to see the world through thick glasses

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omoshro:


ZIP 2013.10.08  6.35 am
Nino was made to choose his “ideal X” from the other Arashi members.
Ideal Lover: Aiba
Reasons: Seems like the most harmless. Process of elimination. When losing interest can just break-up with him. Anyway amongst members Aiba’s the one Nino’s been the longest with.
Ideal Husband: Jun
Reasons: Handsome. Face is important, to give your parents a piece of mind. He’s earnest and attentive.
Ideal Son: Sho
Reasons: You can boast about him. He’s hardworking. When the son can work well that’ll help his parents a lot. The one that will make other parents say “Your son is amazing!”, Nino thinks that’s Sho-kun.
Ideal Parent: Ohno
Reasons: It’s the opposite. “How amazing (of you), despite having a parent like that”. The parent that will make people say “You’re amazing”, that’s Ohno-san. It’s inevitable. He also seems like he won’t nag at you much.
Jun’s reaction: Yes! Next time I’ll meet him he’ll get a hug.


Oh, Nino. :))))

omoshro:

ZIP 2013.10.08  6.35 am

Nino was made to choose his “ideal X” from the other Arashi members.

Ideal Lover: Aiba

Reasons: Seems like the most harmless. Process of elimination. When losing interest can just break-up with him. Anyway amongst members Aiba’s the one Nino’s been the longest with.

Ideal Husband: Jun

Reasons: Handsome. Face is important, to give your parents a piece of mind. He’s earnest and attentive.

Ideal Son: Sho

Reasons: You can boast about him. He’s hardworking. When the son can work well that’ll help his parents a lot. The one that will make other parents say “Your son is amazing!”, Nino thinks that’s Sho-kun.

Ideal Parent: Ohno

Reasons: It’s the opposite. “How amazing (of you), despite having a parent like that”. The parent that will make people say “You’re amazing”, that’s Ohno-san. It’s inevitable. He also seems like he won’t nag at you much.

Jun’s reaction: Yes! Next time I’ll meet him he’ll get a hug.

Oh, Nino. :))))

(via milkyr)

Filed under ninomiya kazunari matsumoto jun aiba masaki ohno satoshi sakurai sho ideal x of nino in arashi LOLOLOL

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rosevic87:

krzhope-amnos:

amnos-for-dream:

Reblogging this again because recently this thread popped up in arashi_on and I thought it was important to convey what lgtmars found when some Japanese fans pieced everything together about Nino’s father. I had no idea! 

(The source links she found are here, here and here)

Another note: I’m going to simplify the wording of the original text for the sake of keeping it concise. There’s a lot of overlap, too, so these translations will not be word-for-word.

Q: Until around last year (2010), Ninomiya-kun used to talk about how his father isn’t around (I remember him saying in 2009 that his only memory is of his father reading the newspaper), but in the magazine I bought today, he talks about him. He said, “I don’t usually chat with my dad. So it’s awkward when he’s home for New Year’s. We’re always watching the Hakone Ekiden so I never know what to talk about. I end up wondering when my mom will get home… I guess it’s because he was never at home.” When did his father come home? He was talking about cleaning up his father’s room for when he came home. Also, he said his mother’s name is Kazuko but what is his father’s name?

A: He said something like his father was away because of work. In 2007 he talked about cleaning up the room for his father. It seems like he comes and goes, but I couldn’t tell you exactly when or how long. He mentioned his father’s name on C no Arashi once, but he hasn’t mentioned it since, so I don’t feel that it’s right to say it here. (Note: it’s Ninomiya Takanori)

Q: Please tell me about Ninomiya-kun’s father. He always tells funny stories about his mother and sister, but I’ve barely heard anything about his father. It seems that he hasn’t passed away or divorced, but he’s away from home because of his work, right? I remember he talked about his father often when he was a Junior. Please tell me what you know.

A: Ninomiya-kun’s father had to leave for work when Ninomiya-kun was still very young. There was a time when even Ninomiya-kun misunderstood and thought his father had left, so naturally the fans assumed his parents had divorced. Ninomiya-kun talked about cleaning the room for him in 2007 and being together for New Year’s in 2011. Apparently, his father is a teacher at a culinary school. A long time ago, Ninomiya-kun was talking about memories of his father. He said, “What I remember most about my dad when I was young is how he would fold his newspaper vertically to read it. Once, Sho-chan was reading his newspaper in the same way in our green room, so when I jokingly called him ‘Dad’ he gave me a hug.” This was in 2008.

Q: Is Ninomiya-kun from a single mother household?

A: No, his father is around. (They mention the above examples so I won’t repeat them) In January of this year (2012), Ninomiya-kun said that both of his parents came to their concerts. They couldn’t go to Kokuritsu, so they went to Nagoya Dome instead. Also, the Ninomiya surname is actually his mother’s maiden name, so many people assumed they had divorced. Actually, when they first got married, his father took the Ninomiya name in place of his own. Nino also once said, “The Ninomiya family is mostly women. Besides me, all of the children are women, so I’m the only one who can carry on the Ninomiya name. I’m also the only one who can end it.”

AHHHHHHHHHHH :’(

“What I remember most about my dad when I was young is how he would fold his newspaper vertically to read it. Once, Sho-chan was reading his newspaper in the same way in our green room, so when I jokingly called him ‘Dad’ he gave me a hug.”This was in 2008.

(Source: uoe, via nieatriestine)

Filed under ninomiya kazunari arashi japanese father family

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hastydoodles asked: Hello! I read in my recent gifset post of D no Arashi that you asked about where you could watch the show! Firstly, are you on Livejournal? If you are then taijiprojectsub is a good source for old Arashi videos. She doesn't update it anymore so I'm not sure if she's still accepting members but I guess you could still try? :)

Thank you! :) I think I have come across this community before and thought it was futile to try joining since it’s not active. :( But since you suggested trying, I guess I could, right? :) Thank you again, I highly appreciate this.

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I Had Been Told

(A sociobiography from Margaret Mead’s Coming of Age in Samoa)

My mother told me once that I was a daughter she must part with some time later in her life. I did not understand what she meant by this, but I knew it was not death that she talked about and I am still sure of it. Death is too commonplace since it is a part of our being, and knowing my mother, I am quite convinced she did not mean anything as obvious and ordinary as death when she told me that some years ago (such shame I cannot exactly remember when), not when she said so with a tone that clearly told me she was torn between being happy and not being happy.

I did not exactly understand her till that eventful day.

Soft orange was splayed across the still puce canvas that was the sky as I opened my eyes and stretched the arms I had most probably pressed on as I slept last night. My mother could be heard splashing water in the kitchen and I cracked my neck as I headed to help out in the preparation of breakfast. My father would be up in a little while as we finished then he would go fish with the other fathers in our little village.

It was a usual day we would be spending, I supposed.

My younger brother, Rata, and sister, Miku, rose from their beds as my father was bidding us goodbye. Our youngest took their places on our small dining table and I served them their share of the breakfast. With still half-closed eyelids, they whispered their thanks and greedily started munching. As soon as they would finish, they would head out to the open and find their friends to play with till noon when their feet could no longer stand the heat of the sand.

My mother and I headed out and she again told me to be careful with the rocks that I might have wounded myself a long time ago had I not been careful when we crossed to the shallower part of the stream we usually did the laundry at. My mother imparted on me that it was for safety purposes – the crossing, that is – clothes that decided to swim away from us were quite hard to catch and such a brave act would be too risky for us if we were on a deep portion. I find it funny that she referred to clothes as though they were fishes, and all the while quite clever too. I never told her that, nor am I planning to, since she would just look at me funny and tell me I should not be talking such absurdities. I do not find anything absurd in that, but since she was my mother, I opted to listen to her.

I occasionally caught myself staring at my reflection in the sparkling waters of the stream and my eyes always drifted to my mother’s. From what I could see, I was sure my mother looked very much like me – no, I looked very much like her, that is how I should always put it since I am the daughter and she is the mother. She often told me not too long ago that I should always take care of my face and myself since they were just a few my future depended upon. I did not know exactly why, and at fourteen, I should already know, shouldn’t I? I was not in the place to question my mother and so I did not. I appeased myself with the thought that I would eventually know about it anyway.

When the men of the village came home from fishing they cast their nets away and my mother joined the crowd to help picking out the fishes that we were to serve to the chief and the fishes we could cook for ourselves. Just before the sun set, I took off to meet my friends so we could enjoy bathing in the now cooling waters of the beach… and so that we could properly groom ourselves for the evening to come.

I had been told countless times before that I should not engage in more than talking to a boy in the absence of day but out of curiosity, a curiosity that was incensed by my friends’ constant invitation to a late night gathering in one of the houses where we could enjoy dancing with the youths of the village, and after many of their failed attempts, I pleaded with my mother, putting upfront the fact that I enjoyed dancing – it was something that I could actually be carefree about, and whatever stance I put on as I moved in time with the music, no one told me off for being improper. And so I went with them, assuring my mother I did nothing more than dancing and merrymaking with my friends and that I would come home more than a little while before dawn broke.

Then I met Hano. He was introduced to me when I first joined my friends in the gathering and he was kind and had a sweet smile when he kissed my hand. It turned out that he was sixteen years old and the eldest son of one of my father’s co-fishermen. I was not aware of what I felt in my stomach around that time when he was talking and joking with me and my friends, but I knew it felt like when I just bathed in the beach, you know, that giddy feeling that the waves are still rocking and whispering in your head – not quite in your body, I know it does not have anything to do with the body since I am not in contact with cool waters so I know it is all in my head. Yes, I did feel giddy and fresh and light whenever I was with Hano. And since I could only meet with him in the gathering, I always looked forward to it and bathe in the beach to freshen myself and to freshen up my memory of the past nights that we had spent together shrouded in the darkness of trees.

My mother told me I would one day be parted from her. I did not understand her until that fateful evening when she told me to get ready and put on my best clothes and jewelry. When I warily asked her why – I learnt to be able to know when she would answer a question from me and I was quite sure that she would –, she told me I was to be ushered into the chief’s home to dance with other younger ladies. I did not understand this but since she gave me a look that said I should do as she told and not question her further, I kept my thoughts to myself.

Why was I to go to the chief’s house? Why was I to dance with some random ladies? Why should I put up some glamour and look smart in a dress and jewelries I barely used?

All these questions swam in my head already giddy from swimming and it was not until I was in the actual home of the chief that I registered what was happening.

I had been told countless time before that I should take care of my face and myself. I had been told that I should not do anything more than talking with a boy in the absence of daylight. I had been told not to utter absurdities for they made me look foolish. I had been told that I was to part with my mother some time late in her life. I did not understand until that night when the chief announced that given the circumstances faced by the immediate successor of the late taupou, I was the only viable candidate next in line, as my father was the grandson of the uncle of the chief’s cousin. They assured me that I was the closest to being the perfect taupou and my mother gravelly accepted this on my behalf. In fact, I was not able to say anything, completely aghast at this sudden turn of events.

I only wanted to feel giddy when I bathed in the beach and when I was with Hano. But the giddy feeling of all of this suddenly gave me a headache that I was not able to stomach. It hurt so much that I had to hang my head just a little so I could close my eyes and breathe.

 My mother gave my shoulder a slight nudge that took me out of my reverie. I was asked to dance and when I finally found my legs to drag myself to the center of the room, the music that filled my ears and the lights that twinkled made my headache throb more painfully. When I raised my arm to finally dance, I caught sight of Hano in the window, standing amidst my friends and the other youths.

He stared at me with hurt.

And then everything was nothing.


REFERENCES

Feinberg, R. (1988, September). Margaret Mead and Samoa: Coming of Age in Fact and Fiction. American Anthropologist New Series. 90. 656-663.

Mead, M. (1928). Coming of Age in Samoa. New York: William Morrow and Company. Retrieved from http://archive.org/stream/comingofageinsam00mead/comingofageinsam00mead_djvu.txt

Samoa: The Adolescent Girl. (n.d.) Margaret Mead: Human Nature and the Power of Culture. Retrieved from http://www.loc.gov/exhibits/mead/field-samoa.html

SJMorrow. (2011, January 19). Microblogs for Coming of Age in Samoa. Computer Human Interaction - CSCE 436. [Web log post]. Retrieved from http://chiblog.sjmorrow.com/2011/01/microblogs-for-coming-of-age-in-samoa.html

 

Filed under serious stuff up manila soc sci samoa sociobiography writing

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I guess I am one of those persons who possess a very short attention span. One minute I’m studying, next moment, I am battling with a hideous plot bunny gnashing its equally hideous-looking front teeth so as to salvage my poor pencil case that seriously needs replacement, a replacement I cannot do because of sentiments, and the next moment, I am typing this status.Really, it is frustrating not to be able to even take down notes of the physical attributes of these creatures I call my plot bunnies because I know I will just be deviating farther from my studying if I get engrossed with describing them and hearing them out.I am weird. I call these storylines plot bunnies. But they’re my constant companion, and I love them for always being with me (even if they can turn wild and not let me finish what I have to finish because they want me to hear them out and if I don’t, they will start gnashing at anything and everything EEEEEEEEKKKK).I really am weird. Why am I even trying to say all these. Only a few will understand. And I can only count them using the fingers of my two hands.Photo: <3 (c) http://atralux494.deviantart.com/art/Plot-Bunny-66330741

I guess I am one of those persons who possess a very short attention span. One minute I’m studying, next moment, I am battling with a hideous plot bunny gnashing its equally hideous-looking front teeth so as to salvage my poor pencil case that seriously needs replacement, a replacement I cannot do because of sentiments, and the next moment, I am typing this status.

Really, it is frustrating not to be able to even take down notes of the physical attributes of these creatures I call my plot bunnies because I know I will just be deviating farther from my studying if I get engrossed with describing them and hearing them out.

I am weird. I call these storylines plot bunnies. But they’re my constant companion, and I love them for always being with me (even if they can turn wild and not let me finish what I have to finish because they want me to hear them out and if I don’t, they will start gnashing at anything and everything EEEEEEEEKKKK).

I really am weird. Why am I even trying to say all these. Only a few will understand. And I can only count them using the fingers of my two hands.

Photo: <3 (c) http://atralux494.deviantart.com/art/Plot-Bunny-66330741

Filed under plot bunny frustrated writer in the house serious stuff

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I am a writer. And I have read romance novels too. And typically, when either of the couple’s got a best friend (and I mean, best, best friend), the love’s story’s going to get shitted and eventually done in.

And there’s also the fact that most readers (and even the writer) empathizes with the best friend who spent almost all her life with him and the new girl, well, just happened to pass by and started romancing with him, snagging him away from the best friend.

What else, the best friend lives in his neighborhood, while the new girl lives at least a town away.

And the best friend gets to know everything he is thinking.

And the new girl has to catch up with everything she missed.

And the best friend will feel deprived of him because of the new girl.

And the new girl will feel insecure because she lets him to get to spend time with the best friend because she knows the best friend will forever hold a place in his heart and that she, the new girl, is merely a newcomer and will never measure up to the best friend.

And I feel utterly insecure.

Filed under love triangle i suppose ugh why huhuhu serious stuff &lt;/3

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The Birth of the Youngest Chief: The Technology

Once there were four friends who lived in harmony. They were known as the Great Four: The Writer, The Photographer, The Artist, and The Worker. Together they led the world in peace and constant progress.

The Writer taught the world the beauty of words — how a story can give hope and inspiration to others, how news must be disseminated so people may know, and how books leave no one ignorant of the wonders, whether good or bad, of their perfect world.

The Photographer showed the treasure that is a preserved memory — how a picture of a family relays thousands of unheard stories read in the members’ smiles and eyes, how a picture of the green fields calm even the most restless of souls, and how a ray of sunshine glancing a windowsill serves a ray of hope, a hope for a new future.

The Artist bared to the people the magic there is in anything that man can do — how stick figures drawn on a notebook page by a child can stand as a portrait of his family, how the carpenter smooths a plank of wood with his hand plane so no one may be wounded when they walk on the house floor, how a painter patiently mixes colors to give life to the waters downstream, and how a dressmaker sews pieces of clothing together that will later give comfort to the cold and shaken.

The Worker manifested the importance of providence — how the farmer must tend to his plants so as to have abundant harvest, how the fisherman must use the proper type of net — the holes not too big, not too small, how the plumber must make sure pipes will not leak to prevent wastage and shortage of water, and how the doctor must attend to his patients whether they pay him or not, assuring them of their safety and health.

The four friends worked and dealt with society effectively, and for years they were able to build a world that was richer than they can ever imagine. The people became their disciples, freely choosing whose teaching they wanted to hear and whose vocation they wanted to follow.

However, as the knowledge of the world advanced, the Great Four tried finding a way to manage the growing populace. More people meant more books to print, more challenging dissemination of information, more pictures to take, more clothes to sew, and more sickness to cure. They pored over books and pondered relentlessly, discussing with their disciples and among the four of them.

One day, they realized they needed another in their circle — someone capable of keeping pace with the advancements and demands of the people and society. Unbeknownst yet to them was how they would be able to have this person join them. They again searched for answers until, equipped with their knowledge about the world, they finally devised an intricate ritual to give life to their fifth member.

This ritual was not easy, as they had thought. They would need to sacrifice part of their souls to create life that will create their fifth member. One look at the world they had worked so hard to build and maintain, their reservations crumbled and they proceeded to carry out the ritual.

The Great Four locked themselves in a secluded room in the Great House and stood such that they formed a square, joining their hands as they chanted the incantation that would give rise to the member that would save their world. As the four leaders screamed in pain as life was drained from them, a black circle appeared before them from which a black form rose as they continued chanting. The form began to take shape in their likeness, and as soon as they had ended their chanting, the Great Four collapsed.

The Great Four opened their eyes to see their creation, whose happy eyes bore into theirs. Pleased with the success of the ritual, they named their fifth member The Technology. The youngest of them was bursting with energy and immediately accepted their challenge of making everything easier for them to handle.

The Great Five continued to lead the world with their teachings. However, due to the ritual, the elder four aged rather quickly, rendering them less capable of leadership and The Technology energetically assured them that everything will be all right even without their help.

As years passed them by, more people followed The Technology and listened to his teachings. They were delighted when The Technology asked them to help him prove the Principle of Efficiency that he proposed and so more inventions were made and more people were convinced that The Technology must be their chief.

The former Great Four knew this was coming. The sacrifice of parts of their souls meant that The Technology would inherit some of their wisdom and their skills. Although this was true, a part of that wisdom remained in them, and The Technology would never be able to have it.

The Technology, too busy with his interventions, did not foresee the aftermath of all his actions. He did not understand why people abandoned publishing books on paper and instead preferred electronic books. He did not understand why they did not want to use film cameras and instead opted to use their phones and digital cameras to take pictures of not the world but of themselves, not of smiles but of food. He did not understand why children did not want to use crayons on paper and watercolors on canvas for their artwork and instead they used computer programs to draw and color pictures. He did not understand why most people did not want to use organic fertilizers anymore.

The formerly harmonious society was crumbling down in front of The Technology’s eyes.

Bewildered, The Technology sought the help of his friends. They gave him pitiful looks and with smiles on their faces, finally sat him down to talk.

++++
I leave the rest to your imagination.

Weird enough, the plot bunny jumped in on me while I was in the toilet! And since I do not want to kill anymore of these peculiar bunnies, I let it jump and be happy to be out in the world. :)) Give it a chance, okay?

Filed under technology photography writing artist worker yea yea yeahhhhh plot bunnies serious stuff wahahahahahaha stories in the toilet :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

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