Japan has enough crazy machines as it is: I don't have to become one.

Finally home after a long day at work, blogging is just about one of the last things I feel like doing. It seems that every morning, as I ride my bike through the vast fields of dirt that up until recently were filled with tall stalks of rice, I'm full of interesting thoughts that I just can't wait to sit down and relay to all my eager readers. But, when the end of the day finally rolls around and I've got the time to sit in front of my laptop for a bit, I'm too exhausted to feel inspired.

Suddenly I think I've gained a little insight into why Japanese people as a whole don't seem to be all that creative: they work too damn much.

Nevertheless, I find ways to reassure myself that I am, in fact, a human and not a robot. I spend my spare time at work designing hand-drawn picture cards and worksheets for elementary school lessons. In class, when the other teacher is lecturing in Japanese and I'm left standing against the wall like a painting, I fantasize about interesting little things that I can create when I get home. Like a crocheted afghan for my bed. Or Halloween decorations for our party next Friday. Or a time machine that will transport me to some time after speech contests are over.