I’m not going to do this on every post like this, but for this first one like this I want to set the stage. I feel like this wasn’t just about getting sushi with two girls I had never met before. We didn’t do a lot as far as actions go in this event, but I enjoy new experiences and this is me documenting them, even if it’s just three girls who have never met before getting sushi.
I don’t remember the names of the sushi I tried, unfortunately. As they passed by me on the train I didn’t think to write them down like a real journalist would or anything. Before this past Memorial Day weekend, the only other time I had tried sushi via conveyor belt was in Cancún. Even that kind wasn’t the real deal because the sushi was packaged already if I remember correctly. It wasn’t bad or anything, but it was nothing compared to this sushi. Nothing because I can’t even remember how it tasted. Don’t get me wrong. Cancún is still an awesome place to visit, sushi aside. It’s not really known for the Japanese food. But you knew that already.
A sushi train is the kind of thing I can imagine seeing in New York. I bet they have that there. But I haven’t been to New York enough times to know for sure. New York does have excellent Taiwanese beef noodle soup though. I’ll give the Big Apple that. Enough about that though, this post is about sushi. It’s so exciting to see your food being transported to you like it’s a person travelling on a mission to reach your stomach. The train at Sakura Sushi Train Restaurant in Shawnee, KS off of Nieman is an Amtrak and very cute, reminding me of those Christmas toy trains, even though the train looks nothing like those trains.
The key to why the sushi tasted so good is the freshness. I mean, I kind of always knew sushi made and consumed right away tastes better than sushi that’s been sitting for a while, but I didn’t KNOW until I had this sushi. I’m sure the quality of the ingredients has a lot to do it with it too. People can spew a ton of facts at me, but until I experience it myself or see it firsthand, I can’t really grasp something as real.
I also think the excitement of meeting new people enhanced the whole experience. I made two new girl friends that day. One’s from the area and one’s from the East Coast like me. I love how barely five minutes in and we started talking about meeting guys and dating. I guess discussing relationships is a universal interest among women. It made for a good laugh. I remember talking about Orlando and Philly and how much the girl from the area loves sushi. Listening to these girls talk about who they are and what they like to do made me feel how normal it is to flow into a conversation with someone new. Once you start talking, everything else falls into place. Let’s just say I haven’t had good sushi in a while.
Sharted. That stands for shit and farted. When I see that word, I remember exactly who told me the meaning, how embarrassed I felt because of how loud the girl who told me the word was laughing, and how ridiculous the whole conversation was. I don’t think sharting is a common occurrence for a lot of people. It happens about as often as a blizzard. But the word makes me think of a shark simply because of how close these words sound. Who knows? Maybe sharting happens more often for sharks. J slash K! If you’re a non-smoker I’m all in. The girl had black hair. Actually I don’t know what to call it anymore since apparently there’s no such thing as black hair. Pocahontas! She had blue highlights as well.
There’s a feeling you get when you know something is about to happen. But then again, something may not happen. So you question it, back and forth like a pendulum. It’s a little like nervousness and it’s a little like throwing up. I know I’m not describing this feeling very well, but I don’t think there’s a word out there for it yet. I guess you just have to be in my body feeling what I’m feeling to really know what I’m talking about. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
You’re not going to ever feel exactly what I’m feeling. But it’s okay because I’m not ever going to feel exactly what you’re feeling either. There’s not another person out there exactly like me and there’s not another person out there exactly like you. Isn’t the world a wonderful place? So knowing this it makes me sad to think someone would feel so unworthy to be in existence they end their life by their own hands. Or someone would cause physical harm to themselves. People have seriously made life a lot more complicated than it is, but then again, maybe the way I experience reality is different from the way you experience yours so who am I to judge you for how you live? But if I don’t voice it out loud, I’m still going to do it in my head whether I notice it or not. You know what I mean?
I don’t think shopping is a bad thing. But like everything else, moderation is key.
I was thinking about materialism the other day. It is generally seen as a negative thing. I know there is a dictionary definition out there, but for me, the first thing that pops into mind is someone shopping a lot and accumulating stuff to make themselves happy. They feel happy when they get something new, but they also feel happy when they can show it off to their friends. But even if they can’t show off their goods to friends, I think they are happy with the sensation of running a credit card through a slot and picking up the bag with the things they can now own as a result of the credit card. It becomes an addictive feeling to the point where it doesn’t even matter what they are buying. They just love the feeling of sliding that credit card through.
Deep down I don’t think the materialistic person doesn’t know this ultimately doesn’t bring happiness. I mean, yes, maybe in the moment, but once the moment passes, the more they look at the things they buy the more the feeling wears off. It’s not brand new anymore! I just think they are avoiding the reality of more things can’t make you more happy. There’s something else going on in their life that needs fixing and shopping is a quick fix. Then come the garage sales.
Some guys don’t know the first thing about being just friends with a girl. Vice versa as well, but I think in this case this applies to mostly guys. I think when a guy starts out trying to be just friends with a girl, he is always in it for a motive. More girls than guys are capable of being there for someone and hanging out with someone without the complications of “catching feelings” as the kids call it these days. Being just friends with someone of the opposite sex is not impossible, but a lot of times it doesn’t work out because it is hard. Feelings do get in the way.
As for me, I am hard to be friends with, period. Especially now. Life is too short to sugarcoat everything. I am a nice girl, but I can be brutally honest with people I’m close to. Why waste someone’s time making them believe everything is okay when they really need to make changes in their lives to be a better person? I’m not perfect either, but if I am able to make a suggestion to improve the quality of someone’s life, I think I should let them know if I really care about them. I say this, but even as I’m typing this, I know I struggle with being brutally honest when it is necessary. There are times you’ve got to keep your mouth shut and just let your friend fall. It’s not easy, but I don’t want to be the same kind of friend everybody else out there is like.
OK, so a while ago I said to Stay Tuned…
I’ve been meeting some new people in the city I live in and in general doing a little more exploring than I’ve done before. I also started a new job. I want to share my experiences piece by piece. It’s taken me a while to get started because I’m a perfectionist and I like organizing a “format” for how I want to do these posts. In between I might throw in some fictional pieces, so just check out the categories and tags before assuming anything is a real-life blog.
I think the bravest thing someone does sometimes is show up. Not go fight in a war. Not stand up to a bully. Not shoot a bow and arrow through some sort of coronation ring. Nope. Not any of those things that is typically considered a brave thing to do.
I’m talking about showing up to an event. People take one look at you and start sizing you up. You haven’t even opened your mouth yet and you are being judged by every eye in the room. At least all the sober ones. (Let’s be honest. The inebriated ones ain’t gonna remember you after it’s all over.)
I was at a party over the weekend and I felt brave for showing up. I knew the host and a couple other people on the guest list, but the majority of the people on the guest list I did not know. Right before going I had this nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach like the kind of feeling you get if you’re a quiet one like me and sitting in class hoping the teacher doesn’t call on you or the kind of nervous feeling you get before having to give an oral presentation to the class.
Showing up to a party where you don’t know most of the people is in a way, going to battle. You don’t know what these people think of you from how you act to what you say to what you’re wearing. You shouldn’t care what these people think, but there’s always a part of you that will no matter how many parties you’ve been to. Once they’ve met you, it’s all over. You can’t change what they first think of you or go back in time and make them not ever know you.
You may walk away without them remembering you, but you now exist in the world to them and there’s no way to make them think you don’t exist. Even if they forget about the party, meeting you will inevitably come back up in their memory, filed away with all the other fuzzy party memories. It just takes a key to unlock that drawer and once Tinker Bell comes flying out of there, ain’t no way of stopping a mixed up memory from surfacing, like trying to tell the difference between a thimble and a hidden kiss.