blackface noodles and introspection

Karen and I had a great Saturday. We took Jeeves to Lake Lagunita and he ran around like a very happy maniac. Then we went to the flea market at my alma mater, Palo Alto High School (surprisingly enough, I didn't burst into flames or melt or anything like that upon entering the grounds).
Then we went and ate noodles at her favorite restaurant in Mountain View. (Yes. It was further south than Rengstorff, once again I didn't burst into flames or melt or anything like that). We watched Japanese television while we were eating our noodles, there was a pop music show on with all these weird bands on, fairly innocuous for the most part.

I did almost spit out my noodles at one of the acts though, as it was five Japanese men in honest-to-goodness blackface.

I mean it. Really. Blackface.

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I find myself, quite often, looking for imperfections in my friends.

You see, I generally have such admiration, compassion and loyalty to my friends that I have to find comfort in their foibles and flaws. Otherwise, I'm afraid that they'll see mine and perhaps not like me anymore. In short, I love them so much that they seem faultless, where as I feel continually faulted in comparison.
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I recieved an email on Monday from someone who really enjoyed spending the day with me on Sunday.

I'm terrified because I can't imagine why - I am in the middle of discovering that I am an entirely interesting person without being a horse trainer, but I haven't gotten quite comfortable in my new skin yet.

Currently listening : Here Come the Warm Jets By Eno Release date: By 01 June, 2004