Author Archives: rumibean

about Japan

Tokyo train etiquette

Tokyo train etiquette

is fucked up.

It’s like this:

  1. NO talking on cellphones*
  2. Position your backpack to your front so you’re not unwittingly whacking people with it.  Place briefcases & cumbersome bags on the racks above the seats (if you can reach them)
  3. NO eating
  4. NO drinking
  5. No loud convos
  6. Guys should put their hands where we can see ’em°
  7. Don’t cross your legsª
  8. Give up your seat to: old people, pregnant women, hurt folks
  9.  WAIT in an orderly line, just wait until everyone has gotten off before getting on
  10. Tetris your position so you’re not rudely pushing past people when it’s your stop.  Even if it’s sofuckingcrowded you didn’t know it was possible for ten people to push into you at once, bruising your ribs in the process¹
  11. TURN OFF your damn cellphone
  12. God forbid you touch someone♥

* So I’m running late but I’m on a train which makes me debate: do I suffer the wrath of my boss (for not calling and giving a heads-up) or the multiple death stares of the general public?  I choose the former.  Thrice.  I get that this is probably just plain dumb on my part but people on trains are scary, silent bullies.  I’d rather my boss think me deeply imperfect and unprofessional because open hostility just isn’t my bag I’m mental like that. 

° Otherwise you could be accused of feeling up some cute Japanese girl and she will embarrass the fuck out of you.  Also, silencing the shutter sound is not an option on ALL cellphones sold in Japan.  Because men like to take panty shots on trains.

ª Built-like-a-bouncer Tokyoite told me: “It makes me VERY angry.  I might trip over your feet.”  Yikes, just talking about it makes this dude pop forehead veins and see red.  When I say, “Oops.  I’ve totally done this,” it makes his eyes bulge something scary at me.  

¹ Good luck keeping your hands in the air, guys.  

♥ I horrified the crap out of a 40-50 year-old businessman when I accidentally slammed into him during a particularly jerky ride.  I apologized but his unflinching face told me I sure as hell wasn’t forgiven.

Tokyo paradox #78:
No eating or drinking on trains but retching and pissing happens on the regular.
I’ve stepped over it and sat in it.

P.S. If you’re a foreigner most infractions are forgiven.

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relationshipping, trans talk

She doesn’t hear me

She doesn't hear me anymore

because she’s got her own issues.

Which I understand because I get consumed by hormonally induced insecurities but I swear, these days I’m listening to my former mirror and it’s jarring, understandable and kinda hilarious.

2011:
Me: I can’t fit into my jeans.  Any of them.  I’ve gained like 10 pounds since yesterday.
Him: That’s impossible.  You did not gain 10 pounds.
Me: It feels like it and I still can’t fit into anything.  I’m crazy bloated.
Him: No, just crazy.
Me: I look pregnant.
Him: Well, you’re not.  You’re beautiful and aren’t you going to be late for work?
Me: I can’t find anything that fits!  And I’m always late, which means I’ll be on time.  I have to maintain the routine; otherwise it’ll confuse the work folks.  Besides I can’t wear this.  This would be a housecleaning outfit that I bet BF has already taken a secret blackmail picture of: yellow and orange striped knee-high socks, green leopard print underwear, some bizarre hand-me-down thermal crop top and weird mid-calf boots.  I do this.  Cleaning is way more fun when I play some deranged version of dress up.
Him: Huge eye-roll, big smirk.  Dammit, he did take a photo…so fucking opportunistic.

And now:
Me: Arrrghhh!!!  I’m going to be so fucking late.  Crapshitfuck!!!  I hate this part of living in Tokyo.  I’m always late because I’m not early.  Since when is being on time late?!
Her: Do you see THIS?!!, pointing to her head.
Me: Huh?  What are you talking about?
Her: Seriously?  You don’t see it?
Me: Uh no…do you have something in your hair?  Check the weather.
Her: Unbelievable.  My hair was perfect and now it’s totally wrecked.
Me: What?  It looks fine to me.  I don’t get it.  Crap, where’s the umbrella?
Her: This is sticking straight out, pointing at the same spot on her head.  I look ridiculous.  I can’t believe you were going to let me leave the house like that.
Me: Is she pointing to a curl?!  I thought it looked all natural and purposely kinda messy.  Really, I have no idea what she’s talking about; I don’t see it.  Why don’t you pin it?  Snacks!  Pack snacks.
Her: Because that would look even more ridiculous.
Me: Okaaay…ponytail?  Ready!  Gotta run.
Her: Totally unimpressed eye-roll and…sliding tatami room door.

I believe I have been (r)ejected from this conversation.
Great, are we both PMS-ing?

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random love

Happy freedom day, America

gay freedom

from Tokyo.

Funnily and unexpectedly enough, this holiday has struck a deep chord within me.  Perhaps it took moving to a foreign country, one in which I’m a citizen, to make me think damn hard and comparatively about American things like:

change, weed, immigration, conflict, acceptance, hate, cops, motherfucking Hollywood, documentaries, fast food, abuse, Vegas, the fucking judicial system, abortion, beer, AA, puppies, capitalism, goddamn public transportation,
Planned Parenthood, traffic, swimming pools, guns, NYC, libraries,
the homeless, privilege,  infomercials, love, Prince, reality TV, the death penalty,
fucking musicals, Apple, vegans, fly fishing,  NAACP, the public, goddamn Texas, telemarketing, Sesame Street, equality, drag queens, fucking healthcare.

I could go on.  And on.

But really, it’s just this:
Love you, America.

Oh fuck, have I just become patriotic?
I’m aight with that.

Love y’all, Happy 4th, Peace.

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about Japan

Japanese guys have no tact

Japanese guys have no tact

so please gimme beer float to deal.

Because sometimes I just want alcohol.  And ice cream.  Together.  At home.
Which makes me an alcoholic in Japan.
Not kidding.

Ok, this is fucked up.
Me: I can’t believe people in Japan don’t drink at home.  Seriously?!
FB (friend-boy): Yeah…no, they don’t.  It’s very rare.  Do you?
Me: Sure.
FB: Alone?
Me: Sometimes.
FB: Are you an alcoholic?
Me: Frealz?! Okay, he’s being serious.  No, I’m not an alcoholic.  Enter speedy, defensive thoughts on the immediate: sometimes I really like a beer when I get home.  Or a whiskey.  Especially after working and running around this crazy city for 8, 10, 14 hours straight and having felt sweat rivulets streaming down my back since my first train at 8am.  Wait, why do I feel I have to qualify my drinking?  Fuck that, FB.  
FB: Hmm…

Or…
Dude: Did you get your hair done?
Me: Yep. Wow, dude actually noticed; perhaps I’m not giving him enough credit.
Dude: Did you add new color to cover up your greys?
Me: Nope, giving him exactly the credit he deserves.  I don’t have any grey…yet.  I debate telling him that his line of questioning isn’t going to win any cute Japanese girl hearts.  But then again he’s like 12 22 so…perhaps better for him to learn this on his own.  Growing pains, dude.

And most recently,
Him: Did you answer the intercom just now?
Me: Um…yes.
Him: Wow, your Japanese is very pretty.
Me: I am incredulous, in disbelief.  Really?
Him: Yeah, it’s really strange but not strange like the way most other foreigners speak it.
Me: Mm-hmm.  So probably he doesn’t know what pretty means?  I am so confused by his unsolicited critique on my language skills that I’m sure it shows on my face, furrowed brows and all.
Him: No, I mean it’s very cute.  And strange.

Can I have that beer whiskey float now?

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relationshipping

Was I a fake lesbian?

Was I a fake lesbian

Sure, according to an ex.

Many years ago she told me I was most likely a straight girl because our relationship was my only lesbian experience.  I was vaguely insulted by this because by that time we had been together for years and really, you’re telling me that I, in essence, am not a ‘real’ lesbian because if we were to break up I’d most certainly date a guy?

So much for living in the moment and seven years of historical evidence.
But I proved her right because I sure as hell ended up with a guy (at least at first).

When GF (then BF) and I started dating we had some queer talk:
Me: You know, when I was with ***, my hetero history was a strike against me.
Him: What do you mean?
Me: Because to her, since I’d only been with men boys up to that point, I wasn’t really gay.  Especially since she’d only ever dated women.
Him: If it was important to me to label you gay or straight, I’d prefer that you’d been with men and women.  Because you would know for sure if you were gay after those experiences.

And this might be when I started to fall for him.  I appreciate his rationale because it’s so darn sensible (and it just so happened to nullify my insecurities).  Not to mention dating me requires acceptance of my curious (and curiouser) history, which has shaped and transformed my worldview to the present.

Speaking of, when I saw IO Tillet Wright’s TED video, 50 Shades of Gay, I was immediately intrigued by her question:

“[I] asked people to quantify themselves on a scale of one to 100 percent gay, and I watched so many existential crises unfold in front of me. People didn’t know what to do, because they had never been presented with the option before.”

She brings up an excellent point regarding discrimination: where do you draw the line?  I actually had hetero guilt post lesbian relationship because I felt I had this weird privilege that I wasn’t used to; aside from lesbo-dyke slurs, I’d gotten kicked out of a store, for chrissakes, for holding my girlfriend’s hand.

I’m not 100% gay or straight, which means I’m floating in the grey with a surprisingly large part of the population, which really makes LGBTQ discrimination fucking inane and just plain dumb.

Happy Pride 2013, y’all.
Was I a fake lesbian

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about Japan

This is my brain

This is my brain

not on pot.  In Japan.

I guess my brain art doesn’t really indicate a sober state.  It’s some emotional hormones, whiskey, fried bird wing and…what the fuck am I writing?

THIS: Pot is seriously illegal in Japan.

Here’s what, according to Japan Today:

Japan’s marijuana laws are not their own. The Cannabis Control Act, implemented by the U.S. in 1948 to legitimize its own anti-pot legislation, is in direct opposition to hundreds of years of cannabis use in Japan. No, the Japanese weren’t sitting around, red-eyed and playing Ben Harper songs on a shamisen, but they were making clothing, rope and bowstrings from hemp and using cannabis in Shinto ceremonies. The harsh view of marijuana in Japan is the result of the American laws; it was never the impetus behind them. If the U.S. has so radically changed its own stance on medicinal marijuana, shouldn’t Japan follow suit?

See the complete article here if you like.

So jump backwards to August 2012 and the juxtaposition of a very green Cali (duuuude, pura vida- thank you bra, loves you very much):

cali green

©Seralyn Campbell 2012

with serene and sober Japan:

japan green

©Seralyn Campbell 2012

All of this within a week made my brain go, “Wow.”

So maybe I don’t need drugs to refresh my head-space but lots of jet lag and beautiful scenery.  Okay, why am I even writing this?  To showcase the difference, people:
CA- legal, Japan- illegal.  It’s important.  We’ll talk about Thailand and Mexico later.

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open relationship

Cheating is needless

Cheating is needless

in an open relationship.

Me: So…I changed my mind.  Let’s try an open relationship.  Is that okay with you?
Her: You know I’ve been okay with (read: wanting) that from day 1 (post coming out); you were the one who took issue with it.
Me: Right…so let’s try it?

It feels so fucking weird.  I would never have thought I’d do this but apparently it’s not so uncommon that even Facebook lists it as an option.  I feel that I have officially become one of those people, you know, the ones who make you feel apprehensive because they’re that  kind of unwelcome-to-the-general-public strange and different.

Well, fuck my self-consciousness.  Who am I kidding?  I was always one of those people.

So why now?  Goddamn sexual attraction.  That inexplicable shit is fucked up in that I can’t control nor sway it.  As GF becomes more bio-femmey, an intangible but very solid something is disappearing.  Aside from that bio-chemical attraction shifting, everything else is pretty damn perfect; we get along (except when I pick fights), support each other and have crazy love and respect for each other.  Perhaps open-relationshipping is the missing link that will make us consummately satisfied?

Historically I’ve said no way for 2 reasons:
1) I don’t like the idea of strangers and their bodily fluids contaminating my cozy, secure sphere or my person.
2) I don’t know how capable I am of this because once I’m into someone, it’s really fucking hard for me to be attracted to someone else.  I’ve never been able to even date more than one person at a time; casual is difficult.

Oh shit. 
Dating.
Fucking dating.

What the shitshitshit?
In typical me fashion, I look up to see my new world order only after I’ve committed to the new change, which I spearheaded.  Seriously, I am the world’s worst dater; I have negative capacity to read between the lines, take everyone at their word and cannot even begin to understand dating etiquette*.

Which means single(ish) me is about to entertain the hell out of my friends and thoroughly mortify me.  Here we go again.  

*Seriously, I thought the best way to show romantic disinterest is to pay the first date resto tab, even if it costs triple digits.  Apparently not.  How do you people know this shit?!

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relationshipping, trans talk

My new normal

My new normal

isn’t so abnormal, is it?

My life isn’t contained in this crazy-magical, rainbow-confetti snowglobe whirlwind filled with exploding closets, overcrowded vanities and non-stop tucking.  Really, my life is fairly mundane.  Everyday I am just being me, staying busy, surviving and hopefully thriving.

Even to my chosen family (amazing, beautiful fucking weirdos) my situation is a tad incomprehensible.  But I get to thinking and the root issue with my transsexual GF is simply a matter of dealing with constant (sometimes massive) change and the overriding question on a steady loop in my head is, how much change can I really handle?  Sure, most people aren’t in my exact situation but don’t we all face this question in life?

I think I’m super adaptable and I like the idea of change but in my current relationship, my capacity to adjust and evolve is constantly and scrupulously examined.  My self-proclaimed open-mindedness and willingness to explore new and uncomfortable spheres haven’t been tested like this before.  

And it is daunting.  

Beneath my wanderlust and seemingly fluid sexuality, I don’t like experiencing too many changes at once.  And currently, many looming changes require perpetual shifting, transitioning and adapting, which means I’m experiencing consistent discomfort and insecurity.  My logical brain is over this taxing process, but my slightly sadistic side appreciates a mental earthquake and an emotional jolt.

Despite the confusion I face when thinking about the future with my GF (namely, is there one?), I really try to stay in the moment and not overthink what lies ahead.  This is difficult for me but it’s the only way our relationship has a chance of working out because who the hell knows how emotions and attractions will change; there is just no telling.  Staying supremely in the here and now is a huge challenge but the rigorous honesty it demands certainly keeps me from becoming complacent and that’s an excellent thing.

So moving to and living in Tokyo with a transsexual in transition means: people change, ideologies metamorphize, assumptions disappear and serious growth occurs…okay, wait, I totally lied; I do live in a  crazy-magical, rainbow-confetti snowglobe and I feel really fucking lucky for it.

P.S. Thank god for stupid fucking DOMA getting its ass kicked, right?

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random love

Let’s get it straight…

Let's get it straight

because I don’t know how to tell my story chronologically.

My brain has never processed in a linear fashion so here’s a nifty timeline (thank you, Seralyn, awesome computer genie) to help identify where in the relationship each post lands.  I’ve timelined past posts because I think it will clarify and better represent who we are/were when we were experiencing all sorts of transition.

Thank you awesome people for the support and encouragement thus far and hopefully this visual will help; I always benefit from a colorful chart (thank you, Maria Montessori).

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open relationship

I see open relationship

I see open relationship

but. I. Don’t. Want. To.

Fuck a tightrope, fuck balancing.
The ground beneath my feet is so many thousand miles below, I can’t even fathom stepping on solid ground.

What am I bitching about now?

All impending physical changes aside, I realize soon after his coming out that my boyfriend turned girlfriend will need to figure out if she’s straight, gay or bi.  Some people are born knowing/feeling their hetero/homo/bisexuality.  For others, it’s not so immediately clear; various experiences are required to truly understand and/or accept their sexual identity.  I am partnered with a self-proclaimed experience whore, for whom figuring out her sexual orientation will necessitate experiential experimentation.  I know that at some point I will have to be okay with this, or not, but either way there will be a fork in our hitherto monogamous path.

At the moment, I have negative interest in an open relationship.

Fuck.
This is hard.

Fuck.

Sure, when he was a guy, he was heterosexual but he’s not such a he anymore.  And just like I have questioned whether or not I would be able to stay attracted to him as he transitions, I have to wonder about the potential turns her sexual attraction will take.  Not to mention, she has stated that dating a heterosexual man would validate her female-ness like nothing else, which I totally understand.  And although she won’t date or sex other people because she knows I’m not ready to open relationship, I really get that it’s unfair for her to not do what everyone does (or ought to)…explore their sexual identity.

My mind can process this quite rationally but in the moment, only weeks after her coming out, my emotions are slighty nauseous and fail to keep up with the seemingly radical relationship shifts that await us.  Currently neither of us is eager to change our relationship status but this waiting period is difficult for me.

Because I know soon everything will change. Again.

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