cravings / not a box / george orwell (JETlagged ravings)
it's 5:44am now. I woke up at 5:30. I dreamed that I was making a "kimchi beef tongue with rice" soup. But, I kept messing up. At one point, I even put the soup into a wooden crate-like soup container over the flames, and the container burned. (Mind not that the container had holes between the planks, so it couldn't hold soup anyway.)

The dream was food. Food b/c my body was actually, outside my dream, hungry.

hungry and lashing out at me..

So, I woke up.

After two years in Miyagi and what do I crave? Rice.

I want rice and miso soup and natto. Or at least udon with tsuuyu dip.

But, really, I just want that rice in my mouth. I've been conditioned.

After I woke up, realizing my hunger pains, my body trying to reclaim the phantom hours... it thinks I've missed both lunch and dinner. I gave up fighting the urge to not eat and went down to the kitchen and pulled out taro mantou (taro steamed bun) and some pork sung (dried shredded pork) and began chowing away. it wasn't Miyagi rice and it was no miso soup nor udon. But it would do.

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The first hot dog I've had in America was kosher. It was no Nathans, but it was kosher and it beat out any hot dog I could find in Japan. I could've had bialy's in the same store, too, if it wasn't sold out. oh well.

I also had earl grey tea with milk and sugar as one of my first drinks here. I think that makes me more British than American, but the thing about American is... I do what I want.

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I saw a book called "Not a Box" by Antoinette Portis (awesome pen name, if it is one) in the museum book store. It reminded me of how American kids are socialized to be creative and focuses on processes rather than rote facts. like, for example, the process of using your imagination and well, to be corny, thinking outside the box.

I also watched this mother talking to her kid in a farm. She was asking her child... "did this feather come from this sheep?" The child said, "Yes." And she said, "No, it didn't."

I'm not sure that's an effective way of teaching your kids. Rather than asking that, I think I would've asked, "Where do you think this feather came from?"

Just by asking the yes-no question, you've led the kid on, closed off his/her options. By leaving it openended, you've included everything the surrounding universe holds... the grass, the fence, the numerous answers that could've came to be.

So, I dunno, I guess I was kind of critical in my head. Of course I said nothing. It's her kid. And besides, it might be a great way of teaching, who knows. I'm no parent.

But, if it were me, I would've asked the question starting with "where", see what kind of answer my kid would come up with and then chuckle at its ridiculousness. Or who knows, my kid might've been right on.

And like, who knows... the feather could've came from the sheep. The sheep could've been getting cozy with one of the chickens who left it there. Farm animals get along. I've read Animal Farm, I know this. (Except the pigs... they're all elitest)

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okay, mentioning animal farm prompted me to look up george orwell on the webz, and apparently when writing 1984, he was under the pen name Eric Arthur Blair. So, why do we attribute the novel 1984 to George Orwell and not his pen name? Should we not honor the wishes of the writers? Maybe it was okay after he died? Seems kind of disingenuous to the author's wishes though, regardless.

oh wait... okay, reread more things. he published 1984 under his real name Eric Arthur Blair, and then later published other books after his pen name, George Orwell.

So, quite the contrary to what I said before.

Intriguing.

So we do honor his wishes, if they are that his contributions are to remain to that of his alter-writing-ego.

I feel like this is a bit of trivia that lots of people who play Quiz Ball and other trivia games know. I had no idea.