Dear Journal,

I'm sitting crosslegged on the floor of this girl's apartment. She just came back from Japan. The laptop I'm borrowing from her is still set on Japan time (13 hours ahead), and I spent the last half hour trying to figure out how to switch the keyboard to English mode. We put some of the special characters in different places, they hide the comma key somewhere around the tilde on American keyboards.

The whole place is covered in long spider web strands of blonde and brown hair. The brown belongs to her roommate, who just turned in a few minutes ago. I'm borrowing various sleeping things from both of them, and will be sprawled on this floor in the next few minutes.

I just switched from normal crosslegged to meditation style sitting. I don't know what it's really called. When I was younger, I used the two interchangeably. Now my body seems to get in the way of any quick switches between the two.

We mainly caught up by drinking.

Our different trips to Japan don't really compare. She was in school, spending her free time drinking and stalking intricately put together Japanese boys. I slept in parks, and spent my free time walking. I assume we got everything we needed from the trip. In another year, when a mutual friend comes back from a research project on one of the big Northern islands, the blonde will listen and be jealous.

'Night.