cause I don't look it. So, I was a "gaijin" there. When I moved to England, people knew I wasn't English because I didn't have the same features (I looked Chinese-y). Don't even get me started on being out of place in Finland!

At the end of the day, I understand that nobody should judge people by their race. I'm a good person and would be even if I were white, black or green. Still, I can't help but think my race seems to affect the way I live. People immediately assume that because my mum's Japanese, we live on a healthy diet of fish, good carbohydrates and plenty of vegetables. Unfortunately, I'm overweight and people say it's probably my English side. Grr!

To end this little rant, I would just like to say that my blog might be titled Fin-glish-ese, but you really won't expect me banging on about my race every entry I post. I seriously just couldn't think of anything else... maybe the only interesting thing about me is the fact that I'm mixed race. Oh, god. Don't say that. Going off on a tangent. Okay, end on a bright note. A bright note. Umm...

I have 2 passports! HAH!

Love Letters - An Animated Proposal - v2.0

There's been some vandalism on our street these past few weeks. As much as I hate vandals, I also don't believe in jumping the gun. Some walls on our side of the street have been knocked down pretty badly. All the older brick walls just seemed to crumble away. At first, I assumed it was because of the serious gales we've had earlier this month. However, it seems I was wrong. These walls seemed to fall apart even after the terrible weather. I also realised that the walls on the other side of the street seemed unaffected. There's a difference between our side and "their" side of the road. Our side has maisonettes whilst their side (also probably known as the "richer side") has your average semi-detached with only one family per actual house. That's the best I can describe it.

Getting back on track, I gave the vandals the benefit of the doubt but it was quite obvious it was the fault of people and not nature. We also have a small brick wall outside of our home. So, the natural reaction was to be worried that this will happen to us too. Now I'm not sure how much it is to hire a bricklayer to rebuild the thing, but it's still an expense however much they might charge. My mum has actually become a little obsessed with this wall business. Why? I'll tell you why...

My mum walks the dog quite often around the block and mentally notes down which wall has been kicked over on that day. Sounds a little too Neighbourhood Watch but I mean I highly doubt that she'd do it if we didn't have dogs. I hope not, anyway.

Last night, I decided to go down to our 24-hour shop to buy some food. My mum thought this would be an opportune moment to walk the dogs and also be my guard. Fair enough. When we returned, we passed a drunken couple and about 20 yards away three seriously drunk youths hanging around the house next to us. One guy was on the floor very much out of it, whilst one friend was sitting on the wall eating his chicken and chips and the other one trying to help him up. When we got into the house, my mum grabbed the phone and rang her boyfriend (who incidentally was the occupier of the house they were hanging around in front of). The conversation went something along the lines of, "There are 3 chavs outside of your house and I think they're the ones who kicked over our walls. They're just there being drunk and having sex with each other. If you hear anything, please confront them." This made me laugh so much. I love how she just blatantly called them chavs and how three chavs were having sex with each other on our pavement.

Anyway, after I told her it would be the silliest of ideas if he did confront them and as a consequence got seriously injured. I told her they were all just kids who have had too much to drink and are trying to sober up before they go home to their mummies and daddies. The guy on the floor probably doesn't know his name let alone cause such vandalism. The other two were scoffing food to even give a second of thought to kicking down walls.

Then I can to a conclusion: "If you think about it, mum, you'll probably find that they aren't the idiots who knocked our walls down. I mean apart from the fact that they are just kids who had far too much to drink, they were using the walls. If they were sitting on it, why would they want to knock it down? They would be knocking down their hang out. I don't think its people who use our walls to rest on that are the cause of the vandalism. Think outside of the box, mum!"

About half an hour later, they all left. The only sign of any vandalism was an empty chicken and chips box on the wall and one very interesting looking vomit on the pavement. Maybe we'll catch the real vandals next time.

DO NOT:

- Blackmail me ("no gym, no [enter appropriate exchange for the day here]").
- Ask how much I weigh. I promise you if I lost any, every man and his dog will know.
- Think I'm not trying hard enough.
- Call me "disgusting".
- Say that guys won't find me attractive because I'm not a size 8.
- Compare me to when you used to diet. You lived in the countryside where the nearest sweet shop was an hour walk away.
- Look at me funny when I make two sandwiches when it's not even packed with cheese and lard.

Well, now that I've got that out of my system, I'm going to get ready to go to the gym, or else my mum won't go to dinner with my dad, nan, brother and myself. I don't want the blame now, do I?

I would like to start off this blog by writing about my new obsession.

I got a Helix piercing done yesterday. I think that's what he called it. Anyway, I built up enough courage to go to The Grasshopper body-piercing studio by myself to get my top left ear pierced and, to my great surprise, it didn't hurt that much! I've not had any cartilage piercings so I was a little nervous but I have always wanted to get it done. I was actually going to get an Industrial piercing but realised that if a single cartilage piercing hurt like buggery, I won't bother getting two done. However, after I got this one done and dusted I can safely say that my next appointment at The Grasshopper will be for a £35 Industrial piercing (I think it's £35).

Mind you, my theory is that this piercing didn't hurt because my ear was numb from being outside in the freezing cold.

Note:
Piercing #1&2 is my left and right ear lobes and piercing #3 was my bottom left lip, which I took out because of reasons I can't be bothered to go into at this moment in time.