How is everyone today? Good I hope. Upon the request of a friend I am going to let you all know what a usual day for me is here at Sapientia University, or Eichi University; we have two names here and most people still have never heard of the school (or schools...Depends who you ask). So here it is.....
7:30am-Wake up, stretch, and go for a run. Hahahahahaha. Just kidding. I'm usually still sleeping about this time; but there was this one time when I got up and went for a jog. It was alright and all. But I really like sleeping too.
between 9 and 9:20am-Usually the time to get up. I have my first class at 9:30, so I at least need to splash some water on my face and go pee. Most of the time I wish that I had some breakfast, but I am really bad about grocery shopping...mostly because the stores only have products with some sort of a foreign writing. So unless I want to live off of noodles that only require hot water, cereal, or food products of that nature, I have to either get my meals from a convenience store (which isn't all bad), or I have to learn to read, cook, and eat mostly all Japanese. Which isn't going to happen anytime too soon.
9:30-Class. Okay, so I will break down the best and the worst things about my students. Best: they are always and usually constantly amusing. Some speak English very well and some don't really want to try. The classes that I teach are non-credit courses and are used by the students to merely assist them in speaking English more naturally. Therefore most of the students have a very good understanding of how to speak, or they at least know a few words. This is good as I am not really an expert in such things as linguistics or in teaching English as a foreign language; as many of you may know my own English skills have often been brought into question, the best example being when I took the ACT and received an 8 on the Grammar Usage and Mechanics section. Don't let 'em know. They rely heavily on standardized tests and are likely to take my score as losing face. I don't know about you but I am a sucker for peer pressure and one of the only ways to regain face (or respect) is that fancy ritualistically suicide, and I don't know if I would be able to say "no" if they asked me to help them out in the aforementioned way. Seriously though, this is a horrible cultural joke. The Japanese practice of harakiri (はらきり) has essentially ceased since Japan has become more westernized since opening it's doors again in 1853, after 213 years of total isolation. I am sure that some still take part in this exciting ritual; but it is no more apart of their daily life now as lynching is in America.
Moving on...
I teach classes from about 9:30 until 4pm. Not a bad day. On my busy days I have classes back to back, but there are a few days a week when I have some free time. Which is not all bad think that the hardest part about teaching here is that I don't know how well I am doing. No one really wants to criticize or offer up suggestions...Maybe that's a good thing.
Nighttime: Well, my nights are quite varied. Usually they involve eating and sleeping. Sometimes we jump on the train and head out to Umeda (station within the city of Osaka). Some nights I cook dinner...or at least eat a sandwich that I bought at the local convenience store. One thing I don't do too much of is watch TV. As mentioned before this option is pretty much not there. But I do rent videos of the great American TV show 24. It's pretty darn good.
Pretty exciting huh...You may be thinking, "well Dan I expected a little more than that. But it does sound different." Well it isn't all bad. There are some other things that I have left out. But they are difficult to explain. The people's expressions when I am on the streets are interesting. They are neither ever happy nor surprised by me. Not too many smiles nor too many scowls. Just blah looks. See I can't explain it.
Well I think that I am about done with this post. Sorry if I didn't do it any justice Erik. It was a good idea. I just screwed it a bit. Alright then. Take care. I love you all.
12.16.2004
12.09.2004
How have you been?
Well my friends it has been a while. Sorry for the delay in humor and insightful enlightenment on the Japanese culture, but I was away for a bit. But now I am back. To those of you that may not know, my Grandmother passed away recently and I journeyed back to the States to pay my respects and attend the funeral. For this reason I would like to dedicate this post to the life that she led.
Those of you that know me well enough know that I love to tell the few tales of her life that I knew. And the details that I did not know usually materialized in the moments when I was mid-story and did not know how to tie it together. I have often thought about the life that I only know second-hand; it must have been amazing to live, yet I am sure that it would have been far too much for most of us to bare. It is a bit of an essential thought to think that her life was the pinnacle of difficulty, but then again it is all that I ever knew of such a thing. I am rambling; let's get focused again (second attempt, new paragraph).
Each of our journeys through life are relatively simple. You wake up each day, you make a serious of choices, and you go back to bed. The next day is effected by the past day and by those around us. But no matter what we awake, we think, and we sleep. Each day is a microcosm of life; birth, toil and trouble, death. Therefore, is my life more difficult than my grandmother's? Or is it just as complicated in it's own way? I think that my grandmother would think it is. Not because it involved the same struggles, but moreover because she didn't like to argue. Pacifism always trumps perspective.
I have lived an interesting life; if it were a novel it would be by no means a bestseller, or even a selection for a list of recommended reading by any elementary teacher. I think that it would have be popular with my friends and family; but only because they are just interested enough to see how they would be portrayed. Now if it were a movie...It wouldn't even be stocked on the shelves of Blockbuster or even Family Video. But if it were transcribed to any form of popular media it would, without a doubt, be shelved in the library of congress. As everything is there. Where is that building? And why is it that they collect everything? Why is it that they don't have a book mobile? My story really should get out somehow.
So how are you? Are you happy at the moment? Maybe a little sad to hear about my Grandma. If so than thanks for the care, but save the sympathy for those that need it as I am sure that she is more than delighted with her current situation. What is happiness anyway? I find happiness in the distant, almost even absent, gaze of someone when I am talking to them. Because it is at this point that I know they are no longer listening to me but are instead thinking of something that makes them happy. It is at such a point in our conversation that something in their mind has clicked and they are now thinking about maybe past memories, or maybe I reminded them that they have to tend to something before too long. I know that I always enjoy being subconsciously reminded of something. It really takes away a lot of the pressure of life. I always hated it when something, or someone, reminds me of something that I absolutely have to do at point blank range.
One of my favorite, yet subtle, memories of College would have to be when I was on a Leadership Retreat with about 20 people I either didn't know, and some that I just didn't like, and we were sitting around a campfire (how "retreat" like, no?). And someone decided that we ask deeply involving questions of each other...You know, intellectual stuff. And the question of, "if you were going to die tomorrow how would you spend your last day?" Or at least something like that. When it finally got to me I think that the question had been reduced to, "how would you spend your last hour," or something like that (at least in my mind). And I had thought about this seemingly empty question for sometime, as everyone before me was taking their stab at being poetic or materialistic in deciding their dying day. Before I opened my mouth I had it all figured out, I was going to beat them all down and make them cry...Because I was sure that if anybody knew beauty or poetry it was obviously me. But as I opened my mouth my heart took over and all I said was that I would want to spend the last hour of my life with my family and friends in silence, just looking into each others eyes and celebrating the lives that we had lived together in thought. I still believe that. Thoughts and spoken words are too sporadic; at least when you write you can edit or at least be reminded that things aren't always as good as you think they are. But silence is best.
My grandma didn't speak much. But I could still feel the weight of her desires, emotions, and regrets; even now that she is gone. The worst thing about Japan though is that I now have one more regret to an ignorantly un-regretful life; I never got to look in her eyes and motion good-bye with my tears and tell her I loved her with my smile. Oh well. It's all about experience. Right Grandma?
Those of you that know me well enough know that I love to tell the few tales of her life that I knew. And the details that I did not know usually materialized in the moments when I was mid-story and did not know how to tie it together. I have often thought about the life that I only know second-hand; it must have been amazing to live, yet I am sure that it would have been far too much for most of us to bare. It is a bit of an essential thought to think that her life was the pinnacle of difficulty, but then again it is all that I ever knew of such a thing. I am rambling; let's get focused again (second attempt, new paragraph).
Each of our journeys through life are relatively simple. You wake up each day, you make a serious of choices, and you go back to bed. The next day is effected by the past day and by those around us. But no matter what we awake, we think, and we sleep. Each day is a microcosm of life; birth, toil and trouble, death. Therefore, is my life more difficult than my grandmother's? Or is it just as complicated in it's own way? I think that my grandmother would think it is. Not because it involved the same struggles, but moreover because she didn't like to argue. Pacifism always trumps perspective.
I have lived an interesting life; if it were a novel it would be by no means a bestseller, or even a selection for a list of recommended reading by any elementary teacher. I think that it would have be popular with my friends and family; but only because they are just interested enough to see how they would be portrayed. Now if it were a movie...It wouldn't even be stocked on the shelves of Blockbuster or even Family Video. But if it were transcribed to any form of popular media it would, without a doubt, be shelved in the library of congress. As everything is there. Where is that building? And why is it that they collect everything? Why is it that they don't have a book mobile? My story really should get out somehow.
So how are you? Are you happy at the moment? Maybe a little sad to hear about my Grandma. If so than thanks for the care, but save the sympathy for those that need it as I am sure that she is more than delighted with her current situation. What is happiness anyway? I find happiness in the distant, almost even absent, gaze of someone when I am talking to them. Because it is at this point that I know they are no longer listening to me but are instead thinking of something that makes them happy. It is at such a point in our conversation that something in their mind has clicked and they are now thinking about maybe past memories, or maybe I reminded them that they have to tend to something before too long. I know that I always enjoy being subconsciously reminded of something. It really takes away a lot of the pressure of life. I always hated it when something, or someone, reminds me of something that I absolutely have to do at point blank range.
One of my favorite, yet subtle, memories of College would have to be when I was on a Leadership Retreat with about 20 people I either didn't know, and some that I just didn't like, and we were sitting around a campfire (how "retreat" like, no?). And someone decided that we ask deeply involving questions of each other...You know, intellectual stuff. And the question of, "if you were going to die tomorrow how would you spend your last day?" Or at least something like that. When it finally got to me I think that the question had been reduced to, "how would you spend your last hour," or something like that (at least in my mind). And I had thought about this seemingly empty question for sometime, as everyone before me was taking their stab at being poetic or materialistic in deciding their dying day. Before I opened my mouth I had it all figured out, I was going to beat them all down and make them cry...Because I was sure that if anybody knew beauty or poetry it was obviously me. But as I opened my mouth my heart took over and all I said was that I would want to spend the last hour of my life with my family and friends in silence, just looking into each others eyes and celebrating the lives that we had lived together in thought. I still believe that. Thoughts and spoken words are too sporadic; at least when you write you can edit or at least be reminded that things aren't always as good as you think they are. But silence is best.
My grandma didn't speak much. But I could still feel the weight of her desires, emotions, and regrets; even now that she is gone. The worst thing about Japan though is that I now have one more regret to an ignorantly un-regretful life; I never got to look in her eyes and motion good-bye with my tears and tell her I loved her with my smile. Oh well. It's all about experience. Right Grandma?
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