you spin me right round baby, right round

Returning home to Wakausa, things went from bad to worse. I had a little confrontation with my Uehara-san, my dorm mother, about my food plan. See, I can't eat most of the food they serve for dinner here, so I have had to choose between paying for two dinners (the one I don't eat in the dorms, and the one I do eat outside the dorms) which is really more than I can afford.
Satomie in IEO had suggested that I only pay for breakfast, or arrange some other such arrangement. Well, between my broken Japanese and Uehara's broken English - a lot "ummmm..... anouuuuu...... ehhhhh....." were muttered, but not a lot was said or accomplished.
Uehara wanted me to sit down and specifically mark each and every food that I could and could not eat. Too bad I can't read the menu. Even if I could read the menu, I don't know the names of any of the foods served - I usually just pick at the funky stuff and then eat udon noodles at a local soup shop.
She then suggested that the issue be brought before the entire dormitory and IEO office for discussion and consideration (like my roommate issue was). No thank you. I draw the line somewhere. I am more than happy to appease "The Japanese way" on some issues - but not this one. My digestive issues and money concerns are my business and mine alone (well, you bloggers too, but that's different). Already I live each and every day knowing that I am so very different from everyone else here; I look different, I talk different, I think different - I need not be isolated any more by being labeled as "the picky chick who won't eat her food." Not that anyone here would realistically think such a thing, it's way more likely that they would just sympathetically ask me "daijobou?" (are you ok?) every single god forsaken time I was seen near a bathroom - which is just way more attention than anyone's digestive system needs. Ever.
Our conversation dragged on and on, really not progressing much, but it kept me from actually getting to eat my dinner until close to nine - by which time it was cold - and I was alone. Thanks, I like my slimy fish and salty sea vegetables warm usually - but this will just have to do.
I was so drained when I got to my room - I just started bawling. My stomach was empty, I was still lonely, it was just overwhelming. Megu listened attentively and came and hugged me. It was really hard for me to tell her that Wakakusa was making me crazy; that the steel bars and 10pm curfew were killing a piece of my independent spirit that I didn't want to die; that I wanted to acclimate enough to please the MWU staff - but that there just too much beyond my control. I can't force my stomach to understand Japanese diet, and I certainly can't magically increase my scholarship to afford two dinners a night. Something has just got to give - me or Wakakusa.
But beautiful fate stepped in. Megu and I talked, cried, laughed. I realized how much the friendships I have here mean to me, and how valuable they are in my experience. Megu and I played spinny games on the desk chairs and I sang along to the CD Michael sent me (it arrived today - thanks a ton! The one with the mime on the front is by far my favorite!)
Alright, I think I can muster whatever it takes to face another Wakakusa morning (which begin, by the way, with a 7:30 intercom chime telling each little school girl to rise and shine - thank you again). I don't know how long I'll be able to hold out: another week? The duration of my stay? Who knows! Whatever happens, I am happy to have my Megs. And spinny office chairs. And optimism.