bailey, everywhere

I'm Bailey, a small girl from a small town. I lived a year in Kyoto and I graduated from college in Chicago in June 2010. I lived in Boston for two years but it was a wash. I'm rebuilding from the ground up. I am intent on adventures. I like beautiful things, funny things, photography, Japan, and emoticaps. (I am a vegan in progress and sometimes it happens in public. I yell most frequently about religion, racism, "women's issues," feelings, and dresses.) My friends call me Etsuko. You write it like 悦子 and it is a very good name.
小さな町からの小さな女子ベイリー(悦子とも呼ばれてます、よく合った名前っす)です。一年間京都に住み、2010年6月にシカゴ大学から卒業しました。二年弱ボストンに住みましたが結局無駄でしたのでこれから完全なやり直し中。日常生活にも小さい冒険があると信じて過ごしています。趣味は美しいもの、おかしいもの、撮影、日本、とemoticaps。(只今ビーガン工事中でたまにその進歩も公にされます。頻繁に出て来る課題:宗教、人種主義、「女性問題」、感情、ワンピース。)どうぞ宜しくお願い致します♪

BAILEY DOESN’T LIKE IT EITHER

hanabi:

bitchville:

Gatson does not like Twilight (via Deviantart)

YES. YES. YES.

賛成

oh Japan, I hurt for you ›

This is everything about Japan that clenched my stomach but I couldn’t find words for while I was there. The “cuteness” theory isn’t new; amae has been used to describe Japanese social relations for decades; and as much as all generalizations are false and Nihonjin-ron rubs me in immensely the wrong way, it seems fairly clear to me as an outsider with some familiarity with the culture that there’s something to it.

I want to go back to Japan. Being there while this happens is stressful but it’s not as bad, I now realize, as not being there.

lagubeko:

renokate:

everythinglovely:

youhaveabeautifulmind:

(via loveyourchaos)

even when you’re not expecting it.

aseriesofserendipities:

longlivethequeen:loveyourcrookedneighbor:brightlywound: guinnevere: nathanieljames: Inspired by

Note to everyone:

aseriesofserendipities:

It doesn’t matter how thin you are.

Black mesh tops (or tops with sections of mesh) and dresses do NOT look good on ANYONE.

You’re a guy with an English accent

hanabi:

dealbreaker:

You Are Bella From Twilight

So, we can’t date because you’re sort of seeing someone? Okay, well maybe we could sort of see each other too? Oh, you’re really into him. That’s cool. If it doesn’t work out, I’d love to- no, I wasn’t implying that you’d break up, I just mean sometimes relationships end. What? Promised to him for eternity? You think you’re going to be together for eternity? Dude, you’re what, like 18? Chances are, you’re going to break up when you go to college. College is basically a reset button for your whole life, and a guarantee that you’re going to be boning a bunch of dudes on some very creaky twin mattresses surrounded by Fight Club posters and weed leaf tapestries. Good luck explaining that to the love of your life via confessional late night Skype session.

Just forget it. Have fun with your sparkly boyfriend. I respect your weird obsession. The way you’re talking about him, the sex must be unbelievable, so I can’t argue with- WHAT. NO SEX? And you barely even kiss each other? And if you have sex, you think it’s going to kill you? What do you do then? STARE AT EACH OTHER IN THE WOODS? You stare longingly at each other while he rattles off lines that sound like they were paraphrased from the Romeo and Juliet Cliff Notes? Yeah, this has staying power written all over it. All I’m saying is, you’re cute, but you don’t know anything about love right now. If you think you’re going to feel this weird stammering, bottom lip biting puppy love thing in 5 years, then you’re living in a fantasy. An elaborately plotted, insufferably boring fantasy sprawling across books and movies, constructed by a very wealthy mormon cat lady. Have a nice life, just don’t call me when you get sick of close range, smoldering eye contact and a lifetime of lady blue-balls.

YESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYES

[The question is] whether recent Japanese prose fiction is exceptional in the sense that it defies comparison with any other literature, or is only a variant among many literatures and is unique only as any other literature is. A priori logic points to the latter. For exclusivism and essentialism are ethnocentric and fantastic, and as such both inappropriate and groundless. If exclusivism and essentialism are merely forms asserting variance and particularity, then they should be so reformulated. Japanese literature, like any other national or regional product, is definable only in its relation to temporary and spatial constraints. It might be particularly and conspicuously “Japanese”; but there is nothing ontologically sacred or absolute in its makeup. This aspect is important to keep in mind inasmuch as the need to de-universalize and particularize the Western norm remains foremost on our new critical agenda.

Masao Miyoshi, in “Rendering Words, Traversing Cultures” (available on JSTOR)

Or, in the more brass-tacks language of a literary agent based in Tokyo who sells titles to both Japanese- and English-language audiences: ‘In the final analysis, it’s the book that matters, and not that it is a Japanese book. To sell a literary product as ‘Japan’ will inevitably attract a limited audience. You certainly don’t read Garcia-Marquez because he’s Colombian, do you? In the long run, you can sell a Japanese writer on the international market only as a writer who happens to be Japanese.’

Edward Fowler, in “Rendering Words, Traversing Cultures” (JSTOR)