I celebrated finding black beans at the grocery store near my house, in addition to the chickpeas and chili beans that I already knew existed. Now, despite being without lime, basic black pepper, or hot sauce, I could create in a saucepan a vague memory of something similar to a burrito. Living abroad frees me from the burden of choice while grocery shopping and eating. Being a repeat eater, I don’t mind eating veggie ramen or soba every day, breaking up the monotony on the weekends with trips outside the house for moroccan sandwiches or indian food.

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This face is essentially representative about how I feel today. Last night after a short run and a don’thavetimetowashmyhair shower I put on a body concealing frock and headed across the river to the Gangnam area. My old and dear friends Mimi and Hanul were meeting me for whiskey. We went to a bar not from from Garasu (the main shopping street) called The Client. Mimi is a lot like me in that she has her bars that she frequents, to the point where the normal rules no longer apply. They had a bottle of her own Laphroaig single malt scotch behind the counter, and they served it to her a hefty pour with a bucket of ice. I had a bottle of Ballantine 12 year in my purse and Hanul and I drank that. We sat on the patio in the back that overlooked the small winding streets of Seoul.

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In Tokyo my visa status is limited to an entertainer. This visa, the “Entertainment Visa,” commonly referred too amongst expats as the “Stripper Visa” is three months long, with a possible extension of three extra months, which if you include the month you spend waiting for an extension, is about seven months possible of living/working time in Japan. No matter how many times you come to Japan under this visa there is no moving beyond that amount of time, unless you appear on TV Drama or become a celebrity “Talent” of some kind. So I’m stuck with that visa unless I get married or sprout a career that evolves beyond the blogger/model equation. So! My visa expired, and now I’m in Seoul. I have to stay here until I am granted another stripper visa, and the lovely people at Japan’s immigration have decided to make it extra difficult for me this time, requesting papers from the IRS that will take upwards of a month to attain. Thank you Japan.

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I think my last trip to Seoul destroyed any brain cells left that were capable of creative writing, which leaves me with two options: One– lament the fact that I can’t write anything that I deem good enough for public viewing while waiting for a day of profound inspiration that might never come, simultaneously not updating my blog while the guilt of not updating my blog becomes even more consuming until my eventual suicide or, Two– write some mediocre kind of stuff with every day words about every day life in hopes that things will get better, words will turn to paragraphs, and content will just magically appear if I try hard enough. Seeing as I’m not quite ready to die I’ll try the latter. In the meantime, I do apologize, I’m afraid drinking the nail polish remover that is soju has ruined me. I’ll write about my sister visiting me in Tokyo now.

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