I went back home for the holidays. So naturally, what do you do when you go back home?
No, after you have an argument with your sister about your smacking her spoiled kid in the back of the head.
That's right, you look up your high school buddies and see how everyone is doing. And after checking to see who got married (three people I knew), who had new kids (five people), and who really changed their appearance (Christine), we got into the reminiscing. And it got a little ugly. Tempers flared, words were exchanged and huffs were stormed off in.
So how did this happen? We were supposed to be the halfway bright ones, why can't any of us stop re-hashing the same conversations we've been having for the last decade? Is it just because we've all splintered enough so that the only thing we know we'll have in common is the same old stories? Or is it like peeling off a scab that you thought had become a fully sealed scar? Sure, it's grotesquely satisfying at first, but it just doesn't feel so good afterwards.
Anyway, it's good to be home, and it's good to see my old friends again. But I can't shake the feeling that this is going to turn into some kind of deranged Neil Simon play where after each year (or scene change) we're all balder and fatter. And no matter how we try to change the subject, each time we wind up talking about the same stories and the same memories. Until act III when a couple of us have finally died and the others finally talk about getting on with our lives, but ultimately decide not to change in order to help sustain the sanity of our more decrepit, alzheimer's ridden members.
...
Of course, if it really felt that bad to go over the past, we probably wouldn't do it so much.
Happy Hannukah, Happy Boxing Day, Happy Winter Solstice, Happy Kwanzaa. Hell, Happy Christmas.
27 December 2003
08 December 2003
Test. Testy. Testes. Tsetse. Tutu. Tattoo.
Yeah, so I finally took that damn-stupid language test. And thanks to a combination of my busy schedule and habit of engaging in willfully self-defeating behavior, I didn't prepare nearly as much as I should have. Of course, there's always the possibility that I guessed right often enough to get the 60% I'd need to pass and earn my level 3 certification. But right after finishing the test something occurred to me.
Well, honestly it occurred to me right after sitting in a bar and drinking gin for six hours with three other test takers, but that's not the point.
I was getting really worked up about that damn test when it's not going to prove anything to anyone except me, and I clearly didn't care enough to make adequate preparations for it. None of the people I try to speak Japanese to are going to give a damn about whether I did well on the test or not. And none of the companies I work for are going to do anything as rash as raise my pay or treat me any better because of it. It's not even going to qualify me for anything.
Other than maybe the possibility of having a sense of accomplishment, I guess.
This was supposed to be some kind of goal that I could work towards that would help me progress towards a higher quality of life here. You know, by being more able to speak the language or something. Funny. That really didn't seem to work out as planned.
Maybe it's time to find some new goals.
First off, I don't bitch about my life all day. Only when I post to my blog. Or talk to my friends from Fukui. Or engage in an internal monologue for the benefit of new viewers. Second, don't call me "Blinky." I'm the one who calls people Blinky, especially when I'm getting ready to condescend to them.
...
Well, honestly it occurred to me right after sitting in a bar and drinking gin for six hours with three other test takers, but that's not the point.
I was getting really worked up about that damn test when it's not going to prove anything to anyone except me, and I clearly didn't care enough to make adequate preparations for it. None of the people I try to speak Japanese to are going to give a damn about whether I did well on the test or not. And none of the companies I work for are going to do anything as rash as raise my pay or treat me any better because of it. It's not even going to qualify me for anything.
Other than maybe the possibility of having a sense of accomplishment, I guess.
This was supposed to be some kind of goal that I could work towards that would help me progress towards a higher quality of life here. You know, by being more able to speak the language or something. Funny. That really didn't seem to work out as planned.
Maybe it's time to find some new goals.
"Hey there, Blinky, howsabout this one: quit bitching about how much your life sucks and going out to actually do something about it instead of pissing and moaning about it all damn day?"
First off, I don't bitch about my life all day. Only when I post to my blog. Or talk to my friends from Fukui. Or engage in an internal monologue for the benefit of new viewers. Second, don't call me "Blinky." I'm the one who calls people Blinky, especially when I'm getting ready to condescend to them.
"Riiiiight. And exactly who do you think is trying to condescend to whom, here?"
...
"That's about what I figured."
01 December 2003
I suppose persistence is a virtue...
Next Sunday I'm going to try to take the Japanese Language Proficiency Test.
Again.
Last time I didn't have so much success.
It's worth noting that in my entire career of tyring to learn Japanese, I haven't had so much success. Even though I took five Japanese classes in university, two of those were classes I had to repeat because I didn't pass the first time. The first time I tried to make up a sentence of my own, I was told by my teacher that I was not understandable and "please not trying to speech freely again in class." My attempts to make jokes, give directions, order food and pick up girls have all generally met with polite silence, circuitous cab rides, mistaken orders and giggling but firm refusals.
In that order.
But for some reason I feel the need to keep trying to use this language that I really don't seem to have an aptitude for.
I dunno. I mean, if I couldn't communicate with people in my native language, it would have to be something about me, right?
Unless I'd just been trying to talk with dimwits.
("Didn't you used to live in Los Angeles?" "Why yes, I did...")
Again.
Last time I didn't have so much success.
It's worth noting that in my entire career of tyring to learn Japanese, I haven't had so much success. Even though I took five Japanese classes in university, two of those were classes I had to repeat because I didn't pass the first time. The first time I tried to make up a sentence of my own, I was told by my teacher that I was not understandable and "please not trying to speech freely again in class." My attempts to make jokes, give directions, order food and pick up girls have all generally met with polite silence, circuitous cab rides, mistaken orders and giggling but firm refusals.
In that order.
But for some reason I feel the need to keep trying to use this language that I really don't seem to have an aptitude for.
I dunno. I mean, if I couldn't communicate with people in my native language, it would have to be something about me, right?
Unless I'd just been trying to talk with dimwits.
("Didn't you used to live in Los Angeles?" "Why yes, I did...")
09 November 2003
November
I know it's been a while, and I'm sure that all (seven) of my avid readers are just quivering with anticipation for some gripping stories and penetrating insights into Japanese life, but that's just not gonna happen today. For the last two months or so I've just been working too much. And really, I didn't get as much out of it as I would have hoped.
I mean, I did get slightly more money. But after taking into account my increased travel, cleaning, and food costs, the extra pay for the first month worked out to be about enough for a trip to the movies. Point of fact, I didn't get anything that had I expected out of the last couple months. For example, I never expected to learn how many times you can wear the same shirt before it really starts to get offensive because you don't have any time to do laundry or go to the cleaners.
And I did learn a few things about teaching. For example, teenagers tend to be self-concious to the point becoming ridiculous no matter what country they're in. And encouraging them to quit being "pitiful, crying little worms" is kinda like telling all those jerks on the Saikyo train to stop pressing up against my butt during rush hour: the one person you catch stammers and acts contrite while everyone else who you aren't making direct eye contact with keeps doing the same damn thing.
Did I mention that to work at the Junior high schools in the morning and the conversation schools at night I have to take the Saikyo trains? The Saikyo trains run from central Saitama (where there tend to be more houses with families) to western Tokyo (where there tend to be more businesses, offices, shops and restaurants). They are somewhat infamous for being really really crowded during rush hour, and for having a fairly high incidence of "Chikan" activity. (That'd be guys taking the opportunity to grope unwilling people in public). I know there's a difference in acceptable personal space needs from country to country, but I never imagined that less than 2mm was acceptable between strangers anywhere. At least, anywhere that didn't involve tucking money into someone else's underwear.
But I digress. The point is, my only real expectation was not met at all. For some daft reason, I expected to feel satisfied in some way after working hard. Like, maybe I'd be financially satisfied (nope), or more content with my work progress (nuh-uh) or social situation (0 for 3 there, hotshot) or something. In fact, the only halfway satifying thing I learned last month almost cost me my night job.
Maybe it has to do with the place I work. I mean, maybe it's because I'm working for companies owned by foreigners who came here seven years too late wanting to get rich off the bubble economy, and they're still under the impression that if they can wring every last drop of productivity from each of their assets then they'll be able to afford all those 1988 Japanese luxuries like $5000 per diem expense accounts, sushi dinners served by naked women and of course, Universal Studios and 35% of the real estate in metropolitan Los Angeles.
Or maybe it's because I'm still not clear on some of those subtle societal differences. Like why an assistant teacher at a junior high shouldn't get mad just because he's treated (socially and contractually) in the same way as an overhead projector leased to the school. Or why an office lady feels no qualms at all about telling you that the before her trip to Canada she was really worried about being so constipated that "for four days, [she] can't poop," but was relieved to recieve an enema from her doctor and the news that "Canada's medical system is good enough" that if she had another problem while on vacation she'd be able to get an enema in Vancouver too. Or maybe its...
Ah, the hell with it. Here's a few links to some weird-ass Japanese stuff. Imagine the society that produces it and try to understand that I feel wonder, confusion, frustration and affection for 'em.
I mean, I did get slightly more money. But after taking into account my increased travel, cleaning, and food costs, the extra pay for the first month worked out to be about enough for a trip to the movies. Point of fact, I didn't get anything that had I expected out of the last couple months. For example, I never expected to learn how many times you can wear the same shirt before it really starts to get offensive because you don't have any time to do laundry or go to the cleaners.
And I did learn a few things about teaching. For example, teenagers tend to be self-concious to the point becoming ridiculous no matter what country they're in. And encouraging them to quit being "pitiful, crying little worms" is kinda like telling all those jerks on the Saikyo train to stop pressing up against my butt during rush hour: the one person you catch stammers and acts contrite while everyone else who you aren't making direct eye contact with keeps doing the same damn thing.
Did I mention that to work at the Junior high schools in the morning and the conversation schools at night I have to take the Saikyo trains? The Saikyo trains run from central Saitama (where there tend to be more houses with families) to western Tokyo (where there tend to be more businesses, offices, shops and restaurants). They are somewhat infamous for being really really crowded during rush hour, and for having a fairly high incidence of "Chikan" activity. (That'd be guys taking the opportunity to grope unwilling people in public). I know there's a difference in acceptable personal space needs from country to country, but I never imagined that less than 2mm was acceptable between strangers anywhere. At least, anywhere that didn't involve tucking money into someone else's underwear.
But I digress. The point is, my only real expectation was not met at all. For some daft reason, I expected to feel satisfied in some way after working hard. Like, maybe I'd be financially satisfied (nope), or more content with my work progress (nuh-uh) or social situation (0 for 3 there, hotshot) or something. In fact, the only halfway satifying thing I learned last month almost cost me my night job.
Maybe it has to do with the place I work. I mean, maybe it's because I'm working for companies owned by foreigners who came here seven years too late wanting to get rich off the bubble economy, and they're still under the impression that if they can wring every last drop of productivity from each of their assets then they'll be able to afford all those 1988 Japanese luxuries like $5000 per diem expense accounts, sushi dinners served by naked women and of course, Universal Studios and 35% of the real estate in metropolitan Los Angeles.
Or maybe it's because I'm still not clear on some of those subtle societal differences. Like why an assistant teacher at a junior high shouldn't get mad just because he's treated (socially and contractually) in the same way as an overhead projector leased to the school. Or why an office lady feels no qualms at all about telling you that the before her trip to Canada she was really worried about being so constipated that "for four days, [she] can't poop," but was relieved to recieve an enema from her doctor and the news that "Canada's medical system is good enough" that if she had another problem while on vacation she'd be able to get an enema in Vancouver too. Or maybe its...
Ah, the hell with it. Here's a few links to some weird-ass Japanese stuff. Imagine the society that produces it and try to understand that I feel wonder, confusion, frustration and affection for 'em.
30 September 2003
October Revolution
This has been an odd month. As you may (or may not) know, I've started working at a junior high school. So five days a week I try to help 13-15 year olds work on their English. And, because Japanese companies don't pay you until the first monthly payday AFTER you've completed a month of work, I've continued to work at the shitty conversation school I was at before.
But there can be no important change without discomfort, yeah? And this has been a fairly important time for changing. I've changed my primary place of employment, my sleeping habits, my spending habits, my eating habits, the amount of time I spend on the train... It's been a pretty odd month.
And the most important change has been the least drastic one. Perhaps because of my relative isolation, the change in my feeling about that isolation has be been the strongest. Honestly, some days I can feel psychosis radiating off of me in waves. Unstoppable cascades of thought that would be impolite at best and immoral, indecent, blasphemous, treasonous and in plain bad taste at worst. It honestly surprises me that the one-on-one adult students can't sense this current of filth and madness that's running just beneath the banter about current movies and their plans for their next vacation.
Of course, in all fairness, they probably have other things on their minds than the mental state of the English conversation source they've rented for the hour. I mean, they have lives too, right?
But they're not the one's writing this blog, I am. So let's get the focus back where it belongs: on me.
I had a birthday recently. And maybe it's a sign of maturity (or impending adulthood...) that this year was remarkable for not being anything other than a pain in the ass. It wasn't my first year to buy smokes, porn, booze, guns, to rent cars or to be living in another country. It wasn't like I was expecting a great present, a big party, or some great feeling of maturity and wisdom.
Really, what this change felt like was an entirely arbitrary marking of time, with no deeper meaning. I'm older, but no wiser, richer,. stronger or healthier. Nothing's changed except one number I have to remember. Last year I might have said I'm one year closer to being dead, but I get the feeling that it's not gonna be old age that does me in, and it won't be something I can count towards.
But the point of this was supposed to be revolution, yes? Change. Removal of the old standards. The wholesale slaughter of the innnocents claimed as representatives of the old order in the name of progress. Let the streets of my mind flow with the blood of the counter-revolutionaries! This will change our mind for the better! Viva!
But there can be no important change without discomfort, yeah? And this has been a fairly important time for changing. I've changed my primary place of employment, my sleeping habits, my spending habits, my eating habits, the amount of time I spend on the train... It's been a pretty odd month.
And the most important change has been the least drastic one. Perhaps because of my relative isolation, the change in my feeling about that isolation has be been the strongest. Honestly, some days I can feel psychosis radiating off of me in waves. Unstoppable cascades of thought that would be impolite at best and immoral, indecent, blasphemous, treasonous and in plain bad taste at worst. It honestly surprises me that the one-on-one adult students can't sense this current of filth and madness that's running just beneath the banter about current movies and their plans for their next vacation.
Of course, in all fairness, they probably have other things on their minds than the mental state of the English conversation source they've rented for the hour. I mean, they have lives too, right?
But they're not the one's writing this blog, I am. So let's get the focus back where it belongs: on me.
I had a birthday recently. And maybe it's a sign of maturity (or impending adulthood...) that this year was remarkable for not being anything other than a pain in the ass. It wasn't my first year to buy smokes, porn, booze, guns, to rent cars or to be living in another country. It wasn't like I was expecting a great present, a big party, or some great feeling of maturity and wisdom.
Really, what this change felt like was an entirely arbitrary marking of time, with no deeper meaning. I'm older, but no wiser, richer,. stronger or healthier. Nothing's changed except one number I have to remember. Last year I might have said I'm one year closer to being dead, but I get the feeling that it's not gonna be old age that does me in, and it won't be something I can count towards.
But the point of this was supposed to be revolution, yes? Change. Removal of the old standards. The wholesale slaughter of the innnocents claimed as representatives of the old order in the name of progress. Let the streets of my mind flow with the blood of the counter-revolutionaries! This will change our mind for the better! Viva!
28 September 2003
It took me ten years, but I finally think I got it...
This last month has been a bit of a pain in the butt. Not just because I lost my wallet. Which was inconvenient, but not nearly as bad as trying to get a new ATM card. And not just because the girl I thought was interested in me was just trying to score some free English lessons for her friend.
Maybe the worst part was dealing with the company that leases my services to the Saitama prefecture board of education. As it turns out, despite the efforts, attitudes and responses of everyone at the school I've been at, it turns out that I'm not actually a part of the school community.
Since I was encouraged take part in student life, I'd been staying after to help some of the students get read for their English recitation at the school festival that was held this Saturday. For those of you who didn't attend a Japanese Jr. High, every semester or so they'll have a "bunkasai," which roughly translates as a "cultural festival." The students (and a few of the more... confident teachers) will perform or present some kind of fine-art-type effort. There's a lot of organized choral-type singing, speeches and recitations, a few dance routines and pop song-quartets, and some obligatory mugging from whatever team has the most popular students.
Oh yeah, and no air conditioning in a packed gymnasium from 8 am to 4 pm.
Needless to say, this whole affair is a lot of work. The students and teachers really bust their butts for this thing. And since it runs all day on Saturday, the school takes a day off the following Monday.
Now I was looking forward to getting that Monday off, since I needed to go to the bank, the post office and the police station. All fine institutions that only offer the services I needed most between 9:00 AM and 3:00 PM. But when I finally was able to get in touch with the helpful young Australian at my company to ask about whether or not I should send my pay sheet in on Monday or Tuesday, she informed me that I was due to meet the principal at a new school on Monday, and couldn't figure out why I hadn't answered any of the messages she'd left on my cell phone.
Explaining both my desire to be at the cultural festival to see these kids show off the stuff they (and I) had been working on for the last month, and my predicament and subsequent need for some time off on a weekday, she very carefully considered the facts, and said she'd talk to her boss, and then call me back after 5:00. Which would be after the school switchboard was shut down, and before I had retrieved that all-important cell phone.
It took some doing to get her to see the failure of that plan to be successful, especially given the language barrier.
"Wait, you said she's from Australia, right? Aren't you both native English speakers?"
That's an excellent observation. But I've never been any good at communicating with a dumbass.
After some effort, she finally got an official party line from her boss (the half-Japanese Irishman) which stated that
Come on. Am I really supposed to believe that they expect all the ALTs to try and do their jobs well without going to the damn festivals?
And then I finally realized what I've been struggling to understand for all these years: I've had so many jobs that I hated, and I never understood why I've had this inability to be a happy worker bee. What was the reason? What was the common thread?
It's not that I hate work.
I hate working for other people.
This may be the beginning of wisdom.
Maybe the worst part was dealing with the company that leases my services to the Saitama prefecture board of education. As it turns out, despite the efforts, attitudes and responses of everyone at the school I've been at, it turns out that I'm not actually a part of the school community.
Since I was encouraged take part in student life, I'd been staying after to help some of the students get read for their English recitation at the school festival that was held this Saturday. For those of you who didn't attend a Japanese Jr. High, every semester or so they'll have a "bunkasai," which roughly translates as a "cultural festival." The students (and a few of the more... confident teachers) will perform or present some kind of fine-art-type effort. There's a lot of organized choral-type singing, speeches and recitations, a few dance routines and pop song-quartets, and some obligatory mugging from whatever team has the most popular students.
Oh yeah, and no air conditioning in a packed gymnasium from 8 am to 4 pm.
Needless to say, this whole affair is a lot of work. The students and teachers really bust their butts for this thing. And since it runs all day on Saturday, the school takes a day off the following Monday.
Now I was looking forward to getting that Monday off, since I needed to go to the bank, the post office and the police station. All fine institutions that only offer the services I needed most between 9:00 AM and 3:00 PM. But when I finally was able to get in touch with the helpful young Australian at my company to ask about whether or not I should send my pay sheet in on Monday or Tuesday, she informed me that I was due to meet the principal at a new school on Monday, and couldn't figure out why I hadn't answered any of the messages she'd left on my cell phone.
Explaining both my desire to be at the cultural festival to see these kids show off the stuff they (and I) had been working on for the last month, and my predicament and subsequent need for some time off on a weekday, she very carefully considered the facts, and said she'd talk to her boss, and then call me back after 5:00. Which would be after the school switchboard was shut down, and before I had retrieved that all-important cell phone.
It took some doing to get her to see the failure of that plan to be successful, especially given the language barrier.
"Wait, you said she's from Australia, right? Aren't you both native English speakers?"
That's an excellent observation. But I've never been any good at communicating with a dumbass.
After some effort, she finally got an official party line from her boss (the half-Japanese Irishman) which stated that
although ALTs are encouraged to participate in school life, they are, by contractual definition, not members of the community of an individual school. Therefore, any attendance or participation in any extra-curricular school activity is at their own initiative, and will not be eligible for compensation, in terms of cash or time off.I knew those cheapjack skinflints weren't gonna cover my transportation, but after being told reminded that I was essentially equivalent to any other piece of equipment that had been leased to the school, I was in a less than genki mood.
Come on. Am I really supposed to believe that they expect all the ALTs to try and do their jobs well without going to the damn festivals?
And then I finally realized what I've been struggling to understand for all these years: I've had so many jobs that I hated, and I never understood why I've had this inability to be a happy worker bee. What was the reason? What was the common thread?
It's not that I hate work.
I hate working for other people.
This may be the beginning of wisdom.
17 September 2003
[expletive] TOKYO-MITSUBISHI BANK IN THE [expletive] WITH A BIG RUBBER [expletive]!
I hadda cancel my bank card on account of losing my wallet a couple weeks ago. The fuckers at the bank very kindly cancelled my card immediately, then told me I couldn't get a new card without a new Gaijin card, which took 2 weeks, and that I hadda go to a bank during regular banking hours: 8:40AM to 2:00PM, not including any holidays.
Of course, the helpful dumbass I talked to on the phone assured me that I could get money as long as I got to the bank by 5:00
Did I mention I work from 8:00AM to 4:00PM? And that the nearest branch is 41 minutes away?
Or that everything except the card-only ATMs was sealed shut at 2:00?
I reiterate:
[expletive] TOKYO-MITSUBISHI BANK IN THE [expletive] WITH A BIG RUBBER [expletive], THEN BREAK IT OFF AND BEAT THEM WITH WHAT'S LEFT.
Of course, the helpful dumbass I talked to on the phone assured me that I could get money as long as I got to the bank by 5:00
Did I mention I work from 8:00AM to 4:00PM? And that the nearest branch is 41 minutes away?
Or that everything except the card-only ATMs was sealed shut at 2:00?
I reiterate:
[expletive] TOKYO-MITSUBISHI BANK IN THE [expletive] WITH A BIG RUBBER [expletive], THEN BREAK IT OFF AND BEAT THEM WITH WHAT'S LEFT.
The Sorry State of Public Education
-OR-
I'm just an assistant teacher. As a foreigner trying to work with a limited second-language capacity, my abilities are, obviously suspect. For example, I've been presumed incapable of pulling weeds and wiping windows.
But I am capable, appearantly, of assisting with remedial 6th grade algebra in Japanese.
Not too shabby for a guy who flunked Algebra once and Japanese twice.
They'll let anyone teach ANYthing, won't they?
I'm just an assistant teacher. As a foreigner trying to work with a limited second-language capacity, my abilities are, obviously suspect. For example, I've been presumed incapable of pulling weeds and wiping windows.
But I am capable, appearantly, of assisting with remedial 6th grade algebra in Japanese.
Not too shabby for a guy who flunked Algebra once and Japanese twice.
16 September 2003
I been busier than a [insert cutesy-poo metaphor here]
Yeah, so I got a new job a couple of weeks ago. (For those of you just joining us, ever since I moved from Fukui in February, I've been juggling a couple of part-time jobs to cover my beer, rent and ramen expenses. I tend to get new jobs fairly regularly...) I'm now an assistant English teacher at a Junior High School.
On the one hand, the job is a lot of fun. The pay's not great, and the commute is a 90-minute pain in the ass that involves changing trains twice and walking for 15 minutes at each end. But the students are generally a lot of fun. For some reason, learning a 2nd language here is viewed as kind of fun. (Why the hell wasn't my experience like that. After 5 years of unwilling Spanish, all I can really recall is how to ask where the bathroom is and a couple of insults.) Hell, even the lunches aren't bad. And they're cheap, too.
There's something oddly thrilling about hearing a class of students correctly use something they've learned from you. Maybe it's a little thing, but hearing someone say "I'm OK, how you been?" instead of "ai-mu fai-nu an-do-yu?" is satisfying. And I gotta be honest, it's kind of a kick to have people be interested in me, rather than scared or condescending, just because I'm different from them. And kids are pretty good for that.
Of course, since I am working for a Japanese company that is leasing my services to the board of education, I'm not actually going to get paid until almost two months after my first day. It's kind of nice after you leave a job, cause you get that month's pay to travel or pay your taxes or try to live while you look for another job. But at first it kind of sucks. Which is why I had to continue working at the conversation school at night.
I'm tired. but I'm working. And I'm skilled, but I'm underpaid.
So, uh, I guess all I need is a misunderstanding about the meaning of "irony" and I can be an Alanis Morisette song.
(Japan does bad things to your sense of what pop culture is wretched and what's acceptable...)
On the one hand, the job is a lot of fun. The pay's not great, and the commute is a 90-minute pain in the ass that involves changing trains twice and walking for 15 minutes at each end. But the students are generally a lot of fun. For some reason, learning a 2nd language here is viewed as kind of fun. (Why the hell wasn't my experience like that. After 5 years of unwilling Spanish, all I can really recall is how to ask where the bathroom is and a couple of insults.) Hell, even the lunches aren't bad. And they're cheap, too.
There's something oddly thrilling about hearing a class of students correctly use something they've learned from you. Maybe it's a little thing, but hearing someone say "I'm OK, how you been?" instead of "ai-mu fai-nu an-do-yu?" is satisfying. And I gotta be honest, it's kind of a kick to have people be interested in me, rather than scared or condescending, just because I'm different from them. And kids are pretty good for that.
Of course, since I am working for a Japanese company that is leasing my services to the board of education, I'm not actually going to get paid until almost two months after my first day. It's kind of nice after you leave a job, cause you get that month's pay to travel or pay your taxes or try to live while you look for another job. But at first it kind of sucks. Which is why I had to continue working at the conversation school at night.
I'm tired. but I'm working. And I'm skilled, but I'm underpaid.
So, uh, I guess all I need is a misunderstanding about the meaning of "irony" and I can be an Alanis Morisette song.
(Japan does bad things to your sense of what pop culture is wretched and what's acceptable...)
04 September 2003
This WILL be used as evidence against me, I'm just not sure when
Go ahead, quote bits from this post out of context. It'll sound damning, but I gotta tell you: There's a lot of really great perks to working in a junior high school. Let's forego the obvious monetary rewards. (Which really aren't all that rewarding. Especially once you add up transportation costs, cleaning expenses, the manditory insurance fees and the inital lo-ball-salary amount which is probablt why my company was selected by the Saitama board of education to supply foreign assistant-teachers...) And it's not like this is a really easy, convenient job to get to. I have to get up at 5:40 AM and take three different trains over 90 minutes to get there. (I could move closer to the school, assuming I had 5 months rent on hand...)
But there's something undeniably gratifying about seeing a group of 12-year olds light up simultanously because they figured out they could be understood in another language. Or seeing a silly game you made actually help a class understand how to use some new words. Or having the ability to help someone sort out the difference between "visit" and "stay."
...Or walking by and having a group of 15 year old girls say "a-ra-ra, atarashii sensei was kakoii wa yo!"
Seriously. I'm gonna behave. They trust me, so I gotta make good. And besides, I'm not a creepy degenerate.
Not in that way, anyhow.
But there's something undeniably gratifying about seeing a group of 12-year olds light up simultanously because they figured out they could be understood in another language. Or seeing a silly game you made actually help a class understand how to use some new words. Or having the ability to help someone sort out the difference between "visit" and "stay."
...Or walking by and having a group of 15 year old girls say "a-ra-ra, atarashii sensei was kakoii wa yo!"
Seriously. I'm gonna behave. They trust me, so I gotta make good. And besides, I'm not a creepy degenerate.
Not in that way, anyhow.
26 August 2003
Wait a sec, didn't his country INVENT the damn language?
I didn't have a student for one class tonight, so I got to listen to a British dumbass fumble his way through a countable/uncountable lesson.
Countable and uncountable are the two classes of nouns that are defined by whether or not they take a quantifier.
Generally, uncountables are liquids (beer), made up of many small pieces (salad, rice), or are words of foreign origin (curry). Which is why you can count pigs and cows (old English words), but not pork or beef (originally French words.) This is really tough to teach people whose native language doesen't even have a plural form for most nouns.
And as far as this guy's lesson went, I don't know which was worse: his crap explanations, his piss poor examples (he asked a Japanese person to name some foods, then tried to explain why sushi, soba and sukiyaki are all uncontable, then tried to gloss over the "I'll have a salad and 3 beers" dilemma, And finally he misprounced "Cabernet Sauvignon" and MIS-corrected the student who was closer with his katakana-pronunciation.
Keee-rist. They'll let anyone be a teacher.
Countable and uncountable are the two classes of nouns that are defined by whether or not they take a quantifier.
For example: I'll have a BOWL OF soup (soup is uncountable).
There are FIVE apples on the desk (apples are countable).
Generally, uncountables are liquids (beer), made up of many small pieces (salad, rice), or are words of foreign origin (curry). Which is why you can count pigs and cows (old English words), but not pork or beef (originally French words.) This is really tough to teach people whose native language doesen't even have a plural form for most nouns.
And as far as this guy's lesson went, I don't know which was worse: his crap explanations, his piss poor examples (he asked a Japanese person to name some foods, then tried to explain why sushi, soba and sukiyaki are all uncontable, then tried to gloss over the "I'll have a salad and 3 beers" dilemma, And finally he misprounced "Cabernet Sauvignon" and MIS-corrected the student who was closer with his katakana-pronunciation.
Keee-rist. They'll let anyone be a teacher.
Why I Hate My Japanese Textbook:
An exerpt from Japanese For Busy People:
"gojikan gurai"
Do not confuse with "goji gurai" which expresses an approximate specific time."
It took me 15 minutes to figure out they meant the difference between
"about 5 hours long" and "about 5 o'clock."
C'mon, "an approximate specific time?" How the hell can a language textbook company have not one editor on staff who could catch that? Bunch of stupid bastards.
I mean "aitsu-ra, bakamono-tachi."
"gojikan gurai"
Do not confuse with "goji gurai" which expresses an approximate specific time."
It took me 15 minutes to figure out they meant the difference between
"about 5 hours long" and "about 5 o'clock."
C'mon, "an approximate specific time?" How the hell can a language textbook company have not one editor on staff who could catch that? Bunch of stupid bastards.
I mean "aitsu-ra, bakamono-tachi."
21 August 2003
What Have We Learned?
Try to imagine a series of TV programs for learning how to do stuff. Do you remember that old show with Bob Ross on PBS? The one where he taught you how to paint happy little trees? Imagine a show with some sincere, knowledgeable, slightly creepy guy telling you how to avoid the most common mistakes of whatever hobby you're trying to pick up.
Now imagine one for business English. And one for advanced business English. And one for British Football English. And one for conversational English. And one for German, Russian, Spanish, French, Italian, Korean and Mandarin Chinese.
Now imagine one for cooking. And making apartment furnishings from stuff you got at the 99 cent store. And one for caring for your pet hedgehog. And one for making miniature aquarium diaramas. And one for making paper airplanes. And one for golf. And one for swimming.
And one for walking in high heels.
Hey, look at that. We've just covered most of the offerings on NHK-E, the educational channel offered by Nippon Hoosoo Kyoukai (Japan Broadcasting Corporation). The Japanese government pays to produce TV programs that teach people how to waltz. Or say "Where's the toilet?" to a guy from Hamburg. Or how to walk in mules and look sexy without making that fpap-fpap-fpap sound.
What... you want some kind of comment that explains the significance of this? It's clearly a representation of some sort that shows what the government thinks the average person with enough free time wants to know, but how the hell can you sum up everything that implies? I'm putting together a jigsaw puzzle with no picture, no border, and no end.
Now imagine one for business English. And one for advanced business English. And one for British Football English. And one for conversational English. And one for German, Russian, Spanish, French, Italian, Korean and Mandarin Chinese.
Now imagine one for cooking. And making apartment furnishings from stuff you got at the 99 cent store. And one for caring for your pet hedgehog. And one for making miniature aquarium diaramas. And one for making paper airplanes. And one for golf. And one for swimming.
And one for walking in high heels.
Hey, look at that. We've just covered most of the offerings on NHK-E, the educational channel offered by Nippon Hoosoo Kyoukai (Japan Broadcasting Corporation). The Japanese government pays to produce TV programs that teach people how to waltz. Or say "Where's the toilet?" to a guy from Hamburg. Or how to walk in mules and look sexy without making that fpap-fpap-fpap sound.
What... you want some kind of comment that explains the significance of this? It's clearly a representation of some sort that shows what the government thinks the average person with enough free time wants to know, but how the hell can you sum up everything that implies? I'm putting together a jigsaw puzzle with no picture, no border, and no end.
13 August 2003
Someone told me once that the abillity to make tools was what separated ancient humans from animals.
Then it was what separated higher apes from lower animals.
Now it's just higher apes, some kinds of mammals, and this crow.
What is it about being human that makes us special again?
Then it was what separated higher apes from lower animals.
Now it's just higher apes, some kinds of mammals, and this crow.
What is it about being human that makes us special again?
I've been in Japan for a little over a year and a half, and I'm finally starting to understand a few of the little things I'd seen in movies or comics or cartoons or books before I came here. Take summertime, for instance. I can't tell you how many times I saw the exact same scene in movies or cartoons to indicate it was summertime: A couple of long shots of either farmers' fields or a suburban neighborhood. If it was the neighborhood, all the colors would be kind of washed out, if it was the field, everything growing seemed to be a kind of iridescent green. But no matter what, whether the movie was a comedy or a drama, if the cartoon was set in feudal times or at a school for robot pilots, there would always be two things: a total lack of movement in the scene, and the constant sound of cicadas. I couldn't figue out if it was just a cinematic shortcut, like a tumbleweed in a western or a minor chord in the soundtrack for the villain, or what.
Turns out that the feeling of summer in Japan can be concisely and accurately evoked with exactly those things. I thought the rainy season was hot, but what came next has been a shock. On the days when I did have to go outside between 11:00 and 4:00, I was usually the only thing moving. Or at least, the only thing stupid enough to be moving AND wearing a black suit. And the sound of the cidadas didn't become truly omnipresent until the end of the rainy season. I can hear them buzzing now. I could hear them buzzing all last night. And the day before and the night before.
Maybe I'd just taken it for granted that regional differences would keep everyone from assigning the same meaning to symbols. When I see film footage of kids playing in piles of red leaves and throwing horse chestnuts (not to be confused with "horse apples," by the way) at each other, it doesn't remind me of the feeling of Autumn at all, because it's totally outside of my experience of Autumn. And I'm fairly sure that filling paper bags with sand wouldn't make any of those Ithaca kids think of Christmas.
But the people in Tokyo and Fukui and Osaka and Kanazawa that I asked all seem to have the same resonses to the cicadas and the still scenes for summer. I wonder if it's because the island is small enough to share a similar climate for most of its area? Or maybe because so much of the media is produced in Tokyo and Osaka (sorta like the central part of Japan) that most of the easily identifyable symbols from this area would have been repeated again and again and distributed all over the country. I dunno. It's puzzling.
Kinda like a lot of life here.
Turns out that the feeling of summer in Japan can be concisely and accurately evoked with exactly those things. I thought the rainy season was hot, but what came next has been a shock. On the days when I did have to go outside between 11:00 and 4:00, I was usually the only thing moving. Or at least, the only thing stupid enough to be moving AND wearing a black suit. And the sound of the cidadas didn't become truly omnipresent until the end of the rainy season. I can hear them buzzing now. I could hear them buzzing all last night. And the day before and the night before.
Maybe I'd just taken it for granted that regional differences would keep everyone from assigning the same meaning to symbols. When I see film footage of kids playing in piles of red leaves and throwing horse chestnuts (not to be confused with "horse apples," by the way) at each other, it doesn't remind me of the feeling of Autumn at all, because it's totally outside of my experience of Autumn. And I'm fairly sure that filling paper bags with sand wouldn't make any of those Ithaca kids think of Christmas.
But the people in Tokyo and Fukui and Osaka and Kanazawa that I asked all seem to have the same resonses to the cicadas and the still scenes for summer. I wonder if it's because the island is small enough to share a similar climate for most of its area? Or maybe because so much of the media is produced in Tokyo and Osaka (sorta like the central part of Japan) that most of the easily identifyable symbols from this area would have been repeated again and again and distributed all over the country. I dunno. It's puzzling.
Kinda like a lot of life here.
04 August 2003
Did you know that there is a rainy season in Japan? Well, don't get too excited to talk about it, the National Meterological Association officially declared the rainy season over last week. There was a notice in the newspaper and everything. Leaving aside the concept of officially sanctioning a change in seasons (which seems really bizarre to me), there is the matter of it now being summer. Competely and totally. Now that there isn't a barrier of dismal, gray cloud cover and misty, foul-smelling rain shielding the island, Japan is at the mercy of the sun. Which, being the Aztec god of war, has no mercy.
In the desert, if you sweat you'll feel better. Your body gets too hot, releases water on its surface, the water evaporates and takes some of the heat with it as it re-enters the air around you. But here there's usually something like 98% humidity. So when your body gets too hot it releases that water-stuff on the surface again, and it can't be re-absorbed by the atmosphere or your skin. So it goes the next best place: into the cloth of your shirts. Especially around the pits and collar. Then it goes into your suit. That'd be the black suit your company requires you to wear every day of the week.
Summer bites.
In the desert, if you sweat you'll feel better. Your body gets too hot, releases water on its surface, the water evaporates and takes some of the heat with it as it re-enters the air around you. But here there's usually something like 98% humidity. So when your body gets too hot it releases that water-stuff on the surface again, and it can't be re-absorbed by the atmosphere or your skin. So it goes the next best place: into the cloth of your shirts. Especially around the pits and collar. Then it goes into your suit. That'd be the black suit your company requires you to wear every day of the week.
Summer bites.
Do you have any idea how depressing it is to get off the last train of the night and have to run to the oly food source open at 12:50AM (a crappy bodega-supermarket), only to realize they're all out of everything instant, frozen or ready-made that you'd consider eating (plenty of day-old octopus salad, day-old salted fish stomachs and day-old liver stir-fry though) so you'll actually have to buy ingredients for something you know how to cook so you can make THAT after you finally walk home, secure in the knowledge you'll be getting up to repeat the whole damn routine in five hours?
Eh? Whaddaya mean it's only me?
Eh? Whaddaya mean it's only me?
24 July 2003
Lately I've been kinda tired. I know you're not supposed to say you're anything other than the genki-est gaijin to ever fall off the boat, but my routine is starting to feel a little like a rut.
Honestly, how many more times am I going to have to draw a map to show my hometown isn't in Mexico City or New York? (Tonight? Four times.) How many more times will I have to ask if Hana and Rika would like the fish and chips or the blood pudding? How many more times will I have to hear some glassy-eyed office drone tell me that their hobbies are shopping, watching TV and sleeping?
Man, if it wasn't for the fact that my memories of hating LA are still so fresh, I might forget that this is still a pretty good place to be. Sounds like what I really need is to change my job or something...
Honestly, how many more times am I going to have to draw a map to show my hometown isn't in Mexico City or New York? (Tonight? Four times.) How many more times will I have to ask if Hana and Rika would like the fish and chips or the blood pudding? How many more times will I have to hear some glassy-eyed office drone tell me that their hobbies are shopping, watching TV and sleeping?
Man, if it wasn't for the fact that my memories of hating LA are still so fresh, I might forget that this is still a pretty good place to be. Sounds like what I really need is to change my job or something...
22 July 2003
I had a lesson with the single worst student I've ever encountered here. You know, I work at an English Conversation school. People pay waaaay too much money to come and practice their conversation skills. So imagine my chagrin at a private lesson that started like this...
Sam (in extra-cheerful voice): "Hello! How are you today?"
Student (in flat voice with slight frown): "Hello."
Sam: "How was your job?"
Student: "..."
Sam: "Uh, did you work today?"
Student: "... m."
Sam: "What happened?"
Student: "..."
Sam: "Work bad?"
Student: "..."
Sam: "Work busy?"
Student: "..."
Sam: "Work good?"
Student: "... m. Good."
Sam: "...Okay."
This went on for another 37 minutes. Not that I was counting.
Sam (in extra-cheerful voice): "Hello! How are you today?"
Student (in flat voice with slight frown): "Hello."
Sam: "How was your job?"
Student: "..."
Sam: "Uh, did you work today?"
Student: "... m."
Sam: "What happened?"
Student: "..."
Sam: "Work bad?"
Student: "..."
Sam: "Work busy?"
Student: "..."
Sam: "Work good?"
Student: "... m. Good."
Sam: "...Okay."
This went on for another 37 minutes. Not that I was counting.
17 July 2003
You try and study a language and you find that maybe you're not making as much progress as you'd like. It seems like you still can't speak your mind and you can't order a pizza that's not covered in mayonnaise and seaweed. It's downright discouraging. But then something happens to make you feel like you've learned a little something.
Like seeing a couple saying goodnight. You're walking down the street, it's around 12:20 AM on a tuesday night and you're tired from ten hours of trying to coax conversations out of a bunch of dead-eyed office workers who complain they haven't made any progress despite spending a whole 40 minutes practicing once every three weeks, and your only concern is not spilling your beer. And then you realize that you can understand the scene...
The setting is a cool Tokyo night. The streetlights are reflected in the rain puddles on the street and a couple has just come out of a karaoke lounge in a bedroom community on the outskirts of town. The lady is dressed casually in jeans, a t-shirt and camisole and white keds. The guy is wearing a hawaiian print shirt buttoned up to the neck and tucked into his pleated, ironed chinos which have been cuffed and hemmed with precise 2 cm cuffs.
Guy: konban wa tottemo tanoshikatta yo.
Girl: mn. zembu de arigatou. sa, teokure na.
Guy: mo ichido, aitai yo ne.
Girl: ehh, ano, oyasumi nasai.
Guy: jikai, Aoyama de tabemashoo ka.
Girl: ja, e, oyasumi nasai.
Guy: e too, sou, aa...
Girl: sou, oyasumi nasai. bye-bye.
Guy: aa, so. oyasumi nasai.
Funny how some things don't change much from culture to culture.
Like seeing a couple saying goodnight. You're walking down the street, it's around 12:20 AM on a tuesday night and you're tired from ten hours of trying to coax conversations out of a bunch of dead-eyed office workers who complain they haven't made any progress despite spending a whole 40 minutes practicing once every three weeks, and your only concern is not spilling your beer. And then you realize that you can understand the scene...
The setting is a cool Tokyo night. The streetlights are reflected in the rain puddles on the street and a couple has just come out of a karaoke lounge in a bedroom community on the outskirts of town. The lady is dressed casually in jeans, a t-shirt and camisole and white keds. The guy is wearing a hawaiian print shirt buttoned up to the neck and tucked into his pleated, ironed chinos which have been cuffed and hemmed with precise 2 cm cuffs.
Guy: konban wa tottemo tanoshikatta yo.
Girl: mn. zembu de arigatou. sa, teokure na.
Guy: mo ichido, aitai yo ne.
Girl: ehh, ano, oyasumi nasai.
Guy: jikai, Aoyama de tabemashoo ka.
Girl: ja, e, oyasumi nasai.
Guy: e too, sou, aa...
Girl: sou, oyasumi nasai. bye-bye.
Guy: aa, so. oyasumi nasai.
Funny how some things don't change much from culture to culture.
12 July 2003
Last week a couple of my friends from Fukui came down for a visit. It's kind of odd to think that I've been in Tokyo long enough to be considered a suitable tour guide.
It'd been a while since I spent that much uninterrupted time with the same people. In fact, the last time was an excruciating weekend trip with my then-girlfriend, her roommate, and her roommate's boyfriend to attend one of their friend's weddings. The girls finished pissed because no one made even the slightest effort to catch the garter. I finished pissed because I realized that if I had caught that garter I'd be looking forward to countless more weekends talking to smug assholes about their new SUVs and really great little end tables they'd bought in Santa Barbara. The only one who wasn't fuming was the other boyfriend. He'd had the good sense to feign sleep during the drive back.
This time was much better though. I'm not sure if it was the trip to the Gyoza Stadium, the world's biggest fresh fish market, or the near constant drinking.
Hell, maybe it was even the company. James, Caz, thanks for coming.
It'd been a while since I spent that much uninterrupted time with the same people. In fact, the last time was an excruciating weekend trip with my then-girlfriend, her roommate, and her roommate's boyfriend to attend one of their friend's weddings. The girls finished pissed because no one made even the slightest effort to catch the garter. I finished pissed because I realized that if I had caught that garter I'd be looking forward to countless more weekends talking to smug assholes about their new SUVs and really great little end tables they'd bought in Santa Barbara. The only one who wasn't fuming was the other boyfriend. He'd had the good sense to feign sleep during the drive back.
This time was much better though. I'm not sure if it was the trip to the Gyoza Stadium, the world's biggest fresh fish market, or the near constant drinking.
Hell, maybe it was even the company. James, Caz, thanks for coming.
09 July 2003
Have I told you my favorite phrase in Japanese? Well, okay, my second favorite, number one being biiru mo hitotsu, kudasai. Alright, maybe it's not even my second favorite, but it's the one I have to tell myself most often.
Anata wa benkyou ni narimashita.
or
"You have become a lesson to be learned from."
Somehow this seems more accurate than the version I heard in America about saying "it was a learning experience." That sounds like it was something you may have chosen. Or more importantly, something you may choose to learn from or not.
Anyway, lemme sum up a few things I've learned first hand in the last week:
People seem to enjoy language learning more when the grammar is connected to something they're interested in. Like Hungarian animators, alcohol, hating their job, getting a mistress or cheating on your husband.
It doesn't matter what language you use. "I'll call you" doesn't mean squat.
Hip-hop is now accepted enough in Japanese pop culture for middle-aged, 2nd-tier celebrities to try and rap in commercials for things like barbeque sauce.
You can't wash a futon in your washing machine. And it's certainly not a good idea to hang it out to dry without first checking to see if it's going to rain all day as soon as you leave for work.
6 out of 10 Japanese women studying English at my school prefer Pretty Woman to Titanic... Which I guess means that it's more romantic to be swept away by a sensitive, wealthy, piano playing, rich opera fan with a lot of money than to already be wealthy and have a poor guy die for you.
But not by much.
or
"You have become a lesson to be learned from."
Somehow this seems more accurate than the version I heard in America about saying "it was a learning experience." That sounds like it was something you may have chosen. Or more importantly, something you may choose to learn from or not.
Anyway, lemme sum up a few things I've learned first hand in the last week:
People seem to enjoy language learning more when the grammar is connected to something they're interested in. Like Hungarian animators, alcohol, hating their job, getting a mistress or cheating on your husband.
It doesn't matter what language you use. "I'll call you" doesn't mean squat.
Hip-hop is now accepted enough in Japanese pop culture for middle-aged, 2nd-tier celebrities to try and rap in commercials for things like barbeque sauce.
You can't wash a futon in your washing machine. And it's certainly not a good idea to hang it out to dry without first checking to see if it's going to rain all day as soon as you leave for work.
6 out of 10 Japanese women studying English at my school prefer Pretty Woman to Titanic... Which I guess means that it's more romantic to be swept away by a sensitive, wealthy, piano playing, rich opera fan with a lot of money than to already be wealthy and have a poor guy die for you.
But not by much.
02 July 2003
I know Hollywood is supposed to be the entertainment capital of the world and all, but I never realized exactly how accurate that is until I started trying to learn about pop culture from other places. Try asking your average Japanese person about their favorite stars. No, don't bother. I already asked a bunch of people, and I'll tell you what they said: Cameron Diaz and Meg Ryan and Hugh Grant.
But when I tried asking them about any Japanese stars I got a lot of blank stares. Now, I know that names and faces are difficult to remember. But I couldn't even get people to recall that The Ring used to be a Japanese horror film. Sometimes you can get an older person to remember something by Kurosawa, but in general everyone seems to be stuffed to the eyeballs with Charlies Angels 2, Terminator 3 and 2Fast 2Furious.
Does it seem right to you that I can name more living, frequently working, non-porn Japanese movie actors than 90% of my students?
Even 13 hours in the future, American Pop Culture is still oozing all over everything.
But when I tried asking them about any Japanese stars I got a lot of blank stares. Now, I know that names and faces are difficult to remember. But I couldn't even get people to recall that The Ring used to be a Japanese horror film. Sometimes you can get an older person to remember something by Kurosawa, but in general everyone seems to be stuffed to the eyeballs with Charlies Angels 2, Terminator 3 and 2Fast 2Furious.
Does it seem right to you that I can name more living, frequently working, non-porn Japanese movie actors than 90% of my students?
Even 13 hours in the future, American Pop Culture is still oozing all over everything.
30 June 2003
I know I was going to complain about the economics of teaching, but it's kinda tedious, you know? Lemme just say you can either have profitable work as a teacher or steady work. But not both. At least, not with any of the shitty companies I work for.
Anyway, yesterday I ate lunch with a new co-worker. She's kind of a ditzy girl from Canada that's been in Japan for all of a month. So when she asked me for a snack recommendation I had no choice. I had to tell her to try Natto
She hated it.
An hour later she was still complaining about smelling it on her breath.
I was still giggling about it.
I guess this means I'm no longer a new fish here, huh?
Anyway, yesterday I ate lunch with a new co-worker. She's kind of a ditzy girl from Canada that's been in Japan for all of a month. So when she asked me for a snack recommendation I had no choice. I had to tell her to try Natto
She hated it.
An hour later she was still complaining about smelling it on her breath.
I was still giggling about it.
I guess this means I'm no longer a new fish here, huh?
21 June 2003
A lot of people said you could make a lot of money teaching english in Japan, especially if you work freelance. And after a couple of months of trying to balance a couple of part-time jobs and a couple of private students, I think I'm starting to understand that statement.
Which is not to say that I'm making a lot of money. Dammit.
Your average Conversational English School charges somewhere in the neigborhood of $80 an hour for conversation lessons. I have no idea about alll the annual fees, renewal costs, or any of the other ways they jack up the price on students. And they do jack up those prices. For example, many schools use textbooks published by outside companies. You could buy those books at a bookstore (and depending on the book, that'll set you back something like $40 or $50 for a book and CD combo), but most schools require that students buy the book from the school, which tacks on what I'll presume is a handling fee of $110. Yeah, you read that right. For the priviledge of having them provide the book, the price jumps over 200%. Learning English is not for the faint of wallet.
Some of this has to do with the fact that full-time, foreign workers are required to be paid a certain amount based on the type of visa they have. That's a cost that these businesses have to recoup. But some of it is just charging whatever the market will bear. I have to go now so I can teach a private lesson, but next time I'll get to the breakdowns on that little racket, and see just what the deal is with making that long green.
Or not, as the case may be...
Which is not to say that I'm making a lot of money. Dammit.
Your average Conversational English School charges somewhere in the neigborhood of $80 an hour for conversation lessons. I have no idea about alll the annual fees, renewal costs, or any of the other ways they jack up the price on students. And they do jack up those prices. For example, many schools use textbooks published by outside companies. You could buy those books at a bookstore (and depending on the book, that'll set you back something like $40 or $50 for a book and CD combo), but most schools require that students buy the book from the school, which tacks on what I'll presume is a handling fee of $110. Yeah, you read that right. For the priviledge of having them provide the book, the price jumps over 200%. Learning English is not for the faint of wallet.
Some of this has to do with the fact that full-time, foreign workers are required to be paid a certain amount based on the type of visa they have. That's a cost that these businesses have to recoup. But some of it is just charging whatever the market will bear. I have to go now so I can teach a private lesson, but next time I'll get to the breakdowns on that little racket, and see just what the deal is with making that long green.
Or not, as the case may be...
18 June 2003
Would you believe I hadda go to the other side of the planet to wind up in a place where I could ride a mechanical bull? Yup. There's a western-style bar in Ebisu (which is in Tokyo). Granted, it may not be the most authentic western bar there ever was. The music was all club-techno and J-Pop, the food would have been about right for a Denny's, and their token white guy in a cowboy hat and boots was, in fact, from New Zealand. But they did have a mechanical bull. And every sunday they fire that bad boy up.
I gotta admit, it sounds pretty ridiculous to have tried riding a mechanical bull for the first time in front of a bunch of the most attractive of all my co-workers. But I have seen Stir Crazy about a half-dozen times. And I figured if Gene Wilder could do it, so could I. Especially after a wee nip of courage. Or two.
In history, there have been a number of famous bull riders:�@Tuff Hedeman, Cody Lambert, that guy Luke Perry played in 8 Seconds. I will never join their hallowed, and often bull-trampled ranks. After a quick 5 seconds I was tossed like a rather large scarecrow. But so was my manager, and he bought the drinks that night.
In the end, isn't that what's really important?
I gotta admit, it sounds pretty ridiculous to have tried riding a mechanical bull for the first time in front of a bunch of the most attractive of all my co-workers. But I have seen Stir Crazy about a half-dozen times. And I figured if Gene Wilder could do it, so could I. Especially after a wee nip of courage. Or two.
In history, there have been a number of famous bull riders:�@Tuff Hedeman, Cody Lambert, that guy Luke Perry played in 8 Seconds. I will never join their hallowed, and often bull-trampled ranks. After a quick 5 seconds I was tossed like a rather large scarecrow. But so was my manager, and he bought the drinks that night.
In the end, isn't that what's really important?
07 June 2003
One reason to live in another country is to experience local customs, right? That's what I told myself when I agreed to take part in a "go-kon." Which is a Japanese variation on blind dating. But in groups of six. The basic premise is that three guys and three girls go to an izakaya (a place to get drinks, lots of little dishes and hand around socializing) to see if any of them have any interest in anyone else. There is a definite up side to doing this sort of thing in a group. The fear of being killed by a total stranger is definitely less at a crowded table. If you're a little bored with someone you can talk to someone else. And there's no doubt about whether the people there are looking for a date or not. All things considered, it's a better than a standard, one-on-one blind date.
Which ain't saying much on it's own, but is meant as a compliment.
So I went to a go-kon with a guy from California, his friend's brother from Canada, and three girls from Tokyo. Even allowing for the language barrier, things went pretty well. I think I was even making a connection with Tomoko.
At least, until the guy raised in Canada (who was, in fact, Japanese and spoke both English and Japanese fluently) casually mentioned that he couldn't find the keys to his new BMW 7 series, which would be a problem because he had to drive to a party he was DJ-ing at in a club in Shibuya (one of the expensive/trendy parts of town) later that night. Did I mention his day job at a trading company required him to travel frequently between Guam, Bali, Thailand, Hong Kong and Fiji? Well, he did not long after the bit about the car.
Funny, somehow after that, the evening seemed to wrap itself up pretty quickly.
Even though there were a whole other set of social rules to try and remember, like who sits first, or where you're supposed to put your elbows, or your chopsticks, or that piece of gristle that you couldn't chew up, some things were remarkably similar. If I've learned anything from this, it's that personality is nice, honesty is important, but money is a lot more efficient, no matter what language you speak.
Which ain't saying much on it's own, but is meant as a compliment.
So I went to a go-kon with a guy from California, his friend's brother from Canada, and three girls from Tokyo. Even allowing for the language barrier, things went pretty well. I think I was even making a connection with Tomoko.
At least, until the guy raised in Canada (who was, in fact, Japanese and spoke both English and Japanese fluently) casually mentioned that he couldn't find the keys to his new BMW 7 series, which would be a problem because he had to drive to a party he was DJ-ing at in a club in Shibuya (one of the expensive/trendy parts of town) later that night. Did I mention his day job at a trading company required him to travel frequently between Guam, Bali, Thailand, Hong Kong and Fiji? Well, he did not long after the bit about the car.
Funny, somehow after that, the evening seemed to wrap itself up pretty quickly.
Even though there were a whole other set of social rules to try and remember, like who sits first, or where you're supposed to put your elbows, or your chopsticks, or that piece of gristle that you couldn't chew up, some things were remarkably similar. If I've learned anything from this, it's that personality is nice, honesty is important, but money is a lot more efficient, no matter what language you speak.
I went to Akihabara for the first time the other day. In case you're not familiar with the place, it's Tokyo's electronics district. If you wanna buy something that computes, renders, clips, reproduces, or takes AA batteries, you'll find it in Akihabara. If you're a gaget fiend or a toy junky, you'll probably feel completely at home there.
And it maybe had the most lopsided male-female ratio of any public place I've seen in Japan, and that includes the men's side of the public spa I went to. The streets were crammed with guys. The youngest I saw looked to be about 10, and the oldest had to be in his 70's. And most of them had exactly the same look: an untucked, button down shirt with the top two buttons undone over a colored t-shirt, worn-looking cotton pants, sneakers and a backpack. The exceptions were rare. The occasional salaryman on a lunch break or junior high student playing hooky were the only ones I saw to break the dress code.
Beyond the visual oddity of seeing so many people dressed the same way, there was a strange atmosphere in most of the shops. And by "atmosphere" I mean "like, you know, the gases you breathe and stuff." Most stores were stuffy, too warm, and smelled like a mix of tobacco smoke and musty air. Like an attic with inadequate ventilation. Or someone's basement room that they don't leave for stretches of days at a time. It smelled a little like a Fry's electronics store, and a little like one of those older comic book shops. There was a funk of air that had been through too many sets of mouths and lungs, and of shirts that had been worn without washing a little too often. Not a smell of sweat or dirt, but of something like human physical inactivity in a small, enclosed space.
Needless to say, it was neither a healthy nor a comforting smell.
That aside, there was a lot of really cool stuff there, and before I left I was able to buy a bunch of cool plastic robots and stuff that'll be perfect for my tiny, one window apartment that I rarely leave on my days off.
What?
And it maybe had the most lopsided male-female ratio of any public place I've seen in Japan, and that includes the men's side of the public spa I went to. The streets were crammed with guys. The youngest I saw looked to be about 10, and the oldest had to be in his 70's. And most of them had exactly the same look: an untucked, button down shirt with the top two buttons undone over a colored t-shirt, worn-looking cotton pants, sneakers and a backpack. The exceptions were rare. The occasional salaryman on a lunch break or junior high student playing hooky were the only ones I saw to break the dress code.
Beyond the visual oddity of seeing so many people dressed the same way, there was a strange atmosphere in most of the shops. And by "atmosphere" I mean "like, you know, the gases you breathe and stuff." Most stores were stuffy, too warm, and smelled like a mix of tobacco smoke and musty air. Like an attic with inadequate ventilation. Or someone's basement room that they don't leave for stretches of days at a time. It smelled a little like a Fry's electronics store, and a little like one of those older comic book shops. There was a funk of air that had been through too many sets of mouths and lungs, and of shirts that had been worn without washing a little too often. Not a smell of sweat or dirt, but of something like human physical inactivity in a small, enclosed space.
Needless to say, it was neither a healthy nor a comforting smell.
That aside, there was a lot of really cool stuff there, and before I left I was able to buy a bunch of cool plastic robots and stuff that'll be perfect for my tiny, one window apartment that I rarely leave on my days off.
What?
One of the things I love about Japan is that everything here is foreign; just about everything is strange to me. Of course, the flip side of that is that I must be foreign to just about everyone here. Case in point, a couple of days ago I had the singular experience of trying to eat a meal under the intense scrutiny of a one-armed sushi-bar owner.
I hope it was a nice change for him. He's the only amputee I've seen the whole time I've been here, and maybe for once, he got to be the guy who was trying to look without being caught staring at something he doesn't see every day.
I hope it was a nice change for him. He's the only amputee I've seen the whole time I've been here, and maybe for once, he got to be the guy who was trying to look without being caught staring at something he doesn't see every day.
What the hell kind of godless monsquitoes would bite a man on the palm? I thought the assault on my eyelid was bad, and I was right pissed when they put a big-ass welt on my forehead, but now they've gone too far. You can deal with itchiness as long as you don't touch it, right? How do you not touch with your hands?
I'll be enacting a new policy of restricting the borders (closing my windows, no matter how hot it gets), making the atmosphere inhospitable (burning a bunch of those "no-bug" incense coils) and poisoning their food supply (drinking nothing but gin and eating nothing but kimchi). We'll see who has the last laugh here. (Given that I'll have to be drinking gin for breakfast and eating garlicky, pickled Korean cabbage, I'll probably have to be laughing, no matter what happens.)
I'll be enacting a new policy of restricting the borders (closing my windows, no matter how hot it gets), making the atmosphere inhospitable (burning a bunch of those "no-bug" incense coils) and poisoning their food supply (drinking nothing but gin and eating nothing but kimchi). We'll see who has the last laugh here. (Given that I'll have to be drinking gin for breakfast and eating garlicky, pickled Korean cabbage, I'll probably have to be laughing, no matter what happens.)
28 May 2003
By the way, I finally got my July 4th pics from last year scanned, formatted and uploaded.
Mike, Karla, thanks for a damn good time last year.
Mike, Karla, thanks for a damn good time last year.
Springtime in Tokyo can be pretty nice. Especially in the evenings. After you've been on a train that was jammed to maximum capacity with a bunch of stressed out office workers, half-drunk salarymen and inadequate ventilation, stepping out onto the platfom and walking home in the cool darkness is nice finish to the day.
Especially if you take advantage of public consumption laws and enjoy a beer on the walk home.
It's worth noting that tomorrow is Memorial Day, the official start of summer in America.
Summer in Tokyo can be a sweltering, fetid, endurance contest, where the prospect of blackouts, the heat-island effect, and being required to wear a black suit to work every day, often causes otherwise successful Tokyo dwellers to consider taking up sustenance farming in someplace less inhospitable.
Like Outer Mongolia.
Especially if you take advantage of public consumption laws and enjoy a beer on the walk home.
It's worth noting that tomorrow is Memorial Day, the official start of summer in America.
Summer in Tokyo can be a sweltering, fetid, endurance contest, where the prospect of blackouts, the heat-island effect, and being required to wear a black suit to work every day, often causes otherwise successful Tokyo dwellers to consider taking up sustenance farming in someplace less inhospitable.
Like Outer Mongolia.
22 May 2003
I'm back in Japan now. The trip had no major surprises, and getting back was fairly uneventful. Except for one thing. Turns out that they don't send you a gas bill in Saitama (where I live) if you haven't filled out one of those auto-debit things. They just turn off your gas after a couple of months. Which wouldn't bother me in summer except that my water heater is the only thing in my apartment that runs on gas.
Really, cold showers ain't so bad. I almost wanna go on a date and get cockblocked just so I'll have a good reason to take cold showers.
On the up side, I was able to negotiate an appointment with a guy from the gas company to get them to turn it back on. Looks like I have actually learned some Japanese in the last year and a half. Hooray for me. I'll be able to have a hot shower by Saturday afternoon. In the meantime, though...brrr.
Really, cold showers ain't so bad. I almost wanna go on a date and get cockblocked just so I'll have a good reason to take cold showers.
On the up side, I was able to negotiate an appointment with a guy from the gas company to get them to turn it back on. Looks like I have actually learned some Japanese in the last year and a half. Hooray for me. I'll be able to have a hot shower by Saturday afternoon. In the meantime, though...brrr.
13 May 2003
Tomorrow I will try to slip back into my hometown unnoticed for 3 days of catching up with family and friends, eating some god damnned real New Mexican food, and trying to avoid a lethal cocktail of jet-lag, reverse culture shock and poisonous levels of high-school reminiscing.
"Sounds dangerous. I recommend a strict regimen of the cheapest beer imaginable and one viewing of the Matrix Reloaded."
"Drunk or sober?"
"That's a foolish question, young man. It's my medical opinion that you stay drunk for the next 80 hours."
"You're a sick sonuvabitch, Doctor. I'm glad I came to you."
"Sounds dangerous. I recommend a strict regimen of the cheapest beer imaginable and one viewing of the Matrix Reloaded."
"Drunk or sober?"
"That's a foolish question, young man. It's my medical opinion that you stay drunk for the next 80 hours."
"You're a sick sonuvabitch, Doctor. I'm glad I came to you."
11 May 2003
What do you believe in?
How deeply do you believe it?
This fellow wanted to know about his personal relationship with and responsibility to the government. He wanted an answer. And this is how far he's gone to get an answer.
Will he see it through? Will he get an answer? Your guess is as good as mine. But this guy seems to have made his stand and kept to it. So I ask again: What do you believe in? How deeply do you believe it?
This fellow wanted to know about his personal relationship with and responsibility to the government. He wanted an answer. And this is how far he's gone to get an answer.
Will he see it through? Will he get an answer? Your guess is as good as mine. But this guy seems to have made his stand and kept to it. So I ask again: What do you believe in? How deeply do you believe it?
08 May 2003
A lot of people told me that medicine sold in Japan is ususally weaker than medicine in America. Whether this is because Japanese people tend to consume fewer chemicals and thus have a lower tolerance, or because American people tend to have more body mass (that is, "fat") and require a higher dose, I'm not sure. And honestly, I really couldn't tell you if it's true or not. I can't read Japanese well enough to buy medicine in the first place, so I haven't actually checked.
But one thing that is definitely stronger here is whatever is in the mosquitoes. I got a couple of bites and there's something in them that my system has no idea what to do with. They swelled up like purple-red easter eggs, itch like hell, and haven't gone down after four days. And bugs here don't respect the traditional no-bite zones.
Like the eyelid.
Yeah, one of the little bastards zapped me just over my right eye while I was taking a nap. I woke up and couldn't open my eye for half an hour. I'm lucky that no one at work felt they knew me well enough to ask who belted me.
But one thing that is definitely stronger here is whatever is in the mosquitoes. I got a couple of bites and there's something in them that my system has no idea what to do with. They swelled up like purple-red easter eggs, itch like hell, and haven't gone down after four days. And bugs here don't respect the traditional no-bite zones.
Like the eyelid.
Yeah, one of the little bastards zapped me just over my right eye while I was taking a nap. I woke up and couldn't open my eye for half an hour. I'm lucky that no one at work felt they knew me well enough to ask who belted me.
05 May 2003
Change Change Change
Just got back from a weekend in Fukui. Damn, but it was good to see everyone again.
But I suppose it needs to be said: a lot of things changed. A lot of things always change. Some people are dating other people, some buildings are missing, most folks changed their hair.
And everyone's lives went on, despite the huge, yawning void that my leaving Fukui must have caused.
No, wait, I meant to say "despite the huge, yawning void that my leaving Fukui caused my current life to become." Which isn't to say that I'm not totally satisfied, but I gotta wrap this up so I can ride a cramped train and go to work to make small talk for six hours. Damn it damn it damn it.
But I suppose it needs to be said: a lot of things changed. A lot of things always change. Some people are dating other people, some buildings are missing, most folks changed their hair.
And everyone's lives went on, despite the huge, yawning void that my leaving Fukui must have caused.
No, wait, I meant to say "despite the huge, yawning void that my leaving Fukui caused my current life to become." Which isn't to say that I'm not totally satisfied, but I gotta wrap this up so I can ride a cramped train and go to work to make small talk for six hours. Damn it damn it damn it.
28 April 2003
Small Victories
Special Agent K, who is much more observant than I am, said something that I often forget to mention about living abroad. That the sense of accomplishment that can be had from figuring out how to do stuff, especially in another language or culture, is like proof that your brain still works. Despite some out of date directions, I was able to successfully get to the right office, fill out the right papers and get a re-entry permit. That really felt good. It was like winning a sports match and figuring out a puzzle at the same time.
Riding high on that mark in the win column, I decided to look up a guy I met who said his shop sold big and tall suits. (That's another nice thing about living here. There are people who are willing to be civil, or even kind, just for the sake of being friendly to a foreigner. I'll have to remember to try and be good to other people someday...) So I went to his shop, and found they did have big and tall suits. Suits for people with up to a 130cm waist and 185 cm height.
Have I told you yet that I'm about 190 cm tall?
That was kind of a come down: to be reminded that, even by extra-normal standards, you don't fit.
Then again, no one leaves their home country to live abroad with an realistic goal of "fitting in." Mostly I was cheesed off because I really wanted a new suit. And really, the guy from the store seemed geniunely disappointed that they didn't have anything that would fit me.
So let's score the day a win by split decision. 'Cause in the end, I did figure out how to do some stuff. And I was never able to buy suits easily in the US anyway.
Riding high on that mark in the win column, I decided to look up a guy I met who said his shop sold big and tall suits. (That's another nice thing about living here. There are people who are willing to be civil, or even kind, just for the sake of being friendly to a foreigner. I'll have to remember to try and be good to other people someday...) So I went to his shop, and found they did have big and tall suits. Suits for people with up to a 130cm waist and 185 cm height.
Have I told you yet that I'm about 190 cm tall?
That was kind of a come down: to be reminded that, even by extra-normal standards, you don't fit.
Then again, no one leaves their home country to live abroad with an realistic goal of "fitting in." Mostly I was cheesed off because I really wanted a new suit. And really, the guy from the store seemed geniunely disappointed that they didn't have anything that would fit me.
So let's score the day a win by split decision. 'Cause in the end, I did figure out how to do some stuff. And I was never able to buy suits easily in the US anyway.
23 April 2003
Since that last post was a little too desperate to leave out for everyone to see, it's been relocated here.
On a totally unrelated point, just when you think it's safe to start sterotyping people again, you meet a criminal court Judge from Tokyo who openly admits to being an animated film addict who spent so much of his time watching TV in university that he had to drop his Anglo-American Law class due to poor attendance, even though he's preparing to go to Philidelphia for a year to study the American Legal System.
It's really tough to stay bored here as long as you can talk to a few people.
On a totally unrelated point, just when you think it's safe to start sterotyping people again, you meet a criminal court Judge from Tokyo who openly admits to being an animated film addict who spent so much of his time watching TV in university that he had to drop his Anglo-American Law class due to poor attendance, even though he's preparing to go to Philidelphia for a year to study the American Legal System.
It's really tough to stay bored here as long as you can talk to a few people.
16 April 2003
It looks like the war is pretty much over, so now we can concentrate on more important things.
Like ignoring the reconstruction of Afghanistan and Iraq.
Or the evisceration of the average American's constitutional protections.
Hell, maybe we can even get back to asking why it is after cutting taxes and raising spending, the US economy is still spashing around in the toilet?
No wait. There's gotta be someone else to invade first. How about North Korea? They're part of that Axis of Evil thing and they are actively pursuing Nuclear technology. Oh, wait, they don't have anything under their despot except for starving, oppressed people. They don't have any oil or coal. And they've already tested all the swell new bombs and guns that had been stored up since 1992. I guess we can continue through diplomatic channels with North Korea.
Fucking hell, what a country.
Like ignoring the reconstruction of Afghanistan and Iraq.
Or the evisceration of the average American's constitutional protections.
Hell, maybe we can even get back to asking why it is after cutting taxes and raising spending, the US economy is still spashing around in the toilet?
No wait. There's gotta be someone else to invade first. How about North Korea? They're part of that Axis of Evil thing and they are actively pursuing Nuclear technology. Oh, wait, they don't have anything under their despot except for starving, oppressed people. They don't have any oil or coal. And they've already tested all the swell new bombs and guns that had been stored up since 1992. I guess we can continue through diplomatic channels with North Korea.
Fucking hell, what a country.
11 April 2003
Who Profits?
It's worth noting that my recent complaint about the firing of journalist Peter Arnett was not completely informed. C-Los, thank you for pointing that out. There were concerns about his journalistic integrity. I don't know whether or not he accepted payola for his reports about the status of America's initial assaults. If he did take cash in exchange for misrepresenting the facts, he should have been fired at once.
We rely on the media to deliver the truth about places and events that the majority of us cannot see or get into first hand. There is an expectation that the media will deliver the truth. The nature of the editorial is to deliver opinions, and the public has to remember that while we hope for an objective truth, we're often getting a subjective report.
Were Arnett's statements biased as a result of his personal opinions or because of a pay-off? I don't know. What I intended to object to was the repression of dissenting views. If his stated view of events was different because of personal opinion, that's one matter, and we should question the people we're trusting to tell us the truth. But if he made those specific claims in exchange for money, then his view is no more deserving of respect than that of any other type of propaganda.
If we, as rational individuals, are going to make good decisions, it seems we're going to have to ask the same questions every time we turn on the news: Who profits? Who stands to gain from telling us these things in this way?
We rely on the media to deliver the truth about places and events that the majority of us cannot see or get into first hand. There is an expectation that the media will deliver the truth. The nature of the editorial is to deliver opinions, and the public has to remember that while we hope for an objective truth, we're often getting a subjective report.
Were Arnett's statements biased as a result of his personal opinions or because of a pay-off? I don't know. What I intended to object to was the repression of dissenting views. If his stated view of events was different because of personal opinion, that's one matter, and we should question the people we're trusting to tell us the truth. But if he made those specific claims in exchange for money, then his view is no more deserving of respect than that of any other type of propaganda.
If we, as rational individuals, are going to make good decisions, it seems we're going to have to ask the same questions every time we turn on the news: Who profits? Who stands to gain from telling us these things in this way?
It looks as if Bagdad is under US/UK control now. And I will not disagree with the idea that a change of leaders seems to make the average Iraqi very happy. From all accounts, Hussein was a rotten sonuvabitch who relied on intimidation, torture and murder to control Iraq. His removal was probably a very good thing for the average guy.
But should it have been done by outside forces without a mandate from the people? Should it have been done without international approval? Perhaps the most troubling question to me is one of motive. Should it have been done by people whose primary goal doesn't seem to have been freedom or liberty, but control of a deep water port and a damn lot of oil?
The only clear message from the White House concerning the reconstruction of Iraq is that is it's something they prefer to leave to the Iraqi leaders who've been exiled since the 70's and the big oil companies, most of which were last able to make big money from Iraqi oil in the 70's.
Oh, there's a shock. Someone connected with Big Oil stands to make assloads of money. You'd almost think that the people who wanted to go to war most had some reason to be connection with the Oil industry. Next you'll tell me that the defense contractors who are going to get huge contracts to replace the thousands of missles and bombs used also have direct financial connections with the White House.
No, wait, you don't have to tell me. The damnned White House has said openly that this will mean enormous profits for the company that Cheney used to work for.
You lie to people when you worry that they can take action against you if they find out. What's it mean when you can brazenly say exactly what you're doing? If nothing else, the message is finally clear: "Bend over. Try not to think about it: there's gonna be some deep drilling, and if you struggle it's just gonna hurt more."
How do you think Iran and North Korea feel right about now?
But should it have been done by outside forces without a mandate from the people? Should it have been done without international approval? Perhaps the most troubling question to me is one of motive. Should it have been done by people whose primary goal doesn't seem to have been freedom or liberty, but control of a deep water port and a damn lot of oil?
The only clear message from the White House concerning the reconstruction of Iraq is that is it's something they prefer to leave to the Iraqi leaders who've been exiled since the 70's and the big oil companies, most of which were last able to make big money from Iraqi oil in the 70's.
Oh, there's a shock. Someone connected with Big Oil stands to make assloads of money. You'd almost think that the people who wanted to go to war most had some reason to be connection with the Oil industry. Next you'll tell me that the defense contractors who are going to get huge contracts to replace the thousands of missles and bombs used also have direct financial connections with the White House.
No, wait, you don't have to tell me. The damnned White House has said openly that this will mean enormous profits for the company that Cheney used to work for.
You lie to people when you worry that they can take action against you if they find out. What's it mean when you can brazenly say exactly what you're doing? If nothing else, the message is finally clear: "Bend over. Try not to think about it: there's gonna be some deep drilling, and if you struggle it's just gonna hurt more."
How do you think Iran and North Korea feel right about now?
07 April 2003
In Japan, today is Monday, August 7, 2003. A day that is significant for a couple of reasons.
Today is the first day of the school year. It is also the first day of the business or fiscal year. (Maybe it makes more sense to start things like education and business when the world itself seems to be in a state of rebirth and bloom, rather than in September's final days of warmth or October's cold. But I digress.)
It's also the day that Astro Boy was supposed to be activated. Do you remember Astro Boy? A cartoon about a robot boy with rocket feet and a jet-age, futuristic hairstyle? First written in the 50's by Osamu Tezuka, Astro Boy was a story about human nature and the possibilities of technology. In a world threatened by evil run amok, Astro Boy was a mechanized force for justice, kindness and innocence. And this story was so widely embraced by Japan that Astro Boy's "birthday" is being commemorated all month with parties, sales, stamps, toys, television specials about comics, robotics and technology, and of course, a new Astro Boy cartoon.
The only comparisons I could think of from America were August 4, 1997, the day that Skynet (the computer that would create Arnold Schwartzenneger's "Terminator") was supposed to come on-line, and January 12, 1992, the day that HAL 9000 (of Clarke and Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey") was supposed to have been activated.
While I'm not sad to have missed the devastation of mankind by a berserk computer, I do have to ask a few questions:
Why does Japan still seem to believe that technology can be used to save humanity, while America seems to be ready to (ideologically) abandon the future for the pastoral embrace of the "The Lord of The Rings?" There's no end of stories here about people using their wits and their machines to fight for justice. But from Tolkien to "Minority Report," heroes seem to have to abandon his tech and rely on his wits, muscles or innate humanity to fight the systems of machines, cruelty and evil.
Do you believe in technology's potential to improve human life? Do you believe in technology at all? I mean, in the way some people believe in horoscopes, UFOs or god? Do you have faith that it works?
And this is 2003, where the hell are all the flying cars, space age fashions and wise-cracking robots? I feel severely let down that the best we can do is that stupid Aibo robot dog.
Dammit, where's all the Fem-Bots?
Anyway, happy birthday, Astro Boy.
Today is the first day of the school year. It is also the first day of the business or fiscal year. (Maybe it makes more sense to start things like education and business when the world itself seems to be in a state of rebirth and bloom, rather than in September's final days of warmth or October's cold. But I digress.)
It's also the day that Astro Boy was supposed to be activated. Do you remember Astro Boy? A cartoon about a robot boy with rocket feet and a jet-age, futuristic hairstyle? First written in the 50's by Osamu Tezuka, Astro Boy was a story about human nature and the possibilities of technology. In a world threatened by evil run amok, Astro Boy was a mechanized force for justice, kindness and innocence. And this story was so widely embraced by Japan that Astro Boy's "birthday" is being commemorated all month with parties, sales, stamps, toys, television specials about comics, robotics and technology, and of course, a new Astro Boy cartoon.
The only comparisons I could think of from America were August 4, 1997, the day that Skynet (the computer that would create Arnold Schwartzenneger's "Terminator") was supposed to come on-line, and January 12, 1992, the day that HAL 9000 (of Clarke and Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey") was supposed to have been activated.
While I'm not sad to have missed the devastation of mankind by a berserk computer, I do have to ask a few questions:
Why does Japan still seem to believe that technology can be used to save humanity, while America seems to be ready to (ideologically) abandon the future for the pastoral embrace of the "The Lord of The Rings?" There's no end of stories here about people using their wits and their machines to fight for justice. But from Tolkien to "Minority Report," heroes seem to have to abandon his tech and rely on his wits, muscles or innate humanity to fight the systems of machines, cruelty and evil.
Do you believe in technology's potential to improve human life? Do you believe in technology at all? I mean, in the way some people believe in horoscopes, UFOs or god? Do you have faith that it works?
And this is 2003, where the hell are all the flying cars, space age fashions and wise-cracking robots? I feel severely let down that the best we can do is that stupid Aibo robot dog.
Dammit, where's all the Fem-Bots?
Anyway, happy birthday, Astro Boy.
02 April 2003
Do you know what's happening in Iraq right now? I'm sure you can watch CNN, Fox News, or some other channel and get the latest reports on troop locations, the difficulties of securing enough MREs for the refugees or the Pentagon PR updates. But were you aware that NBC shitcanned a reporter for voicing his personal opinions on the progress of the war? Think about that. A person whose job is to observe events and summarize them was fired for observing and summarizing in a way that didn't glorify America.
Peter Arnett, a New Zealand-born reporter with experience in Vietnam, where he won a Pulitzer, as well as the earlier Gulf War, has been observing the events in Iraq for NBC. He was asked his opinion of the status of an offensive by reporters from Iraqi TV. Arnette's view was that the first offensive was not completely successful in removing Hussein from power due to Iraqi resistance, and that the offensive strategists were "trying to write another plan."
His opinion ran contrary to the claims of the Pentagon and he was subsequently fired for "granting an interview to state-controlled Iraqi television,especially at a time of war" and because "it was wrong for him to discuss personal observations and opinions in that interview." An individual voiced an opinion counter to the official line, and was fired. He said something that the US government didn't want anyone to think about, that they might not be all powerful, and he was removed from the capacity in which he reached people.
Could Arnett have been totally incorrect in his estimation of the situation? Yes. Is it possible that the US government is counting on solidarity from the news media to reinforce the idea that they are an overwhelming force that cannot possibly be stopped? Of course. In terms of numbers, resources, and technology, that is probably true. Is it possible that Arnette's non-Arab face saying America wasn't all-powerful could have served to encourage Iraqi troops? Sure. Is it reasonable for a reporter to be silenced for telling what he thought was the truth? Is it?
Has it sunk in yet? You're not getting the whole story. You don't get to see everything. You don't get to see any more than they want you to know. None of us do.
It's paranoia if you think there are powers aligned against you. But what do you call it when those powers are aligned against everyone who isn't one of them?
Peter Arnett, a New Zealand-born reporter with experience in Vietnam, where he won a Pulitzer, as well as the earlier Gulf War, has been observing the events in Iraq for NBC. He was asked his opinion of the status of an offensive by reporters from Iraqi TV. Arnette's view was that the first offensive was not completely successful in removing Hussein from power due to Iraqi resistance, and that the offensive strategists were "trying to write another plan."
His opinion ran contrary to the claims of the Pentagon and he was subsequently fired for "granting an interview to state-controlled Iraqi television,especially at a time of war" and because "it was wrong for him to discuss personal observations and opinions in that interview." An individual voiced an opinion counter to the official line, and was fired. He said something that the US government didn't want anyone to think about, that they might not be all powerful, and he was removed from the capacity in which he reached people.
Could Arnett have been totally incorrect in his estimation of the situation? Yes. Is it possible that the US government is counting on solidarity from the news media to reinforce the idea that they are an overwhelming force that cannot possibly be stopped? Of course. In terms of numbers, resources, and technology, that is probably true. Is it possible that Arnette's non-Arab face saying America wasn't all-powerful could have served to encourage Iraqi troops? Sure. Is it reasonable for a reporter to be silenced for telling what he thought was the truth? Is it?
Has it sunk in yet? You're not getting the whole story. You don't get to see everything. You don't get to see any more than they want you to know. None of us do.
It's paranoia if you think there are powers aligned against you. But what do you call it when those powers are aligned against everyone who isn't one of them?
27 March 2003
It's been a while since I could post
You know how life is: You work late so you miss a train, which means you can't go shopping, you have to walk all over the place to find an all night noodle shop so you can eat eat dinner, and you're so tired that almost trip over the girl trying to lure customers into the Yakuza-owned massage parlor and get a good threatening stare from a five-foot-five guy wearing a $2000 suit and a $40 color and perm job. Same old story, I guess.
Anyway, that yellow template sucked, so I'm gonna pretend that it never happened.
And as far as the Iraq thing goes, that's a whole 'nother rant. Keep your heads down, it's not going to end cleanly or quietly.
Anyway, that yellow template sucked, so I'm gonna pretend that it never happened.
And as far as the Iraq thing goes, that's a whole 'nother rant. Keep your heads down, it's not going to end cleanly or quietly.
07 March 2003
I had a student the other day, she was a Japanese woman about 28 years old. She was feminine in the way Japanese women seem to be expected to be: she was petite, quiet, a little shy, and all of her habits, mannerisms and actions were executed with the maximum possible cuteness. Even her voice was wispy, delicate, and so high pitched that I thought it was she was joking at first.
Because my primary job there is to make small talk, we chatted about her job, her family, and her pet. And each time there was something moderately amusing, she responded with a set routine of giggling, daintily covering part of her mouth with two fingers, and returning to her initial pose. Everything about her seemed soaked in cuteness and about two inches deep. But then something interesting happened.
I found out that her hobby is ballet. Not only watching ballet, or reading about ballet, but actually practicing ballet. Like, for the last six years. She studies dance routines, breaks down the mechanics of different dancers' moves, and does weight training to strengthen her leg muscles. She could probably leg press as much I can. Her favorite part of ballet is the jumping. She actually studied how NBA players strengthen their legs and adapted some of those techniques to her workout. And this is only her hobby. She started about fifteen years too late to even think about being a professional.
When she was talking about dance, her body language began to change. She stopped tucking her elbows into her lap and keeping her hands on her knees, she began looking directly forward instead of tipping her chin down and looking up. Even the giggling became less frequent; she actually laughed about things. Even though her voice was still more easily heard by dogs, she spoke with more assertive forms and fewer qualifiers and modifying phrases. And she mentioned casually, but with all seriousness, that she would like to have been born a man because they get the bigger, more dramatic leaps. But there was no real regret in her voice, just an idea about how she could have enjoyed ballet more.
Sometimes humanity leaks out of places where you don't expect it.
Because my primary job there is to make small talk, we chatted about her job, her family, and her pet. And each time there was something moderately amusing, she responded with a set routine of giggling, daintily covering part of her mouth with two fingers, and returning to her initial pose. Everything about her seemed soaked in cuteness and about two inches deep. But then something interesting happened.
I found out that her hobby is ballet. Not only watching ballet, or reading about ballet, but actually practicing ballet. Like, for the last six years. She studies dance routines, breaks down the mechanics of different dancers' moves, and does weight training to strengthen her leg muscles. She could probably leg press as much I can. Her favorite part of ballet is the jumping. She actually studied how NBA players strengthen their legs and adapted some of those techniques to her workout. And this is only her hobby. She started about fifteen years too late to even think about being a professional.
When she was talking about dance, her body language began to change. She stopped tucking her elbows into her lap and keeping her hands on her knees, she began looking directly forward instead of tipping her chin down and looking up. Even the giggling became less frequent; she actually laughed about things. Even though her voice was still more easily heard by dogs, she spoke with more assertive forms and fewer qualifiers and modifying phrases. And she mentioned casually, but with all seriousness, that she would like to have been born a man because they get the bigger, more dramatic leaps. But there was no real regret in her voice, just an idea about how she could have enjoyed ballet more.
Sometimes humanity leaks out of places where you don't expect it.
05 March 2003
At the moment, the economy here is not strong. Businesses continue to struggle to hold even, exports are down, individual investment in the stock market is somewhere south of 5%, unemployment is rising and the banks are drowning in a sea of bad loans that they are not being forced to eliminate. In fact, they continue to be allowed to make them. Wages are down, confidence is non-existent, and prices are rising. There is a surplus of factory space as manufacturing jobs move east to China, Taiwan and Southeast Asia. And there is a surplus of office space as companies are continuing to cut back on hiring and increase layoffs.
Yet for some reason, Tokyo is in the midst of a construction boom. There has been a surge in the construction of new high rise office and apartment tower complexes. Real estate companies can not fill existing office space, yet newer and more luxurious and expensive properties are continuing to be completed on what seems to be a daily basis.
How the hell is this possible? What could compel a bank officer to make a loan to a man who seemingly could not raise the funds to repay?. Everyone who has an opinion on this seems to agree that banks need to stop making bad loans, eliminate their unrecoverable investments, and start down a road of Spartan reforms if they ever hope to recover their stability and strength. But all these new projects feel like they were approved in a time warp to 1987.
This goes beyond the organizational culture of glacial resistance to change, and it seems too big and too widespread to be a pork barrel blessing to the construction industry. It's like some sick addiction to physical reconstruction. Barring designated historical landmarks, temples, and parks, I have never seen a area of Japan that was not within a three year window for construction. Any neighborhood, district, zone or region is either scheduled for, in the midst of, or proud to have finished building something within three years. Is the physical reconstruction of the 1950's and 60's so heavily stamped on the national psyche? Is the perceived connection between rebuilding and impending prosperity that strong?
Why the hell are they doing this?
Yet for some reason, Tokyo is in the midst of a construction boom. There has been a surge in the construction of new high rise office and apartment tower complexes. Real estate companies can not fill existing office space, yet newer and more luxurious and expensive properties are continuing to be completed on what seems to be a daily basis.
How the hell is this possible? What could compel a bank officer to make a loan to a man who seemingly could not raise the funds to repay?. Everyone who has an opinion on this seems to agree that banks need to stop making bad loans, eliminate their unrecoverable investments, and start down a road of Spartan reforms if they ever hope to recover their stability and strength. But all these new projects feel like they were approved in a time warp to 1987.
This goes beyond the organizational culture of glacial resistance to change, and it seems too big and too widespread to be a pork barrel blessing to the construction industry. It's like some sick addiction to physical reconstruction. Barring designated historical landmarks, temples, and parks, I have never seen a area of Japan that was not within a three year window for construction. Any neighborhood, district, zone or region is either scheduled for, in the midst of, or proud to have finished building something within three years. Is the physical reconstruction of the 1950's and 60's so heavily stamped on the national psyche? Is the perceived connection between rebuilding and impending prosperity that strong?
Why the hell are they doing this?
03 March 2003
Geez. Over two weeks since the last entry. I'd like to say it was because I had such a great Valentine's day that it took this long to recover from, but I'm not quite ready to start lying to you. Short update: Day job is still the same (See previous entry). I'll start moonlighting this week (for new job details, see previous entry). And with any luck, once I start getting paid regularly, I'll be able to get back to what I really enjoy doing (that is: eating five times a day and drinking too much beer on satuday night)
Next time, a decent entry and a new name.
Next time, a decent entry and a new name.
14 February 2003
You know something funny?
That was a rhetorical question. I'm sure you do, in fact, know something funny. That was a conversational gambit intended to allow me to tell you something I think is funny.
In the states, I used to have a great deal of trouble making small talk. That harmless, meaningless, pointless low level banter you're supposed to do with people you've just met was something I could not figure out how to do. If there was no point in the conversation, why should I bother?
Thanks to my last two jobs, I found a reason to make small talk.
Money, honey.
I get paid to make small talk with people who just want to practice speaking English. And as stupid as that sounds, someone else is getting paid even more for finding a way to schlep people like me over here to let other people talk to them. Making small talk for eight hours a day is what puts money in my pocket and beer in my belly.
Life is funny.
In the states, I used to have a great deal of trouble making small talk. That harmless, meaningless, pointless low level banter you're supposed to do with people you've just met was something I could not figure out how to do. If there was no point in the conversation, why should I bother?
Thanks to my last two jobs, I found a reason to make small talk.
Money, honey.
I get paid to make small talk with people who just want to practice speaking English. And as stupid as that sounds, someone else is getting paid even more for finding a way to schlep people like me over here to let other people talk to them. Making small talk for eight hours a day is what puts money in my pocket and beer in my belly.
Life is funny.
13 February 2003
No Job, No Apartment.
Day 11
Tokyo or Bust. By Bus. Again.
Sunday, February 2 was my last day with no job. The week before I went to Tokyo (by night bus) again to sign a contract for a job with a clever young English Conversation School of the Ekimae variety.
Once again I'll be rejoining the ranks of the working. Just two weeks shy of my first chance to collect unemployment, dammit. Not that I really wanted to go on the welfare/dole just yet, but then my former employer would have had to pay for it. And that would have been nice.
So I repacked all my remaining stuff, waited for the shipping company for twice as long as they said I'd have to, and said my last goodbyes to Fukui. As it was snowing, it was all very dramatic and moody. Because I don't have a hatbox, I wound up having to wear my fedora, which made it even more cinematic-looking.
All things considered, it was a pretty decent finish to my time in Fukui. I had a couple of goodbye parties. I ate good food to the end. I was sorry, and not desperate and angry, to go. And there were actually a couple of females who were sort of sad to see me leave.
Yep, this was much better than the way I left LA.
Then I came down with a virus or something on the night bus, and spent the night sneezing, nauseous, feverish and unable to sleep. Which was convenient, since the bus arrived in Tokyo at 6:00 AM, and I had to get into my suit to start training at 9:00. And I know I wouldn't want to be groggy from sleeping too much on my first day on the job.
So I'm living in the suburbs of Tokyo now. Which means this page needs a new name. My heart may have stayed in Fukui, but I'm gonna be fouling things up somewhere else for a while.
Any suggestions?
Day 11
Tokyo or Bust. By Bus. Again.
Sunday, February 2 was my last day with no job. The week before I went to Tokyo (by night bus) again to sign a contract for a job with a clever young English Conversation School of the Ekimae variety.
Once again I'll be rejoining the ranks of the working. Just two weeks shy of my first chance to collect unemployment, dammit. Not that I really wanted to go on the welfare/dole just yet, but then my former employer would have had to pay for it. And that would have been nice.
So I repacked all my remaining stuff, waited for the shipping company for twice as long as they said I'd have to, and said my last goodbyes to Fukui. As it was snowing, it was all very dramatic and moody. Because I don't have a hatbox, I wound up having to wear my fedora, which made it even more cinematic-looking.
All things considered, it was a pretty decent finish to my time in Fukui. I had a couple of goodbye parties. I ate good food to the end. I was sorry, and not desperate and angry, to go. And there were actually a couple of females who were sort of sad to see me leave.
Yep, this was much better than the way I left LA.
Then I came down with a virus or something on the night bus, and spent the night sneezing, nauseous, feverish and unable to sleep. Which was convenient, since the bus arrived in Tokyo at 6:00 AM, and I had to get into my suit to start training at 9:00. And I know I wouldn't want to be groggy from sleeping too much on my first day on the job.
So I'm living in the suburbs of Tokyo now. Which means this page needs a new name. My heart may have stayed in Fukui, but I'm gonna be fouling things up somewhere else for a while.
Any suggestions?
29 January 2003
No Job, No Apartment.
Day 6:
-OR-
"Gee, I wish I had been wearing pants."
Yesterday I went to Tokyo for a job interview and to look at apartments. The interview went tolerably well. I think I have a fifty-fifty shot at getting a real job in a real school, not at just another conversation mill like the one I just left. Only downside is that the job, if I get it, would start in April. So that's something to put on the back burner.
You know, once I get a stove. And a kitchen. Which brings us to apartment hunting.
Thanks to some really bad phone directions, I spent most of the afternoon hiking all over the neighborhood of Ogikubo. Carrying a 40 pound pack. (One suit, a pair of shoes, all my interview and apartment hunting notebooks and the greatest winter coat ever.) After meeting the realtor and looking at some really underwhelming rooms (a 7' by 10' box with one window and a shared bathroom. The room was upstairs. The bathroom was downstairs. And to get to it you had to go through the kitchen.) I met my cousin for dinner and prepared to take the night bus back to Fukui.
But I was feeling funky.
And not the good James-Brown-George-Clinton-get-on-the-good-foot kind of funky. The been-nervous-and-carrying-heavy-bags-and-haven't-had-a-shower-yet kind of funky. And the prospect of getting on the bus and trying to sleep in a too-small space in a cloud of my own BO was not a pleasant one.
So I went to a public spa.
Maybe you're not familiar with the Japanese bath, and the rituals that surrounds it. You don't just bathe to soak off the crud that's built up around your unmentionable bits, you bathe to soothe your soul and cleanse your spirit. But it's definitely not a private-time-with-aroma-candles-and-Dave-Matthews affair. These are public baths. You and all your naked neighbors. Scrubbing and soaking themselves and talking to each other.
Buck naked.
Unless, of course, you are a gaijin.
Then it's just you and all your naked neighbors. Who are scrubbing and soaking themselves and talking to each other and pretending not to see you.
Buck naked.
Yeah, all right. So it's like the first day of PE class. But instead of your classmates, it's a bunch of middle-aged Japanese men, some of whom may never have seen a real, live gaijin in person. Much less in the nude.
But I figured it wouldn't be a big deal if I just took off my glasses, handled my business and left. If I can't see them, it's no problem, right?
So I got a locker, stripped down, got my towel, and headed off to clean up.
The bathing room was generally unremarkable . There were two big tubs in the room for soaking in, a door leading to the sauna, and a series of little washing stations around the wall for you to scrub yourself clean at before you get in the big tub. All pretty normal except for two things:
The two fully dressed young women working at the massage tables on the far side of the room.
My first thought was that I had paid to go to a massage parlor. But the no-nonsense uniforms and decidedly non-erotic nature of the massages led me to believe that it wasn't anything more than a sauna that happened to offer massages.
In the same room as the baths.
By women.
Where I had just walked in wearing a tea towel, my glasses and not even a smile.
They say the best way to deal with odd or uncomfortable situations is to try and act like the natives. You know, "When in Rome..." Since no one else seemed to care about walking around naked in front of those girls, I figured I shouldn't either. So I walked to the washing station that was farthest from the next dude, took off my glasses, and got cleaned up.
I lathered, rinsed, repeated, and was generally feeling pretty good about my situation when I put my glasses back on. Not only were the middle aged men staring at me, but the girls who had previously been so businesslike were staring too.
You ever want an awkward moment, take off all your clothes and then make eye contact with a fully clothed total stranger of the opposite sex, who had been, until she noticed you, completely engaged in the act of vigorously pummeling the back of some other naked stranger. Who is also staring at you. Along with everyone else in the room.
I'm proud to say I was able to meet their stares, then turn around and walk out. But at no point in my life did I expect to have to stare down a room full of naked people. Much less without the benefit of pants myself.
I've said this before, and I'll no doubt say it again, but my life has really become vastly different in the last year.
Day 6:
-OR-
"Gee, I wish I had been wearing pants."
Yesterday I went to Tokyo for a job interview and to look at apartments. The interview went tolerably well. I think I have a fifty-fifty shot at getting a real job in a real school, not at just another conversation mill like the one I just left. Only downside is that the job, if I get it, would start in April. So that's something to put on the back burner.
You know, once I get a stove. And a kitchen. Which brings us to apartment hunting.
Thanks to some really bad phone directions, I spent most of the afternoon hiking all over the neighborhood of Ogikubo. Carrying a 40 pound pack. (One suit, a pair of shoes, all my interview and apartment hunting notebooks and the greatest winter coat ever.) After meeting the realtor and looking at some really underwhelming rooms (a 7' by 10' box with one window and a shared bathroom. The room was upstairs. The bathroom was downstairs. And to get to it you had to go through the kitchen.) I met my cousin for dinner and prepared to take the night bus back to Fukui.
But I was feeling funky.
And not the good James-Brown-George-Clinton-get-on-the-good-foot kind of funky. The been-nervous-and-carrying-heavy-bags-and-haven't-had-a-shower-yet kind of funky. And the prospect of getting on the bus and trying to sleep in a too-small space in a cloud of my own BO was not a pleasant one.
So I went to a public spa.
Maybe you're not familiar with the Japanese bath, and the rituals that surrounds it. You don't just bathe to soak off the crud that's built up around your unmentionable bits, you bathe to soothe your soul and cleanse your spirit. But it's definitely not a private-time-with-aroma-candles-and-Dave-Matthews affair. These are public baths. You and all your naked neighbors. Scrubbing and soaking themselves and talking to each other.
Buck naked.
Unless, of course, you are a gaijin.
Then it's just you and all your naked neighbors. Who are scrubbing and soaking themselves and talking to each other and pretending not to see you.
Buck naked.
Yeah, all right. So it's like the first day of PE class. But instead of your classmates, it's a bunch of middle-aged Japanese men, some of whom may never have seen a real, live gaijin in person. Much less in the nude.
But I figured it wouldn't be a big deal if I just took off my glasses, handled my business and left. If I can't see them, it's no problem, right?
So I got a locker, stripped down, got my towel, and headed off to clean up.
The bathing room was generally unremarkable . There were two big tubs in the room for soaking in, a door leading to the sauna, and a series of little washing stations around the wall for you to scrub yourself clean at before you get in the big tub. All pretty normal except for two things:
The two fully dressed young women working at the massage tables on the far side of the room.
My first thought was that I had paid to go to a massage parlor. But the no-nonsense uniforms and decidedly non-erotic nature of the massages led me to believe that it wasn't anything more than a sauna that happened to offer massages.
In the same room as the baths.
By women.
Where I had just walked in wearing a tea towel, my glasses and not even a smile.
They say the best way to deal with odd or uncomfortable situations is to try and act like the natives. You know, "When in Rome..." Since no one else seemed to care about walking around naked in front of those girls, I figured I shouldn't either. So I walked to the washing station that was farthest from the next dude, took off my glasses, and got cleaned up.
I lathered, rinsed, repeated, and was generally feeling pretty good about my situation when I put my glasses back on. Not only were the middle aged men staring at me, but the girls who had previously been so businesslike were staring too.
You ever want an awkward moment, take off all your clothes and then make eye contact with a fully clothed total stranger of the opposite sex, who had been, until she noticed you, completely engaged in the act of vigorously pummeling the back of some other naked stranger. Who is also staring at you. Along with everyone else in the room.
I'm proud to say I was able to meet their stares, then turn around and walk out. But at no point in my life did I expect to have to stare down a room full of naked people. Much less without the benefit of pants myself.
I've said this before, and I'll no doubt say it again, but my life has really become vastly different in the last year.
27 January 2003
No Job, No Apartment.
Day 4:
Unbelievable. I spent most of November and December watching my sanity fray as I waited for responses in a job and apartment hunt. But now that I'm actually unemployed and it's too late to avoid any more massive expenses suddenly they're knocking down my metaphoric door.
Between three companies asking for sample lesson plans or personal statements and some dickweed realtor calling me back about a vacancy, I may actually be able to get a new job and a place to live.
Everything's coming up Milhouse!
Day 4:
Unbelievable. I spent most of November and December watching my sanity fray as I waited for responses in a job and apartment hunt. But now that I'm actually unemployed and it's too late to avoid any more massive expenses suddenly they're knocking down my metaphoric door.
Between three companies asking for sample lesson plans or personal statements and some dickweed realtor calling me back about a vacancy, I may actually be able to get a new job and a place to live.
Everything's coming up Milhouse!
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